Work Text:
"Isaac, put the knife down."
I froze mid-slice, the blade trembling slightly in my hand as I looked up at Nate’s face. His expression was a complicated mix of disappointment and concern, eyes searching mine with an intensity that made my stomach tighten. I didn’t want him to see me like this,fragile and broken, on the edge of something I couldn’t quite control.
“Nate,” I managed to whisper, my voice strained and trembling. I forced a grin, but it must have looked pained probably because it was. The pain from the dozen fresh cuts on my thigh throbbed with every breath I took. The blood was still seeping, staining my skin and pooling around the wounds, a stark reminder of how far I had fallen.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” I said quickly, trying to sound convincing, though my voice cracked under the weight of my guilt.
His eyes narrowed, but the concern never left his face. “Shut the fuck up,” he snapped, voice hard but laced with worry. Without hesitation, he crouched down, reaching out to take the knife from my trembling hand. Gently but firmly, he dropped it into the sink, as if it were a dangerous animal I needed to be separated from. His hands were steady, surprisingly gentle, as he grabbed the med-kit from the cabinet beneath the sink.
My head was bowed in shame, tears prickling at my eyes but not falling. I felt exposed, raw, like a wounded animal caught in its own trap. Nate’s fingers under my chin tilted my face up softly, so I had to meet his eyes.
“Stop it,” he said softly, voice soothing despite the harshness of his words. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad that you didn’t talk to me.”
I wanted to argue, to explain that I didn’t know how to, that I was drowning in guilt and despair, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I just nodded, wincing as he gently wiped the blood away from my thigh with a damp cloth. The sting made me flinch, and I winced again, feeling the sharp ache of regret deepen.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “I’m sorry. I’m such a-”
“Isaac, don’t even start,” Nate interrupted softly, wrapping gauze around my thigh, his hands careful and steady. He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, a silent comfort that made my chest tighten even more. “Why did you do this?”
I hesitated, my mind swirling with a jumble of reasons-Chance’s death, the overwhelming pressure from the Darkheart’s influence, the feeling of losing control. I had gone from someone who tried to stay strong to a pathetic doll, cutting to feel anything at all. It was the only way I knew how to numb the ache inside.
“I needed to feel,” I muttered softly, avoiding his eyes. The words felt heavy and shameful, spilling out like a confession I couldn’t take back.
Nate sighed and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close in a comforting embrace. His warmth was a stark contrast to the coldness inside me. “There are other ways to feel,” he murmured gently. “You just always pick the unhealthy ones.”
“I don’t do drugs,” I protested weakly, trying to lighten the mood, “or catfish like Caleb—”
He bit back a grin, teasing, “Are you trying to change the subject, icicle?”
My arm nearly faltered at the nickname. Icicle—because that’s what I was: a vessel with a heart as cold and unfeeling as ice. That’s how I could kill Chance so easily.
“Isaac,” he whispered, “you’re human. You killed him to save me. A mindless body wouldn’t have done that.”
“Nate, I could’ve waited,” I said, fighting the urge to sob. “I could’ve waited until he gave me those keys-”
“But you didn’t,” Nate interrupted gently, his voice firm but kind. “And I know why. You did it for me. You didn’t want to lose me, even if it meant killing him. That’s what makes you different.”
I looked away, my throat tightening. “I could’ve done better,” I whispered. “I could’ve waited, I swear. Instead, I just… I just killed him.”
Nate’s eyes darkened with a mixture of pride and sorrow. “I would’ve done the same,” he said quietly. “If it was for you, I’d do it all over again. I’d burn this city to the ground if it meant saving you.”
A heavy silence settled between us, filled only with the pounding of my own guilt. “We’re both so selfish,” I finally said, voice barely above a whisper.
“Nah,” Nate said with a grin, playfulness flickering in his eyes. “You’re just greedy.” He pinched my side gently, teasing.
I chuckled despite everything, responding with a fake gasp of offense. “Excuse me?”
He grinned wider. “Your greedy.”
“Well,” I said with a smirk, “guess I’m your greedy little beast?”
“Definitely,” Nate replied, leaning in to kiss me.
I kissed him back fiercely, groaning into the contact as I pulled him closer. The world outside vanished for a moment, leaving only us and the warmth of our connection.
“I love you, Isaac,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
“I love you more,” I promised, my voice thick with emotion. “Always.”