Chapter 5 : Thin Walls

I hear him before I see him.

 At first, I thought I’m dreaming.

 The voice is low, rough, almost broken.

 Too close.

 Too familiar.

 My eyes snap open when I hear it again.

 “Nico…”

 My heart stutters.

 He’s saying my name.

 Softly.

 Like a confession.

 Like a secret slipping out of a place he keeps locked.

 I sit up, breath stuck in my throat.  The wall between our rooms feels thinner than paper.  Every sound passes through it.  His breaths.  His restless movement.  His quiet, nervous anger.

 Then another word.

 “Don’t… leave.”

 The air leaves my lungs.

 He’s sleep-talking.

 And he’s thinking about me.

 And he sounds scared.

 My fingers curl tight around the blanket as heat fills my chest something painful, confused, almost unbearable.  I press my palm to the cool wall, as if I can reach him through it.

 “Liam,” I say, even though I know he can’t hear.  “Why are you dreaming about me? ”

 He mutters again, voice cracking this time.  “Stay…”

 I stop breathing entirely.

 He’s not just thinking.

 He’s pleading.

 My heart pounds fiercely, and I hate that it affects me this much.  I hate that every part of me answers to the sound of him needing something.

 Then… silence.

 Complete silence.

 I’m still looking at the wall when a single thought hits me like a blow:

 This is dangerous.

 Whatever he feels/whatever he says he doesn’t feel it's slipping out in ways he can’t control.

 And I’m the one hearing it.

 I don’t sleep after that.

 Not even for a second.

 I walk into the kitchen in the morning, still thinking about the way he whispered my name.  I’m barely awake when I reach the doorway and then I freeze.

 He’s there.

 But not just there.

 He’s naked.

 He’s at the counter.

 He’s wiping water from his neck with a towel.

 And he looks up at me like he’s been waiting.

 My breath skips.  “Isorry.  I didn’t know you were”

 “Breathing? ” His voice is calm, too calm.  “Existing?  Being awake? ”

 “Barely awake,” I mumble, trying not to stare.

 He smirks, slow and irritating.  “You look at it.”

 “You look half-naked.”

 “You say that like it’s a problem.”

 “It is.”

 “For who? ”

 “For” I choke on the word.  “For me.”

 He raises one eyebrow, clearly pleased.  “Good.”

 I swear my face heats like fire.

 “I didn’t say it was good,” I hissed.

 “You didn’t have to.” He steps closer.  “Your staring says enough.”

 “I wasn’t staring.”

 “You were.”

 “I wasn’t.”

 “You really were.”

 I want to fight more, but the way he’s looking at me… it changes everything.  His gaze drags over me slowly, as if he’s remembering every inch.  And I can’t tell if he’s teasing me or hurting himself.

 “Rough night? ” he asks.

 My heart jumps.  “Why do you say that? ”

 “You look tired.”

 “I barely slept.”

 “Why? ”

 “Because”

 I stop myself.

 I almost said it.

 I almost said because you said my name in your sleep.

 He steps even closer, worry flashing across his face.  “Did you have a nightmare? ”

 “No.”

 “Then why didn’t you sleep? ”

 “Because you”

 I shut my mouth.

 He leans forward.  “Because I what? ”

 “Nothing.”

 He smirks again.  “You’re a terrible liar.”

 “You’re a terrible person.”

 “Maybe.  But I still want to know what kept you up.”

 I turn away fast.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

 “Nico.”

 His voice thickens.

 Pulls at me.

 Break the walls I try to keep up.

 My hands grip the counter to steady myself.  “Don’t say my name like that.”

 “Like what? ”

 “Like you… feel something.”

 Silence.

 Heavy.

 Thick.

 Unavoidable.

 He moves closer, until the space between us becomes too small, too charged, too risky.

 “What if I do? ” he whispers.

 I turned to him, shocked.  “Don’t.”

 “Why? ”

 “Because you’ll ruin everything.”

 His jaw tightens.  “Maybe everything needs to be ruined.”

 My breath catches.

 “What happened to you? ” I whisper.  “Last night… today… you’re different.”

 “I’m not.”

 “You are.”

He hesitates.  “Maybe I stopped pretending.”

 The world tilts under me.

 “Pretending what?”  My voice is barely there.

 “That I don’t want you.”

 My heart slams.

 He said it.

 He said it out loud.

 And I don’t know how to breathe after that.

 I step back automatically.  He follows without doubt, like he’s done it a hundred times in his head.

 “You can’t say things like that,” I whisper.

 “I just did.”

 “I don’t want to hear it.”

 “I think you do.”

 “You’re wrong.”

 He lifts my chin with two fingers.

 “Then why are you shaking?”  he murmurs.

 I swallow hard.  “Because you confuse me.”

 “I am confused.”

 “That doesn’t help.”

 “Nothing helps,” he says.  “Not when it comes to you.”

 My voice trembles.  “Liam…”

 He closes the final inch between us.

 His breath brushes my lips.

 His hand slides to my jaw.

 His eyes darken.

 We are one one heartbeat from finally crossing the line neither of us should cross.

 Then he moment snaps.

 Like cold water thrown at both of us.

 He pulls back suddenly, hand dropping to his side.  His face turns into something sharp and conflicted.

 “This is wrong,” he mutters.

 I step back too, breath shaky.  “Yes.  It is.”

 “But you want it.”

 “That doesn’t make it right.”

 “It makes it real.”

 I shake my head.  “Last night you were yelling at me.  Today you want to kiss me.  Tomorrow you’ll deny everything again.”

 “That’s not true.”

 “It is.”

 “You don’t know anything.”

 “I know you’re scared.”

 He freezes.

 Completely.

 “I am not scared,” he lies.

 “You are,” I say softly.  “You’re scared of wanting me.  You’re scared of wanting something you think you’re not allowed to have.”

 His eyes flash.  “Shut up.”

 “You’re scared to admit”

 “I said shut up.”

 The silence after his words hits like a slap.

 My chest tightens painfully.  “See?  This is what I mean.  This is what you do.  You pull me in.  You push me away.  You make me feel things I’m not meant to feel.”

 His voice drops low.  “And what exactly do you feel?”

 My stomach twists.  “I’m not telling you.”

 A muscle jumps in his mouth.  “Coward.”

 “Fine.  Then call me a coward.”

 “Maybe I want you to deny it.”

 “Maybe I’m not denying anything.”

 He steps forward again, but this time I hold up my hand.

 “Stop,” I whisper.  “Just stop.”

 He does.

 Barely.

 “This is dangerous,” I say.

 “And?”

 “And… you know why.”

 “No,” he says, voice rough.  “Tell me.”

 “Because if we start this,” I say, “we won’t stop.”

 He inhales quickly.

 For a second, we both forget how to breathe.

 M

 He starts to walk away but then he stops.

 He turns back slowly, his voice low and shaking.  “Did you hear something last night?”

 My stomach drops.  “What?”

 He watches me too closely.  “In your room.”

 “Iwhy?”

 “Just answer me.”

 “No,” I lied quickly.

 He steps closer, eyes narrowing.  “You’re lying again.”

 I swallow.  “It was nothing.”

 “What did you hear?”

 “Nothing.”

 He moves until he’s inches from me again.  “Did you hear me?”

 I can’t move.

 His eyes widened just slightly.  “You did.”

 I look away.  “You were dreaming.”

 “What did I say?”

 “It doesn’t matter.”

 “It matters to me,” he says softly.  “Tell me.”

 “No.”

 “Tell me, Nico.”