Heterochromic Haze

17- Healing history

Our limbs are tangled when I wake.

His head is tucked against my neck, his fingertips slowly and delicately tracing down the scars on my back. I shiver, groaning as I place a kiss against his forehead.

He inhales shakily as my hands wander down his arms, exploring his torso freely.

God to wake up to this man is heaven.

I nestle lower, my face pressing against his shoulder. I frown as he props himself up, staring at my back as he continues to trace the lines that cover it.

I want to be upset or angry or something. I've never let anyone see my back, but when his hands are doing god's work, relaxing years worth of pent up frustration and ache, I can't feel anything but relaxed.

"A whip?" He questions and I sigh, closing my eyes.

"A belt." I say monotonously, turning my head towards him.

His expression is pinched, closed off as he continues his gentle torture. His eyes meet mine and I frown at the distress I see there.

I sit up, pulling his hand to my lips in a short kiss as he exhales shakily.

"My father believed in discipline and I was a...challenging child. It was a long time ago." I say simply. His jaw clenches, his head shaking as his fingers drift back to my hip.

"How're you feeling?" I ask gently and he grimaces slightly.

"Sore." He says bluntly and I bite my lip.

"But satisfied." He admits, his cheeks tainted pink. Regardless of the light conversation, I know he's bothered. The little pucker between his eyebrows is adorable, but I'd do anything to make it go away. Even talk about past trauma. I know.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask, my fingers attempting to smooth away his frown, his expression growing more flustered at my serious expression.

"It's just sex, I'm sure I'll get used to it and the pain won't last for-..."

I laugh, cutting him off as his cheeks continue to flame red.

"Not about that." I say and he grimaces.

"You can ask. I don't mind." I murmur, relaxing as his fingers resume their tracing of my back.

His eyes flick to mine, his shoulders relaxing as he watches pensively.

"Your father? Is he still...?" He asks, his voice tight as he hesitates.

"He died when I was fourteen. My grandparents took me in, my mother's side thank god. My dad's parents are very catholic, just like him." I say and he nods, biting his lip as he continues to trace the lines on my back.

A wave of sadness overtakes me for a brief moment, missing the fond, wrinkled faces of the only family I've ever known.

"I'm adopted." Everett says suddenly and I frown, propping myself up on my elbow.

My heart aches at the vulnerability he's sharing with me, whereas my mind jolts at the new piece of information to add to the elusively hard to know Everett Hayes character that lives, rent free, in my head at all times. And then the artist in me revolts.

"No, you're not." I say and he stares at me in bewilderment.

"I know facial structure; you inherit genes, you share them with your siblings. Your brothers are blood relations." I say and he smiles properly.

"No, I know. All of them are my brothers by blood, but our mum adopted us." He says, watching his hands.

"Oh." I say, relaxing back down onto the bed.

"My mum, our adoptive mum, is basically my hero. You'd love her." He says, glancing at me as I raise a brow.

"She's a writer." He adds, a strange expression on his face and I laugh.

"Writers temperaments are worse than artists. You're surrounded by creatives." I tease and he groans, not bothering to hide his smile.

"She's chaotic and completely in her own world, but she's awesome. She has a little bit of all of us in her, she would take the younger ones climbing and read to me and put on stupid plays with Amyas and Grey." He says, shaking his head and I pause, raising a hand.

"Wait, who's Grey? Do you have another brother?" I ask, perplexed as I watch amusement flitter across Everett's face.

"Has Amyas not told you?" He asks and I shake my head.

"Grey is a drama nerd and a typical middle child. He's in London at some fancy acting school. We're all very proud, even if we don't show it." He says, whilst I still try and wrap my head around the fact that there is another Hayes brother.

I turn my eye back to Everett, noting the gleaming warmth in his face and the lilting tone of his voice. Everett isn't very expressive, the lines of his face difficult to read, but this is unmistakable. He loves his family.

"And your mum adopted all of you?" I ask, wincing at how insensitive I sound.

Everett laughs, waving me off.

"Yeah. She's a madwoman, but apparently I wouldn't leave them behind. So she said 'fuck it' and took us all." He says, shrugging.

I marvel at the strength, or possible insanity, a woman has to have to adopt that many kids. I take a moment to imagine little Everett, so determined to take care of his brothers, unwilling to abandon them, no matter the consequences.

"When were you adopted?" I ask and Everett frowns.

"I was six-ish." He says vaguely. My heart breaks a little at that.

"Wow. I wanna meet your mum." I say, rolling onto my back as I stretch out my arms behind my head.

Everett watches me carefully and I quirk an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Do you mean that?" He asks and I nod.

"Sure, why not?" I ask and he smiles.

"No reason." He says airily and I roll my eyes.

"Well, I figure I'm going to have to meet my boyfriend's mother at some point, right?" I ask and he blushes.

"Am I?" He asks and I deadpan.

"No, Everett. You are not my boyfriends mother." I say and he whacks my arm.

"Am I your boyfriend?" He demands, that scary look in his eyes but now, it doesn't phase me.

"I hope so. Otherwise this is an awkward friendship. Why? Do you want me to ask you in a romantic way? I've already slept with you and told you I love you, so we're doing things a bit backwards but whatever you want babe, I can do it." I ramble, grinning as Everett grows more and more flustered.

"Shut up." He says.

I watch him, intrigued.

"Was it babe...?" I ask, watching his cheeks.

"Or I love you?" I continue, laughing when his eyes bolt downward, a renewed blush hitting his cheeks.

"I hate you." He says and I grin.

"And I love you." I say, laughing in delight when he physically turns over, taking my covers with him.

I wrap my arms around him, bringing him closer as I press a kiss to the base of his ear.

"I love you." He murmurs and I smile against his skin.

"I know." I say gently, caressing the gentle taper of his hip.

He turns his face towards me and I kiss him lightly, my lips tingling at the delicate touch.

"Will you be my boyfriend?" I ask and he sighs.

"Yeah, alright." He mutters and I huff.

"'Yeah, alright'?" I repeat, outraged and he grins.

"Do you still love me?" He asks and I narrow my eyes at him.

"You know that I do."