PIERCING MY HEART

Chapter FIVE ~ Piercing My Heart. 

CYRUS’s POV 

“Cyrus.”

Just my name. He had called quietly just like he was afraid to push too hard.

I stayed staring at the ground. “Go back inside. Fights are inevitable between siblings.”

He stepped down the last stair and stood beside me. He didn’t touch me. He didn’t say anything. Simply, he remained there.

That almost made it worse.

“You do not have to pretend it didn't hurt,” he murmured.

“It did not.” I lied. 

But it did. It tore something open.

Dominic huffed a soft laugh, sitting next to me with his elbows on his knees. “You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like you are made of steel when you bleed just like the rest of us.”

I clenched my jaw. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I remember your mouth pretty well. I think that counts for something.”

My head jerked toward him. “Stop. Just… stop.”

He looked at me then, really looked again. “Why? Because you felt something you do not have a name for yet?”

I moved away. “I don’t feel anything.”

“Funny.” His eyes softened. “Your voice shakes every time I am near you.”

“I am straight.”

“Sure.” That one word dug itself into me like a hook.

I stood up. “You should go inside. She will need you.”

He leaned back on his palms, watching me like I was a puzzle he already solved. “You hate seeing me with her.”

I froze.

“Every time I touch her,” he continued softly, “you fold into yourself like it hurts to breathe.”

“Stop talking.”

“If you truly did not care,” he whispered, “you wouldn’t have walked out of the room. You would have stayed. You would have laughed. You would not be shaking right now.”

I looked at him and I hated how right he was.

“Why are you doing this?” I muttered.

His lips twitched tiredly. “Because the first time I touched you at the club, something in you said ‘please’, even though your mouth said don’t.”

My throat tightened. Heat crawled behind my eyes. I hated this. I hated him. I hated myself more.

“You don’t get to talk about me like you know me,” I snapped. “You are with my sister. You chose her.”

He stood now, his voice low.

“If I wanted your sister, Cyrus, I wouldn’t have—”

“Don’t say it.”

I could not handle hearing him talk about the kiss again. It felt too big, too dangerous, too close to the truth I refused to face.

He studied me with a tight jaw, his hands in his pockets like he was holding himself together. For the first time since I met him, he looked very, very tired.

“Maybe one day you will stop running from the person you really are.”

I laughed weakly, defensive. “Maybe one day you will stop trying to ruin every relationship you touch.”

That one landed. His face dropped. His chest rose once, sharply.

He nodded once, his eyes glassy but steady. “Got it.”

“Dominic, wait—”

He lifted a hand slightly. A quiet, tired gesture. “No. You made your point.”

And then he walked back inside. 

The silence inside me burned louder than any argument ever could. I stayed outside long after Dominic disappeared, hoping the ground would swallow my embarrassment whole. 

When I finally re-entered the house, Phoebe’s laughter floated from the living room.

It should have annoyed me. Instead, it reminded me how easily people belonged to each other, how natural love looked in other homes. Even if theirs was fake—or doomed—at least she got to feel chosen.

I never did.

I walked past her, heading for my room with my head down. I did not trust my voice enough to speak. If I opened my mouth, something ugly would fall out.

Inside my room, I shut the door quietly and sank against it. 

My chest felt tight, like every emotion I had swallowed since childhood had queued up to punch me in the ribs at once. I wanted to scream. Cry. Punch something.

Instead, I sat there and breathed like someone learning how lungs worked for the first time.

My phone buzzed.

I blinked, confused. Nobody texts me at home. Nobody needs me here.

I picked it up.

Unknown Number: “Would you lie if I asked you the truth again? —D.”

My heart dropped.

Him?

My fingers trembled. I stared so hard at the screen I could hear my pulse in my ears.

How did he—

Oh.

Phoebe’s phone.

He must have saved my number when she wasn’t looking.

Heat crawled up my neck, not anger, not fear. It was something worse. Something that tasted like attention. 

The kind I was starved for.

I should not reply. I should not care. He is my sister’s boyfriend. He is danger. He is everything I should hate.

But my thumb hovered over the keyboard anyway: “What truth?”

I erased it and typed: “Stop texting me.”

I erased it again and typed: “Who is this?”

My breathing grew faster. My heart hurt. Everything hurts. I dropped the phone on my bed and stood, pacing like the room was shrinking.

The phone buzzed again: “You know it’s me. And you know I am not lying about you.”

I swallowed hard. My eyes stung. He was tugging at parts of me I did not want anyone touching. The parts that whispered things I was not ready to hear.

I’M NOT GAY!!!

I typed fast before courage ran off again: “Stay away from me.”

I stared at the message, my thumb hesitating over “send.” If I sent it, he would listen. He would leave me alone. That is what I wanted.

Right?

I hit send.

Then I shut my eyes and prayed he would not listen.

My phone vibrated a second later. “No.”

One word. Firm. Unapologetic.

And suddenly I hated the way my stomach flipped. I hated how alive my body felt reading it. I hated how badly I wanted to scream at him and cling to him all at once.

I threw my phone on the pillow and ran a hand through my hair as my breath shaky.

This man was going to ruin me.

And the worst part?

A quiet voice inside me whispered that I wanted him to.

Another beep from my phone and I found myself effortlessly reaching for it: “Should I come over to your room to wrap my arms around you? Phoebe won’t know.”