Lydia’s P.O.V
“I’m crashing here tonight.”
That was all the explanation I got as Lyric shoved past me into my apartment with an overnight bag in hand, leaving me very confused, awkward and surprised.
“Excuse me?” I turned to face him once I had closed and locked my door. “What exactly do you mean by ‘I’m crashing here tonight’?”
“It means exactly what I said,” Lyric threw the bag in one corner and plopped down on my couch. “Look, it’s just for tonight. I’ll get a hotel room or something tomorrow and then you’ll be free of me.”
“You have a house.” I pointed out as I crossed my arms across my chest.
“Yes, one that is very unwelcoming at the moment.” He sighed and rubbed his hands over his eyes. “Come on, Lydia, it’s not like I haven’t been here before or spent the night.”
“I know you have but the situations were very different then.” I noticed the gleam in his eyes then, the slight bruising around his knuckles. “You went to fight again.”
“Yes, I did.” He snapped. “I’m no saint, Lydia. And I don’t need ‘fixing’ so stop it with those disappointed looks!”
I stared at him for a few seconds, studying his stance, his posture. Lyric was definitely on edge today. Something must have happened to trigger that anger issue of his and that’s why he was here, because even confused as we were about our feelings about each other, we comforted one another in a way no one could. But what had caused Lyric to get into this foul mood in the first place? He was usually pumped up after a fight, unless he lost and that didn’t happen very often. A fight with his brother perhaps? Lyric didn’t have that many friends so that was the only logical explanation I could dig up because timid little George has never even raised his voice at Lyric.
“Come on,” I walked over to the couch and held out my hand to him.
“Where?” He asked but immediately put his hand in mine. It showed how much he trusted me, even though I wasn’t sure if I was worthy of that trust.
“Let’s get you taken care of.”
Lyric stared at our clasped hands in silence for a few seconds before he looked up at me. “That sounds like an invitation.”
“It is.” I told him, before adding more firmly, “for you to come to my room so I can get those knuckles treated. Since you’ve decided that I’m your personal stand-in physician, why not? That’s all the invitation is for, Lyric, nothing more.”
Lyric stood up from his seat, murmuring something under his breath that sounded vaguely like, ‘for now’, but I decided to ignore it and pulled him into my bedroom instead. I ordered him to sit on my bed as I got my first aid box and then I took a seat beside him and dabbed some ointment over his wounds before they turned all black and blue tomorrow morning. If he kept this up, he’d damage something in his body very soon and that damage might very well be permanent.
“Analyze me.”
“Pardon?” I looked into his eyes, surprised at the sudden request.
“Analyze me.” Lyric stood up from the bed and began pacing the room. He didn’t get much room for moving around and I knew that must be bothering him, but he spoke up instead. “Tell me what’s wrong with me and these anger issues I have. You’re a psychology major so you’ll probably have studied something by now, right? Then analyze me. I’ll be your willing subject for tonight.”
“These anger issues you have,” I told him, “they come for a reason, Lyric. They’re deep rooted, connected to your unconscious mind. There’s something in your life that you’re missing, some unfulfilled desire or just something that you want to express but can’t?”
“I have everything I want, Lydia.” He said firmly. “Money, women, booze…everything. I even have straight A’s in case you were wondering about my academic qualifications.”
“You asked me to analyze your psyche and that’s what I can come up with according to my limited knowledge on the subject.” I shook my head. “You said you had everything you ever wanted, but…are you happy?”
“Oh, come on! This isn’t some kind of a soap opera.” Lyric stopped pacing and plopped down on the bed beside me and placed his head on my lap. A tingle shot up my stomach at the contact and I felt my breath hitch, but Lyric seemed too distracted to notice.
His hair wasn’t as spiky as I had imagined it would be, it was rather soft as it brushed against my arms. It made me want to run my fingers through them, feel their softness against my palms. I curled my hands into fists, not wanting to make that contact. It would be wrong on so many levels, send a message to him that I didn’t want to happen.
“No, it isn’t.” I told him instead, answering his previous statement. “Which means only you can decide what you truly want. No one else can do that for you.”
“All I want is to graduate from college with a perfect GPA and be fit enough so I can join SEAL and fulfill my brother’s dream.” Lyric said quietly. And there it was, that same line that he’d repeated so many times before. And I had a feeling that his anger issues were somehow rooted in that statement itself.
“Your brother’s dream, huh?” I asked. “But what about yours? What’s going to happen to your unfulfilled dreams?”
Lyric looked up at me surprised, as if I’d suddenly grown two heads. “I just told you what I wanted to do!” He said incredulously.
“No,” I shook my head, making some of my hair spill out of the messy bun and fall on to my face. “You told me your brother’s dream. Not yours. What happened to your dreams, Lyric? Where did you bury them?”
Lyric was silent for a long time. His breathing was shallow and his body was rigid with tension that I felt through the soft fabric of my pajama bottoms. He was lying half off the bed but I could see that his hands were fisted at his side, the strain in them threatening to pop a few veins. Which is why, despite my earlier disposition, I gently touched my fingers to his head in a slow, gentle caress.
His body tightened even further for a single instant, a coil so wound up it was ready to snap, but then his entire body shuddered and he turned on my lap to bury his face in my abdomen and wrap his hand around my waist. His grip was tight on my T-shirt, but his body was relaxing, his muscles less strenuous than they had been a few seconds ago.
Tingles shot through my entire body at the intimate connection. I wasn’t a virgin; I had dated before I was shot, but this? This connection I had with Lyric was unique. It wasn’t just sexual desire, it was so much more. I wasn’t yet sure how much of me I had to offer him, physically and emotionally, but I knew I couldn’t let him go…which wasn’t fair for either of us. I was broken inside and so was he, but I’m not sure if the jagged edges fit together to make a whole.
But in this moment, Lyric needed my support, even if I couldn’t offer him more. So I pushed every other thought to the back of my mind and once again, touched my fingers through his hair and beginning running my hand through his scalp in soothing motions. His hair was longer than it had been when we had first met and I wanted him to grow it out so I could caress the silken strands freely. I moved my other hand to the area where his neck flowed into his shoulders and began gently massaging the tension out of his body, as much as his T-shirt would allow me. It didn’t take long before he relaxed completely against me.
I’d almost believed that he’d fallen asleep when he spoke up. And the vulnerability in his voice almost undid me.
“I don’t know what I want to do anymore.” He spoke softly against my abdomen, his breath an intimate caress. “I don’t know what I am without my brother’s dream.”
“Then you find out.” I kept my voice soft but firm. “You have your entire life ahead of you to do that. You find out and then you live your life, not the one someone had planned for you.”
“I’m scared, Lydia.” It was a breathtaking whisper, a vulnerable confession from a man who was used to always being in power.
My breath caught in my throat as Lyric let go of his vice grip on my T-shirt and rose to a sitting position so we were face to face. For the first time his eyes said exactly what he felt, his face wide open for me to read and I understood what it had cost for this proud man to tear down every wall so I could see what was inside. And the fact that he was doing this in front of me, letting me witness his vulnerable side, giving me this much power over him…it crumbled the walls I’d built around my heart and made it his prisoner.
I lifted my hand to wrap it around his nape and pulling down his head, pressed my forehead to his. “I’m right here, Lyric.” I whispered, my throat feeling too raw to speak. “And whatever you do next, I’ll be right beside you.”