Green.
His amber eyes that I have gotten lost in numerous times are green this morning. I look at his body that was below me and rest my hand against the side of his face. My thumb gently runs across the cut and small bruise that were indented on his right cheekbone. Shawn parts his lips as if to say something but remains silent. His left forearm rest against his forehead and his right hand is at my left thigh under the skirt of the dress that I slept in.
"Tell me about the fight," I softly say to him. My right hand is touching the other side of his face as I look at the large and slightly deep gash above his left eyebrow. I gently picked at the dried blood in hopes of reopening to wound to make it fresh to clean.
"I won." Shawn replies in his deep morning voice.
"I know," I nod my head. "But tell me about it all. Starting from when you talked to Michelle."
He licks his bottom lip and I look at the cut on his lower plump lip. "I needed to talk to her about you...again. But Jasmine, I need to confess something."
"You kissed her, didn't you?" I ask.
"No, god no. Never. I've been having flashbacks about her. Particularly sexual flashbacks." He confesses. For some odd reason, it doesn't make my stomach sink. It makes me angry, but I trust him and know he wouldn't do anything to hurt me. "If you're wondering, nothing happened. I swear to you, nothing happened."
"I believe you," I nod. "Continue."
"We talked and as usual, it was about you. Even when I'm with her, all we do is talk about you. I held her hand, though. When I was walking out to the cage, I held her hand because I was nervous. But I mainly had her there because I made the dumbest decision of making you stay behind. Then I got into the cage and Connor and I began to just shit talk to each other." Shawn lets out a weak chuckle. "He wanted me angry and he got it."
"How'd you almost kill him?"
Shawn winces as I accidentally press into the bruise on his cheekbone and I apologize. "He kept mentioning you. And then I felt like shit, and when he kept mention fucking you - I lost it. I got him to the floor and knocked him out, but I didn't stop. Something inside me just wouldn't let me stop hurting him. And I was getting off on it, too. I was liking the idea of hurting him."
"Are you afraid of yourself sometimes?" I ask.
He removes his arm from his forehead and places it on my waist. "I don't think so."
The scab is picked and it begins to bleed. I get off Shawn and head into the bathroom and grab the small plastic crate under the sink with the first aid kit, peroxide, and bandages, then head back into the bedroom. As I'm in the hallway, Shawn pops out from the bedroom and stands in front of me. His bruised body stands directly in front of me and I tip my head back a bit to face him. I glance back down and see his chest and abdomen scattered with five bruises, varying in shape, size, and color.
"It's not as bad as it looks," Shawn says.
"Come on, you're bleeding." I say as I turn on my heel and head back into the bathroom. Shawn follows me and he sits on top of the closed toilet seat and I set the crate on the side of the white glossy sink.
With a clean gauze, I wipe away the fresh blood as I stand between his legs. Shawn places his hands at my hips and it gives me butterflies. I toss the now bloody gauze into the trash and take the peroxide onto a new gauze and gently press at the wound. Shawn closes his eyes and winces at the feeling and I mumble little apologies to him. I toss it into the trash, apply a thick bandage, and then move onto his next cuts.
