by A. R. Breck
"Luna," he demands.
I don't answer him, burrowing further into the pillows that smell like him, worried that this will be my only chance. So afraid that the bond we hold will be fractured by just a few words. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Well, we need to talk about it." He pulls the sheets back, ripping it away to the end of the bed. My head lifts off the pillow, and I scowl at him, my brows dipping low over my eyes. "Don't look at me like that. We're going to lay all this shit on the table. Right here. Right now. I'm not waiting another second."
"Another second for what?" My hand reaches toward my naked neck, my fingers clutching my throat when it feels like it's closing in on me.
He leans forward, leaning toward my face. I can feel his breath against my lips, and his dark brown eyes stare into my gray ones. It almost feels too much, like I need to lean away from his stare. I haven't been looked at like this in so long, like the meaning of the world is held in my irises. Like one touch could heal him and break him at the same time.
Roman's look is absolutely everything.
"I'm not going to let you leave this room until you talk to me. Come on, Luna. Just fucking talk to me. It's me." He looks hurt by the fact that I'm keeping anything from him. This isn't how we were growing up. He knew every time my period started and stopped. He knew when I was having cramps. He knew when I was upset. He knew every inch of me. I knew almost every time he took a shit. We don't hide things, so the fact that I'm hiding something now isn't sitting well with him.
"I don't want you to think differently of me," I sigh, looking down at the sheets. For all I know, he might not even find me attractive anymore. I feel different, maybe I look different to him, too.
His hand goes to my face, running across my cheeks. His fingers go to my eyelids, dancing across my nose and down the side of my jaw. "You don’t have to be perfect, Luna, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t a masterpiece."
I breathe out, my heart beating from my chest. "I don't know where you want me to start."
"The beginning. I want you to start at the very beginning."
I look up at his white popcorn ceiling, tears filling my eyes and spilling down my temples. Roman's hands are there instantly, wiping them away before they fall to his sheets. "I met friends. We traveled, went to a lot of different places. Sleeping outside—"
"You were homeless?" He butts in, his face turning into a fierce frown.
I shrug, not really feeling like we were homeless, more or less just travelers. A lot of people are just like us, living and wandering across the lands. "No, I wasn't homeless. We lived in Arizona for a while. Then we moved to California, and eventually I went to Maui, by myself."
"Where'd your friends go?"
I bite my tongue, the sharp pain helping me tamper down the scream that wants to break free. "They died. Some of them died."
He frowns at this, blinking at me as if my face will show their cause of death. Before he even has the chance to ask, I tell him.
"My friend, Shauna, she died in Arizona. We were hiking in the desert, and it was hot. We were out of water and we were all dehydrated." I don't tell him about the white horse, still not sure whether that was a figment of our imagination or if it was real. Either way, I take it as a moment where Roman was subconsciously there to help me. "She died, out in that desert. It was so hot, a-and we had to leave her there." I pull the sheet up to my eyes, wiping away my tears.
I can feel him next to me, wanting to comfort me, but also wanting to give me the space he thinks I need. I don't know what I need, but just having him close gives me a comfort I've been looking for since I left Wisconsin.
"My other friend, Neil, he killed himself." My words are muffled from the sheet over my face, my tears so heavy I can barely get the words out. Roman reaches out, tugging the sheet down so I can speak. "We traveled from San Diego to Santa Cruz with this couple. We went to this weird place in the middle of the woods. They were all on acid."
"Did you try it?" I don't look at his face, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes.
I nod, wincing as I feel a little guilty. "They're called Deadheads—"
"Deadheads? You went to party with fucking Deadheads? What the fuck, Luna?" His voice raises, and I shrivel into the mattress.
"I didn't know…" My eyes crack open, and I can see the shock and discomfort on his face. "What? Do you know them or something?"
He shakes his head, his eyes wide. "I know of them. They aren't all bad people, but some of them…" he grimaces. "What happened to your friend?"
"He got puddled…" I lick my lips, watching his jaw grind. He's never angry. I don’t like the irritation radiating from him. He isn't going to like my story. "He pushed me out of the way. I was the one the Deadhead was trying to puddle."
He sits back, anger firing up in his eyes. "Fucking hell, Luna." He runs his hands up and down his face, his skin turning red from the friction. "You could've died. I never would've known." The last part of his sentence is said quietly, almost to himself.
My hand reaches out, my fingers curling around his wrist. "I'm right here."
He looks up at me, the rims of his eyes red, raw. "Keep going."
I shrug. "I left California after that. Trish stayed with Neil. She gave me money, told me to get away from Willie and go home."
"Who's Willie?"
He says the name like it’s sour milk, his mouth twisted up in distaste.
My lips press together, not liking the look on his face.
"You're going to tell me anyway. Just keep going." His words come out so sure, with such certainty, all I can do is listen.
I take a deep breath, averting my eyes to his sheets. "Willie was a guy I was casually seeing, but I broke it off before we left for Santa Cruz." I keep out the part of him raping me in the woods. "Trish could tell there was something off about him, so she gave me her money, and I left."
"You were coming home?"
I gnaw on my lip, feeling the skin shred away. "I was."
"What happened?" He frowns.
I look up at him with this, gauging his expression. "I saw a magazine of you. Of your girlfriend talking about your stint to treatment."
He scowls at this, dropping his head between his shoulders and letting out a curse. "You fucking believed the stupid media?"
I shrug, feeling so broken-hearted over the entire thing. "I didn't know what to believe. I just knew once I read that, I couldn't come home. So, I left, off to Hawaii."
His head dips so he can look me straight in the eyes. "She wasn't my girlfriend. She never was. I'm guessing it was something like your friend, Willie."
He says his name like poison, and I stare at him. "I wanted to love someone else, Roman. I tried so damn hard to let him in. I wanted to fall in love, to see the truth."
"And what's the truth?"
"My heart is just as much mine as it is yours. There's this… barrier inside of me. It's like whatever let you in put up this invisible barrier miles high. I couldn't love someone else for the life of me. It doesn't matter who they were or what they said. My heart only beats for one person. My soul only aches for one person, and that's you." The words bleed out of me, spilling all over his clean sheets.
He swallows them up. His chest expands, and I watch a light brighten his eyes.
"Tell me what happened in Hawaii. What made you call me?"
My eyes close. "Do you still have that pick I gave you? The one I had engraved with our initials?" The bed shifts as he moves to the edge of the bed, and I can hear a drawer open and shut. The bed dips again, and my eyes flutter open.
In front of me is the pick. Worn and well-used, but I can still see the initials R & L engraved in the center. I slide it from his fingers, feeling the rough texture it’s grown over the years. "I can't believe you still have this," I whisper.
"I've never played without it." He takes it back, his eyes lifting to my neck. "It looks like I can't say the same for you, though." His voice is sad, a lit
tle let down at that fact.
My hand lifts to where I've had his piece of gold sitting for so many years. I feel like a piece of me is missing, and that's because it is.
"I did, until yesterday."
"What happened?"
My nose burns and tears fall from the corners of my eyes. He doesn't wipe them away this time, waiting for me to answer. "Willie raped me."
His eyes widen, his neck turning a bright red. I watch as his fists bury in his sheets, clenching them between his fingers. "What?"
"I—"
"No, I mean, what? I thought you left him in California."
I nod. "He ended up coming to Hawaii. When he found me, he was… different. He was using."
I don't say anything else, not sure how much he wants to know. I don't want to relive this, but I know I need to tell someone. I need to tell Roman.
"Tell me," is all he says.
"H-he came to my house. I got away, b-but he attacked me on the beach. The next time I got away, I ran into the ocean. He t-tore my necklace off. I grabbed it and held it around his neck…" My breathing picks up, and I press my hand against my chest, feeling nauseated and so fucking sad. He took my necklace.
Willie took many pieces of me when he sunk to the bottom of the ocean.
"I put it around his neck and pulled until he d-drowned. I killed him," I whisper.
"You killed him," he says. Not a question. A statement.
I nod, my jaw trembling in fear. What if he hates me for what I've done?
He puts his finger up, sliding off the bed. "I'll be right back."
My eyes widen, panic making me sweat. "Where are you going?"
He doesn't answer, slamming the door shut behind him. A moment later, I hear a crash down the hall. It's loud, as if it happened just outside the door.
I jump, my entire body flinching as I curl deeper into the sheets. I pull them up to my neck, not sure whether I should go check on him or not.
The door creaks open, and I look up, seeing Roman walking in. His face is toward the ground, a distraught look in his eyes. His hand rubs the back of his neck, the other one is clenching. Fisting and releasing. Over and over again, I watch his corded arms twitch and flex.
He glances up, staring at me. There's so much emotion in his eyes, but the most prominent one of all is absolute ruination. He looks destroyed.
Walking up to the bed, the fronts of his thighs press against the comforter. "I wish you never left." His voice comes out choked, the words strangled in his throat. "I wish none of this ever happened to you. I wish I could go back, take all the hurt and pain that you've endured, that you must be feeling at this very moment." He leans down, his hand trailing over my naked neck, where I can see in his eyes the desire to see the necklace reappear on my skin. "I'd do anything in this world to erase the burdens you hold, but I can't. All I can do is carry them with you, help that weight lessen off your shoulders. Will you let me do that, Luna? Will you let me help you carry your pain?"
A sob bubbles in my chest. I can feel it climb, building as it rises. By the time it breaks through my throat, tears are flooding down my cheeks and my entire body is trembling. "Please, Roman. Please help me." There's nothing else I want in this world than for Roman to stand by my side. The fact that he wants me, after everything I've said, makes my chest burn with truth.
He really is my soulmate.
I can feel it in each touch. The electricity has only grown over time. There's a pain in me when we aren't touching, when we aren't near one another. The moment we touch, the pain dissipates. It fades off, and I feel whole again. The shattered pieces of my soul are slowly healing, they're starting to come back together again.
It's all because of Roman.
He crawls onto the bed, lifting me from beneath the sheets and settling me on his lap. My legs hang over the side of his waist, my arms curl around his neck. His fingers bury into my hair, his head dropping to my naked neck. He kisses where my necklace once lay, and more tears fall. I lean forward, my nose dropping to his brown locks.
His lips sink into my skin, warm and plump and so damn loving. "I'll buy you another. I'll buy you all the ballerina necklaces in the world."
I frown. "I don't want another necklace. They won't be the same."
His head lifts, his red-rimmed eyes connecting with mine. "What can I do then? What do you want?"
My fingers go to his sharp jaw, dancing along his stubbled cheek. Such a man, now. So much different than he used to be. But so much the same. My Roman is still inside this body. My heart still feels at home when I'm with him. We're grown, but we're exactly where we need to be. "I only need you. I only want you."
His gaze drops to my lips, and it only takes him a second. A flicker of indecision on his face before he leans forward, trapping my lips between his. My tears start all over again, falling onto his face and running between our lips. He leans back, licking my salty kisses from his mouth then comes back toward me, taking my lips again in a greedy kiss.
It's like coming home.
My chest hiccups with emotion, and I can't do anything besides cry into his mouth. My insides burn, it feels like I'm floating and finally being grounded all at once. There's nothing better than the tingling in my fingers, than my heart pumping so heavily, it feels like it’s expanding throughout my entire ribcage. My body warms, and all the hesitations in my life clear.
The only thing I know, is that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
"Roman…" I mumble against his lips.
He peels away from my lips, looking up at me. "What is it?" There's a worry in his eyes, his brown irises flickering with concern.
My palm runs along his stubble. "I love you. I love you so fucking much."
His chest stops, his jaw grinding as emotion takes over. His nostrils flare, and I watch as he rolls the words over his tongue for a moment, thinking of what to say.
The waiting stabs my chest.
"I love you, Luna. I told you years ago that I'd love you forever. I'll tell you now that I'll love you forever. Every inch, every piece, every breath. I don't care what you've done. I don't care what you do. My soul is your soul. Your soul is mine. Our love is our love, and distance, time, and mistakes aren't going to change that. True love doesn't fracture with time, because the moment the love comes together again, it's only stronger. That's us, Luna. Our love can withhold anything. I knew it when I was seven, I'll know it when I’m eighty. I fucking love you, Luna. Now and always."
"Now and always," I say through my tears. With a breath, I climb back on the bed and curl under the sheets. "Will you tell me about your time? What you did while I was away? Do you play anymore? How are the guys?"
He flicks his pick back and forth over his fingers. Like his fingers are the strings on his guitar. "We broke up almost three years ago, actually. The guys are good, though. Lonnie lives out in San Diego at our old condo. Flynn and Clyde are back in Wisconsin. Haven't talked to them for a few months."
"Why did you break up?"
He shakes his head. "Didn't you hear?"
I bite my lip. "I did my best to stay away from the media. I-I didn't know what I'd find. Plus, it's kind of hard to come by a TV when you live on the beach."
He frowns, scratching at his jaw. "I, uh, I was in a pretty bad place in the end. I was using, and shit just got really bad. I actually broke my guitar on stage. That was pretty much my lowest point." He looks embarrassed, like he should be ashamed for his actions.
"Why were you in a bad place?" I ask, my chest growing heavier by the moment.
He looks at me, sadness and grief in his eyes. "Is that even a question? Isn't it obvious? My mind, my heart, everything was fucking ruined because I didn't have you. I didn't know where you were. I had no idea if you were even okay or alive. I-I wrote you so many fucking emails, Luna. Why didn't you respond to any of them? Did you not see them? Not once?"
I shake my head, confused. "No, I didn't get any emails." Realization hits me. "I forgot the password
for my loolooluna email, and I had to make a new one." He looks a little sad by that fact, but also a little relieved. "Why? Did you send a lot of emails?"
He cringes. "You don't want to know. There were a lot of bad nights that I was waiting for your reply. Probably for the best that you can't read them."
I think back to how dark I got at some points, wondering how deep his darkness became. If his hurt ran as deeply as mine did. By the sounds of it, the pain in my soul was similar to his. Our aches ran to our bones, and this is only the beginning of our healing.
"So, if the band broke up, what do you do now?"
A pride lights up his face at this, one that I haven't seen for many years. "I work at FDNY as a firefighter."
My eyes widen, and I almost want to laugh. "You're a firefighter now? Never saw that one coming."
He shrugs. "When I was in treatment, that was the only thing that seemed interesting at the time. Helping others, I guess."
I nod, imagining him in his uniform, saving kittens from trees and helping old ladies from burning buildings.
He turns toward me, a seriousness washing over his face. "What about you, Luna? What do you want to do now?"
I think about it. What I really want to do. The hardest part is that I actually know what I want. It's what I've always wanted, I just faked my disinterest with a smile, but a part of me has been hurting for years, missing what I love.
"I want to dance."
A smile breaks out on his face, big and vicious. "You have no idea what that does to me."
I smile, but a frown ticks at my lips too quickly. "I don't know what I'd ever do, though. Julliard would never take me back. I probably suck at dancing now, anyway."
He shakes his head. "I highly fucking doubt that."
I shrug. "I don't know. Maybe I should settle for something small. Like go to a community college and be a dance teacher or something."
His palms go to my cheeks, turning my face so I'm looking him directly in the eye. "Luna does not fucking settle. Why the hell would you ever think to settle on anything? That's not you, Luna. Don't lower yourself for no one. For fucking nothing. If you want to dance, you go dance. If you think you want to get into Julliard, you walk down there, and you demand a damn audition."