A Little Bit Married

Photos

Silence fell on us, and for a long while, we just stood there, watching each other, my fingers wrapped around his gun, my chest heaving with anticipation. What would he do? Was he so scared of the things he had come to make me feel that he would so willingly pull the trigger?

I had no doubt that he wouldn't be able to do it. Pulling the trigger on me.. on anyone... it wasn't something my Gray would do.

But seeing how adamant he was about having killed someone, maybe that person deserved to be killed.

I closed my eyes. I know I sound deranged, absolutely batshit crazy, and that is probably why Kevin was able to do what he did to me, but Gray...

I slowly opened my eyes and let go of the gun, my hands falling to my sides. His eyes held mine, and I could see the thin walls behind which he held the vortices, the thin walls that had him standing there instead of crumbling to his feet.

I slowly moved to the side, my eyes still holding his, my heart beating wildly. I could be wrong. He could pull the trigger on me. He could let his fears consume him and absolutely refuse to explore these fires that seemed to want to swallow us whole.

I could be very wrong.

But I could defy his fears, too. There was no reason why I needed to inherit them. No reason why they should inhibit me the way they were inhibiting me.

I am the one who probably needs to make the move. I am the one who needs to take that one step.

I took a step towards him, and his eyes slightly widened, but he said nothing, his lips slightly parting. Slowly, I walked towards him, my eyes darting slowly across both of his, my hands clenching and unclenching.

"Can I touch you?" I asked, my voice slightly shaky. His eyes still held mine, and there was a whole spectrum of emotions right there. Not just fear. Not just surprise. More. A lot more.

I moved my hand and gently cupped the right side of his face. He immediately sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes closing as he slowly dropped the hand that was holding the gun.

I took it a sign and cupped the left side, too, and the gun fell with a thud on the rug. I moved even closer, my lips parting, my chest heaving.

"What are you so scared of?"

He didn't say anything for a long minute before he slowly shook his head, his face leaning closer into my touch.

"This is dangerous," he said slowly.

It was crazy how much his silence had made me miss his voice. The smooth velvet. The beautiful baritone. Hell, I was going crazy, but at this point, I don't care. Even if heaven refused to let me in for being here, I would stand right here.

"Everything is dangerous," I said, moving my hands slowly across his face. "I would have been a danger to myself without your trusty little gun. I would have been a danger to myself had you not saved me in your own unconventional way. Why don't you let me save you from yourself?"

He went silent again, his breaths slow, his eyes blinking once every minute that dragged on. My thumb ran across his face. Under his eyes, my index played with the loose strands of hair that fell across his forehead, and I watched him slowly, gradually melt into me.

He looked up to me, his eyes meeting mine. He was easily towering above me, yet he felt so close. So warm.

His hands moved mine away from his face and gently put them down to my sides. I thought he was going to pull away again, hide behind the facade he always carried, and push me away.

Instead, he pulled me into his chest as he leaned to bury his face in my neck, his lips parted against the sensitive skin.

I tried my best to wrap my hand around his large frame, my head adjusting a bit to let him have a bit more space.

He didn't say anything, and I didn't ask him either. He was, after all, here, and that was what mostly mattered.

I gently patted his back, running my hands across the outline of his spine, my eyes closing from the smoothness of his skin.

He let out a shaky breath before slowly leaning away from me again. He leaned, gently kissing my forehead, his fingers cupping my face.

It felt beautiful to be kissed like that, and I let out a small sigh, my lips parting slowly. I met his eyes as he pulled away, and the thin layers had broken. The vortices were all over his eyes, and there was a heavy need for comfort. And probably a bit of letting out. But he wasn't ready, and I would never ever force it on him.

"I will take a shower."

I nodded slowly, and I watched him leave, my heart heavy, and I tried to understand everything he had been through.

I stepped out for a minute, and the house was mostly empty, except for the noise coming all the way from downstairs.

I slowly walked down, and Aunt Althea was, as she promised, packing up. The only thing was, she was scattering photos all over the floor, breaking glasses of photos unto the floor, and generally just wrecking things.

Neither Aunt Maureen nor Samantha were anywhere to be seen.

I simply watched her as she kicked things around, throwing photos all over, curling under her breath. She finally turned to me, then stopped, hatred filling her eyes.

I bit down on my lips as I took in the photos. They were photos of a car crash, and I just knew it was the night that Gray's parents had died.

"Does this make you happy?" I asked slowly, my eyes watching her.

I was so disappointed by the fact that I had actually thought she cared for Gray, and to an extent, me.

She had just seemed so genuine that seeing her like this made it hard for me to reconcile who I thought she was and who she ended up being.

"It makes him miserable," she seethed before finally kicking off one more vase.

She walked away, saying something under her breath. I bent to pick up one of the pictures, and in it, was Gray. He was much, much younger and covered in blood and unconscious, his head on the shattered glass on the ground next to where the car had been overturned, his body still inside the car.

I picked another one, and this time, the car was in fire, and Gray was not in the frame.

I froze in place, my brows furrowing. Wait. I looked at the other picture again. Everyone was unconscious in it. So if someone was there to take those photos... wouldn't the first course of action to try and rescue? There wouldn't have been time to take photos.

But there were photos, and whoever took them, watched Gray's parents burn in that car, and refused to help.