Chapter Sixteen: The possession
Writer's POV - Age 16
The words had been sitting on Fabiola's tongue for months.
Three words. Simple. Terrifying.
She'd known for a while probably since that day in the library when he'd first scented her neck and looked at her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to earth. Maybe even before that. Maybe since she was nine years old and brought him a dandelion he crushed in his fist.
But knowing and saying were different things.
It was late March, and they were in their spot the back stairwell after school. Evan was reading, or pretending to read, his long fingers tracing the edge of the book absently. Fabiola was supposed to be doing homework but couldn't focus.
She kept looking at him. The sharp line of his jaw. The way his hair fell into his eyes. The way his lips moved slightly as he read, like he was tasting the words.
Beautiful. Broken. Hers.
"Evan," she said quietly.
"Mm?" He didn't look up.
"I need to tell you something."
Something in her tone made him set down the book. He turned to face her fully, gray eyes alert. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. I just.." She took a breath. Gathered her courage. "I love you."
The words hung in the air between them.
Evan stared at her. Then he laughed.
It was the most terrible sound Fabiola had ever heard bitter and broken and hollow, like something cracking apart.
"You don't know me," he said, still laughing that awful laugh. "You think you do, but you don't. You don't know what's inside me. What I think about. What I..." He stopped, pressed his hands to his face. "God, Fabiola, you can't love me. You can't."
"But I do."
"No." He stood abruptly, started pacing. "No, you love the idea of me. The project. The broken boy you think you can fix. But I'm not I'm not fixable, Fabiola. I'm fucked up in ways you can't even imagine."
"Then tell me." She stood too, followed him. "Tell me what's so terrible that I couldn't possibly love you."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because you'll leave!" His voice cracked. He spun to face her, and his eyes were wild. "And I can't I can't handle you leaving. You're the only good thing in my life. The only warm thing. And if you knew the truth if you knew what I am you'd run. And I'd be alone again. And I don't think I can survive that."
Fabiola stepped closer. "I'm not going anywhere."
"You don't know that."
"I do know that." She reached for him, but he stepped back. "Evan, I've spent seven years watching you push everyone away. Seven years of you being strange and distant and difficult. And I'm still here. What makes you think anything you say will change that?"
"Because.." He was shaking now, his whole body trembling.
"Because I don't just want you, Fabiola. I need you. Like air. Like water. Like if you disappeared tomorrow, I'd stop existing." His voice dropped to a whisper. "That's not love. That's obsession. That's sickness."
"Maybe." She closed the distance between them, refusing to let him retreat. "Or maybe that's exactly what love is. Needing someone so much it scares you. Wanting them so much you'd do anything to keep them."
"That's not healthy...."
"I don't care about healthy." Her hands found his chest, felt his heart hammering beneath her palms. "I care about you. The real you. Even the sick parts. Even the obsessed parts. I love all of it."
Evan stared at her like she'd spoken a foreign language. "You can't possibly—"
"I love you," she said again, firm and sure. "I know you better than you think. I know you have nightmares every night. I know you talk to shadows. I know you can't go near the lake. I know you think you're broken and dangerous and wrong." She cupped his face, forced him to look at her. "And I love you anyway. I love you because of it. Because you're real. Because you don't pretend. Because when you look at me, I feel seen."
A sound escaped him half sob, half laugh.
"You're insane," he whispered.
"Probably."
"You're going to regret this."
"Never."
"Fabiola..."
"I. Love. You." She said each word slowly, clearly, letting them sink in. "And I'm not taking it back. I'm not running away. I'm not leaving you alone in the dark. So you can push me away all you want, but I'm staying."
Something in Evan shattered.
He grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her.
Not gentle. Not careful.
Desperate.
His mouth crashed against hers with bruising force, his fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer, closer, like he wanted to consume her whole.
Fabiola gasped against his lips, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers, tasting her, claiming her.
His hands moved from her hair to her waist, pulling her flush against him. She could feel every inch of him, his chest, his hips, the rapid beat of his heart.
He walked her backward until her back hit the wall, never breaking the kiss. His body pressed against hers, pinning her, one hand sliding up to grip the wall beside her head while the other stayed at her waist, fingers digging in possessively.
"Mine," he growled against her mouth. "Say it."
"Yours," Fabiola breathed.
He groaned, and the sound vibrated through her entire body. His mouth moved to her jaw, her neck, kissing and sucking and biting gently.
Then he buried his nose against her throat and scented her.
Deep, desperate inhales while his lips moved against her pulse point.
"God, you smell so good," he murmured, voice wrecked. "Like everything I don't deserve. Like home."
His mouth moved lower, to her collarbone, still scenting, still tasting. His hands roamed her sides, her back, like he was memorizing every curve.
"Evan.." Her voice came out breathless, shaky.
"Tell me to stop." His lips grazed the sensitive spot below her ear. "Tell me this is too much."
"Don't stop."
He made a sound desperate and hungry and claimed her mouth again. This kiss was slower but no less intense. His tongue explored every inch of her mouth while his hands gripped her hips, holding her against him.
When he finally pulled back, they were both gasping. His forehead pressed to hers, his eyes closed, his hands still gripping her like she might disappear.
"I love you too," he whispered, and the words sounded like they'd been torn from somewhere deep inside him. "God help me, I love you too. I've loved you since you were twelve years old and held me while I cried at Lucas's funeral. I've loved you through every moment you refused to leave. I've loved you so much it terrifies me."
Tears streamed down Fabiola's face. "Then why won't you let yourself have this?"
"Because I'm afraid." His eyes opened, and they were wet too. "I'm afraid I'll love you so much I'll destroy you. That I'll take and take until there's nothing left. That my darkness will swallow your light."
"Then let it." She kissed him softly. "I'm not afraid of your darkness, Evan. I never have been."
He kissed her again, and again, like he couldn't stop, like she was oxygen and he'd been suffocating.
"You're mine," he said between kisses. "Say it again."
"I'm yours."
"Forever."
"Forever."
And in that moment, pressed against the wall with Evan's hands on her body and his scent surrounding her cold and dark and distinctly him Fabiola meant it.
Forever.
Even if forever destroyed them both.