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I hope Sylus isn't home.
Those are the only words that come to your mind as you walk back to your apartment, a place that had also become one of your boyfriend's frequent haunts. These days, as long as Sylus didn't have a meeting or other prior engagement to attend to, he would pack up his paperwork and take it to your place. While most of the time, his presence is a very welcome intrusion into your space, today you're just hoping for some time alone.
You just had one of the worst days you've had in a long while. Your head is laden with exhaustion, and you can feel the twitching, exposed nerves of your senses, still raw from being completely overloaded and trampled over. You feel humiliated, inadequate, lonely, and a throbbing, inwardly-directed anger and hatred that only seems to be getting worse the longer you think about it. And the absolute last thing you want to do is talk about it. You'd rather rip your own hair out than relive what just happened, especially in front of someone you admire so greatly.
You keep your hands in your pockets as you trek through strong wind and freezing drizzle, knowingly ignoring all the messages that came through your phone over the past couple of hours. You know at least a few of them are from Sylus, but the dread of seeing what you possibly missed, combined with the flaming ball of frustration lodged in your chest, keeps you from checking them.
You arrive at your apartment building's front door quicker than you'd like, but you're grateful to be away from strangers or acquaintances who could see you like this. You've gotten enough stares today already; if you get any more eye contact, you think you're going to throw up.
Pushing the door open, you keep both earbuds lodged firmly in your ears and your eyes trained on the ground as you make your way to the elevators. It's late, so there's no wait to access them this time. A small mercy. The elevator ride is short, and it seems as if you blink and you're in front of your apartment door. Taking a deep breath, you scan your thumbprint and push open the door.
The first thing you smell when you open the door is the subtle scent of Sylus's cologne. Of course, he's here. Of course, of all days, he had to show up today. This is just the world spitting in your face on top of everything else that it's thrown at you already. Fortunately, he seems to be relatively focused on his work, merely sparing you a glance as you shed your shoes and jacket before washing your hands and storming to your room, slamming the door shut quite a bit louder than you intended to.
Though you've been with him for quite a while, you haven't shown Sylus this ugly side of you before. You don't frequently get agitated enough to have an outburst like this, and even if you do get angry, it's easy enough to suppress it until it fades. This feels like the culmination of everything that's been building up in your psyche for months, your experiences today having stabbed directly into the heart of your insecurities and deepened them much further. If he pushes you too much, you're likely going to blow up on him.
You shuck off your fancier clothes for an oversized t-shirt you stole from Sylus and underwear, leaving the discarded garments and your bag on the floor, then make a beeline for your bed, curling up in a tight ball facing the wall. Your cheeks heat as your eyes well up with tears, and you bury your face in your pillow, a soft, shuddering sob escaping you. You feel so childish and dramatic, stomping around and slamming doors instead of sucking it up and treating your partner with human decency. At least he seemed to get the message. You can apologize later.
Your hopes to be left to wallow in your self-loathing alone are soon dashed. After what feels like twenty minutes has passed, you hear a firm rhythm being knocked on your door, causing you to tense up. Why can't he just leave you alone? Haven't you already been through enough humiliation today? You stay quiet, hoping that if you keep your breaths even enough, he'll think you're asleep. No dice. You clench your jaw as he speaks, his voice muffled from behind the closed door.
"I'm coming in, alright?"
You don't respond, instead pulling your legs tighter to your chest and burying your face in the crook of your elbow, eliminating the possibility of him seeing your anguished expression. You hear the click of your doorknob, then the soft pads of his footsteps on the wood of your floor. You hold back your tears the best you can, using your body language to try and deter him, like a cat stubbornly puffing up beneath a table.
The mattress shifts beneath you as Sylus takes a seat by your side. You can feel his gaze on your back, the tender concern that you don't deserve. Despite your best efforts, you begin to tremble, and unbidden tears return to sting your eyes again.
You startle as you feel a gentle touch, but you allow yourself to relax as a warm, heavy hand begins to stroke your back, rubbing slow, steady circles along your spine. Gradually, your tense posture begins to unfurl, and with relaxation comes a lowered guard, allowing your tears to escape and roll down your cheeks. Another shuddering sob bubbles up and escapes your lips. You taste salt. You hate this feeling so much.
Sylus doesn't ask questions; he doesn't push. He just stays, offering his presence and physical comfort, assuring you without words that you're not alone any longer. You're not sure how long the two of you remain like this, but he never grows tired or bored, his greatest priority being your well-being.
Eventually, you timidly turn to face him, his hand pulling away as he takes in your expression, his eyes widening just a touch as his brows furrow with concern.
"Sylus," you whisper, not able to expend the energy it takes to speak properly. "Hold me?"
He hears you; he always hears you. "Of course," he murmurs, climbing into bed beside you and allowing you to nestle against his chest. Once you're settled, he molds his body to yours, holding you close as his hand returns to its place on your back. His fingers gently trace the notches of your spine, his touch reverent, as if he's handling a delicate work of art.
Your hands fist into his sweater as you shudder again, hiccuping as your tears soak the soft, expensive cashmere.
"I c-can't do it anymore," Your voice comes out wobbly and cracked. Sylus's hold around you tightens just the slightest bit. "I didn't do enough and I'm not good enough and it's all my fault, I d-deserve it, but it still h-hurts,"
He stays quiet as you sob, his hand moving to your hair in order to thread his fingers through it, deftly scratching at your scalp. His body is so warm compared to yours, which is still chilled from the harsh weather. You press closer.
"All I have is r-regrets and I hate myself so much. All of this hurt is m-my own fault and that's what makes it so much worse. It's embarrassing." You sniffle, wiping your runny nose on the back of your hand.
You pull away just slightly to look up at him, finding aching worry lying in his ruby-red eyes as he moves his hand from your scalp to gently cup your cheek, brushing away a tear with his thumb.
"I'll always be here, sweetheart." He speaks in a low murmur, his voice soothingly familiar as it rumbles through his chest. "No matter what happens, no matter how much you believe you deserve this pain. I will never let you endure it alone. My love for you is stronger than anything I ever believed possible." Your eyes widen, still glistening with tears. He leans forward, tenderly pressing his lips to your forehead for a long while, his slow breaths brushing against your skin. When he pulls back, the wetness in his eyes mirrors yours as he takes time to admire your face. Even like this, you're beautiful to him.
"Everything's going to be okay." His voice is a heartfelt whisper now, and though his words come slowly, you can tell that each one of them has been carefully handpicked to ease your suffering. "You don't need to earn my presence in your life. You have it. You will always have it."
You let out a soft whimper, burying your face back into his sweater and wrapping your arms around him, holding him tightly. He shushes you gently, his arms returning to hold you as well.
"Rest, my love." He envelops you in warmth and comfort, and you let yourself fully ease into him, your tears dried and a seedling of hope now planted in your heart. You begin to doze, the exhaustion from everything that happened seeming to hit you all at once.
"I'm not going anywhere. Sleep well for me, sweetie. I love you."
"Love you too," you murmur, and you fall asleep with a soft kiss pressed to your hair, safe in the arms of your dragon.