Inversion [Camp NaNoWriMo July 2021]

day 11

d a y   1 1

Cian's arms are wrapped tightly around me when I wake up, his face streaked with dried tears. But even so, he looks relaxed, peaceful.

I slowly extricate myself from his grasp, not wanting a repeat of last night. I've noticed how each touch seems to take a conscious effort, as if it's taken him four years to even learn how to shake someone's hand without flinching. And as much as I understand why that's the case, his actions still scared me. He reminds me of a caged animal, frightened by everything around him.

Before I can stand up, Cian stirs beside me. His eyes open, and he blinks, squinting against the light.

"What time is it?" he groans, turning his head to look at me. My breath catches in my throat at the proximity, and it takes me a few seconds to reply.

"I don't know." I roll off the couch onto my feet before he can say anything else, trying to ignore my pounding heart. The kitchen clock reads five-thirty. We barely got any sleep, and I feel my exhaustion like a heavy weight on my head and shoulders.

Cian gets up beside me, his shoulder brushing against mine. I'm acutely aware of everywhere that his arm is pressed against mine, and I will myself not to blush.

And immediately feel terrible.

After everything he told me, after everything I know he's been through, I also know that the thoughts I don't allow to run through my mind are nowhere even near his mind.

"Are you okay?" I feel his eyes on mine, but I don't turn to look.

"Yeah."

Cian's hand wraps around my upper arm, turning me to face him. The bitterness in his expression surprises me. "You're lying," he snaps. "Do you feel sorry for what I went through? Do you pity me now? Am I some little puppy that's been kicked one too many times?"

"What? No!" The guilt is crushing. I don't feel guilty for what he went through, no. That had nothing to do with me. I feel guilty for how I'm acting now, for feeling flustered by our close proximity when there are more important matters at hand.

Cian's expression is frozen, an angry mask. But he doesn't say anything, his lips pressed into a thin line.

I step away from him and take a deep breath, and another, and another, until I can speak again.

"I don't pity you. Not one bit." My voice is barely more than a whisper. "What you went through ... I—" I wouldn't have survived it, I want to say, before I realize it's possibly one of the worst things I could say. "I can't even begin to imagine how hard it must have been for you," I finish lamely. It's only slightly better than my original words, though, and I cringe even before I see Cian's eyes go flat.

"That sounds pretty close to pity to me," he says tightly. I don't miss the way his hands clench into fists at his sides.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out, rubbing a hand down my face. I'm flustered and exhausted, and I can't seem to find the right words. So I say as much. And when he just stares back coldly, "I think you're the strongest person I've met," I say softly, turning to look out the window, where the sky is starting to lighten. "And I'm ashamed of how I've been acting. And I don't know how you can look at me and not hate me for my entitlement."

"I don't hate you," Cian interrupts me. I brave a glance in his direction, and even though his expression is still carefully blank, the anger is at least gone. "And I don't think you're entitled." His eyes soften, almost imperceptibly, and he takes half a step towards me. I will myself not to step back as he continues, "I've become so cynical over the years, seeing all those other people turn their backs on their supposed loved ones because they didn't want to suffer or give up their own life. And ... with my own parents. That I'd begun to believe that love doesn't exist. But you—" His throat bobs as he swallows, seeming to be struggling as much with his words as I had been struggling earlier. "You love your brother and your parents, and you'd do anything for them. It gives me hope. That maybe someday I'll find someone who can love me like you love your family."