Arms Crossed In An X Over Chest Meaning Novels & Stories

I know my vision is hazy but that isn’t because I’m not breathing, or am I not breathing? My forehead does feel damp, and my chest feels like it has been tied with strings. Weirdly so. But I am breathing, my chest is moving at an alarmingly fast rate and that would only happen when I breathe right? I cough loudly, my eyes burning now with tears. “There, there.” I feel a pressure on my chest and air is forced into my lungs. I cough again, my throat feeling like sandpaper. “You’re okay now, you’re okay.” Xander’s voice sounded panicked, it was almost shaking. I don’t know what he must have seen to warrant that reaction.

Content Advisory: This chapter contains depictions of possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, and moments of physical aggression that may be triggering to some readers. Reader discretion is strongly advised. I cross my arms around my naked breasts, hugging myself as though it’ll protect me from my fear. I’m still facing the wall, away from him, and I don’t know what I’m terrified of more: anger, disappointment, or the cold indifference I know I deserve.

"You really expect me not to break in that new set right here, right now?" I raise an eyebrow at him, crossing my arms over my chest in an attempt at intimidation, which probably wasn't the best idea as it makes my breasts appear two sizes larger. Max glances at my chest and then back at my face, mimicking my raised eyebrow and crossed arms. "Oh, screw it." I grab his shirt, pulling him into the room.

“You think Dominic wants you back?” I shrug and cross my arms, taking my hand from his to hide their shakiness. As soon as his touch is gone, my impulse is to reach for him again, but his arms are crossed now too. His muscles bulge, veins and all, fighting with the sleeve of his white t-shirt with how tense he is.

“Um... x is... four?” He shook his head, a small smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. “Wrong. It’s four? Try again.” I frowned, peeking at his chest again. “I can’t. I’m not able to think about anything right now.” His eyebrow arched. “Because of what?” I met his gaze, feeling bold and a little clumsy in my excitement. “Because of you. Looking like that. Can I touch it?”

"Check your chest. Now." My hand flew to my sternum before I was even fully awake. I sucked in a breath. It rattled like a bag of dry gravel. The brand—the jagged 'X'—didn't just glow anymore. The skin around it had turned a sick, necrotic purple. Black veins branched out from the center, crawling toward my collarbone like ink dropped in water. It pulsed. A low, wet throb that made my vision swim with static.

I stopped breathing. The silver scar across his collarbone was longer than I had imagined, raised and pale against the rest of him. It cut diagonally from the base of his throat toward his shoulder like a permanent reminder of a blade that had not been careful. Below it the hard planes of his chest and stomach were marked with older evidence. Faded lines. The faint map of healed breaks along his ribs. His arms flexed as he dropped the shirt, and the wrist tattoos shifted over bone and tendon that had clearly been damaged once and forced to heal wrong.

**Xavier** "Let go of me, Xavy! What are you doing? You're hurting me!" Trisha’s voice cracked as she struggled in my grip. "You're choking me..stop it! Please!" But I didn’t let go. Not yet. I wanted her to feel it. The pressure. The fear.. She needed to understand what crossing me looked like. Her nails dug into my wrist, desperate. I saw the panic in her eyes, saw the tears forming. Her body trembled.

And all of a sudden, my chest felt too tight to contain my heart. “It’s my fault.” I muttered, re-echoing the words in my head again and again, until they didn’t sound like mine anymore. Not looking where I was going, I turned a corner too fast only to collide with something solid. Clutching my chest, I stumbled backward and then looked up. I wished I hadn’t because standing right in front of me was Xavier. His presence was overwhelming and filled the corridor completely. His eyes were darker now, stormier, and there was still blood smeared across his knuckles.

I rub my chest when I feel an unfamiliar pain starting in my lower stomach and pushing its way up to my heart. I pull my eyes from them, not wanting to witness their kissing scene. My eyes land on Xavier, he had a frown on his face and was rubbing his chest just like I was. As if he was also feeling the same pain.