Chapter 8 

-Wesley-

“He so much as makes you slightly uncomfortable and you knock on the wall, ok?” Maddie reminds me, reluctant to let me stay in the same room as Kirrill because she doesn’t know him well. She suggested that I stay with Toby and Kirrill could have the room to himself, but I actually want to sleep in the same room as him.

There’s a few things I want to talk about with him.

Sitting down on my bed after getting ready to sleep, I wait for Kirrill to finish changing into the pyjamas I lent him. I’m taller but he’s more muscular than me, so I’m just hoping that they fit him. After around five minutes, he comes back with a smirk on his face.

“Love the door sign,” he says idly, sitting down on the inflatable mattress which I hadn’t moved since Kat was here last night.

Feeling my face heat up, I cross my arms. “Hettie made it for me when she was like four, of course it looks like that.”

Shaking his head quickly, Kirrill’s smile turns more genuine. “No I’m being serious, it’s cute. Does she still draw now?”

It always surprises me when Kirrill smiles. I’m not sure why, but I thought that he would always look serious and cold or something, but he isn’t like that at all. He’s actually pretty friendly and easy to get on with.

“She does yeah. And she’s really fucking good at it, actually.”

Kirrill lies down, placing his arm behind his head and occasionally glancing over in my direction, that smile still on his lips.

It’s a shame he got punched and his lip split; he has nice lips.

Maybe it was a mistake to share a room with Kirrill if I’m going to keep thirsting over him. 

It’s fine, I remind myself, I’m just admiring him. It’s almost hard to imagine him like he was this morning; so terrifying and angry. He looks so relaxed and he’s smiled so many times this evening that he must be getting sore cheeks.

“What about you? Are you an artist too?” Kirrill asks, shifting to lie on his side and watching me as I mirror him, lying down and snuggling into my soft duvet. Letting out a small snort, I shake my head slightly. 

“Not at all. Contrary to popular opinion, I’m actually a brainiac. I’m planning on doing a masters next year, and I hope to do a PHD after that too,” I say with a slight smile, knowing that I’m being ambitious.

Kirrill’s expression turns more serious and he nods. “You say that like you seem stupid or something, but it’s easy to tell that you’re intelligent. What are you going to do the masters in?”

Feeling my face warm just a little at the compliment, I chew on my lips, suddenly feeling embarrassed for literally no reason. “Librarianship. I want to work in the medical field, because my dad’s work has always interested me. But I kind of know nothing about anything right now, so first I’ll do the masters and then possibly the PHD, and then there’s this guy I know who’s going to help me get work experience in a hospital library.” Reaching the end of my sentence, I feel like an idiot for blabbing on and on for ages when Kirrill probably doesn’t even care.

“Really? That sounds so awesome. I always thought being a librarian was just telling people to shut the fuck up,” he says with a playful smile. 

Grinning again, I resist the urge to keep going on and on about my dream. Kirrill’s smile grows, his eyes creasing at the corners just a little. “Tell me more about it, I’m curious now.”

Fuck.

He’s really…

Nice.

—————

In the end, I went on and on about being a librarian, the difficulties of the job plus the level of expertise needed as a medical advisor, for literally hours. I was starting to fall asleep when Kirrill asked me about what inspired me to follow this career, and suddenly I was awake again and going on another tangent.

I never asked him the questions I had, but it didn’t even matter anymore. I wanted to ask him if he was safe, if he was really doing alright, how he felt about everything happening with Kat. 

But suddenly, it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because I knew that there was no way in hell I’d let this man go without ever seeing him again. It didn’t matter anymore because I would make sure that I could ask him another time anyway.

Kirrill didn’t just listen to me rant on and on again, he actually joined in the conversation, offering his thoughts and queries, asking me more in-depth questions on certain areas. It was like he was genuinely curious, and wanted to hear what I had to say.

Only my parents let me do the same; even Maddie couldn’t be asked to listen to me blabber on about being a librarian for hours.

But Kirrill had listened and joined in, and dare I say it, had seemed like he was enjoying it.

Fuck.

Kat doesn’t know what a fucking incredible friend she has, she doesn’t know what a great guy Kirrill is. Or maybe she does, and she just doesn’t care anymore.

When I finally fall asleep, still feeling all excited and happy, I expect it to be a great night’s sleep. After all, I went to sleep feeling great, so I should wake up feeling the same way, right?

Unfortunately, I was wrong there.

Occasionally, I have nightmares. Or more accurately, I have memories. Memories of when I went to stay at that house. 

‘Wesley! Sweetheart what happened to you?’ My aunt asked me, rushing over and touching my shoulder gently. Staring at the ground, I felt my throat close up around the lie I was forced to tell.

‘Bullies,’ I whispered, unable to say more than that. I hated lying to my aunt; she was so kind and caring, just like my mum. They really were identical twins, through and through. I trusted my aunt, I knew that I could tell her anything.

Anything but this, anyway.

So instead, I stayed silent.

I stayed silent as my aunt took me to the hospital to have my head wound treated, I stayed silent as we repeated this process over and over again. There were so many trips to the hospital, and I even moved school, but the lies and silence didn’t stop.

I just wanted to go home, I just wanted to see my mum again.

But my aunt hadn’t even told my mum what was happening. She hadn’t told her that I was being ‘bullied’ or that I’d moved school. 

My parents were worried about me, I knew that much. Whenever we talked on the phone, they said that if I wanted to come home and go back to my school from before then I could, I just had to say the word.

But how could I tell them anything when he was right behind me?

My aunt knew what was happening. She knew that it wasn’t bullies, because she was being treated in a similar way. He hurt us both, kept us where he wanted us.

Right there with him, always with him.

We couldn’t leave.

I remember hearing my aunt scream one time, and a sick part of me was glad that it was her and not me being beaten. But that feeling left when he came into my room afterwards and took his anger out on me next.

I thought it would never end.

I didn’t see how it could end.

It ended because of Maddie. She saved me; she saved me and my aunt. Mum never trusted my aunt again, and she refused to let her see me. She couldn’t believe that my aunt ‘hadn’t known’ I was being beaten practically daily, beneath her own roof, by her own boyfriend. 

My mum knew that the situation had been bad for my aunt too; she’d heard of what that man had done to my aunt, it was part of why he was in prison, unable to hurt either of us again. My mum knew that my aunt stayed silent to protect herself, but mum couldn’t forgive her for that.

I thought that maybe one day, mum would forgive her sister. But even when my nightmares stopped occurring as frequently, even as I stopped having flashbacks at even the smallest hint of violence, my mum showed no signs of forgiving her.

But more than that, I know that she and my dad blame themselves. They blame themselves for letting me go to stay with my aunt, but it wasn’t their fault at all. I had wanted to go to that school, even though it was so far away from my parents. I had wanted to so badly.

I just hadn’t realised what it would cost me in the end.

—————

-Kirrill-

I wake up to the sound of violent sobs, my brain working overtime to try and figure out what is happening. Sitting up, my eyes slowly adjust to the small amount of moonlight trickling in from behind Wesley’s curtains.

“Wesley?” I ask quietly, my mind replaying the image of him on the floor of the convenience store, sobbing and shaking. 

The cries stop for a fraction of a second before a quiet “K-Kirrill?” tears slightly into my heart. Swallowing thickly, I stay perfectly still, thinking through every possible reason for what’s happening right now.

“Do you…like hugs?”

I love hugs. Whenever I used to feel sad, my dad would wrap me up in his big arms and everything would feel better. Even Kat’s half-hearted hugs are lovely, although she hasn’t hugged me in ages.

“Y-yeah,” Wesley whispers back.

Letting out a small breath of relief, I inch slightly closer to Wesley’s bed. I’m terrible at comforting others, but I’m a good hugger at least.

“Do you want a hug?” I ask as softly as I can. 

“Yes p-please,” he cries gently, the sound ripping and clawing at my heart. I don’t know why this poor guy is crying so heart-wrenchingly like this, but I’m a real sucker for tears.

Slowly fumbling around in the dark, I sit down on the bed next to the shape in the dark that I assume is Wesley. Opening my arms, I wait for him to initiate the hug, just in case he changed his mind.

And then his arms wrap around me, his face pressing into my chest as he grabs onto me tightly. Slowly hugging him back, I rub his back in a way that I hope is soothing, but honestly I don’t even know if it is. Like I said: I’m shit at comforting people.

We stay like that for a long time, until Wesley’s sobs quieten down to small sniffs, until his heartbeat against mine slows its thuds down to a more normal pace. We stay like that until his breathing sounds regular, until his shaking stops. 

We stay like that for a long time.

“Sorry,” Wesley whispers, pulling back from me and wiping at his eyes, my own having long-since adjusted to the minimal light present so that I am able to see a vague amount more.

Patting what I think is probably his leg but could honestly just be the duvet, I shake my head. “It’s fine, really. You have nothing to apologise for.”

Wesley lets out a small laugh, poking my arm. “Nah, I mean for head-butting your burns. Don’t say I didn’t; I totally felt you flinch at one point.”

Shit, I thought I hadn’t reacted at all.

A breathy laugh escapes my lips as I shake my head. “You’re welcome to head-butt me as many times as you’d like, if it makes you laugh again.”

A large silence unfurls between us, and I instantly begin to regret my words. But then Wesley taps my hand, the smile evident in his voice.

“Just…thank you, Kirrill.”

Fuck.

I don’t remember the last time someone said that to me, with so much- with so much feeling behind it.