Chapter Six: Bruised Hearts, Bound Souls
The moonlight slipped through the window like a silent witness, casting a silver glow on Marissa's bare shoulders as she sat curled on the edge of Mason's bed. The room was still, yet heavy with everything left unsaid.
She should've left hours ago. But her feet wouldn't move, and neither would her heart.
Behind her, Mason stood quietly, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes weren't cold this time. They were something worse—tired, haunted. Like he'd been fighting battles she couldn't see.
"You stayed," he said softly.
"I shouldn't have." Her voice was low, threaded with guilt and longing.
"But you did."
A pause stretched between them like a thread about to snap.
"You make it so hard to walk away," she whispered. "Even when I know I should."
Mason moved, slow and deliberate. He didn't touch her yet. Just knelt beside the bed, leveling his eyes with hers.
"I'm not asking you to stay because it's easy," he said. "I'm asking because it's real."
Her breath caught.
"How do you know?" she asked. "How can you be so sure when everything around us is falling apart?"
"Because I've been falling for you since the moment you almost knocked me off my feet in that café three years ago." His voice was barely above a whisper now. "And I haven't stopped since."
Marissa looked at him, really looked. He wasn't the same boy she'd met. He was harder now. Sharper. But the way he looked at her? That hadn't changed. It was still laced with something terrifying and beautiful.
Love.
It hit her like a wave she couldn't swim against.
She reached for him without thinking. Their hands found each other, fingertips trembling as they brushed. The connection sparked something deep, something ancient.
"Mason…"
"I know it's a mess," he said, inching closer. "But I'd rather be in the middle of the chaos with you than safe without you."
She didn't realize she was crying until he brushed the tear from her cheek. And when his lips met hers, it wasn't desperate or demanding. It was slow. Full of unsaid promises. A kiss that tasted like all the things they were too afraid to speak out loud.
Regret. Hope. Redemption.
When they broke apart, her voice was barely steady.
"This doesn't fix everything."
"I know," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "But it's a start."
They lay together that night, not tangled in lust, but wrapped in something deeper. Souls frayed and stitched together by the choices they hadn't made yet but would.
The darkness outside thickened, but inside the room, something flickered to life. A fragile kind of peace. The kind that comes when you stop running—not from the world, but from yourself.
And just before sleep claimed her, Marissa whispered into his chest, "Don't ruin me more than I already am."
He held her tighter. "I'll ruin everything else before I let that happen."