A Million Different Ways to Lose You (Horn Duet 2)

“Why not?”

His unblinking gaze held mine. I could’ve sworn he stopped breathing. It took me a minute to figure out what he was asking. In the pause I gave his question serious thought.

“Because you’re the only one that’s ever really understood me, who’s ever cared enough to climb the walls I hide behind. Because you’re the other half of me––sometimes the better half. Because I love you all the more for the faults you don’t hide from me, not in spite of them. Because I never realized who I was until I met you. Because I can’t sleep without you, I can’t think without you…there are a million different reasons I want to be with you, and I can’t think of a single one to justify being without you.”

His devastated gaze darted away to the drape clad window, blinking repeatedly.

“How much have you had to drink today?” I kept my voice as gentle as possible.

“What’s it to you?” he forced out through a clenched jaw.

“Everything,” I answered. Reaching out very slowly, I brushed the long, dirty hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ear. He flinched. At first I thought he was going to slap my hand away, put distance between us, but then his eyes fluttered and his jaw trembled and I couldn’t stop myself from crawling onto his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck, and holding him tightly. Something inside of him broke loose. No longer able to contain all that toxic emotion, his entire body shuddered and didn’t stop. His arms lay limply by his side while the rest of him shook, as if he didn’t have the strength to hug me back.

“You know what else I won’t let you do? Destroy yourself. This has to stop.”

His chest heaved as he grappled to measure his breathing. When he finally managed to gain some control, the words that were log-jammed in his throat came out all at once. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” he said, sounding like he’d swallowed broken glass. I felt the words on my skin, on the lips tasting me. I felt it when he buried his face in my hair and inhaled deeply.

“I’m the one that’s sorry,” I murmured in his ear, his face now resting on the curve of my neck. “I let my pride get between us.” His arms slowly snaked around my waist. Once secured, he crushed me to him with a force that would leave a bruise. “Both of us have a lot to make amends for, and I intend to start right away.”

We sat like that for hours, neither of us wanting to break the intimacy, frightened that the connection would disappear if untethered––that it was all just a dream. “Don’t take this the wrong way, my love, but you smell godawful. I’m going to get a bath started. Try to get some rest meanwhile.”

He didn’t rest. Instead, his eyes followed me around the room while I worked quickly stripping the bed and tidying the destruction. It was as if he was scared I would disappear somehow. By the time I had the drapes and windows open, night had fallen. The air was warmer than usual for this time of year. A wind kicked up, carrying with it the scent of wood burning and pastries from the bakery in the building next door, the sound of people strolling on the street below.

Slowly, I undressed him, his eyes never leaving me for a moment. He barely blinked when I pulled his t-shirt over his head and his sweatpants down over his lean hips––much leaner than they were only a month ago. Realizing just how much weight he’d lost made me nauseous.

He remained completely still while my fingers traced the lines of his throat, over his Adam’s apple. It rose and fell on a nervous swallow. I glanced up and found his gaze burning brightly as my fingers traveled down over the muscles of his chest and abdomen, carved in frightening relief with the absence of a normal amount of body fat. When my hand skated over his thigh, he stopped me, his hand resting gently over mine. He exhaled harshly, his jaw pulsing. I wasn’t sure whether it was in pleasure or pain.

“When was the last time you ate?” I asked, my frustration abundantly clear.

After a beat his shadowed eyes moved away and he mumbled, “I don’t remember.”

I fought to rein in my temper. “First bath, then food. Did you take any pills?” With his history, it would’ve been irresponsible for me not to ask. A tide of relief washed over me when he shook his head, the breath I was holding hissing out. “Sebastian, how much did you have to drink?” Taking his hand, I pulled him up out of the chair and wrapped my arms around his waist. My shoulder wedged under his armpit, he leaned his two hundred pound frame onto mine.