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“Is Akso Hospital’s Flux Stabilizer broken or something? How did a Wanderer manage to get in?”
Your heart beats fast after the fight, hands slightly trembling from the effort. And even if you’ll never admit, a little fear.
Not for yourself however, no. You would’ve never pursued the hunter job if that was the case.
The memory of the explosion, of what it could’ve been…the thousand ways you could’ve saved grandma and Caleb. It was all your fault. It was still too fresh of a wound.
You feared for Zayne. Your gaze immediately finds him, like a magnetic connection.
What you find makes your heart drop to the darkest depths. He’s hunched down. All that comes to your mind are the worst outcomes. But you pray, in those few moments. You pray with all your heart that he’s not injured. That he’s okay. That you’ll be able to see his rare smiles, listen to his dry jokes once again.
That he won’t leave you alone, because you won’t be able to handle it.
Life couldn’t be so cruel, again.
Then you see it. His frozen arm. The Evol seemingly taking over his body.
“Your hand…” You gasp, a little breathless. “Zayne…”
He’s still hunched over, but it seems like he can hear you because his shoulders turn even more tense than you thought was possible. He’s not looking at you, his eyebrows scrunched in obvious pain and worry. He’s turning away from you, however. Almost as if ashamed.
You don’t understand.
“Your Evol is…Do you need help?” Instinctively you take a step towards his form. Hand reaching out to him in a plea. Hopeful that it could be fixed, like he did so many times with you.
Zayne lurches back and you do too, almost as if scorched by an invisible wall of ice. His defenses are up. Zayne was always closed off, aside from those rare moments you saw his small smiles. He never acted like that, though.
“Zay…”
“Keep your distance” His voice is uncharacteristically cold. Glacial almost.
He never talked to you like that. You feel a little tinge of hurt inside. Your eyebrows frown and you don’t really know what to say.
Silence fills the office for a moment longer than you can handle.
“Are you…” You don’t know why you whisper those words. Almost careful in not scaring him away. He resembles a feral animal that was cornered. “Are you okay?”
You don’t know what else to say.
He grunts but nods nonetheless. Almost imperceptible, you could’ve missed it had your whole attention not been on him the whole time. You keep noticing his slight movements, small, almost as if bigger ones would hurt him more.
He was not okay.
You panic.
That’s your only mistake.
“You’re not okay. Are you injured?” Your eyes widen, almost crazed in worry. You begin to take a step back towards the door. “I need to call someone, you can’t—”
You don’t even get to finish your sentence, don’t even get to go too far, because you’re immediately surrounded by a frigid storm. A whooshing sound surrounds you. You feel a sudden sting below your eye. Every single surface in the room is covered in a thick layer of sharp ice. Dangerous spikes stick out from the floor and ceiling. The door is frozen shut.
And you dare not move because in front of you a spike is alarmingly close to piercing your throat.
You exhale a fearful gasp. Your eyes wide.
“Zayne…” You can only whimper.
You can feel it more than see it. Your back is turned to him, but you hear the sudden fast movement he makes to reach you. One you know had to hurt him badly.
He’s freezing cold when he pries you away from danger. One he made himself. Your bare arm burns when it comes in contact with his frozen hand. You accidentally let out a hiss. A blue tint spreads on your skin where he touches you before it fades away to leave a slightly reddened area.
“I didn’t mean…” He gasps, clearly distraught. Breath erratic. He holds you tight, away from the spikes. You can’t help but whimper at his touches on your skin. You don’t want them to, but they hurt. Even though being in his arms, back against his chest, feels like the safest place on earth, he’s hurting you.
You can feel his breath hitching when the realization sets. He takes several steps back, away from you.
How come the distance still makes you hurt? Another kind of wound.
“I’m sorry.” His eyes are wild when you finally turn to him. You’ve never seen him in such a state. You rarely even see him showing an ounce of emotion — let alone like that, cornered to the wall, pushing against it almost, as if trying to get away from you.
You don’t blame him, you can’t blame him, seeing him like that.
“Zayne.” You try to calm your voice, try to reassure him.
His gaze evidently shifts slightly below yours before it seems like all the light in his eyes leaves him.
You feel the sting under your eye again then. You wince a little before bringing your fingertips to touch your skin.
“Don’t…” He whispers, clouds of cold coming out of his mouth.
You find your skin slightly wet and bring your fingers in front of your face to examine them better. They’re red.
Ah.
“It’s okay—” You begin.
“It’s not!” He bellows. Your eyes widen a little at his sudden outburst. The bluish tint of ice is reaching the edges of his features, his skin seeming to freeze.
“It really is…Zayne.” You shake your head a little before deciding to leave your wound alone. You rub your bloodied fingers against the dark fabric of your pants, you’d have to wash them later. Thinking about putting your pants in the washing machine sounds like such a mundane thing at that very moment.
He does not reply. Zayne only rests his head against the wall behind him, before slowly sliding down until he’s sitting on the floor. “I could’ve killed you.” It sounds like something that escaped his mind rather than a true attempt at telling you that.
You knew already. He didn’t. You trust him to not do so. So you tell him that.
“I am not deserving of it. Of your trust,” He closes his eyes. “Of you.” He whispers.
“Zayne…that’s not true.” You take advantage of his closed eyes and soundlessly slide closer to him. You go down on your knees, sitting quietly next to him. Maybe some silence was all you two needed.
“Let me see…” You murmur. It’s still so cold in the room, every word you pronounce comes out of your mouth in cold puffs. You know your skin is likely covered in goosebumps but you try to ignore it.
“Stay away.” It probably sounds weak even to his ears.
“You know me too well to say that.” You smile, trying to find humor in the little things.
“Because I know you too well, I say it.” He finally opens his eyes, gaze immediately fixed on you.
Your eyes meet and you can’t help but stare at him for a little longer than necessary. You see when his gaze slides down to your wound and he starts questioning himself once again. The ice on his skin flickers, almost following his bursts of emotions.
“Stop it.” You say, stern. “It’s superficial, it’ll heal. You know that better than me, Doctor.”
You reminding him of his profession doesn’t achieve the expected result. He seems to slump down on himself even more. You already know what he’s thinking.
“It…will…heal.”
“I could’ve killed you.” He turns his head away from you.
“You didn’t.”
“What if…”
“Zayne…we can’t live out of what ifs.” You finally say, to yourself as well. You know grandma would be proud of you. Caleb too. Your eyes water a little. “Look at me. This all happened because I was stuck in those thoughts too. What if I saved them, somehow? What if I was in that house too?”
Zayne is listening, quietly.
“What if, what if, what if. What matters is the present, Zayne.” I gaze down at his arm, cradled on his chest. Still covered in ice, still cold. “Everything else, the past, the infinite outcomes…they don’t matter because you can’t change them.” You carefully reach for his hand and even though you can feel the ice burn seeping into your skin you push through it. It doesn’t matter.
You place your warm hand on top of his cold one. And you hold it there.
Zayne tries to take his hand away but you’re too stubborn. He knows well.
You intertwine your fingers with his.
And it hurts, you can feel your skin slowly getting numb, until you almost can’t feel your hand anymore.
Maybe love is like that, it hurts too. You can’t help but wonder.
You can feel Zayne looking at you. When you meet his gaze he looks almost…devoted.
You shift closer, until you can fit your face in the crook of his neck, your body against his. You hope you can give him some of the warmth you have left. Even if it’s a tiny bit.
It’s so cold. So so cold. You will your body not to move, not to shake, not to show any sign of discomfort. Even though you know for sure that he’s aware. You’ve always been an open book to him. Almost as if he knows you better than you know yourself. Maybe he does.
Zayne is quiet but the rushed heartbeat you feel against your cheek says more than a thousand words. You smile a little against the fabric of his white coat.
“Thank you.” You hear him say softly. You hum, content, because you truly are.
And just like that you can feel the warmth slowly blooming again under his skin. The contrast is stark. Zayne’s fingers twitch a little, almost as if unbelieving, careful. His whole body springs to life. His skin is softer, your body finally seems to mold against him, like pieces of a puzzle.
You can hear his little sigh of relief. If accidental, you could not say.
You stay like that for a little longer, until everything goes back to normal. Until he’s back to being cold, not ice.
Zayne wants to say something, you can tell. You can tell by the way he takes a little breath, how his chest moves.
You give him a little more time and simply shift against him, pressing yourself closer, searching for his warmth.
“I care deeply for you.” His voice feels like cool water in a summer blaze. You can’t help but look up at him. He’s staring straight ahead, lost in thought.
“I know.” Your eyes soften. You truly did. His features don’t give anything away. You wish for nothing more than for your gazes to meet at that moment. The only portal to his soul. “I do too.” You admit.
Finally he looks at you.
A moment feels like eternity.
With your hands still intertwined he carefully reaches for you with his free one, with warm fingers. They caress the ridge of your brows, thumb descending to your cheek. You can feel how careful he is not to touch your wound, simply trying to offer comfort through his touch, and an apology.
You reach for him with your free hand, covering the one on your face. You can’t take your eyes off of him. You softly move your face against his hand, basking in the warmth of the moment.
This seems like a turning point.
Zayne is suddenly much closer than he was before. Or maybe you moved towards him. Or both. It doesn’t matter.
There’s a moment of uncertainty before it happens. But it does.
You meet in the middle and oh his lips are so soft.
Your breath hitches a little as he gently kisses you. Your lips slide against each other, slowly. They part, then they meet back again. You only realize you closed your eyes when your hand has to blindly find the back of his neck. You want to feel him as close as possible to you.
Your fingers gently scratch the skin of Zayne’s nape, sliding upwards until you can card them through his silky jet black hair. He reminded you of a raven sometimes. Loyal, curious, cautious.
It could’ve been minutes or hours, you do not know.
Your noses gently bump against each other when you run out of breath. You look into his eyes and for the first time you truly see him.
Zayne was glorious.
It reminded you of a flower blooming in winter.