Chapter 51 Live For Me
Aiyana's P.O.V
I didn’t realize how quiet the room had become until the silence started pressing against my ears.
Jerome was staring at me.
Not the cold, calculating look he wore when danger crept too close, neither was it the distant, guarded expression that made him seem carved from stone.
This was different.
His eyes were darker, searching, like he was seeing something for the first time and didn’t quite know what to do with it, and somehow, that unnerved me more than his anger ever could.
“What?” I asked, crossing my arms tighter around myself, just to calm whatever speculation was running through my mind because it varies from ‘is he about to realise that I'm not as pretty as he thinks?’ to ‘He’s probably thinking about gag me unconscious and send me off with Noah’’
He didn’t answer immediately, but now looking closely, I could see his expressions were far from what my mind had been envisioning.
He looked like he was amused, in deep thought and amazed at the same time, and for some reason, I could tell that he was thinking about me, not just looking at me.
“You’re unbelievable.” He said finally, voice low and shaking his head in a little chuckle that for a minute made his tense shoulders relaxed for a bit.
“You say that like it’s an insult.” I scoffed, standing up with M6 arms still folded and chin up like daring him to say it was actually an insult.
“It’s not. Just unexpected.” He said again, but this time he was looking down at his feet with a little smile.
That almost made me laugh because I knew very well that he was referring to my being adamant about not leaving.
I knew there was more of me that he didn't know as I was always too scared for him at first time to show any feeling beyond fear.
“You keep looking at me like I just broke some unspoken rule.” I said, knowing just his much he protected and shielded women like they were eggs, but it also felt a little discriminatory but maybe I was being too much.
“Let me guess; women are supposed to cry, pack a bag, and thank you for the protection.” I said, with a look that explained that every word that just came out of my mouth was sarcasm.
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it outright.
“No, you're supposed to want to live.” He said quietly, now looking up at me and at first glance into his eyes, I could see that he wanted to say more but held back.
“I do! That’s the whole point!” I half yelled, raising my hands up to emphasise my point
“You don’t understand what you’re asking for.” He said, taking a step closer, frustration rolling off him in waves.
“Oh, I understand perfectly. You’re planning to go to war like a man who’s already written himself off.” I shot back, the hum under my skin returning as it did whenever anything close to an argument comes up.
That landed.
I saw it in the way his shoulders stiffened, the way his breath stalled for half a second.
“You’re wrong. He responded but from the weakness in the delivery of that response, I could tell that even he didn't believe himself.
“I’m not.” I replied softly, stepping closer so that maybe, just maybe, he'll understand me better.
“You’re already halfway gone in your head, Jerome. You’re moving like someone who’s prepared to lose his life.” I emphasized showing how worried I was from my expressions.
The thought of that killed me.
I was far from willing to lose the only person that has ever actually cared for me since I had my senses as a human being
“That’s sometimes the cost.” He said again, as his eyes darkened. While he'd rather die than accept it, I could tell that even he, didn't want to die but thought he had to
“No, that’s sometimes the excuse.” I said firmly, and for a few seconds, silence stretched between us again, heavy and fragile.
“You think this is bravery?” I continued, voice trembling now, not with fear but something deeper. “You think standing alone, bleeding out on some moral high ground, makes you strong?”
He didn’t answer.
“Life” I said, pressing my hand to my chest, sniffing and blinking hard to hold my tears
“Is what I want. Not victory. Not revenge. Not some grand legacy written in blood.”
I looked straight at him.
“I want you alive with me.” I said again, looking into his eyes with tear filled ones.
Something in his expression broke then. Not shattered, or dramatically, but bent. Like steel heated too long.
“I’ve spent my whole life being ready to die.” He said quietly as he walked towards me, cupping my face as he came closer enough to.
His touch was so light and tender that my eyes closed involuntarily.
“I know.” I whispered. “That’s what terrifies me.”
This wasn’t our first argument.
It was probably the hundredth since the explosion.
Every morning started the same. Plans made without me, routes mapped that didn’t include my voice, contingency after contingency that ended with Jerome alone at the center of the storm.
And ever
y morning, I pushed back.
I argued. I reasoned. I begged. I demanded.
I refused.