Chapter 156 Chapter 157

Chapter 156 Chapter 157
A scar would be preferable, permanent and all, a bruise would have to do in a pinch.
Denis had known for years that Ravi wasn’t someone who would ever vanish from his system, and had realised it after his fifth failed date post-Ravi. It wasn’t healthy, but it also wasn’t going away; this obsession he had with the rugby lad. 
“Denis, hey, are you alright?”
Ravi had stopped. Denis had no idea why. He whined, attempting to tug the raven-haired lad close anew. It had felt so good, had made him come apart, mind slowly but surely turning a blissful blank. But now they were still, a storm ceasing in the blink of an eye. He felt like crying at the loss.
Then Ravi brought his hand up, and Denis realised that, oh, he was already crying.
He put the heel of his hands to his eyes. “Ignore this,” he said, forcing a smile. “Please, please ignore this. It’s nothing.”
But Ravi wouldn’t do that. He looked dishevelled, his hair a mess, and his lips shining. Denis wanted to slap himself for being this emotional, this out of control. What if he’d just messed it up, his one chance at feeling the rugby lad touch him again? The thought made him fight to keep from gagging. His smile faltered for a split second. 
Ravi breathed deeply, holding him still and staring at him like he didn’t know what to do with Denis. It wasn’t surprising; not even Denis knew what to do with himself. A right mess, a mess you wouldn’t want to poke at with a stick.
“Do you need me to get you someone? Your mum?”
Denis shook his head. “Please stay. I promise I’m not usually like this. Please don’t leave.”
Ravi wrapped him in his arms, pulling him close and hushing. Denis’s eyes were renewed with water, their sparse dwells refilled after the brief interlude. He fought hard to sound normal, to not let the sadness spread to other parts of his body. It was like cancer. He wished he could cut his deceitful eyes out. 
“I’m sorry,” Ravi said. 
That was wrong; Denis was the one who should be sorry.
“You were sad, and then you were just you and I just, yeah…” Ravi sounded hesitant, less famous-rugby-player-Ravi and more awkward-computer-nerd-Ravi. It was like a balm to Denis’s soul. “We shouldn’t have kissed like that.”
The blonde tensed in his arms, the words casually spilled but cutting like sharpened knives. The sound escaping his lips sounded like the whimpers of a kicked animal. 
“Fuck, hey Denis, I didn’t mean it like that. Okay?”
The blonde’s body was strung so tense it was a wonder his joints weren’t popping out of place. He kept his face flat on Ravi’s chest, refusing to look into his eyes to see emotion. Arnolds were a bold, daring family that valued tradition and enterprise. Denis did not feel bold; he felt like a shivering kitten. 
“No, you’re right.” The words shredded his throat going up. “A mistake, emotions were high-” his voice croaked. Denis fell silent.
They breathed in the hum of the hallway. Denis remained terrified as he curled on Ravi’s chest, waiting for the inevitable parting. If he’d just been stronger, better, he might be kissing the lad right now. If his body hadn’t betrayed him by crying, he might have Ravi in his arms, his body over his. He might have been called a good boy.
Denis hated himself and wanted to rip at his own skin. This one chance, wasted. 
Time ticked on. Ravi didn’t move. His hands remained folded around the blonde, his fingers drawing strange patterns on his back, the motion meant to soothe, but the blonde was too far gone to be calmed. When the rugby lad inched towards his hair, fingers fiddling with the edges of his strands, he might have unfurled, at least a quarter of an inch. Like the lad had a direct connection to the level of Denis’s muscle tension, he continued his ministrations. Big hands rubbed his neck, braided through his icy strands. His eyes fell shut unbidden. 
Denis had thought he’d stay tense until he burst. Instead, Ravi petted him into a puddle. 
Breathing in the safety of cedarwood and wet grass, he dared speak. Somewhat secured in that Ravi wouldn’t up and leave him at the drop of a hat.
“I’m sorry, Ravi.”
The fingers flexed. Otherwise, there was no sign that the lad had heard him. Attempting to adhere to the Arnold family motto, he barrelled on. 
“I should have said it earlier. Should have reached out and apologized for how things ended sooner. I don’t regret my decision, but I hate how it happened. I should have talked to you in person. I should have waited for a good time instead of calling in the dead of night.”
The fingers kept moving through his hair, kind and gentle. That had to count for something.
“The reason I didn’t reach out was out of fear. I thought you would hate me. That you, given time, would have thought me callous and mean for how things ended between us. I suppose I’m not very brave.”
He stopped talking, his mouth filled with pooling saliva. He swallowed, clearing his throat before swallowing anew. His eyes throbbed.
Ravi hummed, his chest vibrating against Denis’s cheek. Then he pulled the blonde up, hands folding around him with care. He knew that he’d have to face those emerald pools again, knew that Ravi deserved to see he was sorry, that the apology was the most genuine thing he’d said all his life – it was. 
A hand fitted beneath his jaw, asking him to tilt his head upward, to brace the green storm in front. He followed the ministrations, looking into Ravi’s face.
The lad was smiling at him, a soft curl of lips, eyes crinkled. It almost made Denis lose his breath. The eyes were peeled from protective walls; they were so expressive that the blonde was close to choking.
“Denis. Of course, I forgive you. Actually, there is nothing to forgive.” It was true, every word Ravi was saying, he meant. The gaze he levelled at Denis was so scorching hot that the blonde felt the beginning of third-degree burns all over his body.
“Yeah?”