[FEATURED IN WATTPAD INDIA PROFILE]
❝Pioneering the art of constructing love, my Kanmani.❞
Xavier teased her skin, slowly caressing her cheeks and her lips trembled.
❝You don't dare!❞
And he kissed her.
------
When he had compromised his dreams and...
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"Xavier?"
Satya pushed open the door to Xavier's bedroom, her stomach knotting when she saw his form slumped on the bed, face buried into the pillow.
It had concerned her when, last night, he'd left the party without saying a damn thing to her. Was he angry? About what? Losing the game? He wasn't that petty. She couldn't figure out what the hell had triggered him.
"Hmm..."
A groggy reply, muffled and hoarse.
She perched on the edge of his bed and reached out to tuck a messy lock of hair over his forehead. He was sprawled on his stomach, head tilted to the side, with just enough of his bare back visible above the comforter to make her chest ache.
The skin there told stories no one should have to hear. It bore trophies from his father—long, dark welts left by a leather belt—and something that screamed of a childhood stolen. It fucking hurt her every time she saw them. Scars weren't new to her; she had her fair share from her accident.
But his? His scars were different. They were inflicted for no goddamn reason, and when he was just a boy. He had never shared much about them. The one time she'd seen them accidentally and asked, he'd responded with a sarcastic quip: "Not every father is like Mr. Devinathan. Some like to show love by torturing their only child."
Her eyes burned as tears slid down her cheeks. Her fingers dared closer, barely brushing one of the marks—
He jolted awake, startling as if she'd struck him.
"I've told you not to fucking touch them," he snapped, his voice cold enough to cut through her. It hurt more than the scars themselves.
She pulled back, watching him grab his t-shirt off the floor and yank it on like armor. "What happened?" she asked, wiping her tears. "Why did you leave early?"
Her eyes caught a stain on his bedsheet—dark red. Her breath hitched as she noticed his left hand, crudely wrapped in a makeshift bandage. "What the fuck happened, Xavier?!"
There was blood, a lot of blood, dried and fresh, soaked into the fabric. His blood.
"Accident," he said flatly, stepping out of bed. "Nothing to worry about. I cleaned the cut and wrapped it with that white shit from your first-aid box."
"Xav, look at me."
He avoided her gaze, slipping past her and heading for the door.
"Xavier Lucifer Joseph," she called, her voice sharp enough to halt him mid-step. "Look at me."
