(There will be trigger warning in the chapter ahead. Please pay attention to that. I can't promise you fun while reading this chapter)

After entering my house, I take Elliot straight to my room, flicking the lights on in the process. We stumble a lot and strike the walls but after such a daunting task, we manage to reach my door. Freeing one arm from holding his right hand, I turn the doorknob and push the door open. 

Now he seems a bit more steady than before, although not so much because of the way he is leaning into me. I turn the lights on and my room whose ceiling is painted white, and walls are painted a light shade of peach comes into the view. The curtains are brown almost giving a woody appearance, alternating with golden curtains in between.

I walk him towards my extra-large bed and lay him down on silvery skin velvet bedsheets. I place his legs on top of the copper-colored comforter. I place my hand on his forehead and his whiskey eyes drink me in. I sit down next to him and rub his scalp and the way he closes his eyes and hums, I know he likes it. I can't help but smile at his reaction.

I remove my hands from his hair and his eyes open up suddenly and his eyebrows furrow. I feel so amused but I don't let it show on my face. He watches me carefully as I remove his shoes, one followed by another. I take his socks off in the same fashion. 

My eyes take in the expression on his face and suddenly I turn around to go to the bathroom but I'm stopped as he catches my wrist. 

"Please, don't leave me alone. I need you," his voice cracks as he says that and my heart beats for him at that very moment. It beats for him all the fucking time and I cannot deny it anymore. I'm going to tell him. No matter whatever he says, I am going to tell him my feelings because if I don't have my answers, I will combust.

"Babe, let me just get the first aid kit and I'll be back here for you," I speak softly as I place my palms on both sides of his cheeks and rub the sides with my thumb. After It's clear to me that he understands what I said, I smile at him and walk away.

Grabbing the medical kit, I return. I dip the cotton into the water and start to clear out the dried blood on his cheekbones and near his eye. After I feel like the job is done, I take another soaked cotton piece and push it down on his plump lips gently. He winces at that and I revert from actions. 

"It hurts, just let it be," he croaks. How can I torture him anymore after that, when he's so troubled, to begin with?

"Okay," I exhale a breath I didn't know I had been holding. 

"I, uh...," I fumble with my words as I don't know what to say. He looks at me at that moment in a very specific way like he really wants me to say something. But I can't. Not when he is in this state.

"Never mind," I stood up and pulled the comforter from under his feet and put it over his legs.

"You can ask me anything, Charlotte. I feel saner in your bed now," he says.

Gosh! How can he say such things so simply!

I know it's a simple sentence but fuck, the way he said it, makes me want to climb on top of him and kiss him, right now.

But, his lip is injured and I don't have any rights over him. Back to reality. Reality is a bitch.

His stomach grumbles. "Elliot, when was the last time you ate?" I ask him.

"I had breakfast," he tells me like that's a very normal thing.

"And after that?" I continue.

"Alcohol," he says, straightforward.

I shake my head in frustration and exit the room at a fast pace.

This man! 

I whip out the pan and start to crack open the eggs as I decide on making omelettes for him and myself. I decided to put some onions in it, to make it fuller and a little bit of cheese and garlic butter. Little calories won't kill right now.

After I'm done making four omelettes, I put them in a vessel and take them to my room. As I enter, I see him typing on his phone. I roll my eyes.

Of course, he would start working!

I put the food down on the trolley and roll it near the bed on his side. I sit on the bed in front of him and he still won't stop typing. I roll my eyes and snatch the phone from his hands. He gives me an irritated glance but soon softens it when he sees the urgency on my face.

"Oh. Sorry," he flushes.

"Yeah yeah. You didn't see such a giant person walk into the room. You didn't feel the bed dip from my weight," I remark sarcastically.

He laughs, "I did. It's just that I was so engrossed in that little detail of the new alarm system for my car that I was working on that I felt like the idea might evaporate if I didn't put it down right now," he says.

I feel bad now. Acting on my reflexes, I hand him back his phone.

He snorts, " you fell for it! Charlotte, I never forget things that I come up with because I work on logic. I just wanted to tease you because I saw you roll your eyes at the door so I thought, "Hey, let's keep up with the act Elliot," 

"You jerk," I go to punch him lightly in the arm but he jerks away from me the moment I raise my fist in the air.

Oh.

He looks down on his lap and I put my arm down. To avoid the awkwardness, I climb over his legs to pick the plates up from the trolley.

He pulls his legs back to create space for me to put the plates. After I've set the cutlery, I place the omelettes on the plate. Just when I thought he would eat the omelette with a fork and a knife, he directly starts to break the pieces with his fingers and starts to eat them.

After seeing him, I find it comfortable to resort to my natural tendencies as I love to gobble up an omelette by making a roll of it. I roll it with my fingers and start to eat it.

He looks at me after he's done with one. He makes a roll of the second one just like me and starts to eat it. I bite my lip to hide my smile. He's so cute!

So obviously, when I'm done with my first one, I eat the second omelette, like he did, by breaking it into smaller pieces. But obviously, he's the graceful one because in no seconds, I have that melted butter and cheese sticking on my fingers and I've created a mess of it on my plate.

He looks at me and starts to laugh. I know I should be offended but he looks so cute right now that I want to make him laugh more. So as I put the next bite in my mouth, I deliberately smear the butter on my face and eat like a mini panda. He goes ballistic with his laughing at that. He shakes his head.

After laughing for so long, he brings his hand by the side of my lips and touches the skin there. My heart starts to thump crazily. I swear it beats so fast as he touches me. 

Can he feel the beat of my heart?

He looks at me and it's a quiet moment when he wipes the extra butter away. He repeats the same action on the other side of my mouth. He smiles at me after he's done and because he has to do everything that drives me crazy, he puts the damn finger in his mouth to lick it off.

Damn it!

How am I going to ever erase that from my memory?!

He gives me a wink afterward.

That cheeky bastard!

I roll my eyes at his cliche action but cliches are there for a reason, because once in a lifetime, you might become lucky when that one guy who is the Mr. Right for you, will come and do all these things with you and you'll be like, " fuck that's real!"

" Thanks for the food. I didn't know I was hungry until I saw it in front of me," he says, becoming serious.

"Why didn't you eat, Elliot?" I ask him, worriedly. Because I am worried. That's just the way I am.

"I forgot. The work was piled up," he says while pressing on his temples lightly.

"Work is always going to be like this because we chose it. We have to fix the time to take care of ourselves," I talk to him like a parental tone. I place my hand on his to console him.

He looks down at it. After some minutes, he turns my hand upside down and places his hand in my palm, and entwines our fingers.

Oh my!

He has a fiancée! My brain reminds me.

But this isn't the regular Charlotte right now.

"Why did you cook for me, right now? That day? Why do you go out of your way for me?" He asked me.

"What do you mean?" I breathe out.

He squeezes my palm and turns his neck to on side and with his other hand, he twirls the loose strand of hair falling by my side and speaks, "what I mean is," he pauses.

He touches my chin with the back of his index finger and rubs it against my jawline back and forth and says, " would you cook for every man that you bring home? Or is it just me?"

I suck in a breath. What?

Oh. It's just you. So very much you! I want to scream.

How am I supposed to answer that without ranting about all the feelings that I have for him?

I'm flabbergasted and all shook up. I cough and move a bit. He removes his hand from my cheek because of my movement. Damnit!

I open my mouth to respond.

"I think it's just that—I can actually feel the hunger and weakness I used to feel whenever I recall the number of hours I've spent being hungry because I was studying or starting a company or working on my dream project. It took me a lot of time to get out of that vicious cycle. Starving myself was no way to hustle. So I hate it whenever somebody says I am hungry. I hate being hungry and I won't allow you to be hungry anymore. Fuck, Elliot, I'm so mad right now. Hunger issues drive me mad because nobody deserves it!" 

He looks at me wide eyed with pride and a deep, intense strong emotion behind his eyes. The look in his eyes makes me want to continue and say more.

"You have everything and still you won't eat, think about the people who have nothing and they would do anything, just to get half a loaf of bed, you foolish man," I'm so enraged that I didn't realise I had started making gestures with my hand. 

"Hey hey, baby, calm down, I'll eat. I'll eat from now on," he wraps his hands around me and pulls me towards him. I allow myself to follow into him with ease. He lets me hug him. I notice how his body tightens at first when I touch his back but slowly he loosens. He rocks me back and forth as we hug.

"Promise me, you will not ignore food from now on," I mutter softly into his neck.

"Promise, love," he replies.

Love. My destiny is certainly playing cruel jokes on me.

I wrap my hands around his back even more tightly because I needed to check one thing.

He winced.

Test confirmed.

"Take your shirt off, Elliot," I say to him, sternly as I pull back.

"Whoa! I mean I can, but I'm kind of not in the mood right now. I don't want to offend you. You're hot, but I'm just not there right now. You know, like I haven't been thinking like that at all," he answers being coy.

I give him one of my infamous no-nonsense board room looks and make everybody shit in the conference hall at my work. 

"Fuck this. Just take off your shirt," I repeat, not paying any attention to the bullshit that he just said, but it's flattering to know that he is repulsed by the idea of having sex with me, in the future if it ever were to happen.

Well after this, even I don't want to!

Let's not get carried away, Char. 

We have an intense staredown and when he realises that I'm not going to back down, he sighs.

"Okay. I'm hurt over there too. But don't worry, I checked it out while you were cooking. It's nothing—just some stiffness," he answers.

"Are you telling the truth?" I ask him, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I swear on my mother who I love the most, that is all that is," he says, dramatically.

"Okay. So how did you get so many injuries?" I ask him.

"I fell from the stairs because I was reading my file while walking. I missed a step and rolled down. That is why I have bruises all over me on opposite sides because the impact was such," he answers fluently.

I don't know why I'm unable to digest it.

"You walk on those stairs every single day, you have to know them by heart by now. How come you fell?" I find it weird.

"What a stupid logic? Every day is different. I was walking fast and reading a file, so I rolled down. No biggie," he smiles as he tells me the story like it's so funny.

"Then why did you get drunk?" I prodded further.

"To numb the pain," he answers, too soon.

"What pain?" I know I'm coming off as super annoying and really clingy but his silence on the matter is more annoying. How come he isn't losing his patience?

He thinks for a second as he looks at me, "physical pain," he answers.

"Okay," I reply.

I asked him one last question, " why didn't you call Pearl?"

His eyes close and his face contorts into a painful expression like he's reliving a terrible memory.

I place my hands on both of his thighs. He opens his eyes.

"Open up to me, Elliot. I want to help you. I know what you told me were all lies," I urge him cautiously.

He looks at me with surprise, "how so?"

Incredibe. I find it hard to believe how he couldn't understand that it was so easy for me to know that he was lying blatantly to my face.

(Triggering content ahead. There will be discussion of acts of domestic violence ahead, if you're uncomfortable, please do not read it. Mental health is very important. )

"Do you notice the way you flinch every time I say her name? What happened?" I urge him softly.

Things are delicate, I should approach the matter with utmost concern.

He looks down at his lap like he's ashamed of himself.

"We fought. She pushed me into a table and I lost my balance and hit my back. Then she punched me in the face," he pauses to take a breath.

My hands fly to my mouth and my eyes flicker to the redness in his cheekbones. She had hit him so bad that the skin had torn and started to bleed out.

I feel so disgusted and beyond mad. I clasp my fists, trying to control my anger.

"She punched me while saying so many nasty things and when I didn't agree with her, she punched me but this time, the promise ring that I gave her  knocked against my cheekbone and that's how it started to bleed out. After that, she just kept on punching me and I took it. I just laid there like a weak person and took it all."

"Why didn't you push her away?" I ask him.

He shakes his head, "I couldn't believe it that she was doing this to me. I mean how am I supposed to react when the person I thought I loved the most starts to abuse and hit me. I froze and for a second I thought I deserved it," he almost whispers the last words.

"No, no, no. Look at me," I place my hands on the sides of his neck and make him forcefully look into my eyes. "You do not deserve that. You deserve something more beautiful than that. Something better. Someone better," I say everything except what I wanted to say—that you deserve me.

"You deserve the world, Elliot," I say and close my eyes and place my forehead against his.

Author's note
I am so sorry is somebody has felt like that and dealt with anything that I wrote or even worse than that. Trust me when I say this, you do no deserve this happening to you.

Love, Leena ❤
Bye bye, until next time.