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He kicks off his shoes, his heart heavy with anxiety, and his head, and shoulder, pulsating with pain. The TV is on. Is she really up at this time…? Guilt creeps up, realizing she’s been up. Waiting for him to get home. And here he is, bruised up, sore and exhausted. He limps into the living room to find her, his beloved Laura, asleep under a blanket, with a documentary playing on the tv. He wants to walk up to her, hold her in his arms and seek comfort in her warm embrace.
Instead, he sneaks - at least tries to limp quietly - to the kitchen. He opens the fridge, which is almost empty. He takes out a beer, the freezing bottle feeling good against his sweaty palms. He puts it against the bruise on his face, and hisses at the pain but then sighs in relief, when the coldness numbs the pain. It has the same effect on the bruise on his shoulder. If only it worked for feelings too. He scoffs at the thought. How bitter he sounds.
“Nacho?”
Shit! He turns around quickly, as if paranoid it's someone else. But of course, it’s only Laura. Laura… She looks tired, but as soon as she sees the look on his face, she looks more awake, concerned. Shit. He fights the impulse to throw the bottle away. Instead, he removes it from his skin slowly, giving his girlfriend a sheepish smile. The glare he receives says: I’m not dumb. He sighs. She’s seen the bruises, of course. She’s too observant, too worried about him. Too damn stubborn. That’s what I love about her, though.
“Hey… You awake?”
No reply. The ticking from the clock on the wall is almost a relief, because at least it’s not completely silent. Usually, he and Laura have a comfortable silence. They don’t always need, nor want to talk. They don’t need background noise either, just the company of each other.
This is different. She crosses her arms and looks him up and down. His shoulders slumps down, and he barely notices his girlfriend's absence. He blinks his eyes and stares at the closed fridge in an attempt to lose track of time. That’s when Laura returns, but this time carrying a bottle of wound cleanser, cotton pads and band-aids. Noticing how zoned out her boyfriend looks, she takes his arm, guiding him to sit down in a chair. He almost whines when he bends his hurt leg to sit down, almost. But then yet again, Laura notices his tiny grimace. Damn it, Laura.
“I’m fine.”
“No. You’re not.”
He doesn’t even protest when she sits on the chair next to him, and carefully helps him off with the shirt, so she can inspect his bruises.
He can see the thousands of emotions on her face - confusion, anxiety and worry, anger, and then… She swallows hard to hide the emotions from seeing him like this. Her beloved boyfriend, exhausted and wounded next to her. She hates it, and hates his work, hates to know that she could lose him, just like that. She blinks her eyes. Not now, not now. She tells herself.
But she’s not the only observant one. Nacho sees the pain in her face, and it kills him.
“This will sting for a bit.” she wets the cotton pad with a solution that makes him crinkle his nose. He flinches as she puts it against his skin, dabbing at the sore skin of his shoulder, and then the face. His eyes tears up at the discomfort, but her presence, and the gentle touch, makes it feel ok. She mumbles apologies, but continues the work.
“What happened?”
“Laura…”
“Nacho.”
I give up. He thinks. But he tells her about what happened. He tells her about work today, and everything that messed up. As he talks, she reacts to his words, but never interrupts. If it’s one person he trusts, it’s her. She’s concerned, of course, but never too judging. She hates the fact Nacho is in the cartel, but knows how difficult it is to leave. She’s stayed by his side all this time, even before they started dating. Always on his side. After some minutes the wounds are treated and his face and shoulder is covered in bandaids. I probably look ridiculous. She’s thought of everything, and he even has a bag of frozen beans against his leg, which still hurts.
All of this, for him.
“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he whispers. Laura looks at him, her soft green eyes meeting his dark brown eyes. The pain in his voice is reflected in her eyes. They both feel it.
“Stop it.”
“I…”
“Stop. I mean it.” She walks into the bedroom and returns to the kitchen with a new shirt for Nacho. After helping him put it on, she walks him to the couch. She’s about to leave again to go get him something, but the urge to feel her close is too overwhelming. She protests as Nacho pulls her down next to him, wrapping his strong arms around her. He just holds her like that, and she hugs him back. Laura moves her hand over his head and shoulders, in a soothing way, and Nacho melts into her touch. He inhales her shampoo and the scent, her scent, of lavender and peppermint. It smells like home. She is his home. He holds her, and wishes to never let go.
“I love you.” Nacho mumbles, his voice hoarse with emotions.
“I love you.” her voice too is full of emotions, and shaky.
For the first time in what feels like forever, he allows himself to be vulnerable. His eyes burn with tears, but he doesn’t hold back. Nacho knows he doesn’t have to. Not now, not with Laura.
“Let it out, Iggy.” she whispers. And he lets it all out. “It’ll be ok.”
He actually believes it.
“Stay. Don’t ever leave me.”
“Never, amore. I’m right here.” Laura’s voice is full of determination. “You’ll be ok.”
Her words, her touch, and the reassurance is all he needs right now. He knows that whatever he faces, Laura will be by his side.
Home.
She is his home.