We'd been sat on his sofa for a few minutes. I could still feel his lips on mine. We hadn't kissed for long – I think he was very wary of anything happening and I could see he was reluctant due to his injuries. They do look horrific, especially on his body. But currently, we're sat here, side by side. He's got my hand cupped in his, rested on his lap. He's staring at our hands like they require the utmost concentration. I can't read him but he looks forlorn.
I've been staring at him for a long time; his hands, his face, his bruised chest. Then he looks up at me.
"Do your parents know you're here?"
"They don't even know I'm in Walford. I came back tonight."
"And came here?"
I nodded, hardly believing it myself.
"I thought you hated me."
"No..." Of course I didn't. He had just let me down, that's all. He'd disappointed me and he'd never done that before. I didn't know what to make of it.
"For what it's worth, I wish it hadn't happened like that. If it means I've lost you."
"It's really wrecked things with my family."
"I know."
"And I need to sort things out with them above anything else right now."
"Yeah." His voice cracked. His tears started streaming but he kept a straight face, trying to pretend he was OK when he was clearly anything but. He inhaled sharply to try and steady himself but it wasn't working. I couldn't take it.
"Christian, come here," I said sympathetically, but moved into him to save him from putting himself through more pain. He cut the pretence. There's something awful about having a man cry on you, especially someone as proud as Christian. Yes, I'd seen him cry many times but this... this was different. It was unadulterated pain. He asked nothing of me. I felt like he was mourning me, us, the situation. Me? Why? I'm not worth it. I still don't even know why he sets his sights on me. He could have anyone. He's... the most amazing person in the world. And I love...
"Christian, I'm not going back home tonight."
He looked up at me, sniffing, doubtful.
"I'm not going to leave you like this. I'm here, OK? I'm here."
His face remained full of mistrust.
"I mean it. I'm not leaving you alone like this."
The look he gave me - one of measured hope – I couldn't resist. But I must. I get up from the sofa, leaving his warmth, his draw.
"Come on, Christian. Let's get you to bed."
"I'm not an invalid."
"I know. But I'll just help you get your clothes off."
"I've been undressing myself just fine." He brought his leg up to take his boot off but immediately winced.
"Will you let me help you now? I know you can do it. But just to make things easier..."
I could sense him battling with his pride but I started taking his boots off anyway and he eventually gave in. I didn't want to emasculate him but causing himself unnecessary pain just to prove a point was silly. Very him, but silly. I took his socks off and I wished I could make him stop looking at me like I was insulting his pride. I unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers and he stopped squirming. I knelt there in front of him, looking at him as he sat there seemingly in two minds. But I wasn't undressing him with any other intention than to help him.
He broke eye contact and I continued. He got to his feet and climbed into bed. I turned out the light and got undressed myself, climbing in next to him. The air was not erotically charged yet I longed to hold him. Or for him to hold me. As we lay side-by-side, I could tell what he was thinking. It felt so unnatural to lie separated in bed; this bed that had seen everything.
"Sy."
He'd turned onto his side, facing me with his arm out inviting me in. I slid over to his side of the bed, kissed his cheek and turned over so I was facing away from him, nestling my body into the curve of his. He put his arm around me and adjusted so we fit perfectly.
He kissed my cheek and whispered in my ear. "I'll never forget this."
