❝ everyone who has ever built anywhere a new heaven first found the power thereto in his own hell. ❞

friedrich nietzsche

____________

I had never thought that one day, I'd wake up in one bed with Damian Belfort; moreover, I'd wake up in his arms, with my head on his chest. I looked up at him and saw that he was already awake. His dark eyes beamed softly, his features depicting a tranquillity I'd never observed before. His left arm was draped around my shoulders, his head resting on his right one, bent underneath.

"Good morning, sleepyhead. Is the pillow comfortable?" he teased with a satisfied smirk.

I gave him an exasperated smile and retreated to my side of the bed, rubbing my eyes to wake up properly. I regretted it, for I still had make-up on. I yawned and extended my arms over my head.

"What time is it?" I asked him, scanning his appearance. 

His hair was messy, but it suited him, offered him a less intimidating look. He must have woken up earlier, because a pleasant smell of coffee wafted in the air, and I noticed the cup on the table. He was still shirtless, and I took advantage of him checking his phone to glance at his abdomen. It wasn't even intentional; it was as if my eyes were automatically drawn to his chest. Or maybe I just wasn't used to having boys half-naked around me. Especially not him.

"Thirty-nine minutes past eleven." he announced.

"Oh no." I groaned, jumping from the bed. I grabbed my phone and looked with a mortified expression at the eight missed calls from my mom. "This is bad."

"Do you want to go home?"

I shifted my sight to him. His eyes travelled from my face to my bare legs for a moment, but he did it subtly, with no trace of promiscuity; though I knew that he enjoyed the view just as much as I enjoyed mine. 

I could go home, but that meant returning to the sour reality of having Avery hate me, having to explain myself to Devon, telling Ellie that I ran away with Damian. And I wasn't ready for that yet. I didn't answer him. I texted my mom a single message:

Hey, everything's fine. We're getting the car fixed and will be home ASAP. Love you.

And with that, I turned my phone off.

"Let's go shopping." I proposed with a smile.

"Let's. With your attire, I bet we'll get the best discount." he quipped, analyzing my legs with a suggestive look.

I took a pillow from the bed and threw it in his face. He chuckled, catching it mid-air, offering me a cheeky smile.

"Sorry, love. You're not that fast."

He was right, but there was no way I'd admit that. I snatched the other pillow from underneath his head, but before I could even raise it in the air, he grabbed my opposite wrist and pulled me down, making me fall over him on the bed. Our faces almost clashed against each other, but luckily I placed my palms on the mattress just at the right moment, stopping the collision. We burst into laughter, but when we stopped, we both became very conscious of our proximity. I felt weak at the knees when I noticed his dark gaze fall to my lips, and it took me a great amount of composure to maintain a bland expression. His hand raised to my cheek gently, and I was the one to lean forward. I placed my hand on his hot skin, feeling the crazy beat of his heart, in sync with mine. He inclined his head to the right and inched even closer, our lips almost touching, but before he could kiss me, I pulled back in the last moment and gave him a saccharine smile.

"Sorry, love. Neither are you."

***

One hour later, we were eating ice cream in the mall in winter, seated at a small table. It must've looked funny: me, in a fancy fluffy gown with a faded stain of wine on my chest, my hair a mess of long curls; he, wearing an expensive suit and a ruffled white shirt, tucked into his trousers. We looked like a couple who ran from a wedding gone wrong, and everyone was staring at us, but frankly, I didn't care. I even saw a girl trying to sneak photos of us and I found that very amusing. I dipped my spoon in his sour cherry and dark chocolate ice cream with a foxy smile and tasted it.

"Good Lord." I said, wrinkling my nose. "How can you eat that? It's so...sour."

"Which is exactly why it's delicious. How can you eat that ?" he motioned to my chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. "It's so sweet."

"No, it isn't. It's perfect. You're too sour." I asserted with a serious face, leaning forward in my chair.

"You're too sweet." he countered, mimicking my posture.

We eyed each other for a while and then burst into laughter.

"You're too sweet ?" I repeated with a whimsical frown, in the same tone as him. "What kind of an insult is that?" I asked him between giggles.

"The only one you deserve to hear." he grinned, stealing a scoop of my ice cream.

I smiled, inspecting his features. I had never seen him this carefree, this...happy. He was still intimidating through his natural handsomeness, through his striking eyes and lithe figure, impeccable and poised posture; he still had that flair of mystery engulfing him; he looked alien in the mall, like he was from a different realm, a realm of angels and demons and darkness, but at that moment, he had the whole light gathered in his black hues.

Somehow, ironically, we ended up eating each other's ice-creams, despite our initial critique of it. After that, we explored the whole mall, running from one designer boutique to another. I tried on Chanel dresses and Prada outfits, parading like a model in front of Damian, to the shopping assistants' horror and to his utter enchantment.

"And in case you want to buy it, are you sure your...uh, companion will afford it?" one of them asked me with a condescending tone, giving Damian a skewering glance.

"Oh, absolutely. Anything for his beautiful wife." Damian uttered, looking at me conspiratorially.

That left the shopping speechless and frankly, me too. Anything for his beautiful wife. I smiled tacitly and turned to the mirror, so he wouldn't see my flustered expression. Obviously, he was just playing the role of the loving husband, but he had said it with such conviction, that I almost believed for a moment that we were actually married, at seventeen years old, and nothing could stop us. 

I quickly chased away that thought, my best friend popping in my mind. Every time I thought of Ellie, my heart shrunk painfully. 

How was I going to explain this to her? To Damian? To myself?

"Young love." a lady commented, passing by us with an endearing smile on her face.

Our eyes met in the mirror, and his piercing look cut right through me, frissons of excitement and nervousness spreading through my entire body. None of us said anything. I cleared my throat and broke the eye contact, heading into the fitting room.

We spent the rest of the day tossing popcorn at each other in the cinema while watching a Christmas movie and then eating doughnuts and fast food, and we lost track of time completely. Furthermore, my phone was turned off and Damian's cell battery died, and no one disrupted us at all. It was liberating, spending the day without our phones and without anyone bothering us. Irresponsible, perhaps, but liberating. Around eight PM we decided that it was time to go home, as much as we didn't want to.

"Your parents must be worried sick." he told me whilst driving. 

It was dark outside and the sky was starry, tiny raindrops rolling off the window. He was the one who insisted that I go home; he was being the rational, responsible one. I just wanted to keep neglecting reality and wake up each day next to him, to travel the world, to disappear completely. But we couldn't do that, not when I had such a loving family waiting for me to come home. I couldn't do that to them.

"Your father too."

He shook his head apathetically, and I felt him tense up at the mention of him. He was getting colder again, distancing himself from me. But I wasn't going to let him slip. Not this time.

"I doubt that. He's too busy singing Joe's praises now that he's back. I'm surprised he didn't build him an altar yet." he voiced sardonically.

I didn't even think about it; I placed my hand over his, on the gear shift. His hand stirred slightly under mine, and he scanned my face with an ambiguous expression, a swarm of thoughts running through my head. I couldn't read him at all; what was he thinking about? Did he want me to touch him or on the opposite, did he want to be left alone and change the subject? I felt like a sugary, overly sentimental girl and I wanted to withdraw my hand, but his fingers suddenly locked with mine, and as he contemplated my features, I noticed that violent sparkle in his eyes that only lit up when he was around me. That look in his eyes that made me feel like I was his whole universe.

"I can only care so much, but when I'm around you, there's no empty space in my heart. I didn't think that was possible, but you make my heart whole. You're consuming, you know that? In the best way possible."

His sincerity made me flinch. No one had ever told me that before, and I felt unique, I felt special. I felt like I was worth loving. 

Warmth filled me to the core. I squeezed his hand lightly, fumbling for words. But what could I say to him? What could I possibly say to him that expressed my feelings for him? I thought of Ellie and sighed mentally. I had to tell her about this. I owed her that. 

So I kept quiet.

***

"What's wrong?" I asked Damian, seeing his concerned frown.

"That's my dad's car over there." he informed me, motioning with his head to a dark blue jeep parked by my house.

We got out of the car, rain pouring over us as if we were in a massive shower. I felt a nauseating wave of anxiety wash over me. Because right next to William Belfort's car, was another one. A police car.

Damian and I exchanged alarmed looks. My heart missed a beat and a million terrifying thoughts ran through my head, each scarier than the other. I rushed to the door of my house and rang the bell desperately. He was right behind me, and as soothing as his presence was, nothing could ease my terrible anxiety. I almost thought I was going to have a panic attack while waiting for my parents to open the door. But the one who opened the door wasn't either of my parents; in fact, it was Damian's dad, inspecting us with a worried, crestfallen look.

"Mom, dad?" I cried out, dashing past him. I let out a sigh of relief when I saw both of my parents seated on the couch, in the living room. They weren't alone; there were two grave policemen with them, who gave Damian and me a critical scrutiny.

 "What happened?" I asked my parents, hearing the beat of my heart echoing in my eardrums.

"Rosabel, dear..." my mom started with a quivering voice, and I thought she was going to burst into tears for a second. Everyone looked very perplexed and somehow dejected, uneasy.

"Miss Ingold and mister Belfort," the older policeman started, looking at me and Damian. "We're going to need you to come to the station immediately."

"What on earth for?" Damian spat hostilely. I noticed the chiding look his father gave him from the corner of my eye.

The younger policeman cleared his throat and announced bleakly:

"Avery Halloway is dead."