Chapter Text
A gentle breeze disturbs the lace curtains, soft morning sunlight filtering through the window to illuminate the hardwood floorboards. A beam of light falls across her bare back, while her face remains buried in the pillow as she sleeps. It is not yet six o’clock in the morning and yet Ethan Chandler is wide awake, eyes fixated on the soft, dark curls of Vanessa Ives’ hair.
For a while, he lies there, watching her sleep. He cannot see her face, but he can hear the soft sounds of her breath, watch the rise and fall of her back, admire how the white sheets are tangled so exquisitely around her legs. There is something quite heavenly about how she looks, something otherworldly and divine. But when has Vanessa been anything but otherworldly? Her very existence is based on religion and spirituality; sanctified not by God but by Lucifer. Vanessa Ives is something untouchable, intangible, unreal -- she shouldn’t exist. And yet here she is, lying next to him, so peaceful and innocent in her slumber.
The time is ticking by so slowly, and Ethan can’t bear to wait in this silence any longer. He uses a finger to move some of her hair to the side, smiling as she ever so slightly screws her eyes up at the sun. Leaning in, he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. How did he ever think that leaving her was the right thing to do? How could he ever exist without her by his side? Without seeing her eyelids flutter open in the mornings? Without seeing the delicious curve of her lips as she smiled when she realised he was with her?
As Vanessa woke up, she opened her eyes and was looking right into Ethan’s. There he was, her soul mate, her love, her life. Just hours before they had been so afraid, the light so dim and unforgiving in his eyes. Now it was back, that light that shone in his gaze whenever it met with hers. Vanessa smiled, still sleepy, but very content to be awake. One of her hands reached up to touch his face. He was really there. He hadn’t left.
Their conversation the night before, in the very early hours of the morning really, had lead her to believe that he was going to leave. They had stood by the window, holding each other, but at a distance. Their lips had not met, and that had been the most painful experience of the whole night for Vanessa. Even after everything they had been through, it was still impossible for them to be together, at least from Ethan’s point of view. He had let go of her, and left the room, and a part of Vanessa knew he would never return to her. She knew that when she woke up, he would be gone.
And that had been his intention all along; Ethan was going to leave.
He was going to turn himself in to the police, but it didn’t work out that way. No. As he crept silently along the corridor to Vanessa’s room, his carefully written letter in hand, he noticed that she hadn’t closed her door properly. There was a small crack left open through which he could see her lying on her bed. It was only a small thing, really, the fact that she had been too tired to get up and properly close the door, but now it made all the difference.
Ethan could see her there, too exhausted to change into a nightgown or even get underneath her sheets. Vanessa was asleep in her black undergarments, directly on top of the bed. He watched her breathing for a moment, the way she looked like she was in so much pain, sheer agony, even in sleep. She was dejected and broken, and he knew it was partly his fault. Ethan closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his fist which was clenched against the doorframe. Why did the door have to be open? Why did he have to see her like this? He couldn’t leave now. Not now that he saw how much she needed him. He knew if he left now, she would be all alone and she wouldn’t look after herself properly. She’d let herself waste away, too sad to go out and too angry to cook for herself.
Opening the door, Ethan had stepped inside, hiding the letter in his jacket pocket so she’d never have to read it. The creak of the floorboards had woken her, and Vanessa sat up, groggy and uncomfortable.
“Ethan?”
“Vanessa,” he replied, her name on his lips like an addictive chemical he could not stop injecting straight into his veins. Into his heart. His soul. His very life. Ethan couldn’t say anything else, he just walked quickly across the room, removing his jacket and shoes when he reached the bed.
Sitting next to her on the mattress, he held her face in his hands and looked deeply and longingly into her eyes. Everything he had wanted to say, he simply showed her with his expression. Ethan Chandler poured his love into her as he watched her face crumple and tears fall from her eyes. She was so small and frightened and empty. So empty.
“I’ll stay with you tonight,” he whispered. “I’ll stay with you always, Van.”
Vanessa placed her palms over his hands and held them softly, closing her eyes when she heard his promise to stay. This was unexpected, but just what she needed to hear. Her heart was slowly repairing itself, just as her body was. There was something dark and powerful in her now, and she knew that it scared Ethan. But he was the same as her. They were supposed to be like this, together.
“I need you,” she replied, her voice cracking. She would never admit that again. That was the only time she’d ever say it, but Ethan would remember it forever and ever until he died, because he needed her as well.
The werewolf laid a gentle kiss against her forehead, and then manoeuvered himself onto the bed properly so he could lie down and hold her close to his body, her face resting on his chest and her arm draped across his midriff.
“I can’t hide from this any longer, Ethan.”
“I can’t, either. Don’t worry, Van, I’m not going anywhere.”
After that, they hadn’t needed to say anything. A short while later, their clothes had been strewn on the floor, their naked bodies pressed together in a tantalisingly slow and passionate embrace. Everything was so delicate and slow, deliberately close and unwilling to have their skin untouching. They shared breath and warmth and kisses and tears. It wasn’t the sort of making love where they were loud and fast, but rather the sort where they were simply pouring emotion into one another. Vanessa cried the most, her eyes tightly shut to conceal the droplets, but it didn’t work so she hid her face in the crook of Ethan’s neck and moaned her delightful pleasure-pain into his skin. His arms were all around her, holding her in close, his own face close to her hair, breathing her in.
At one point, Ethan moved her leg, his hand running along every inch of it as he wrapped it around his waist. Their skin was hot then, and all he could hear was the soft sounds of her breathing, her soft whimpers as he moved inside her. It was almost innocent, almost pure, this joining of their bodies, and would have been holy if they weren’t so damaged.
When they’d fallen asleep, he had tucked the blankets around them both, holding her still in his arms. Ethan couldn’t stop kissing her head and breathing in her scent. He didn’t want to sleep because he didn’t want to stop looking at her. But Vanessa was exhausted, and so she slept almost instantly, dreaming of a better time, a better place. But she could never imagine a better love than this. And eventually, Ethan had slept too, but not for long. The sunlight had woken him tenderly, and there he was, gazing into his lover’s eyes.
“Good morning,” Vanessa said in a quiet voice, shifting in the bed so she could kiss him. When he smiled back at her, his fingers brushing her hair away again, tucking the dark strands behind her ear, she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against his. “I told you we’d feel less afraid. Today I feel like everything is alright, Mr Chandler. We are okay.”
“We are okay, Miss Ives. Together, we are okay.”