A/N This chapter might be pushing the t-rating…it's not explicit, but it's right on the edge. If you're uncomfortable, you can skip the second half of this chapter.

Chapter Twelve

We were laying in the dark. It was about two, maybe a little later; I hadn't looked at the clock on the bedside table in a while. Neither one of us was asleep—I could tell by Fang's uneven breathing.

"Max."

His voice startled me, my heart dropping to my stomach. "What?"

"I'm sorry."

Sheets rustled as he shifted. I was laying facing away from him, curled in on myself. My eyes were burning with fatigue, but I was too anxious to fall asleep.

I swallowed and didn't answer. I could see the ugly painting on the far wall in the pale moonlight. My brain shutter-clicked—Dead weight over my whole body. Silver moon—and I squeezed my eyes shut so hard I saw stars behind my lids.

"Please say something." His voice sounded strangled, like he was trying not to cry.

I pushed my covers back and sat up, my feet swinging over the side of the bed and brushing the carpet. I could feel him watching me. I was a smudge of shadows, moving silently across the space between us. I lifted the edge of his blanket and got in, settling into the mattress. His face was outlined with shock and relief. He shuffled over to make room for me, and I crawled into the space he made. His arms came around me and he sighed, his warm breath fanning my face.

"I was an idiot. I shouldn't have said that shit. I didn't mean any of it; I was just scared and hurt. I'm sorry." He pressed his face into the top of my head, and I pressed mine against his chest, the fingers of my right hand loosely gripping the front of his t-shirt.

"It's okay." My voice was soft and muffled, but he heard me and I felt the tension bleed out of his body. I closed my eyes and inhaled his smell and drifted off, the knot in my stomach still tightening.

My eyes flew open, the last traces of the nightmare clinging to my brain. My chest was heaving as I panted; it felt like it may cave in on itself. It was the same nightmare I'd been having every night since It happened except this time, where Sam's eyes were supposed to be, there were only deep, gaping black holes.

I shoved the web of blankets off of me and stumbled to the bathroom. The light was blinding when I flicked it on, and I had to blink away the shock. I leaned against the granite counter top, one hand turning the tap on.

-light. Hardwood floor pressed-

I looked up and met my own gaze in the mirror. My face looked haunted; there were dark, dark circles under my eyes, which were wide and horrified, as if I had seen a ghost.

-against my spine-

I cupped cool water and splashed it over my face. There was a harsh sound bouncing off the tiled walls, and it took me longer than necessary to realize it was me, sobbing.

Vomit in sink-

I turned and dropped to my knees in front of the toilet. My hair fell forward as I dry heaved; nothing would come up. The last time I ate was hours ago. I was empty.

-clothes on. Kill him. No, don't, they'd find out. Can't have any more blood-

I gasped and shuddered and clung to the toilet bowl. The room shifted, tilting on its side, my bones moving freely with it, fingernails breaking against the porcelain. My hair covered my face now. Tears leaked down my cheeks and onto the floor. The tile was cold against my face, stinging like a slap. I felt like I was on a boat, riding wave after wave of fear and anxiety and such an intense hatred for myself that it felt like it was burning the lining of my stomach.

"Max?"

Air scraped my lungs, whistling on the exhale. Black spots were blurring my vision, closing in on me. My body felt like it was vibrating. There was a heavy weight in the middle of my chest; I was halfway worried I was having a heart attack.

-on your hands; that would be bad. Lace your sneakers. Just-

Hands touched my arm, I jerked violently away, rolling into the cabinet.

"Don't," I said. "Just fucking don't."

My voice was weak and small. I covered my head with my arms, as if I was defending myself from something, and curled my body into the fetal position.

-get out, just leave, just-

"It's okay." Hands again, touching me, stroking my arm, hurting me, breaking me, destroying me-

I pushed the heels of my hands into my eyes until it hurt, until the pain gave me something to hold on to in the void I was floating through. I balled my hands into fists and hit them against my head, and that pain was better. Brighter.

"Max, stop it." Fang's voice was too loud, too angry, and I was so, so fucking scared it felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest. My fingers curled into my hair and I pulled, slamming my head into the tile floor.

-go. (Slam.)

Run. (Slam.)

Get away. (Slam Slam.)

(This is going to be the rest of your life.)

(This is what you have to look forward to.)

(This will ruin you.)

I gritted my teeth against the urge to scream and pulled harder on my hair, until my scalp burned in protest and felt like the strands may come out in my hands.

"Max, stop." Fingers pulled at my hands, and I flailed, fighting them. "Stop it, stop hurting yourself. Max, look at me."

Fang's face was very close to mine, close enough for me to see the gold flecks in his eyes. I remembered how I once described them as the color of coal, but I was wrong. Coal is cold and hard and unforgiving. His eyes were the warmest things on this whole fucking planet, and they were looking at me filled to the brim with emotion: anger, fear, sadness, and something else I couldn't quite identify.

My heart froze, my breath stuttering to a halt. I felt my eyes grow wide, and my mouth dropped open in shock. My ears were ringing in the way that they did right before I passed out.

Fang had both of my wrists in a vice-like grip, one in each of his hands, and he was holding them so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

"I can't breathe," I heard myself say, breathy and high and fading. "I feel like I'm dying. I feel like I want to die."

He wrenched me up by my wrists and pulled me into him, my face buried in his chest. He was holding me carefully, like I might break if he wasn't careful. He was shaking. His shirt smelled like lavender laundry detergent and sleep. I dug my fingers into the front of it and held on, and there was only one word to describe the sounds coming from deep, deep within me: weeping. I was weeping, soaking his shirt.

He held me tighter, and I was grateful for it. I was unsteady; every part of me was shaking. It felt like the world was ending. I wanted it to. I wanted everything to just be over. I wanted to go to sleep and never wake up. I wanted to have never been born in the first place.

He rocked us back and forth, whispering into my hair. I couldn't hear or understand what he was saying, but the sound was calming. Eventually, my cries quieted, but I didn't move out of Fang's arms.

"Want to talk about it?" His voice sounded too loud in this room that had seen way too much. I sniffled, my breathing still thin, and nodded into his chest.

"I feel like I can't escape this."

"What is 'this'?"

"This feeling that no matter where I go, what he did will always catch up with me. I can run as far as I want, but it will never matter." I choked back another round of sobs and pushed through. "As long as he's alive, I will never be free from it. I'll never be safe. Even now, I'm afraid he'll find me."

"That won't happen." His hand was pressed to the back of my head, his fingers weaving into my hair. His other arm was around my waist, his hand gripping the hem of my nightshirt. I hadn't noticed before, but I was actually in his lap, my legs wrapped around his waist. I pulled away and looked up at him; his hair was messy and there was slight stubble on his cheeks, which were creased with pillow lines. His eyes looked too old and too tired and the curve of his lips was sad.

He was beautiful.

"How can you know?" I put my face against his neck, my temple resting against his shoulder.

"I won't let it. He'll never touch you again."

Our chests moved in time with each other as our breathing synced up, our hearts beating at the same pace. I closed my eyes as the hand in my hair dropped to my back. He drew shapes with his fingertips between my shoulder blades, and I shivered.

"I feel like he destroyed me. I can't even look at myself without being horrified. I feel like I'll never want anyone again. I feel like nobody will ever want me again because of what he did."

Fang went silent for a whole thirty seconds (I counted), and then he took a deep breath. I felt him swallow.

"I do."

I leaned back again, ever so slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes were burning into mine with an intensity that made me blush. I prepared for the flood of panic at his words, and felt none.

"You are not less because of what he did. You're more, for surviving. You're the most beautiful fucking thing I've ever seen, and what that piece of shit did can't take that away."

My eyes filled with tears again, and I brushed them away, embarrassment flooding my face. I was all angles, too rough around the edges and too sharp for this beautiful boy to hold on to. He deserved feathers and down, soft and easy and sleepy mornings with rain on the windows and nowhere to be. He didn't deserve this brand of crazy, packaged like normality, tied up with a bow.

"I don't understand you," I murmured, my eyes dropping to his lips and then quickly flicking back up. "You feel safe. And I don't know why." The words tumbled from my mouth like a waterfall, and everything seemed beautiful and secret and strangely forbidden and I knew that this would be his downfall, this bubble of warmth here, with me, and my too-long/too-pale legs and choppy hair and weeping, messy heart.

"I am safe. You're safe with me." He swallowed again, hard, and I watched his throat work. "Can I—"

"Kiss me."

He studied my face, eyes lingering on my mouth, and stared hard into my eyes. I was on the edge, waiting, hoping to god that he would catch me when I fell and also secretly hoping he would just let me fall because it would probably hurt less in the long run.

His lips met mine gently, just a gentle brush of skin. I closed my eyes and felt a peace settle over my body. The breath left my lungs with a whoosh and my head spun. He pulled back; I kept my eyes closed, a small smile spreading across my face. His thumb stroked across my cheekbone, electricity crackling in the air between us. I opened my eyes to see a look of complete awe on his face, shoulders moving with his breathing. I wanted to stop wanting him, but the way his breath shuddered when his eyes met mine broke me.

The next kiss was firmer, his lips slotting against mine. Everything was slow and fluid as he pressed me to him, one hand cradling my face. Our mouths tasted like the ocean, like salt, and I was still riding the wave but the sun blooming in my chest was drowning out the fear. His mouth bled warmth into mine, spreading slowly outwards, and the warmth was filling me up, connecting the broken pieces inside of my brain, chasing away the shadows.

The voice in my head was silent, and I almost laughed with joy. I smiled into his mouth and opened to him. The first touch of his tongue against mine sent shivers down the backs of my legs, and I tried to press myself impossibly closer. I wanted to crawl inside, where it was safe and dark and warm. I wanted to open up his head, poke around, see what was inside. Maybe his crazy was the same as my crazy. Maybe he was crazy in his own beautiful way.

Our clothing was shed in a pathway to my bed, where we fell on top of the tangled covers and fluffy pillows. His hands burned a trail along my skin, mapping out the places his touch had been. His touch smoothed out my rough edges, blurring the angles. The bed at my back was feather and down, and I felt almost soft enough to deserve him. His weight covered me, grounded me, steadied me. I pushed up against him and pulled him to me all at once, not wanting him anywhere but right here.

"We can stop." His breath was ragged as he broke away, leaning his forehead against mine. "I'll stop."

"Don't you dare," I responded, pulling his mouth back to mine.

Every kiss washed the sour taste of beer and cigarettes out of my memories. Every kiss was a mouthful of rainwater, pure and clean. Every touch, gentle and warm, made me forget the way Sam broke me down, violated me in the most intimate way possible. Fang breathed beautiful words into my skin, erasing the venom that whispered in my head. The pictures, the bad ones, popped up and, one by one, they disappeared into dust, replaced with this. Fang once told me he couldn't fix me, but this sure felt a lot like being fixed. My heart felt so full it ached, and the fear constantly at the surface was sinking.

When he pressed into me, my heart shattered. And then he put me back together piece by piece, and he did it willingly and eagerly. His fingers laced through mine and he pressed my hands to the bed above my head—not restraining, but holding, keeping us connected—his face close to mine. I watched him through heavy-lidded eyes. He pressed his forehead to mine and held my gaze. Our breath mingled, and the air was hot and heavy and close. Our bodies were damp with sweat, with need. He kissed me again, open-mouthed and sweet with hunger. His name fell from my tongue, quiet and low and fading into the night. I was riding a wave up and up and up, and when I crashed down, he caught me, thank god, he caught me. We fell together, exploding into light.

A/N This scene was one I debated writing for a very long time. It's a big part of why this story has taken me so ridiculously long to finish. Max is broken and fragile and vulnerable and has flashbacks to her trauma every time she breathes the wrong way. Every survivor is different, and deals with their trauma differently. Fang has become safe to Max. He is a step towards her healing. This felt true to her character and it felt like the next step the story was naturally going to take. If you agree, disagree, or even have questions about my motivation for these character, feel free to drop me a review or a PM. I'd love to answer any questions you guys have. See you next week with the next chapter. Thanks for reading.