TW: discussion of past domestic abuse and trauma, and feeeeelings

………………………………..

Droya woke with a start as he started to slide off the dining chair. The adrenaline was gone, and fatigue had taken over. He started to berate himself for falling asleep, but stopped and listened when Rosie’s voice filtered through the door.

“Thank you so much for understanding,” Rosie was saying. “Working with you has been such a valuable experience, I’m sorry I couldn’t give proper notice.” She paused. “No, I appreciate it. Thank you, I will. Take care.”

Droya nudged the door open as Rosie hung up her phone. She was sitting cross-legged on the sumptuous red and gold bed, wearing a loose shirt covered in cartoon penguins and pink pajama shorts. There were at least 5 pieces of paper scattered around her, torn from the hotel’s complimentary notepad, with scribbled lists on them all.

She had been using her customer service voice on the phone, and had employed her customer service smile as a mechanism during the call. She still had it on her face when Droya caught her eye, and she brightened its intensity, aiming it at the gray demon.

He chuckled, catching himself by surprise, and shook his head at her.

“I don’t know how I didn’t see it before,” he mumbled in Hellish.

“Huh?” Rosie said.

“Nothing,” Droya said. “Why were you lying to someone on the phone?”

Rosie wrinkled her brow, still smiling though.

“I wasn’t… well, I was quitting one of my jobs. Two more to go.”

“You’re staying?” he asked.

She laughed a fake laugh.

“Of course,” she said. “I need this job. I could have been mugged on Earth, too, it’s just something that happened. It’s over now.”

Droya walked to her and took a seat on the foot of the bed.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, her smile bright.

He sighed and shook his head again.

“You are very good,” he admitted.

Rosie laughed lightly. “What do you mean?” she asked.

Droya drew his legs up on the bed and sat cross-legged, mirroring Rosie. His tail hung off the bed, the tip twitching back and forth like a cat’s.

“Your smile,” he said, tilting his head at her. “It’s a good lie.”

Rosie froze in place, and her customer service smile slowly drained off her face.

“But you promised not to lie to me,” Droya reminded her gently.

Rosie looked away from him and idly picked up one of her lists.

“It… just makes things easier,” she said.

“Rosie,” he said, sliding a hand toward her on the bed, but stopping short and pulling back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I failed you. That attack… was sloppy, but effective. I should have known a distraction when I saw it. What happened to you was my fault. If I was better, or more experienced, you would have been safe.”

Rosie was looking at him with a small frown on her face.

“I think you should find a different guard,” he said. His face was tight with a grimace.

They looked each other in the eye for a moment.

Rosie shook her head and looked down, reaching for another list.

“No,” she said.

Droya sat up straight.

“Rosie, I’m not-”

“I said no,” she snapped, glaring at him.

Droya was stunned silent.

“You found me and got me out of there,” she said firmly. “You did fine. If you really think you sucked that bad, then do better next time.”

He blinked at her.

She snorted and shook her head again.

“I trust you,” she said, her voice softening. “I like you. I know we barely know each other, but I like you, and that counts for something.”

Her hair was down and tousled and Droya couldn’t keep his eyes off her. His chest hurt, he wanted to touch her.

“It… counts,” he said hoarsely, and coughed to clear his throat.

“I’m going to make another call,” she said, lifting her phone. “Could you please get me some water?”

Droya slid off the bed and went to the kitchen while she dialed another of her jobs.

I like you, and that counts for something.

The ice clinked and tinkled as he filled the glass with water. He clenched his hand, glad the glass was thick and didn’t crack under the pressure of his grip.

Do better next time.

Next time, Droya thought again.

Would they try again?

What had they wanted from her?

Had they mistaken her for someone else?

He leaned on the counter for a moment to steady himself. His heart was pounding.

I’ll be ready if they come back.

He set the glass on Rosie’s side table while she lied to someone else on the phone, and then turned to leave the room, but Rosie grabbed his wrist and then pointed at the foot of the bed. Droya returned to where he’d sat a minute ago, and watched Rosie finish her call. After she hung up, she crossed out an item on one of her lists.

“Are you okay?” she asked Droya, fiddling with the pen.

“I am fine,” he said.

She blinked at him, her smile gone again.

“Are you lying now?” she asked.

“It’s not a lie,” he said. “It’s just a… short answer.”

Rosie threw her pen down on the bed.

“What’s the long answer?” she said, focusing on his turquoise eyes, giving him her full attention.

Droya opened his mouth soundlessly. He wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say.

“I have a bruise,” he said. “Like you do. I’m tired.”

Rosie nodded.

“You’re upset,” she accused.

“Of course I’m upset,” he said. “I let you get hurt. I am angry at myself.”

“You’re not the one who hurt me,” she pointed out. “You saved me.”

Droya’s tail thumped the side of the bed and he growled softly, looking away from her dark brown eyes and cruel forgiveness.

“You got hurt,” he insisted.

“I’m okay, really,” she said softly, gathering up her lists into a pile.

“You didn’t see your face in that alley,” he growled angrily. “You were not okay.”

Rosie’s hand clenched, wrinkling her notes. She was still, staring at her fist, her heart thudding painfully in her chest.

“Rosie,” Droya breathed. “What happened? What did they do that you didn’t tell the officer? Something happened.”

Rosie took a slow, labored breath and put her lists on the side table, then her phone, and the pen. Her hands shook a little.

“It wasn’t anything they did,” she admitted. She squeezed her shins with her hands, trying to steady herself. “It was something… someone else did. Something that happened before.”

Droya’s tail writhed. He scooted awkwardly on the bed, and sat close enough to take her hands in his. She wouldn’t look up at him.

“What happened before?” he asked her, his voice low and intense.

Her mouth was open and she tried to form words, but couldn’t make a sound.

“Rosie did someone hurt you before?”

“Hahhhh,” she cried out softly, curling forward and hunching over. “I… I can’t…”

Droya ached, her pain tearing at his heart. He broke, and dropped her hands, leaning to her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her head to his shoulder. She cried and pressed her face into his soft black tunic. Her hands clutched at his chest as she shuddered against him. Droya stroked the back of her head, his claws combing gently through her wavy brown curls.

He mumbled something in Hellish into her ear and rocked her gently as she sobbed. After a couple minutes, she sniffled and pushed away, grimacing and wiping at the wet spot she’d left on his shirt.

“What did you say?” she asked, her voice quavering.

He took her hand from his shirt and held it to his cheek.

“I said the sky is too bright for rain.”

She narrowed her eyes and shook her head.

He smiled sadly. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Rosie, can you tell me?”

She sniffled and her lip quivered.

“I don’t like to think about it. If I don’t think about it, I can be normal.”

Droya folded her clammy hand in his warm ones.

“If I don’t think about it,” she went on, “then I can pretend everything is okay. It’s easier that way.”

Droya just waited. She wanted to talk. He could see it in her body language. She was desperately lonely when she thought of the things that upset her. She didn’t want to drag anyone else into that lonely place, but it was too easy to want it. He saw what she needed, and he was offering his ear. She would talk.

It took a moment, but she did.

“My ex-boyfriend. The relationship I told you about last night, the one that was bad? It was really bad. Mike was…”

A million things filled her mind, a jumble of adjectives that she couldn’t parse.

“Bad for me,” she ended up saying. “We were bad for each other. He did things that he shouldn’t have done, things that I haven’t really… I haven’t really recovered from.”

Droya’s eyelids were half closed. He held her hands gently, but his tail was coiling around one of her pillows and squeezing it tight.

“What did he do, Rosie?”

Rosie shook her head.

“It wasn’t all bad times,” she whispered. “He wasn’t always… but when he was, it was…”

“Rosie.”

“He would get mad sometimes,” she said, closing her eyes. “I would do something to piss him off. I’d gain weight, or talk to other guys, or spend too much time with friends, or I wouldn’t text back quickly enough. He could be paranoid. Controlling. I never could guess when he would go off.”

Droya felt heat coursing through his body. His adrenaline surged again.

“When that guy grabbed me, it reminded me of when… when Mike would punish me, tie me up and leave me in the closet for a few hours. I guess I sort of got lost, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. But you found me and got me out of it.”

Droya couldn’t stop himself. He reached for her again, and she accepted the embrace, leaning into him. He smelled a little like motor oil and thunderstorms, and he was warm and solid. She felt embarrassed to take advantage of his desire to comfort her, but she wanted to be comforted so badly. She hated the pity but needed the sympathy.

“So when I say you saved me,” she said softly, her cheek pressed into the curve of Droya’s neck, “I don’t really mean from those jerks in the alley, even though you obviously did. You pulled me back out of my head, though. So, thank you.”

He wanted to hold her tight, but he didn’t want her to feel trapped, so he loosened his arms and tilted his head down, pressing his brow against hers.

“It’s just something that happened,” she said. “It’s over now.”

“It’s not over for you, though,” Droya murmured into her ear. “It’s still with you. So it isn’t over, even though it is over.”

Rosie had no response for that.

“I think I’m going to sleep some more,” she said.

Droya pulled away slowly, and moved to get off the bed so she could lay down. Rosie grabbed his arm and dug her nails into his skin a little.

“Stay?” she begged. Her voice cracked.

Droya reached up and caressed the side of her head with his other hand, tucking some hair behind her ear.

“I’ll stay,” he assured her. He got off the bed and helped her under the covers, then turned off the light and walked to the other side of the bed. He stretched out on top of the decadent comforter next to Rosie. She burrowed into her pillow and reached out a hand to him. He rolled onto his side, facing her, and put his hand on hers, weaving their fingers together.

Rosie fell into fitful sleep, her hand occasionally twitching in Droya’s grasp.

Droya rested, but had trouble falling asleep. He thought about tearing the faceless “Mike” into tiny pieces with his bare hands.

He felt a deep conviction in his belly, something rock solid and as hot as Hellfire.

He wouldn’t let anyone hurt Rosie again.

I like you, and that counts for something.