quellrxx

Nolan Vale is a psychiatrist at an isolated mental facility — cold hallways, quiet patients, and secrets that never sleep.
Then a new patient arrives. No name. No history. Just one request:

He’ll only speak to Nolan.

Varek Straven is calm. Too calm. Like he’s waiting for something... or someone.
And when he says "I know you," Nolan doesn’t understand.

Not yet.

But some promises don’t die.
And some obsessions never stay buried.

Between breaths (BL)

My mind kept replaying what happened — the darkness, the knife, the sound of his voice when he'd burst through the door. That strange, familiar panic in my own chest.

And I didn't know what scared me more — the man who attacked me…

…or the part of me that found comfort in Varek's arms.

Not gently. Not forcefully either. Just… tightly. Like if he let go, I'd vanish into thin air. Like I was the only thing tethering him to something real.

I didn't say anything at first. My body still hadn't caught up with the chaos. But then I noticed the blood.

A red line, curling down his arm from just below the elbow. The sleeve of his shirt was soaked, torn.

"Do you have a first aid kit in the car?" I asked, finally breaking the silence.

His grip loosened, eyes snapping to mine.

"Why?" he asked quickly. "Are you hurt? Let me see."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "It's not for me. Just a scratch. It's for you."

"We need to stop the bleeding," I added.

A faint smile tugged at his mouth. "It's okay. You don't need to worry."

"But it must be painful," I muttered, watching the blood trail grow.

I didn't know what was stranger — the claim itself or how easily he said it, like it wasn't even worth explaining.

Everyone feels pain. Even the strongest.

I said, "Let me dress it when we arrive."

He was quiet for a second, then nodded once. "Okay. When we get there."

"we are going home," he said simply.

I didn't respond. I turned to the window instead, letting the city lights blur into streaks as we drove. Everything was too loud and too quiet at once.

Even when we reached the building — tall, expensive, the kind of place that whispered power in polished stone and glass — his grip stayed firm.

His penthouse was everything I expected from someone like him: pristine, silent, intimidating. The elevator opened directly into a wide, dark hallway. Minimalist furniture. Cold lights. No warmth.

He stepped inside first, then turned slightly. "Come in. Make yourself comfortable."

I wasn't sure I'd ever be that again.

But the moment I stepped inside, something else struck me.

Clean, slightly musky. A sharpness I couldn't place — like rain on metal or something faintly burned.

My shoes made barely a sound on the polished floor.

He disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and came back with a glass of water, holding it out to me like I might break if he moved too quickly.

I took it. My fingers were still trembling slightly, and I tried to hide it.

He just stood there, watching me quietly. Guarded. Careful. Like even now, even after everything, he was still trying not to scare me.

I looked around, unsure where to sit, unsure if I should sit at all.

Eventually, I lowered myself onto the edge of the long couch near the windows, glass still in hand, barely sipping.

He sat beside me, close but not too close.

And I thought: How did I end up here?

Just hours ago, I couldn't wait to see him gone from my life. I told myself I was free. That I could finally breathe.

Somewhere along the way, something changed. I didn't know when or how. But this wasn't the plan. This wasn't supposed to happen.

Or maybe… when did I stop wanting it to go right?

Chapter 20