#noah sebsatian

[veephoenix]

Chapter tags & trigger warnings: Chapter dealing with heavy topics, including descriptions of physical abuse. Reader discretion is advised. | Word count: 3.3k | Series masterpost. ✧.*

General trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction and violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised.

I dialed her phone number again, exasperation prickling my skin like a relentless itch. The familiar ringtone echoed through the air, emanating from behind Mitch’s apartment door. A furrow formed between my brows as I approached, now understanding that I wasn’t imagining it. Lia’s phone was inside his house, and I could hear it ringing. I climbed the two steps to the entrance. The vague iPhone melody ceased, coinciding with the end of the call on my phone. 

“Lia,” I shouted, heedless of any prying ears nearby. My desperation morphed into anger, fueled by days of silence. I was determined to find Lia. “I know you’re in there. I’ve been trying to reach you for four days and you haven’t given me a single sign of life, so open the door at once or I swear to God I’ll break it down.”

 Finally, the sound of movement behind the door stirred. With a click, the latch was removed, and the door creaked open. The first thing I saw was Lia's long brown hair. 

I was pissed at her. After spending the day with me last week —after she came to the hospital—, she had vanished like a ghost, leaving my messages unread and ignoring my calls. I was worried enough to not let it go another day like this. Whatever was going on, she was going to tell me right now.  

“Lia, what the hell is going on with you? You’ve been MI—"

 She opened the door all the way, letting me see her bruised face. The right side of her face was reddened, and her cheekbone was swollen. the area around her eye was a rather nasty purple color. 

The sight hit me like a physical blow. 

For ten seconds, I did nothing but stare at her, my face transfixed by the horror of what I was seeing. She was wearing an old white T-shirt that hung loosely on her frame, exposing more bruises littering her arms. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, evidence of sleepless nights, and her hair hung in disheveled, greasy strands. 

Then, a surge of fury swept through me like a tidal wave. 

“Where the fuck is he?” My voice erupted from deep within me, laced with a trembling growl.

She didn’t say. She just sniffed, her breathing quickening.   

Before I could muster another question, Lia threw herself into my arms, and her tears started flowing freely.  

It took me a while to respond, my mind unable to process the reality that just unfolded before me. I held her tightly against my chest, as if shielding her from the world with my embrace. 

This had been in front of me all these months and I hadn’t seen it.  

Her sadness, the late-night calls, her insecurity, the childish questions, the pain on her side when the woman bumped into her at the hospital…

My blood gone cold. 

“Lia," I murmured softly. I forced her to take a couple of steps inside the house and with one hand I pushed the door closed behind us. With tender care, I cupped Lia's face in my hands, careful not to cause her any harm. She clutched my hoodie with clenched fists. “Lia, where is he?” My own voice sounded foreign to me. There was a ferocity in it that I hadn’t known I possessed.

Her big, brown eyes met mine, and I saw the tears that pooled there and then welled up and continued rolling down her cheeks.

“Where is he? Where is he, Lia?”

She shook her head and managed to slow her sobs to tell me he wasn't home, still not letting go of me. 

 I didn't know what to do. A myriad of feelings had come over me and I was struggling to make decisions. A sense of defeat washed over me. Lia was hurt. Mitch, who had been my friend once, to whom I had introduced Lia years before, had hit her. He had hit the person he claimed to love. And I hadn’t noticed what was going on until it was too late.   

My fingers slid along Lia's jaw line, dejected, but I had no right to feel that way, not when Lia clung to me as if I were her lifeline.  

“I need to get you out of here.” I dropped my hands to pry one of Lia's fists from my hoodie and pull her into the room she shared with Mitch.  

 As soon as I stepped inside, a wave of disgust spread through me. The room was a mess—unmade bed, dirty clothes strewn across the floor, shoes scattered here and there, and an open closet door. It was a far cry from the organized person Lia was and from the way we kept our house when we lived together with the other boys. 

I couldn't tell if this mess was Mitch's doing and Lia had been forced to live with it, or if it was a reflection of Lia’s own deteriorating state of mind.  

“Get a bag,” I instructed, my voice firm yet gentle. “Pack your things. I’m taking you out of here.”

I picked up her iPad, the book she had on the small table beside the bed, and a pair of flip-flops tucked away in a forgotten corner of the room. As I looked back at her, a small glimmer of pride flickered within me at how quickly Lia was responding to my presence and my words. Despite the pain etched across her face, —despite the physical bruises—, and the lingering tremble in her body, she had ceased crying and stood resolute in the center of the room. In less than a minute, she had prepared herself, holding a backpack and meeting my gaze with determination. I reached over to take the backpack from her hands and put in the items I had collected. I took her hand again and we walked out of the room. I silently hoped that neither of us would ever have to set foot in it again, although I understood that sooner or later, whatever happened, someone would have to come back to pick up the rest of her belongings.  

In the entryway, Lia let go of my hand momentarily to lean against the shoe rack, grab her gray UGG boots and put them on. She grabbed the house keys, and like a child seeking reassurance, she grabbed my hand again. 

During the car ride to the my house, Lia said nothing, and I found myself at a loss for words as well. The initial terror that gripped me had eased with Lia’s presence beside me, curled up in the passenger seat, gazing out the window. Yet, working its way inside me was a torrent of rage, anger, an aggressiveness that I didn't know if I would be able to control once I had Mitch in front of me, because it was clear to me that that moment would come. I would not let him get away with what he had done to her. He would pay for it. 

There had been so many times we'd been out together before he started dating Lia, and I'd seen him smiling countless of times as he wrapped an arm around Lia's shoulders. I'd seen him kiss her, whisper things in her ear... It had just been a facade. No one could tell me that when you love someone, you're capable of hurting them like this.

I needed to know what exactly happened, how long this situation had been going on, but I had enough sense to understand that now was not the best time to suffocate her with questions.

We reached the house. When I opened the door and walked with Lia inside, Jesse and Jolly’s faced looked up from the sofa and their expressions turned to confusion and then shock as they beheld Lia’s bruised face. Jolly immediately rose from the sofa. Jesse remained frozen in place, mouth agape. Lia walked without acknowledging them, crossing the living room, headed towards my bedroom. I silently signaled to Jesse and Jolly, shaking my head in warning, before placing my palm on Lia’s lower back as I followed her lead. 

When we entered my room, Lia sank hopelessly onto the edge of the bed. Without meeting my eyes, she buried her face in her hands and started crying again. 

All I could see was the vulnerable little girl I had found so many times hiding in her own room at her mother’s house, scared at the way her own mother had treated her, the things she had said to her, terrified at what old men had tried to do to her. 

The lump in my throat swelled. A tear slipped down my cheek. I felt helpless. I was useless. 

Kneeling before her, I reached out and lightly touched her knee, instantly regretting touching her. 

“Lia, tell me how I can fix this,” I pleaded, my voice choked with emotion. 

Through sobs and sniffs, she uttered, “you can’t.”

My heart sank deeper as I gently grasped her wrists and looked at the bruises marring her delicate features. The nausea threatened to overwhelm me.  

“Hug me?” 

I wasn’t sure if I heard her right; her request sounded faint, almost lost amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling around us. 

One way or another, nothing was going to separate me from her again. Nobody would touch her again as long as she had me.  

I opened my arms, and she leaned into my body, sliding down from the bed until she knelt in front of me, positioned between my legs. Together, we clung to each other, our tears blending into a symphony of shared pain.

When I returned to the room a while later after a brief escape to the kitchen to get some water  and an urgen update with Jesse and Jolly —I hadn’t been able to stop Jolly from grabbing his car keys and sprinting out of the house; he went after Mitch—, Lia sat on my bed, her back against the headboard, a stack of pillows piled beside her. She looked tiny on my large bed. She wasn't doing anything. She just stared at her hands, which were folded in her lap. Her eyes lifted when I entered the room. I tried to smile at her. There was no other place I wanted her to be at that moment than in my bed, but it broke my heart to see her hurt.

I sat on the bed, close to Lia but without invading her space. Lia had an expression that was not just helplessness. There was also some shame in her still red and watery eyes. We held each other's gaze for a while. I wanted to ask her if she was okay, or at least if she felt a little better. I wanted to ask her when it had happened and if it had happened before. I had one question after another piling up inside me, but I knew none of them was the right one, so I ended up reaching out and touching her knee with my fingers in a comforting gesture. I didn’t know where else I cold touch her. 

Lia observed the movement of my tattooed fingers against the fabric of the sweatpants she was wearing, holding her breath until the dam broke, and thick tears spilled forth again. First, she covered her face with her hands, and in response to my broken voice calling her name, she crawled across the bed to reach me, throwing her arms around my neck. 

I hugged her and held her against my body as much as we were allowed to be together. I let her cry, stroked her neck with my chin, and kissed her hair. If this was all she needed, this would be all I’d give her.

"You’re safe now, Lia. I promise. I won't let it happen again. I'm sorry I even let it happen. I'm sorry I didn't realize earlier."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled over my shoulder. "I didn't— I didn't tell you... " Her words faltered, choked by tears. "I didn't tell you because I was scared and ashamed. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Noah."

"Shh. I knew something was wrong. I should have done something sooner."

Lia's arms tightened around my neck. I felt her fingers clutching my hoodie again.

After a few minutes, as her breathing steadied and her heartbeat slowed to match mine, she gradually pulled away, pushing her hair back from her face. I asked her what happened, and since when it had been happening, how many timesMitch had hurt her.

Sat cross-legged in front of me,  she began to explain. 

She explained everything. She answered each of my questions despite the tremor in her voice and the lump in her throat. Five minutes into talking, I offered another glass of water to her, which she gulped down with a little bit of struggle. 

She told me how things had begun to go south a while after she had started spending more time in his place. He had proven to be someone quite jealous from the beginning, and his anger was easily awakened, but aren’t we all a little bit like that sometimes? 

The first time he pushed her, Lia brushed it off was an isolated incident, unwilling to acknowlege the growing stain it placed on their relationship. 

But as time went on, the stain continued to grow, spreading like ink on a canvas. With each passing week, each day, Lia found herself sinking deeper into a quicksand, unable to escape until it had engulfed her entirely, covering her mouth, and she couldn't scream.

“The time you caught that virus and I stayed with you, I told you we had had an argument that morning and I left to go back to my place, right? I didn’t tell him I’d stayed the night with you, but he guessed. I don’t know why. He came to my place, he pushed me until I fell, and he—he kicked me.”

The pain on her side when she came to visit me at the hospital.

"And this," she continued, gesturing to the purplish stains on the right side of her face, around her eye. As she lifted a finger to point at it, I noticed how much her hand was trembling. "This happened a few days ago, after I came back from the hospital and stayed with you after he—he forbid me to see you.” 

Her eyes met mine. She didn't want me to feel guilty, but a part of me couldn't help it. If I hadn't succumbed to my need to have Lia by my side when I was sick, if I hadn't been a child and had taken care of getting medicine without relying on her, she wouldn't be bruised now. Right?

She lifted the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing to reveal the extent of the bruising on her ribs. Mitch knew where he had hurt her, and he targeted the same spot after discovering Lia had gone against his orders.   

"Noah, please,” she interjected, “I know what you're thinking: If you— if Jesse hadn't called me, it wouldn't have happened, but it’s not like that at all. He would have done it eventually any way, and maybe I would have never been able to tell you, and things could have..." Her voice trailed off. She sniffled hard. 

Being there, I realized something that hadn't crossed my mind before, something that I hadn’t dared to consider. 

When I voiced the question, I held my breath.

"Lia, has Mitch ever forced you to...?"

I didn't want to say it out loud. Vocalizing it was the first step in making it real, and if her answer turned out to be affirmative, I a puzzled furrow between her brows. When I didn't press further but my gaze intensified on hers, she understood what I meant. She dropped her gaze and head with a heavy sigh, and my world collapsed.

But then, she answered ‘no’, and I understood that dropping her head had been a gesture of embarrassment that I didn't comprehend until she spoke again.

"We stopped having sex a long time ago,” Lia explained softly. “He wasn't... He wasn't rough or anything. He was just not attentive, basically. He lost interest very quickly."

A part of me felt relieved. Mitch didn't deserve any part of Lia, and now that I knew the extent of his cruelty, it only reinforced that he had never deserved her in the first place. 

Since childhood, Lia and I had confided in each other and had told each other almost everything, from our first time to our most irrational fears. Having Lia in front of me, bruised, shrunken, filled me with a nauseating mix of emotions. I couldn’t bear the thought of how much she had been keeping inside and for how long. 

"I don't know what he wanted from me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Or what he still wants. These last few months..." She shrugged. "Maybe it's what I deserve: my mother never really loved me. I was a nuisance to her. My father, who knows? And Mitch... For a while I thought he really loved me. I just…” A heavy tremble took control of her. “I just wanted someone to love me."

I clicked my tongue when she burst out again and her tears spilled down her face and onto the duvet. 

"None of them deserve you. And don't think for a second that no one loves you, Lia."

"He'll come looking for me. He'll know I'm with you,” she fretted, clutching at the white sheets. 

"It doesn't matter,” I insisted. “He won't touch you again."

"I don't want him to hurt you," she sobbed.

"Don't worry about that.”

I stroked her right cheek with two fingers, wiping away a few tears as delicately as I could. Her pale complexion and tear-stained cheeks revealed the toll this ordeal had taken on her. The intensity of her bruises seemed to deepen in the dim light of the bedroom, a haunting reminder of the violence she had endured and that will stay with her for days. Maybe nightmares. 

I would get nightmares after this. 

"Why?" She whispered into the air, tormented by the questions that had no easy answers.

Why me, she wondered. It tore me apart to see her like this. She didn't say anything else, but I knew everything that was going through her head. Like me, she was also someone who overthought things too much, especially things that weren't important.

"What matters now is that you're here and you're not alone. And don't worry about anything, please. Especially about staying here."

"I don't want to go back to my mother."

The mention of that woman made me raise an eyebrow. 

"Why do you think I would let you go back there? Lia, you’re staying here. You’re staying with me. You can stay here in my bed. I can sleep in the pullout sofa in the studio, and you can stay in this room."

What’s mine is yours. It’s always been. 

Lia began to protest, but I silenced her with a shake of my head.

"Don't be so stubborn, please."

She sighed. We stayed silent for a while. Jesse was doing something in the kitchen to keep himself from losing it, too, and the noise from the dishes and cutlery reached the room. 

Eventually, I stood up and approached Lia, looming over her. I raised a hand and brought it to her face. Before touching her, I asked for permission, to which she nodded with a slight head movement and a tired look.

I moved several strands of hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ear, revealing the red and swollen area on her face.

"It will disappear in a week," she murmured, as if she thought that would reassure me.

"That's not what worries me," I replied.

Two minutes later, I sank to my knees again and buried my face in Lia’s lap, grabbing her with trembling fingers as I realized that I had let this happen. Lia’s fingers tangled into my hair. We cried again, breaking the silence and clutching to each other. 

[thecanesexchange-blog]

Thank you to everyone who participated! Below is a link to all of our fics, as well as the Ao3 Collection. 

(An updated version of this post will be up in one week with the authors)

Wifely Duties, Explicit: Sebastian Aho/Teuvo Teravainen, dom/sub “Sebastian has something extra special planned for Teuvo’s birthday this year.”

Letters from a new home, Mature: Haydn Fleury/Noah Hanifin, Sebsatian Aho/Teuvo Teravainen, Jeff Skinner/Eric Staal, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Immigration & Emigration, Supernatural Elements, Period-Typical Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Assault, Domestic Fluff “Something in the old house that Noah and Haydn are renovating as their home is keeping Haydn awake. What does it have to do with two young men who sailed towards America in the 19th century?

this surprise ending i’m depending on, Teen: Elias Lindholm/Victor Rask, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe-Canon Divergence (aka lindy isnt traded), Mutual Pining ““I did some reading, and - well,” Elias stops. “There are only two things that can prevent an NHL GM from trading someone.” “You don’t have a no-trade clause,” Victor says. “What’s the other one?” Elias looks down, and Victor notices he’s blushing. What could possibly be embarrassing about -? “Dating,” Elias blurts out. “If a player is dating someone else on the team, they can’t trade him.””

Mad as Rabbits, Teen: Justin Faulk/Jordan Staal, Sebastian Aho/Teuvo Teravainen (implied), Alexander Semin/Eric Staal (implied), Alternate Universe-Magical Realism “The rabbit sitting a few feet away stared at him with it’s black eyes and disappeared.”

waiting for the tides to meet, Mature: Sebastian Aho/Teuvo Teravainen, Selkie AU, Pining, Miscommunication ““Selkies aren’t real,” Teuvo scoffs, and the boy immediately pouts. “They are! I’m real, look,” he says, and lifts his arms out of the water; except, it’s not a hand at the end, it’s a flipper, webbed and downy. Teuvo stares, unsure if he’s dreaming. “Okay.” he says finally, and sticks out his hand. I’m a human. Nice to meet you.” He pauses. “Wanna see a cool rock?””

lettering: a how-to, Mature: Sebastian Aho/Rod Brind’amour, Implied Sebastian Aho/Teuvo Teravainen, Coach/Player Relationship, Power Dynamic, Mild Backstabbing “Seppo doesn’t have nearly half the star-power of the other guys Teuvo’s played with, but he’s at least as canny as all of those other guys put together.”

And they were roomates..., Teen: Sebastian Aho/Teuvo Teravainen, Secret Admirer, Fluff, Pining “In his twenty plus years of life he didn’t think he’d ever received flowers before.”

Aloittaa alusta; “Make a Fresh Start”, Teen: Sebastian Aho/Teuvo Teravainen, Haydn Fleury/Noah Hanifin, Alternate Universe- College/University, Secret Admirer, loosely based on a hallmark movie called “my christmas love” “When Sebastian starts getting anonymous Valentines Day gifts delivered to his dorm room, he can't help but suspect Teuvo.”

Hold On, I’m Coming, Mature: Jeff Skinner/Jordan Staal, Alternate Universe-No Girlfriends/Wives, Premature Ejaculation, Masturbation, Anal Fingering, Riding “Jeff’s relationship history is plagued by premature ejaculation. Jordan refuses to be the next victim thereof- no matter how much Jeff dislikes his methods.”

Primary, General: Sebastian Aho/Teuvo Teravainen/Dougie Hamilton, Soulmates, Miscommunication, more like no communication “Sebastian is Teuvo's soulmate, and Teuvo couldn't be happier until Sebastian stops talking to him. A soulmate AU where you see your soulmate's aura after you bond”

Collection

[supersquirrel1996]

You are such a great writer. This made me want to reach through my phone and hug Lia and tell her that everything is going to be all right. And also I have never wanted to beat a fictional character like I want to beat Mitch before.

Chapter tags & trigger warnings: Chapter dealing with heavy topics, including descriptions of physical abuse. Reader discretion is advised. | Word count: 3.3k | Cross posted on AO3. | Series masterpost. ✧.*

General trigger warnings: This work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction and violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised.

I dialed her phone number again, exasperation prickling my skin like a relentless itch. The familiar ringtone echoed through the air, emanating from behind Mitch’s apartment door. A furrow formed between my brows as I approached, now understanding that I wasn’t imagining it. Lia’s phone was inside his house, and I could hear it ringing. I climbed the two steps to the entrance. The vague iPhone melody ceased, coinciding with the end of the call on my phone. 

“Lia,” I shouted, heedless of any prying ears nearby. My desperation morphed into anger, fueled by days of silence. I was determined to find Lia. “I know you’re in there. I’ve been trying to reach you for four days and you haven’t given me a single sign of life, so open the door at once or I swear to God I’ll break it down.”

 Finally, the sound of movement behind the door stirred. With a click, the latch was removed, and the door creaked open. The first thing I saw was Lia's long brown hair. 

I was pissed at her. After spending the day with me last week —after she came to the hospital—, she had vanished like a ghost, leaving my messages unread and ignoring my calls. I was worried enough to not let it go another day like this. Whatever was going on, she was going to tell me right now.  

“Lia, what the hell is going on with you? You’ve been MI—"

 She opened the door all the way, letting me see her bruised face. The right side of her face was reddened, and her cheekbone was swollen. the area around her eye was a rather nasty purple color. 

The sight hit me like a physical blow. 

For ten seconds, I did nothing but stare at her, my face transfixed by the horror of what I was seeing. She was wearing an old white T-shirt that hung loosely on her frame, exposing more bruises littering her arms. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, evidence of sleepless nights, and her hair hung in disheveled, greasy strands. 

Then, a surge of fury swept through me like a tidal wave. 

“Where the fuck is he?” My voice erupted from deep within me, laced with a trembling growl.

She didn’t say. She just sniffed, her breathing quickening.   

Before I could muster another question, Lia threw herself into my arms, and her tears started flowing freely.  

It took me a while to respond, my mind unable to process the reality that just unfolded before me. I held her tightly against my chest, as if shielding her from the world with my embrace. 

This had been in front of me all these months and I hadn’t seen it.  

Her sadness, the late-night calls, her insecurity, the childish questions, the pain on her side when the woman bumped into her at the hospital…

My blood gone cold. 

“Lia," I murmured softly. I forced her to take a couple of steps inside the house and with one hand I pushed the door closed behind us. With tender care, I cupped Lia's face in my hands, careful not to cause her any harm. She clutched my hoodie with clenched fists. “Lia, where is he?” My own voice sounded foreign to me. There was a ferocity in it that I hadn’t known I possessed.

Her big, brown eyes met mine, and I saw the tears that pooled there and then welled up and continued rolling down her cheeks.

“Where is he? Where is he, Lia?”

She shook her head and managed to slow her sobs to tell me he wasn't home, still not letting go of me. 

 I didn't know what to do. A myriad of feelings had come over me and I was struggling to make decisions. A sense of defeat washed over me. Lia was hurt. Mitch, who had been my friend once, to whom I had introduced Lia years before, had hit her. He had hit the person he claimed to love. And I hadn’t noticed what was going on until it was too late.   

My fingers slid along Lia's jaw line, dejected, but I had no right to feel that way, not when Lia clung to me as if I were her lifeline.  

“I need to get you out of here.” I dropped my hands to pry one of Lia's fists from my hoodie and pull her into the room she shared with Mitch.  

 As soon as I stepped inside, a wave of disgust spread through me. The room was a mess—unmade bed, dirty clothes strewn across the floor, shoes scattered here and there, and an open closet door. It was a far cry from the organized person Lia was and from the way we kept our house when we lived together with the other boys. 

I couldn't tell if this mess was Mitch's doing and Lia had been forced to live with it, or if it was a reflection of Lia’s own deteriorating state of mind.  

“Get a bag,” I instructed, my voice firm yet gentle. “Pack your things. I’m taking you out of here.”

I picked up her iPad, the book she had on the small table beside the bed, and a pair of flip-flops tucked away in a forgotten corner of the room. As I looked back at her, a small glimmer of pride flickered within me at how quickly Lia was responding to my presence and my words. Despite the pain etched across her face, —despite the physical bruises—, and the lingering tremble in her body, she had ceased crying and stood resolute in the center of the room. In less than a minute, she had prepared herself, holding a backpack and meeting my gaze with determination. I reached over to take the backpack from her hands and put in the items I had collected. I took her hand again and we walked out of the room. I silently hoped that neither of us would ever have to set foot in it again, although I understood that sooner or later, whatever happened, someone would have to come back to pick up the rest of her belongings.  

In the entryway, Lia let go of my hand momentarily to lean against the shoe rack, grab her gray UGG boots and put them on. She grabbed the house keys, and like a child seeking reassurance, she grabbed my hand again. 

During the car ride to the my house, Lia said nothing, and I found myself at a loss for words as well. The initial terror that gripped me had eased with Lia’s presence beside me, curled up in the passenger seat, gazing out the window. Yet, working its way inside me was a torrent of rage, anger, an aggressiveness that I didn't know if I would be able to control once I had Mitch in front of me, because it was clear to me that that moment would come. I would not let him get away with what he had done to her. He would pay for it. 

There had been so many times we'd been out together before he started dating Lia, and I'd seen him smiling countless of times as he wrapped an arm around Lia's shoulders. I'd seen him kiss her, whisper things in her ear... It had just been a facade. No one could tell me that when you love someone, you're capable of hurting them like this.

I needed to know what exactly happened, how long this situation had been going on, but I had enough sense to understand that now was not the best time to suffocate her with questions.

We reached the house. When I opened the door and walked with Lia inside, Jesse and Jolly’s faced looked up from the sofa and their expressions turned to confusion and then shock as they beheld Lia’s bruised face. Jolly immediately rose from the sofa. Jesse remained frozen in place, mouth agape. Lia walked without acknowledging them, crossing the living room, headed towards my bedroom. I silently signaled to Jesse and Jolly, shaking my head in warning, before placing my palm on Lia’s lower back as I followed her lead. 

When we entered my room, Lia sank hopelessly onto the edge of the bed. Without meeting my eyes, she buried her face in her hands and started crying again. 

All I could see was the vulnerable little girl I had found so many times hiding in her own room at her mother’s house, scared at the way her own mother had treated her, the things she had said to her, terrified at what old men had tried to do to her. 

The lump in my throat swelled. A tear slipped down my cheek. I felt helpless. I was useless. 

Kneeling before her, I reached out and lightly touched her knee, instantly regretting touching her. 

“Lia, tell me how I can fix this,” I pleaded, my voice choked with emotion. 

Through sobs and sniffs, she uttered, “you can’t.”

My heart sank deeper as I gently grasped her wrists and looked at the bruises marring her delicate features. The nausea threatened to overwhelm me.  

“Hug me?” 

I wasn’t sure if I heard her right; her request sounded faint, almost lost amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling around us. 

One way or another, nothing was going to separate me from her again. Nobody would touch her again as long as she had me.  

I opened my arms, and she leaned into my body, sliding down from the bed until she knelt in front of me, positioned between my legs. Together, we clung to each other, our tears blending into a symphony of shared pain.

When I returned to the room a while later after a brief escape to the kitchen to get some water  and an urgen update with Jesse and Jolly —I hadn’t been able to stop Jolly from grabbing his car keys and sprinting out of the house; he went after Mitch—, Lia sat on my bed, her back against the headboard, a stack of pillows piled beside her. She looked tiny on my large bed. She wasn't doing anything. She just stared at her hands, which were folded in her lap. Her eyes lifted when I entered the room. I tried to smile at her. There was no other place I wanted her to be at that moment than in my bed, but it broke my heart to see her hurt.

I sat on the bed, close to Lia but without invading her space. Lia had an expression that was not just helplessness. There was also some shame in her still red and watery eyes. We held each other's gaze for a while. I wanted to ask her if she was okay, or at least if she felt a little better. I wanted to ask her when it had happened and if it had happened before. I had one question after another piling up inside me, but I knew none of them was the right one, so I ended up reaching out and touching her knee with my fingers in a comforting gesture. I didn’t know where else I cold touch her. 

Lia observed the movement of my tattooed fingers against the fabric of the sweatpants she was wearing, holding her breath until the dam broke, and thick tears spilled forth again. First, she covered her face with her hands, and in response to my broken voice calling her name, she crawled across the bed to reach me, throwing her arms around my neck. 

I hugged her and held her against my body as much as we were allowed to be together. I let her cry, stroked her neck with my chin, and kissed her hair. If this was all she needed, this would be all I’d give her.

"You’re safe now, Lia. I promise. I won't let it happen again. I'm sorry I even let it happen. I'm sorry I didn't realize earlier."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled over my shoulder. "I didn't— I didn't tell you... " Her words faltered, choked by tears. "I didn't tell you because I was scared and ashamed. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Noah."

"Shh. I knew something was wrong. I should have done something sooner."

Lia's arms tightened around my neck. I felt her fingers clutching my hoodie again.

After a few minutes, as her breathing steadied and her heartbeat slowed to match mine, she gradually pulled away, pushing her hair back from her face. I asked her what happened, and since when it had been happening, how many timesMitch had hurt her.

Sat cross-legged in front of me,  she began to explain. 

She explained everything. She answered each of my questions despite the tremor in her voice and the lump in her throat. Five minutes into talking, I offered another glass of water to her, which she gulped down with a little bit of struggle. 

She told me how things had begun to go south a while after she had started spending more time in his place. He had proven to be someone quite jealous from the beginning, and his anger was easily awakened, but aren’t we all a little bit like that sometimes? 

The first time he pushed her, Lia brushed it off was an isolated incident, unwilling to acknowlege the growing stain it placed on their relationship. 

But as time went on, the stain continued to grow, spreading like ink on a canvas. With each passing week, each day, Lia found herself sinking deeper into a quicksand, unable to escape until it had engulfed her entirely, covering her mouth, and she couldn't scream.

“The time you caught that virus and I stayed with you, I told you we had had an argument that morning and I left to go back to my place, right? I didn’t tell him I’d stayed the night with you, but he guessed. I don’t know why. He came to my place, he pushed me until I fell, and he—he kicked me.”

The pain on her side when she came to visit me at the hospital.

"And this," she continued, gesturing to the purplish stains on the right side of her face, around her eye. As she lifted a finger to point at it, I noticed how much her hand was trembling. "This happened a few days ago, after I came back from the hospital and stayed with you after he—he forbid me to see you.” 

Her eyes met mine. She didn't want me to feel guilty, but a part of me couldn't help it. If I hadn't succumbed to my need to have Lia by my side when I was sick, if I hadn't been a child and had taken care of getting medicine without relying on her, she wouldn't be bruised now. Right?

She lifted the hem of the t-shirt she was wearing to reveal the extent of the bruising on her ribs. Mitch knew where he had hurt her, and he targeted the same spot after discovering Lia had gone against his orders.   

"Noah, please,” she interjected, “I know what you're thinking: If you— if Jesse hadn't called me, it wouldn't have happened, but it’s not like that at all. He would have done it eventually any way, and maybe I would have never been able to tell you, and things could have..." Her voice trailed off. She sniffled hard. 

Being there, I realized something that hadn't crossed my mind before, something that I hadn’t dared to consider. 

When I voiced the question, I held my breath.

"Lia, has Mitch ever forced you to...?"

I didn't want to say it out loud. Vocalizing it was the first step in making it real, and if her answer turned out to be affirmative, I a puzzled furrow between her brows. When I didn't press further but my gaze intensified on hers, she understood what I meant. She dropped her gaze and head with a heavy sigh, and my world collapsed.

But then, she answered ‘no’, and I understood that dropping her head had been a gesture of embarrassment that I didn't comprehend until she spoke again.

"We stopped having sex a long time ago,” Lia explained softly. “He wasn't... He wasn't rough or anything. He was just not attentive, basically. He lost interest very quickly."

A part of me felt relieved. Mitch didn't deserve any part of Lia, and now that I knew the extent of his cruelty, it only reinforced that he had never deserved her in the first place. 

Since childhood, Lia and I had confided in each other and had told each other almost everything, from our first time to our most irrational fears. Having Lia in front of me, bruised, shrunken, filled me with a nauseating mix of emotions. I couldn’t bear the thought of how much she had been keeping inside and for how long. 

"I don't know what he wanted from me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Or what he still wants. These last few months..." She shrugged. "Maybe it's what I deserve: my mother never really loved me. I was a nuisance to her. My father, who knows? And Mitch... For a while I thought he really loved me. I just…” A heavy tremble took control of her. “I just wanted someone to love me."

I clicked my tongue when she burst out again and her tears spilled down her face and onto the duvet. 

"None of them deserve you. And don't think for a second that no one loves you, Lia."

"He'll come looking for me. He'll know I'm with you,” she fretted, clutching at the white sheets. 

"It doesn't matter,” I insisted. “He won't touch you again."

"I don't want him to hurt you," she sobbed.

"Don't worry about that.”

I stroked her right cheek with two fingers, wiping away a few tears as delicately as I could. Her pale complexion and tear-stained cheeks revealed the toll this ordeal had taken on her. The intensity of her bruises seemed to deepen in the dim light of the bedroom, a haunting reminder of the violence she had endured and that will stay with her for days. Maybe nightmares. 

I would get nightmares after this. 

"Why?" She whispered into the air, tormented by the questions that had no easy answers.

Why me, she wondered. It tore me apart to see her like this. She didn't say anything else, but I knew everything that was going through her head. Like me, she was also someone who overthought things too much, especially things that weren't important.

"What matters now is that you're here and you're not alone. And don't worry about anything, please. Especially about staying here."

"I don't want to go back to my mother."

The mention of that woman made me raise an eyebrow. 

"Why do you think I would let you go back there? Lia, you’re staying here. You’re staying with me. You can stay here in my bed. I can sleep in the pullout sofa in the studio, and you can stay in this room."

What’s mine is yours. It’s always been. 

Lia began to protest, but I silenced her with a shake of my head.

"Don't be so stubborn, please."

She sighed. We stayed silent for a while. Jesse was doing something in the kitchen to keep himself from losing it, too, and the noise from the dishes and cutlery reached the room. 

Eventually, I stood up and approached Lia, looming over her. I raised a hand and brought it to her face. Before touching her, I asked for permission, to which she nodded with a slight head movement and a tired look.

I moved several strands of hair away from her face and tucked them behind her ear, revealing the red and swollen area on her face.

"It will disappear in a week," she murmured, as if she thought that would reassure me.

"That's not what worries me," I replied.

Two minutes later, I sank to my knees again and buried my face in Lia’s lap, grabbing her with trembling fingers as I realized that I had let this happen. Lia’s fingers tangled into my hair. We cried again, breaking the silence and clutching to each other.