Her fingertip hovered above me, trembling in the morning light. Finally, she gave in, reckless and soft. The slightest touch grazed my bottom lip, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. It felt warm, delicate, and intoxicating. Her breath caught, and her chest rose unevenly, as if sudden realization dawned upon her. Then came the sound, barely audible yet made me hold my breath. She made a soft gulp.
I blinked, heavy with sleep, and there she was. Flushed and guilty, she bit down on her lip as if that would erase the truth written all over her face. Caught. I let her name slip out, low and rough, a sound pulled from somewhere deep. "Ella…" My lips curved under her touch, and her hand lingered against me, frozen, as if moving would make the moment real.
And God, it already was.
Her hand lingered, trembling, and instead of letting her pull away, I tilted my head slowly and deliberately. A soft smirk played on my lips as I caught her wrist. I guided it away, but let my touch slide across her skin, gliding against her palm, which made me realize how delicate her hands felt under my hardened and roughened palm as my other hand swiftly curled around the back of her neck.
She froze. Her breath was shallow. Her eyes were wide.
I pulled her closer until there was barely a whisper between us. Her flushed face was just inches from mine, her breath brushing against my mouth.
"You shouldn'ttouchme like that," I murmured, my voice low and almost wicked, though my thumb traced the delicate curve of her nape like a promise I wasn't ready to break. Her lips parted, struggling for words, but nothing came.
And God, I almost closed that last inch. I almost tasted her.
Almost.
Her nails dug into my shoulders, soft but unyielding. My heart raced in my chest. Every nerve screamed at me, but then my eyes caught something. I noticed the faint trace of last night's tears on her cheek, contrasting with the flush of her skin. The memory of her broken sobs, the sight of her chest heaving in despair, cut deep through me.
I wanted to erase it. I wanted to make it vanish. My thumb lightly traced the faint stain, almost with reverence, trying to drag it away as if I could wipe out all the hurt she had carried alone. "Shh… It's gone now," I murmured, my voice low and rough, my lips close to her temple. "No one will hurt you here."
Her breath caught at my words, her eyes wide and vulnerable, still inches from mine. The tension between us was suffocating and intoxicating, and I felt every moment of it in my veins, in my conscience, igniting the flame.
I leaned in just a bit closer, feeling the warmth of my chest press against hers. Her breath caught again, soft and shaky, while my thumb rested on her cheek, tracing the curve I'd memorized countless times, soft, flushed, gentle.
Her lips were only inches from mine, warm and inviting. They were impossibly tempting. I could feel her pulse under my fingertips, frantic and wild. The world shrank until nothing existed but the space between us.
"Ella…" My voice came out as a whisper, raw and rough, carrying a feeling I didn't want to name. "…don't move." She froze, her nails still digging into my shoulders, eyes wide and shining, chest moving against mine, both our hearts beating fast, throbbing as fast, loud, clear. I wanted to taste her and feel her shiver against me. But part of me held back, haunted by last night's sobs and the fragility beneath the fire I sensed in her.
Still, I couldn't let go. The moment her gaze dropped, even slightly, I pulled away. Slowly and intentionally, I leaned back enough to break the closeness, creating a space between us.
Her lips lingered in my memory; the proximity was pushing me off the edge. Her wide, glistening eyes followed me as if I had just disappeared. My heart raced and my pulse quickened, but I didn't dare close the gap again; I couldn't. Not yet.
"I… I can't," I said softly, my voice rough, though my hands still hovered near her neck, hesitant to let go completely. "…Not like this." She blinked up at me, flushed, caught between confusion and frustration. I wanted to explain, to soothe the ache in her heart with just a touch. But some lines, some moments, needed to be handled with care.
Even if it tore me apart inside.
"I should probably get going-…" I muttered, every fiber of me aching to stay, but needing to keep my distance. Her hand slid over mine, soft, warm, deliberate. "Please…" Her voice was low, almost trembling. "…stay."
God.
I froze. Her fingers laced with mine, gentle but insistent, anchoring me in a way that made my restraint feel absurd. The heat of her touch, the quiet desperation in her tone, what was this pull that was impossible to ignore?
One hand. One whispered plea. And just like that… everything was unbalanced.
She shifted gently in my lap and let out a soft gulp as she leaned into me. She rested her head against my chest, and the warmth of her and the fragility of her posture tore something open inside me.
"…Didn't you say you'd be there for me, then?" Her words were barely a murmur, soft and broken. They hit me harder than any blade ever could. I tightened my arms around her, careful not to crush her delicate frame.
My other hand tangled in her hair, caressing the waves as if they were sacred. Her tiny waist pressed against me, and I felt my chest swell with a mix of longing, guilt, and an aching need to protect her. She belonged here, not just in my arms but in every part of my life I had saved for her.
"Shh… I'm here," I whispered, my voice rough and shaky with everything I couldn't say out loud. "I won't leave you, Ella. I promise." Even as I said it, part of me feared the truth. Once she trusted me like this, once she let herself lean on me, there would be no turning back.
I held her closer as she began to speak, her words soft and trembling, fragile like glass in my hands. "Coco…" Her voice cracked. "He was a stray… abandoned, just like me. And we… we were there for each other. I loved him. I couldn't have him here, so he was at my aunt's house. He got sick a few days back, and I just knew something was wrong- but my aunt… she said it was just a fever. But then..."
Her chest rose and fell against mine, and I could feel every heartbreak, every ounce of loss she carried the way her tears rolled down, the way her sobs lingered even in the quiet. I wanted to erase it, to steal away every ounce of pain with my own hands.
But then suddenly, the apartment door clicked open.
"Ella, I'm here- " And there he was. Chocolate-brown hair perfectly styled, dressed up, with a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Asher. My stomach twisted. My jaw tightened. I looked down at her in my lap, head pressed to my chest, fragile and flushed, and then up at him. Both of us froze, caught in a moment that was too intimate, too raw.
Her wide, tear-glossed eyes. Looked at him, "Ash?"
Asher's voice broke the warm, heavy silence. "Ella! What's going on? This is the guy from before?"
I tensed, every instinct on high alert. My hands tightened slightly around her. It wasn't enough to hurt, but it marked my claim. I shot a dark, sharp look at him, a dead serious expression, silently telling him this was my space and my moment with her.
Ella lifted her head, slightly mentally exhausted, caught between us. Her eyes flicked from me to him, the echoes of last night and her grief still evident in the way her shoulders curved.
"I'll see you in the evening, Asher. But right now I need some space," her words were low, tired as she hid her tear-streaked face into my chest. Ahser looked at me, his jaw clenching, "Alright. I'll come in the evening then." he silently left the apartment after setting down the cups, but a question lingered in my mind why did he have keys? But rn my focus should be on Ella.
Asher POV~
I was frozen in the doorway, coffee in hand. The warmth did nothing to ease the chill creeping up my spine. Ella was pressed against him. Not just close, but into him, hiding her tear-streaked face against his chest as if he were the only safe place in the world. My stomach twisted with jealousy, frustration, and helplessness.
"What the?" I began, my voice sharper than I meant it to be. Yet, my words felt pointless. The way she clung to him, the softness of her frame.Fuck. It stabbed me.
She lifted her voice enough to say she'd see me in the evening. Then she buried herself in his arms. I took a step forward, but his eyes caught mine before I could speak. That glare, that territorial glare, was calm, silent, but clear. It seared through me. Every instinct told me to get her out of his arms and ask her what happened, but I couldn't.
Still, the ache in my chest wouldn't go away. She's mine, I thought. But the way she melted into him, as if she had been waiting for him all along, made my own claim feel empty, hollow.I set the coffee down, swallowed the bitter lump in my throat, and forced myself to step back. No matter how much it hurt, no one could argue with what I couldn't touch.
I brushed my fingers through my hair, watching a butterfly drift into the open sky, wings fragile, free. Ella was my butterfly. No matter how far she flew, she kept finding her way back to me. And if one day she decided not to… then I'd make sure she had no choice.