Emperor of Mayhem

f i f t y - o n e

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ALL IN THE NAME OF LOVE
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A million fragmented thoughts were running through my head. The sparring motion in my veins was like a dangerous drug. But what reigned supreme in all those significant emotions was anger; the dragon whose flame was currently threatening to sizzle whatever love I had harboured for him to ashes.

I wanted to kill him, spear his heart with my most virulent glare and my harshest words until he would crumble and fade away.

But tightening my hands around the straps of my bag, I walked through the parking lot, heading to where the car was.

I didn't look at his face. And from the corner of my eye, I knew he desperately wanted a word, maybe a shoulder hug would have done great. But I walked right past him into the passenger seat, slamming the door with such rage.

And some seconds into me sitting alone, the driver's door finally opened and he made it in. And it took the immense anger I was feeling to not jump into his arms when the signature scent of cedar and a hint of rose whiffed through my nostrils, enveloping me in its addictive bliss.

"How was school today?" And hearing his voice after such a long time made me want to just give freedom to the tears and let them drop. It hurts.

I felt the ghost of his touch before the feel of his knuckles grazing my cheek.

"Don't touch me." I gritted out, "Don't you dare touch me, Mikhail." the last one came as barely a whisper, and this time, I couldn't mask the crack in my voice.

"Pleas-"

"-for the love of God don't speak to me!" my head whipped to the left, a stealthy glare directed at him, "Don't utter another word or I swear, I will step out of this car and there's nothing you do that will make me come back in."

His eyes darkened, but not out of anger, perhaps sadness, familiar emotion swirling in the depths before he sighed in dejection.

I huffed, a single tear managing to spill but I was quick to wipe it off, my head falling against the window, eyes snapped shut.

The thirty or less minutes drive back home was the worst one yet. The silence was the most uncomfortable. Sadness hung over our head like a hale could, the tension so thick you could slice it with a knife.

And when we finally reached home, I didn't waste a breath as I jumped out of the car, trudging inside.

When I entered the room, I expected his scent to linger strongly in every corner as it had started to fade away at some points. But the room still felt the same way it had been since he left.

I was unbuttoning my shirt in the walk-in when I heard the sound of the door opening and closing. The cacophony of his heavy though gentle footsteps echoed against the tiled floor as he approached the walk-in closet.

I perceived the wave of his scent before I felt the heat of his presence. Like no one was there with me at all, I neither turned around nor acted like I was aware. I just busied myself with taking off my clothes.

"Am I allowed to talk now, baby?" He didn't come further in, but I knew he was close enough to be able to cover the distance between us with just two steps.

Without answering him, I dumped my shirt on top of the heap of clothes in the laundry basket just by the corner and proceeded to do the hook and zipper of my skirt, sliding it off.

I was now left in my underwear.

"Azania?" He called, taking a step closer yet I didn't answer. And instead, bent over one of the drawers containing shorts and pulled out the first thing I laid my hand on, then moving over to the other one for shirts, I grabbed a random black one, bunching the materials in my hand.