Tonight was a close call: Reyna almost found out that I was the one who kidnapped her and broke her finger. And everything I've been doing was about to be blown by a stupid hole in my shirt. I'm glad that Reyna had Adriano call me. That means she still trusts me and that she finds safety in me. But tonight's incident also raises a few questions in my own mind: am I ever going to reveal that I murdered her friends? That I put her in a closet and broke her finger just to get her trust? 

 Would she stay with me and forgive me for everything that I did to keep her safe? Or would she scorn me and ice me out of her life forever? I can try to imagine a life where she didn't need me and where I couldn't see her. It's difficult to do, but the vague thought of it leaves me feeling even more hollow than usual.

 Speaking of hollow feelings caused by death, I should probably see my parents. Not today, though – it's five in the morning. Today we rest. Tomorrow I'll go. Hopefully, Reyna can go with me so I'm not alone. Being alone with my father and Alessa would be a nightmare. Before going to sleep, Reyna pops into my room next to hers. "Hey, kiddo," I greet. Reyna's arm is nothing major, thankfully. She should be totally fine within the next three days. 

"I never told you something you probably already know," she admits.

 "What is it?" 

 Reyna lingers at the doorway, wearing one of my shirts as an almost-nightgown. She may or may not be wearing pants...can't tell. "It's kind of a long story." Her feet shuffle around, tired of standing.

 I move over and bring the sheets down for her to come to lay. "I'm all ears."

 She shuffles over and slides in, letting me snake an arm around her shoulders. "In the morgue of the hospital during the lockdown, there were clippings of a doctor named Giovanni King. He lost patients called the King twins. Later, he committed suicide...just down the hall. I don't know if there's no relation between you two or anything..." 

 Sighing, I nod. "Yeah, he was my uncle. My dad said he skipped town because 'I was young but I don't know. My dad is weird." 

 "What do you mean?" she asks, tucking her head into my shoulder and slinking her arms around me. Her hand is by the hole of my shirt and her index finger which lightly traces the skin it exposes touches sending electric shocks through my nerves. 

 "He's –" my voice cracks. Since when does my voice crack? I hit puberty when I was younger than usual. I was basically born with a deep voice and abs – straight out of the womb. Clearing my throat, I continue, grateful that Rey doesn't point out the oddity. "He'slike me, I think. When Aero died he was like a statue." 

 "You think he's psychopathic?"

There's a difference between calling someone psycho, psychotic, and psychopathic. 

Psycho is a negative word you would use to describe an emotionally unstable mother, like Alessa. Psychotic is how you would describe the behaviour of Kellin when she went into rage mode and attacked Reyna. Psychopathic is when you have a psychological disorder. I'm telling you so that if I see you, you'll know how to not piss me off. 

 "Yeah, and I did some research and it turns out that psychopathy can be genetic. Also, I wouldn't be surprised if my mother was some sort of demented, too," I grumble, caressing her arm. "I'm all sorts of messed up, kid." 

 Reyna shifts to look at me better and smiles. "I like those parts of you," she tells me. 

"You look and act so perfect that it's nice to know you're actually mortal." 

 I snort and look down at her. "You know, even the gods were deeply flawed and they were immortal."

 "Which made humans attracted to them," she points out before re-tucking her head and tracing my skin.

"What did you see in me? When I told you what I was at the carnival?"

"Honesty. But it isn't what I saw in you when you told me, it's what I felt before you did."

"And what's that?" I inquire.

"In place."

I kiss her forehead. "I love you."

Again, her fingers trace the hole of my shirt. "Love you too, Enzo."

"Here," I offer, stripping my shirt and tossing it aside. Confused, Reyna looks up at me.

"You've never seen me," I explain. Though she's uncomfortable, she sits up a bit and looks. I mean, I can't blame her: I look great. "You can touch," I tease. "I don't usually bite." 

I don't need to see her cheeks to know that they're blushing. "Usually," she nervously chuckles, reaching a handout. Gingerly, her fingertips trace my prominent collarbones, warmth blossoming wherever she touches. Growing bolder, her hand skims over my chiselled chest and rests for a minute on my heart. It's now that I realize it's beating at a million miles per hour. Suddenly, my palms feel sweaty. Now, her hand slides down to my abdomen, which is very well toned, if I may say...which I may: it's my body after all. 

"You're beautiful," Reyna sighs, outlining the gunshot wound she unwittingly gave me. Sitting up, I hold her face and brush back strands of her hair. "You are, too." Reynagrabs my hands and when I lean in to kiss her, her hands travel up my arms and to my shoulders. She deepens the kiss enough to put me in a stupor; a trance – which makes my body jittery and go on auto-pilot.

My hands slide down to her hips and I pull her over mine. Slowly, I lay down so she follows me, our lips like a tether that commands our actions. My hands go to her knees and crawl up her thighs. No pants under my shirt, I mentally confirm. Grabbing the hem of her shirt, I start to pull it up, waiting for her to tell me to stop or to shove it back down because she's nervous. Instead, she grabs it and pulls it over her head. Oh, okay... 

 Despite the difficulty, I pull apart from her. Now it's my turn to touch. She feels me so I feel her, that's how it works. At least, that's how I thought it worked because rather than doing whatever I want, I find myself asking, "Can I?" 

"Yeah," she permits, vaguely out of breath. 

 I run my fingers down the slope of her neck and the trough of her spine. Her skin is soft and vaguely smells of vanilla. Do I smell? I feel her heartbeat, wondering if she's as exhilarated as I am. It beats as fast as a rabbit.

I look up to her, asking a question that my words would uncharacteristically butcher. Understanding, she reaches behind her and unclips her bra. She drops it on the ground, appearing bashful all of a sudden. I reach for her face and brush my lips against her sharp jaw. "You're perfect," I manage under a shaky breath, kissing her neck before lifting her off of me. 

 I slide my pants down and they get awkwardly clumped at the feet. Embarrassed, I laugh a little. Reyna laughs too, helping me. Finally, we manage them off and we're back to kissing. Tentatively, I manage my way over her, our hands searching each other. Now, this is the peak moment when we would normally...you know.

"Reyna," I call to attention. "Have you ever done this?"

"No, why?" she asks, worries spreading across her face like she thinks she's not good enough.

"I don't want to hurt you." When I say it, I mean it more than just a physical level. I don't want to hurt Reyna. Ever. I mean, I want to marry her for God's sake. 

 She places a hand on the side of my face and responds. Her answer is simple, and I think that's why I love her so much. My life is a cesspool of disorder and trouble and complications. All I want is simplicity. And amidst the chaos and destruction, Reynamakes everything seems easy and clear. 

 "Then don't," she whispers. 

 "I won't," I promise, kissing her fingertips. "Ever." 

 And then our talking ceased as our bodies collided as if they were always meant to do so