𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐫 ✔️

28. Fifteen days

CHAPTER 28
Ilaria de Luca

He walks towards my bed, sitting down on the edge of it and I hesitantly break the hug as I stay sitting on his lap.

"You really missed me that much?" I softly – yet playfully – ask and he nods.

"Yes," he says as he gently tucks a few stands of hair behind my ear.

I notice his hand trembling as he lightly traces his fingertips down the side of my neck and over my shoulder.

"Yes, I missed you," he sincerely says and I resist the urge to lean into his touch.

I watch his glossy eyes shimmer as he looks at me. His eyes seem different. I can tell.

I immediately take his hand, holding it in mine and I watch his hand tremble alarmingly.

Slightly frowning, I look up to meet his eyes.

"What's wrong?" I ask and he simply looks at me without saying a word.

Shaking his head, he tries to pull his hand back but I realize he's oddly warm for someone who'd been drenched not too long ago. And the warmth of the shower must've worn off already.

"Mattia, what's wrong?" I ask again and he doesn't answer. He looks at me like nothing is happening behind his eyes. Like he's here but he's not here.

Is he okay?

"Nothing's wrong, Ilaria," he says and tugs his hand from me.

"Why are you sweating?" I ask, a sarcastic smile on my face. "Are you nervous?" I tease and it doesn't seem as though he's in the mood for questions.

"I'm not- no, I'm not nervous," he says, like he's conflicted.

Gently taking his face in my hand, I lift it so that I can properly understand why he's acting different.

"Mattia..."

"Ilaria I'm fine," he says as he removes my hand from his face and holds it instead. Pleading with my eyes he sighs, reluctantly giving in. "Withdrawal. Now let it go," he says like he's agitated and I'm taken back.

"Withdrawal?" I quote and I watch his chest rise before heavily sinking. "What do you mean 'withdrawal'?"

He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, looking away from me with a heavy sigh.

"It's been fifteen days and my body feels like it's on fire. Like I need another hit or I'm going to loose my mind," he breathlessly says. "But please, I need to know what you're thinking right now, whether you hate me or not."

"I don't underst-" I immediately cut myself off, thinking for a second. "Fifteen days?" I ask and he slowly nods. Fifteen days. "Fifteen days," I softly say to myself. I recognize his behavior now. I've seen it. In the hospital.

He's been clean, for fifteen days.

"You don't like me very much when I'm intoxicated. I know," he softly says and I'm taken back. "You seem uncomfortable. Afraid. Disgusted even," he says with the last two words barely audible.

"No, Mattia-"

"I can tell, Ilaria," he cuts me off. "I've been an addict and around certain people a lot. I've seen it before," he shrugs his shoulders. "So I'm going to stop," he says, pulling the sweatshirt slightly from his neck. "I am."

It's like his words had wrapped around my heart, squeezing every drop of blood out.

He was right.

I was afraid.