Hate You - LN

35

I wake up to movement on the couch beside me and open my eyes as last night comes rushing back to the forefront of my mind. I was up late last night unable to sleep, tossing and turning before I eventually decided to just get up and watch a show in my living room. I was halfway through an episode of Grey's and overthinking my last conversations with Devin when I heard the knock on the door.

I'd thought it might have been my neighbour across the hall who loves to come home at all hours of the morning or maybe a janitor bumping a broom against it. If I'd been half asleep I would have ignored it, but I was awake overthinking so I'd gone to check what the noise was.

Seeing Devin broken, barely able to stand and bleeding outside my apartment door broke me in a way I can't explain.

Her face was bleeding, although I'm sure the rain washed most of the blood away since the small cut was barely red and already clotting. She'd been breathing like she was having a panic attack but I could tell by her muddy clothes and lack of a proper raincoat she'd walked or ran here. She was also gripping her side as if she was in pain there too. Which I later found out that she was.

But it wasn't the injuries, the panic, none of that scarred me. I could fix a cut with a bandaid, and bruises with an icepack. It was the look in her eyes that scared me because there was no way to explain the way she looked at me. Like I was her safety.

She looked terrified, vulnerable and yet she looked relieved when I opened the door and I've done nothing to deserve that.

But I'd be lying to myself if I said I wasn't relieved she came to me after whatever happened with her dad. Some selfish part of me is happy that she felt safe coming to me. Even though she said later last night she didn't mean to run to my apartment. But at this point, I will take whatever I can get from Devin because having her slowly waking up in my arms is the best feeling I could ever hope for. I only wish she wasn't here because of what happened to her last night.

God, it was her dad the whole time. Charles was right. I don't like at all knowing what happened and why Dev left that day because now I feel like an even worse idiot. Sure, we hadn't put a label on what we were four years ago, but I was supposed to be one of the people she could go to when she was in trouble. Someone she could be honest and open with about anything and everything. But now knowing why she left I feel worse. Because for some reason, I did something while we were together that made her feel like she couldn't talk to me.

She was hurt, the scar on her hip, the small one on her ribs, her elbows, how many more are there that I don't know about? How much was she hurt, and how long had she been hiding and running?

What if I could have stopped it?

I feel a tear fall from my eye as I study the slight texture of my apartment ceiling and the early morning sun rays coming across it. It must be somewhere around five in the morning. Moments later the tear is brushed off my cheek and I turn my head to the side to be greeted by Devin, fully awake and assessing me with her bright eyes. Her cheek is slightly swollen but thankfully the bruising isn't terrible around the small bandaid on her face.

"Are you okay?" She asks, her morning voice groggy with sleep. I should be the one asking her that. I also probably should have put her into the guest bedroom last night and already been well awake before her this morning to make breakfast or something. Maybe then I could have offered to take her to Charles' or Lorenzo's. I wouldn't take her to Arthur's apartment, I don't trust him as much as the older Leclerc's. That would have been the more normal thing to do because now that she's in my arms I'm scared to let her go. "Lan?"

I shake my head, trying to brush off the horrible feeling in my gut. I tighten my hold on her, pulling her body closer to mine on the couch she picked out all those years ago. I'm careful not to hold her too tight in case it hurts her but she moves closer to me, our bodies facing each other. Her head rests on my arm that's laid out on the couch and her arms are tucked between us loosely around her stomach. I loop my free arm around her midsection gently caging the space between us in an attempt to keep her close.