'And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am'

Now, it was my turn to answer, and in front of these two penetrating eyes, I couldn't say anything but the truth.

"I don't know," I breathed out the three words as if I'd confessed a billion, and I lifted the piece of cotton to the corner of his eyebrow, where its lift was accentuating the drop of dry blood there.

As his gaze was flickering between my hand and my face, he probably wondered if I was getting back at him for dodging my first question. I could have, but no; it was the truth.

I had no answer, and my hands were reaching instinctively for him, as if the touch of his warm skin could help me clear my thoughts, and maybe it did because the words came out with barely even a breath.

"I shouldn't be here. I have every reason not to."

Just a blink of my eyes, and behind my eyelids, I could see my parents, and Spencer. Another blink, and there was everything that had been added tonight to prove I wasn't part of this world.

I should have been grounded in my room, reading the letter I'd promised I would think about, safe and licitly in my room. These were just a few of all the arguments piling up on the same side of the scale.

Though when I reopened my eyes, my body was tilting towards him already, and all I saw was blue.

"But I want to." I nibbled on my lip as I searched how to explain to him like he'd done for me, make him understand in his words.

Yet how could I translate the spark that had led me to take his hand the first time? The strength with which I'd holden on to him at the bar? The craziness that had made me defy the dangerous bad boy he was? Or even the uneven beats of my heart at this instant?

"There's no plausible reason... I'm not doing it because I have to, because it's right or wrong..." I let my gaze run around as if something in this small bathroom could give me an answer, when nothing from the white tile to the now red-stained sink was made for this kind of confession.

Even the silence was too heavy with all our previous said and unsaid words. But when I came back to his eyes and their intense sharpness that pinned me until deep inside, I found the best way to describe it, which I knew he would understand.

"I guess it's like an instinct in my guts, guiding me to stay here... and I don't plan on going anywhere." My fingers slid briefly over his pulse on the side of his neck, just enough to feel the loud thumps matching mine. "Well, at least until I have to go back for my curfew." I offered him a small smile, trying to lighten the silence, and if it hadn't been for the faint twitch of his dimple, I would have believed I'd spoken in a foreign language to him.

The crease between his eyebrows was still as deep, his gaze piercing through me like I was a mystery of the universe, and with how sharp it was, I feared he would uncover things unknown even to myself.

I could feel everything stirring inside: my heartbeats, that spark in my guts, my fluttering stomach, and even my fingers as I uselessly tried to distract both of us, continuing to tend his smaller scratches. I was reaching for the bruise under his eye when he stood up abruptly, freezing all my movements outside and inside.

Had he already discovered something? Was my answer not the right one? I always messed everything when I opened my mouth, and this time, only a gasp came out as he pulled me up too, leading me to the door.

He'd surely decided to drag me out since I was so adamant about staying.

"But... I'm not finished..." I raised the cotton that was still in my hand like the only argument I had when his fingers were already on the handle.

"I wanna show you something." He turned to me with the same determination in his gaze, and mine was probably wider than I imagined as I watched him grab the piece of cotton and throw it in the sink because he added with a chuckle, "I'll grab a pack of ice after if that makes you happy."

Did that make me happy? I would have been happier if he hadn't risked his life and got hurt at all. Yet the grin that stretched my lips and the flutters in my chest resembled a lot to happiness. He was doing it for me, and it was the best gift he could have given me in that instant.

We'd made a long way since less than an hour before, in front of the bar, when he'd pushed away any help or touch from me. Although we were walking down the same hallway, and we were still silent, something was different in both of us, and once more, I could only feel it in my guts, at least, until he turned right at the end of the hallway.

If I remembered well – and of course, it was something I hadn't forgotten – it was his secret storage room. But he didn't bother turning on the light, already leading me to another dark room.

From the goosebumps arising with the fresher air hitting my exposed skin and the echo of our steps bouncing against the walls before reaching inside my chest, it must have been some sort of warehouse. Though not a hint of fear was laced with those details, and I didn't think one second about the strength the hand that was holding mine could pull, neither about the blood I had wiped, and even less about the gun still in my skirt. It was all forgotten, and there was no way it could cross my mind once he turned on the light.

With the click of the switch, fluorescent lamps lighted up one after the other, and my eyes needed a few seconds to see more than dark dots before I was really dazzled.

It was indeed a warehouse, almost as wide and high as the rooms for shooting, except that here, the space was filled with large cutting machines, lumber piles, and many wooden objects, everything needed for...

"It's the place where I come to work the wood and escape." He let go of my hand, walking to the center of the room and turning on what looked like a bedside lamp, and it was the moment everything switched on inside.

"Your secret place..." My whisper got lost, along with my breath, my gaze, and maybe even my heart as I lifted my head.

It was all about the details: the missing neon lights in the center aisle, the lampshade that had been taken off, and the wooden sculpture that was replacing it. Separately, it was details that I could have missed, but all together, it created a unique lighting and a play of shadows and lights in the center of the ceiling, and it wasn't forming any design. The wood had been carefully carved in branches shapes, reminding the inks I knew by heart, and it was like, through this light, the tattoo on his hand had been spread to the whole room and illuminated to form a sky of branches.

I was stargazing at my favorite inks of his, and the branches became shooting stars when he spun the top of the lamp.

He was making magic with a simple lamp and in all my insides as I twirled with the lights, my head tilted towards the heavens, where all I saw were branches and shooting stars.

I didn't know how many turns I did – surely too many – but when my eyes came back down, everything was still spinning inside and outside, and the words bubbled up freely with a giggle.

"I love it."

The moment I crossed his gaze, I was pinned, and while everything around was still a blur, I could see clearly the play of shadows and lights reflecting in the crystalline shades. No, in fact, it was the twirling lights and dancing shadows on the ceiling that mirrored the ones in his eyes.

It was really his secret place, and I averted my gaze from his to glance around.

Near the door, the large machines were still standing as imposingly as when they'd caught my eye, the bright lights being there to emphasize their sharp edges – and I didn't doubt it was also to make sure to see clearly when using the saws. Yet now, from where I was, the play of shadows was much more captivating, and they even seemed to point the way to the back of the room, where I glimpsed a workshop table. That was where I was heading slowly, in search of more details about him, more parts of him.

I didn't want to miss anything because who knew when or even if I would ever come back.

I'd gone past the cutting and scary facade quite some time ago already, but here, I was stepping into unknown territory, past the lumber piles, and my gaze was running everywhere, followed closely by my hands, and my heart.

I recognized the sharp angles and light curves of some planks, and after a few more steps, they were in full objects from furniture pieces to the trinkets filling them. Some were illuminated by a few lights, other hidden in the shadows, though everything appeared mystical as I walked further in the back of the room. I couldn't name the sharp tools hanging on the wall above the table, and the drawings and scribbles on some pieces of paper looked like secret plans between an ashtray and a half-empty bottle of whisky.

It was his secret place; there was no doubt, and when I glimpsed the next object beside the table, it stopped my eyes, my hands, and my heart.

"Is it..."

"For Meteorite." He nodded, his tall figure appearing right beside me and his penetrating gaze even closer. "Now that he can walk, I thought he would like it."

I jumped to observe the small wooden house from closer, and there was no need to mention everything that followed.

I was stunned in front of all the little details: the sheltered space to sleep, the bar at the top from where a toy was hanging, and of course, a shooting star just above the door. 

"I have a few more things to finish." He pointed with his chin to the side of the roof, where one plank was missing, but it didn't prevent me from already picturing the little raccoon snoring under it and sharpening its claws with the toy.

"It's already amazing!" I tried to show him how amazing it really was, even if it was probably hard to tell the nuance when I'd been wearing the same wide grin for some good minutes.

Everything was amazing me here. It was like Aladdin's cave, or the inside of my evil genie's lamp, more exactly, and my smile couldn't come down as I got up again, my gaze already landing on another treasure.

This one was literally one: a small chest, not bigger than my hand.

However, it didn't mean my curiosity was only directed towards the small box, and it was everywhere as my fingers reached for the lid and my gaze went back to Blade.

"Since how long are you doing woodwork? I mean..." With the resistance of the wood under my fingers, I remembered I had already used my one question, and I tried to calm down my curiosity, which dragged every part it had tickled down with it.

It was a personal question, and he was already showing me a lot. He had no reason to answer, and maybe that was what made it even more meaningful when he put his hand on mine, guiding me to push on the second engraving on the side and opening the chest.

"About two years."

"Two years?!" I gasped, my gaze coming back to his.

The box contained a packet of weed – how surprising? – though it wasn't the most important as something else was revealing itself.

"Yeah, when I arrived here, Pete had just bought this old carpentry with still all the gear inside, and I helped him turn it into the shooting range. One day I tried 'cause the machines looked cool, and I never really stopped since then. Pete lets me keep this warehouse for it."

Of course, Pete saw his potential; he'd always known how great Blade could be, and the belief shining in his eyes, I felt it more and more.

"You can keep it if you want."

I blinked my eyes at him until he added with a smirk,

"Not the weed, don't worry – unless you want to?"

He believed my awe sounds were directed towards the treasure chest – not that it didn't deserve all the 'wow' and praises. Yet my shining eyes were everywhere around, and they always came back to him. The fact that he was able to do all of this in barely two years, learning by himself, it was what knocked the awe sounds out of my ribcage.

Though I liked the box too much to refuse and risk being impolite.

"Thank you." I grabbed the box, putting aside its content as I already had other ideas to fill it.

"It's nothing. I have quite a lot!" He shrugged, his crooked smile growing larger, but this time, I didn't follow his gaze around.

I was focused on the movement of his shoulders that appeared easier, and the dimple drawing more attention than any other mark on his face.

"Why don't you find a job in woodwork?" With his relaxed features, the tensions seemed to have left my body too, letting the question come out naturally.

It appeared like the perfect moment, the perfect moment to talk or to mess; that, I wasn't sure though, and when he let out a chuckle, it hinted at the latter.

"And who would hire me? I have no diploma, and with my resume, I can't even find a garbageman job, so imagine around cutting machines." He widened his eyes and the devious smile on his lips, both highlighting the darkening bruise and blood marks around, and it was probably what employers saw: the dangerous killer.

Yet there were so much more nuances in the unique lighting of branches, and if they had looked a little farther, they would have caught the delicacy and art his hands could create.

"Then work for yourself. Why don't you sell all these objects?"

"It's the same. Who would buy something from a criminal like me? People around don't have the money for decoration and furniture, and in town, who would?"

"I would!" I squeezed the box in my hand, which I would have loved even without knowing its creator. The dangerous killer just added more value.

"That's sweet." He chuckled again, yet the raspy sound was different, warmer, sweeter, especially inside my chest as he took a step closer, and although it was a faint change, it was so contrasting from minutes ago.

I was finding back my evil genie.

"But shooting stars are rare, and even if I can think of some interesting payment methods... it won't do a living."

"There must be a way to show people your hard work, that's the most important, not what you've done before." My voice was quiet, yet the words still came out rushed by something spreading as fast as shivers, and I didn't get to turn fully to meet him over my shoulder that he already leaned away, resting his hips against the table, while his smile twitched in half.

"There's no fairytale around here."

I held my breath, the vulnerability of being pushed away like a 'princess' hitting harder in his secret place, and I didn't even dare to blink in fear that the lights would be out when I reopened my eyelids.

Luckily, he quickly continued, "No magic that makes people forget, and maybe everything is possible from where you are, but here, you can't change where you're born and what you've done." He glanced to my side, and just in this instant, the relief restarted my basic movements.

With the beats of my heart, I realized he was just trying to explain to me like he'd done for the buzzhead, and I took all the details. His hand was next to mine on the table, close enough that I could feel the sparks from the brush of our skins with every breath, and once my eyes blinked, I could focus on his and see clearly the blue shades with no ice. Maybe there were still waves, yet I still took a deep breath to dive in.

"I understand." I moved my hand over his, intertwining our fingers and leaning closer. "I'm a girl."

Okay, this was surely not the best argument, especially talking to a boy. How to explain that just a thing between his legs was having such influence? But strangely, as his furrowed eyebrows lowered, I felt like he knew what I meant, and even if he couldn't have experienced it, he surely had witnessed more than I imagined.

"And where I'm from, not everything is possible for girls either, maybe even everywhere... and it seems that I can't change what they've planned for me... I know it's not the same, but..." I fiddled with the secret lock of the pirate chest, searching for the right words to express and not mess, as there was nothing comparable between my 'princess', ordinary and safe world, and his dangerous, illegal one.

Yet somehow, it brought me the same sensations. We were both stuck, hiding the truest parts of ourselves because people weren't ready to see us, and it was the same powerlessness that paralyzed me in shivers and that made him burn with rage.

"Sometimes, I just wish I could forget everything... Escape far away from all these obligations and plans... Just start over somewhere where people won't judge or expect anything from me." The words were barely a whisper, yet it was the loudest they'd ever been as this confession was even new to me.

It had built up in the past weeks, and I didn't know if Blade was the best or the worst person to confess to, as his eyes lit up with a bad intention.

It was a dangerous thing to say those words around my evil genie.

"Don't tempt me... I could take you at your words... My bike is always ready, and we can get away like Bonnie and Clyde..." he purred the words like a promise through his Cheshire cat's smile, and as he leaned closer, that grin was more hypnotizing than I'd ever seen it, the unique lighting emphasizing its wickedness, or maybe it was just the shadows of his black eye.

"No..." The roles were reversed as my smile was a little bit lopsided, and I lifted on my tiptoes. "...Like Ford Wels and Lucy Lucas."

Was the lamp spinning again? Because I pulled away from his shoulder just in time to catch the fleeting shadow and the light sparking in his eyes, and then, it was dancing in the clear shades as he laughed.

"Yes, Lucy and Ford." His laughter was still echoing in the wide room when his gaze bored into mine with an intensity that disrupted the melodious rhythm of my heart. "About them..."

He was too serious, and if it was still about them and his offer, I wasn't sure what I would answer.

"There's something I didn't tell you."

My frown mirrored his, as whatever it was, it seemed written between my freckles.

"It wasn't the first time I did this, inventing and pretending to be someone else."

"Oh, um... It's um..." 'Okay' was the word in the back of my throat.

Of course, he wasn't a 'virgin' on any of this; he'd warned me, and he probably had seduced a lot of girls like this. His honesty although sharp in the sweet moment was valuable. Yet the 'okay' couldn't come out of the lump growing in my throat with all the unique memories I cherished, the only magical ones from that day. Did they lose their magic if there were more people than Ford and Lucy?

"I did this all the time when I was little."

My gaze, which had drifted down, came back up so fast that I would have surely heard the crack of my neck if my heart hadn't been banging so loudly.

"In the sandbox, the other kids didn't want to play with the Southside boy whose mom was sleeping off the alcohol and heroin at home. So I invented an alter ego, called Junior, James, or something like that, and I pointed to a random woman who was his mom." He shrugged, the faint movement making the light illuminate his features in a different way.

His twisted smile appeared purer while his eyes were half in shadow, half in light.

"You know the ones staying on the benches, talking with other moms, but always keeping an eye on the sandbox, cheering at their kids' sandcastles, and pulling out homemade cookies at 4 on the dot..."

My stomach was almost growling at the sweet scent of cookies, my fingers tickling with grains of sand, and I could hear the faraway birdsong mixing with laughter and carefreeness, all of this through his eyes.

"It never lasted long, and they quickly called the cops for the kid with no parent at the park."

Now, I saw the flashing red lights, the women's wide worried eyes, and felt the loneliness and panic from the same view in the sandbox. I was still with the little Blade.

"But I still sneaked out and did it every time for those few minutes of feeling normal." His gaze jumped from my freckles to my eyes, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips as if he'd done an hour-long speech.

It was the most he'd confessed without even an interrogation from me, and my own mouth was dry as he continued,

"I hadn't done it since then... until Lucy and Ford, and it was even better. It felt like it could last forever without getting caught, and we didn't even have to be normal." His smile stretched slowly, and in this instant, I had no doubt about what my answer would be if he offered me to forget forever again.

It would be the same as the first time.

The magic was still there, even more powerful if Ford and Lucy shared it with Junior, James, and all those little boys sparkling in his eyes. I could see them all; that was how transparent the blue was.

Somewhere between the moment I'd decided to stay despite colliding with the tough ice, and the blood I'd wiped and the tempest I'd glimpsed, along all our confessions, his facade had melted slowly, and I would go back through the hurricane of tonight, if it led me there, as much literally, in this room, as figuratively, drowning in the depths of crystalline.

"Well, I would play with the real Blade Sayer." My voice was quieter as if compressed by the intensity of this instant, or maybe I was afraid that any sound could create a wave in the crystalline expanse and engulf everything.

Though I realized that the wave was inside me when he leaned his head closer and I croaked, "Anytime."

Those cracks announced nothing good, even if for once, the rush of tears wasn't solely bad. It was the tsunami of emotions of the night that was crashing on me and arising from my chest to my eyes. Yet how to explain it?

Blade would surely take it as pity after what he'd said, although it was one of the only emotions I didn't feel.

So I expressed the only way he would understand and that I could mess with no worry. I crashed my lips on his smirk, where a bad intention was already forming, and I let out all the emotions of tonight.

There were the shock, the trembling fear, the freezing powerlessness, the flickering hope, the unwavering belief, the wonder, the spark of possibilities, and every beat of my heart that I couldn't put into words, and it took him way less time to reply than when I'd talked.

He didn't hold back either, unleashing his own tempest on my lips, and the clash of both created a raw force inside and outside, something more powerful than streaks of fire or devious magic.

It was the strength of ourselves, raw and true, and just like for his lamp, we were making it grow, expanding it from the deepest parts of our guts until it vibrated on our skins and surely against the walls of the wide room. With how strongly my heart was hammering, I was sure it echoed all around, and mostly, I could feel our lights and shadows dancing and spinning together. Every part of me with every part of him.

The softness of the little Blade was in the, for once, slow and languid caresses of his lips, but it was the criminal tongue snatching my breath away and fighting with mine. His hands sliding around my waist were molding the arch of my back as if he was carving wood, and of course, there was still the evil genie sucking my lower lip between his teeth and creating sinful sparks.

All these parts were drawing me in equally, and my hands were reaching for more from his neck to his chest down his arms. Who knew where I would have ended if a low groan didn't stop the banging of my heart, making me pull away with the same strength and speed as I'd crashed on his lips.

"Oh no! Did I hurt you? I'm sorry..." Streaks of light and shadows were still dancing before my worried eyes as they widened at the dark skin I'd touched, and once I saw clearly the red-going-on-purple bruise, my fingers grazed it softly, barely hovering like to make it up for my messy and eager movements.

How hadn't I noticed the large bruised wound near his elbow before? And how had I even forgotten to be careful and soft when he'd just been hurt? 

Right, I remembered why as his lips formed that devious smile.

"No, don't worry." He tightened his grip around my waist, holding me in place when I was ready to run in search of bandages, ice, or anything to tend the wound. 

"I don't mind the pain... for you." There was an underlying meaning to his words. Well, another one besides the sinful and mischievous innuendo, and the darkness invading his eyes was following exactly his movements to lean closer but also the tightening grip of both of his hands on my hips, and it was this detail that made me turn my head before he could meet my lips.

Instead, my mouth headed for that soft spot on his neck, and I poured all those same emotions as in our previous kiss. Yet this time, I was as soft, smooth, and slow as a cotton bandage, and there was one less emotion: curiosity.

Those tickles that had invaded every part of me to the point where it had been almost searing, they were fading away since I'd entered this room, and they were replaced by something more intense and fulfilling: the strong thumps of his heart under my lips.

Whose heart melted? It's definitely one of my favorite chapters so far 😍🥺😭

By the way, here are pics to give you a glimpse of the lighting and dancing shadows 🤩

Do you like Blade's secret place? 🤩 What do you think about this part of him? And the little Blade, wasn't he adorable? 🥺

If you liked it, you know what to do: vote ⭐ and comment!

And since yesterday was Valentine's day,  I wanna tell you I love you, my little shooting stars 🌠😘💕