We walked up to his room, hand in hand. I could feel that warmth again, the feeling of total security that only came with his presence. I was sure he knew it, too.
I glanced up sideways at him under my eyelashes, and found his eyes staring straight into mine. They were such a warm brown. The kind of eyes you could just melt into, fall and keep falling.
“Love you.” He whispered, turning his head and breaking the hypnotic trance, to open the door to his bedroom.
I looked into his room. I laughed: nothing had changed. What was it about Theo that made him so unchangeable, so steady, so dependable? I sat down in his office chair, swivelling round to face his computer. There were a few lyrics on the screen that I almost caught a glance at, before he spun me back around.
His face was so close, I wasn’t expecting it. I felt none of the claustrophobia I had endured with Jake. It was completely natural, like we were two pieces of the same object, or the north and south ends of two magnets. We were naturally attracted. That metaphor, I thought, was more fitting, since we’re as unalike as North and South. Major Histocompatibility Complex or something like that. Opposites attract.
I brushed the little hair I had left out of my face, forgetting, in the moment, about the horrific scar drawing down the side of my face.
But he saw.
“Tess…” he drew away, his eyes filled with some kind of fascinated horror, “What on earth is that?”
I cursed under my breath. That stupid scar.
“Tessie, let me see.” He pulled my hand, which had instinctively jumped up to cover it, away.
“Tessie… Let me - ”
I snapped.
“You want to see?” I screeched at him, taking a step forward, “You want to stare? Well, stare away; I’m a walking-talking corpse, battle-scars and all!” I pulled my hair high out of my face, taking off my jumper.
“Tessie…” he was so close now, I could see the colour of his eyelashes. My breathing came heavy and hard, I was exhausted from my outburst.
“There!” I felt like I was in a movie, or a dream, “There: that’s what you f***ing well want to see! Just go, leave, I don’t care,” my voice fell to a tremble, “I don’t care.”
“Tessie… Who did that to you?” He asked, his face a picture of total shock. He drew his finger down the scar I’d forgotten, until a minute ago, tracing from my temple, down my jaw line, over my pulse, and to the collar of my shirt, where the crimson line disappeared into the white fabric. I held his gaze, knowing he would investigate further. I had forgotten so many things about Theo. So many things.
His shaking hands unbuttoned my shirt, and he saw the rest of it; the line tracing over my chest and down to my hip. And the scarlet ‘X’ over my heart.
His face was a mask of shock; almost comically so. I wanted him to see the rest now; it was such a relief to share my secret with someone, even if it was unwillingly. SO I turned around in his arms, showing him the final mark they left on me. I felt the same finger trace the second ‘X’, large enough to cover my whole back.
“X marks the spot.” I laughed shakily, turning again to face him, and so wrapping myself in his arms. But he was not in a laughing mood.
“Tessie, I swear… who did this to you? I’ll… I’ll…”
“Shh.” I placed a quivering finger over his lips, “Don’t. It was so long ago. I’d forgotten it completely. Ever since my hair fell out…”
He was shaking, and slowly, I saw the recognisable redness burn in his eyes as he remembered the illness that had plagued us both. I flinched out of his tight embrace. His skin, though now pleasantly warm on mine, burned where I felt my scars.
“Sorry.” He said: his voice expressionless. I felt guilty, so I drew closer to him.
“I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”
“Not my fault?!” His voice was so loud I fell backwards onto his bed, “How the hell is it not my fault! If I had found you sooner – if I had been there!”
“If I had never left you in the first place.” I finished, calmly, leaning exhaustedly against the wall. He seemed to calm at that, oddly, and sat next to me on the bed, now looking more like an abandoned puppy than anything. He leaned forward into my open arms, his head resting on my chest.
“Why?” he asked, his fingers entwining with mine, “Why did you leave?”
I thought. Why did I leave? His gaze was gentle and inquisitive. There was no answer to that question.
“I don’t know.” I said, and when he started to protest, I shushed him and continued, “I think maybe… some part of me thought… it would be for the best. If I left. I tried to quit my Gift, you know. Didn’t work.”
He laughed, “Do you still stick your head out of the car window?”
Then in sync, we replied, “In my element.” I smiled, leaning my head into his.
“Sorry.” I whispered. Sorry, sorry, sorry: over and over again.
