It was heavy all along the elevator shaft toward Caspian's penthouse. My back was pressed against the cold metal wall as my fists clutched the small clutch in front of me as if it was going to save my life. Next to me stood Caspian, granite-jawed face set in stone, eyes hard upon the mirrored numbers on the elevator doors.
It was hours since the ball ended; hours since betrayal stung our faces, but therein, we hardly spoke to one another; the tension just hung heavier and heavier, with every clunky second that ticked under the burden of silence.
And before I could even reach out for that button to stop the elevator, Caspian took long strides into the black penthouse, leaving me behind him. I fell with great reluctance behind him, waiting for my footfalls to echoingly counteract the marvelous silence of the place.
He sauntered to the bar as unobtrusively as he entered, shrugging his jacket back to fall open of the chair to his left. The sight of him composed to the hilt, so tightly wound he was ready to snap, made my chest tighten with the clenching tension.
I was at the doorway, caught between either crossing to him or leaving him alone. The unresolved intensity, things going unsaid and heavier than mist, just became thicker on the moment.
Caspian's dark eyes steeled with something fierce and guilty, and I forced my gaze down. "You're mad at me," I said finally, softer than it should have been.
He went rigid, staring at me over the bar's edge. "I am not mad at you," he growled.
"Then what is this?" I swept my hand through the vacuum separating us, deteriorating the wall he steadfastly held between us.
"This," he glared at me, "is me trying to think."
"Think about what?" I seethed, angry. "How to get through tonight's disaster? Or how to keep me out this time?"
His mouth snapped shut, and I could see he wouldn't answer. He stepped further into the room, but his black eyes locked onto mine so intently that I forgot to breathe.
"Don't push your luck, Lily," he threatened in a low growl that forced me to take a step back.
"Why shouldn't I? I'm already here, Caspian. I have been here since the moment you brought me into your world. You cannot possibly keep me out now, not after everything that has happened."
His anger was building, becoming darker and wilder. "You think I need this?" he snarled, his voice getting so loud, "You think I need to feel like this?"
My heart stuttered. "Feel what way?"
"Like I'm losing my hold," he hurled at me, the words harsh and stark.
His confession sounded heavy and thick. I shot him a look, trying to interpret the expression that had passed over his face. Anger. Frustration. Fear. And something else—something more that gripped my heart.
I swallowed, my own emotions fighting their way up. "You think I don't feel the same?" I taunted, trembling. "You think it's so easy for me?"
Nothing came back from him, and that silence was a viler thing than anything he could ever have spat at me.
"This—us—wasn't supposed to happen," I continued as my voice rose towards a shatter under the weight of feelings. "But it is, isn't it? At least it's real for me."
"Lily…"
"Don't," I said, raising a hand to stop him. "Don't try to talk your way out of this. You feel it, too, don't you?"
He narrowed his gaze, and I knew for a moment he would argue. Then something flashed across his features, a chink in the armor he had painstakingly wrapped around himself.
"You don't understand what you're asking," he finally said, his voice softer, but with an edge nonetheless.
"Then help me understand," I pleaded, stepping forward again. "I can't pretend any longer."
Before I could formulate another word, he already pressed into my space at the end of my breath, grabbed my face in his hands as if to pull me into him for a kiss.
Starved and starving, raised to the brim with all the feeling he couldn't even begin to put into words. His shirt knuckles white in my grasp, gripping him as if he were the only thing standing between me and breaking.
His lips on mine, to this hunger that stole the breath from my body and I sank into him as that small voice at the back of my head told me to get away. But I couldn't.
He pulled away finally, forehead pressed to my own, his breath warming my skin. "I can't give you what you want," he pumped out in a rush, "I don't know if I can."
The doubt in his voice ached in my chest. "Maybe I'm not so sure of what I want myself," I whispered.
In the center of his penthouse, we remained totally cut off from the world out there. Even while I kept trying to enjoy this moment, questions kept coming into my mind.
What on earth am I doing? I remember vowing to never allow myself to become this close, never to fall in love with a man who could never truly give me back something. And here I was, right on the edge of a cliff; one step closer and I would be falling into the abyss.
He was the first to break away, arms down and stepping back. "You should get some sleep," he said, a million miles distant.
I could only nod stupidly, my heart pounding painfully in my chest as he turned away and made for his office. That night, lying in bed, I could not help but replay it all in my mind. The kiss. The confession. The look he gave me as if I were both his downfall and his redemption.
I sat there, staring at the ceiling, emotions getting the better of me. I wanted to believe whatever we had was real, that there was something to it. But under current conditions, I question if I could really survive in the world he did.
The deeper I fell for him, the more I lost myself.
Yet I couldn't leave.
I curled into a ball and onto my side, drawing my arms close around me as I fought to quiet the storm within. And no peace this night either; and when at last I had succumbed to it, it was troubled.
Dreams of a man who was both everything I wanted and everything I couldn’t have.