BRANDON
After a long battle with the image in the mirror, I manage to cut eye contact and drag myself out of the bathroom.
The more intense the pleasure, the more crippling the pain.
The longer I forget, the more cruelly my head torments me.
But I’m done with my daily dose of self-loathing now. I’m fine.
Probably.
Hopefully.
I step into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around my middle and another one drying my hair.
My feet come to a halt when I don’t find Nikolai waiting. Usually, he’d be doing push-ups, punching the air, or pacing like a caged lion.
Though he did say he’d take a shower in the second bathroom down the hall. Maybe he also takes long showers.
I put on a pair of his shorts and a gray T-shirt, then pause when his cologne fills my nostrils. My fingers bunch the cloth and I lift it to my nose to drag in a long inhale.
For some reason, his rich, masculine scent has a calming effect on me.
Hehas a calming effect on me.
I linger in the bedroom and stare at the bed. Earlier, I made him help me change the sheets as he grumbled about my OCD, but now, I can’t help thinking about the fact that I’m staying the night.
What do people do in these situations? I’ve never stayed the night with anyone before. It’s just not me.
I loathe the idea of being too close, of letting myself too loose.
But I guess I’ll have to cope for Nikolai.
I’m terrified that once he cracks me open, he’ll find me revolting. He’ll see me as I see myself in the mirror—as a black hole of nothingness.
I want to run and hide, but that means losing him.
So I stay.
It’s the least I can do.
Better pray he doesn’t finally see you for the basket case you truly are.
I try to ignore that voice as I walk out of the bedroom. Should I go check on him in the shower?
Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s punching the air as if it’s his demons. I just want to make sure he’s okay, considering he falls asleep in weird positions.
My steps are silent as I walk down the hall and knock on the bathroom door. “Nikolai?”
No answer.
I knock again. “Is everything okay?”
Nothing.
My breaths are choppy as I grab the doorknob. “I’m coming in.”
My heart nearly hits the floor when I find the water flowing out of the Jacuzzi bathtub and Nikolai submerged.
No, no, no…
A ringing floods my ears as I run toward him, drop to my knees, and thrust my hands into the water to grab his shoulders.
I should’ve checked on him earlier. If anything happens to him, I’ll never forgive myself—
His eyes pop open and he grins, then speaks in the water, bubbles erupting everywhere before he lifts his head.
I fall to my arse, air leaving me in long doses. Jesus Christ. Why does it feel like I just died and was resurrected?
“Lotus flower? What are you doing here? Oh! Wanna join me?”
“Why the fuck—” I cut myself off and speak in a calmer tone. “Why were you underwater?”
“Meditating.”
“Meditating?”
“Yeah.” He grins. “I can hold my breath for over four minutes.”
“Let me get this straight. You meditate by holding your breath underwater?”
“Yup. Want me to teach you?”
“You’re seriously fucking mental.”
“Is that a good thing?” He shakes his head, sending water flying everywhere.
“No, it’s not. And stop that. Are you a dog?”
“Woof.” He grabs my cheeks with wet fingers. “Let me lick your face.”
“Hard pass.” I push him away and stand up, shoving my hand behind my back to hide how much I’m shaking. “Don’t do that again. It’s dangerous. You could fall asleep and drown.”
“I love it when you’re worried about me, baby.”
“Just come out.” I head to the door and throw a glance behind me. “And you better clean up this mess.”
“Okay, Mom!” he shouts behind me.
I head back to the bedroom and change into a dry T-shirt and shorts.
Wearing his clothes feels is like I’m wrapped up in the cocoon of his arms. It’s weirdly intimate.
A good weird, though.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I check on my cousin Creighton. Uncle Aiden took him back to London after he nearly managed to get himself killed. And while I hate that he dragged Nikolai down with him and he’s the main reason why Nikolai even slit his throat, Creigh got the short end of the stick. We really thought he wouldn’t make it.
Although he’s alive, he’s been in a foul mood, and I worry about him.
He does reply to me, though it’s monosyllabic. It’s enough for now.
I text Remi, then tell him and Lan that I’m staying the night at the school’s art studio to finish a project.
They reply right away.
Remi
Mate, I’m telling you this with the sincerest love, but the only time you should spend the night somewhere is if you’re shagging. Don’t be a nerd.
If only he knew the truth.
Lan
What project?
Of course he’d be suspicious. It wouldn’t be Lan otherwise. But for some reason, I like that he checks on me all the time. Even if he’s doing it out of a sense of narcissism. Being his identical twin means I can’t reflect badly on his pristine image.
Me
One of those you call boring. Sorry I’m not up to your level.
Lan
Little bro, I’m telling you for the millionth time that you are up to my level if you quit restraining yourself. You used to make masterpieces without a single thought, but now that you’re THINKING instead of CREATING, it’s a fucking chore to see your work. But then again, no one listens to Lan, even though he’s always right.
The door bangs against the wall and I lift my head to see Nikolai walking in, entirely naked while drying his hair with a towel.
I place my phone on the side table and release an exasperated sigh. “You couldn’t put clothes on?”
“Clothes are overrated. People should thank me for wearing them in public.” He tilts his head to the side. “Besides, we’ve already seen each other naked, so maybe you’re the one who should strip.”
“No, thanks.”
He lifts a shoulder. “Worth a try.”
I reach into the wardrobe’s drawer and toss him a pair of boxer briefs. “At least put those on.”
“Fine.” He throws the towel on the bed and mutters, “Prude.”
“I heard that and, seriously, hang up your towels, Nikolai.”
He rolls his eyes as he slides the boxer briefs up his muscular thighs and snaps the elastic band with a playful tug.
I drape the towel on a clothes hanger. “Can I ask you something?”
“Why do you need to request permission to ask me something?”
“It’s the polite thing to do.”
“Don’t do that with me. I don’t ask permission when I bombard you with questions.”
“You don’t say.”
“Hey! Was that sarcasm? The infamous passive-aggressiveness?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He chuckles, the sound smooth and so joyful, I can’t help the smile that twitches my lips.
“Ask away, baby.”
“Why do you sleep in weird places?”
“I don’t like beds.” He sits on it. “It’s not that I don’t want to sleep in one, I just can’t.”
“Is it because of something that happened?”
“Hmm.” He shakes his head, sending droplets of water everywhere.
“Nikolai!”
“What?”
“Dry your hair.”
“Why? It’ll dry on its own.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and point at the stool in front of the vanity. “Sit down.”
He jumps up and plops down on the seat and grins at me through the mirror as I turn on the hairdryer on the lowest setting, medium heat, and start drying his hair.
“So?” I ask, not meeting his gaze. “You were going to tell me if sleeping in strange positions has to do with a certain incident.”
“Oh! Sorry, I got distracted by how fucking hot you look with your hair messy.”
“Nikolai, focus.”
He releases a sigh. “I started sleeping this way in my teens. It was around the time my episodes began.”
My fingers pause in his hair. “What type of episodes?”
“High energy. Racing thoughts. Uncontainable need for more, more, and fucking more. I had it that day when I fought Kill and beat him to a pulp while you were flirting with Eva.”
“Her name is Ava and I was not flirting with her.” My mind goes back to that time, to when his eyes were red and he looked to be on edge. So I was right to think something was wrong. His gaze was empty and for a moment, I thought he didn’t see me.
“She was hugging you.”
“We’re childhood friends.”
“Still don’t like it.” He pouts like a fucking child and I have to stop myself from smiling at how adorable he looks. Jesus. He’s this big tattooed guy who’s larger than life and part of the mafia, but he still acts this way.
Around me.
Only me.
I glide my fingers through his hair, lingering in every spot a bit too long. “Back to the subject at hand, do those episodes happen often?”
“Not really. I have them under control.”
“You didn’t look that much in control that day.”
“That was because you were being an asshole.”
“Me? What do I have to do with it?”
He strokes his necklace. “Nothing.”