Darn Stupid Brother You Are by Mairee

Chapter 85 (Angel's POV) Thomas and I were sprawled on the bed in the vacant examination room. The soft hum of the center's fluorescent lights filled the silence between us. My head rested on his chest, and I could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was a calming metronagainst the chaos of my thoughts.

"I don't talk about her much," I said suddenly, breaking the silence. "My mom, Dennis. She's... complicated." Thomas's fingers brushed through my hair. "Complicated how?" A small laugh escaped me, but it was bitter around the edges. "Strict, controlling, impossible to please. She wasn't always like that, though. I remember when it was just the two of us. Things were simpler back then." I paused as my mind drifted to memories of a smaller apartment, where the walls were thin, and her voice was loud but comforting. "She changed when Travis cinto the picture. Hendrix's dad. They met at sboating event. I think he was still grieving his wife at the time." Thomas hummed whilst his hand trailed soothing patterns along my arm. "And you met Hendrix then?" I nodded. "Yeah. He was this loud, obnoxious kid who thought the world revolved around him. I didn't like him at first, but... he grew on me. He always knew how to charm his way out of trouble, even when he was the one causing it." Thomas chuckled. "Sounds like someone I know." I swatted his chest playfully. "Don't compareto him." "I'm not," he said, smiling. "But you both have that spark, that ability to light up a room without even trying." I didn't respond. The words lingered in the air like a soft melody. My chest tightened as the memories kept coming. Hendrix and I, fighting over the TV remote. Dennis yelling at him to stop breaking curfew. Travis trying to mediate, always with that patient, fatherly smile.

"Sometimes I wonder if things could've been different," I whispered. "If we hadn't ended up here. If Dennis had been less strict or if Travis had... I don't know, done more to hold our family together." Thomas shifted under me, and his arms tightened around my frame. "Angel, you don't have to talk about it if it's too much." I shook my head. "No, it's okay. It feels good to talk about it. To let it out." But the tears were already pooling in my eyes, and I hated it. I hated that those memories still had power over me, that they could unravelso easily. Thomas didn't say anything else. He just held me; his warmth anchoredto the present. The silence between us stretched, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Words didn't need to be said at the moment as we shared an understanding that didn't need to be voiced.

"What about you?" I softly asked after a while. "What were your parents like?" Thomas stiffened slightly, and his hand stilled against my arm. For a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer, but then he sighed. It was one of those heavy sighs filled with a quiet sadness.

"I didn't know them well," he admitted. "They died when I was a kid. Car accident." "Oh, Thomas," I breathed and sat up slightly to look at him. His eyes were distant, his jaw tight.

"My grandmother raisedafter that," he continued. "She was... strict, but she loved me. And she loved my cousin. We were like brothers, you know? Did everything together." I smiled faintly. "What was his name?" "Daniel," he said. His voice softened at the memory. "He was the reckless one. Always getting into trouble, always draggingalong for the ride." He paused, and his gaze dropped to the bed. "He died a few years ago. Another car accident." My heart broke for him, for the burden he carried so quietly. I reached out and cupped his face with trembling hands. "I'm so sorry." He leaned into my touch and closed his eyes. "It's okay. I've made peace with it. But sometimes... sometimes it still hurts." I didn't know what to say, so I just held him and let my presence speak the words I couldn't find. His arms wrapped aroundagain, pullingcloser, and I felt his heartbeat against mine, the heartbeat I only wanted to be because of me. Thomas's arms tightened aroundas I leaned into his warmth. I could feel the tension in his muscles as his memories pressed down on him. My fingers brushed over his chest absentmindedly, tracing invisible patterns that helped ground both of us in the present. His scent-clean, masculine, faintly woodsy-filled my senses, and for a moment, the chaos in my mind dulled. It was just us, wrapped in the fragile peace of this moment.

I tilted my head up to meet his gaze, and his eyes softened as they locked onto mine. There was something unspoken between us, like a question waiting to be asked. His thumb brushed against my cheek as he wiped away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen. "Angel," he murmured almost reverently. "You don't have to carry all of this alone." I swallowed hard. "Neither do you." The words were full of meaning. He leaned in slowly and teased his lips just above mine, givingthe chance to pull away. But I didn't. I closed the distance and brushed my lips against his in a kiss that was soft. His hands cupped my face, holdingsteady as the kiss deepened. His lips remained warm and insistent against mine.

His touch was tender yet firm, guiding and grounding me. My fingers slipped into his hair, and he groaned softly against my mouth. The kiss grew hungrier, as if we were both trying to drown out the pain and memories in each other. His hand slid down my back, pressingcloser to him, and I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

For a moment, I let myself forget. I let myself lose track of time, of space, of everything but the way he madefeel-wanted, needed, seen. And as his hands explored the curve of my waist while his lips moved urgently, I couldn't help but wonder if this was enough to silence the echoes of Hendrix that still lingered in my heart. Thomas's lips trailed soft kisses down my jaw, to the hollow of my throat. My breath hitched as his hands gently but firmly guidedback onto the bed so I could rest my head on the pillows. His touch was steady, as though he was trying to convey with every caress that I was safe and cherished. He hovered over me, still staring into my soul with orbs that were filled with a tenderness and burning intensity that made my heart race.

"You're beautiful," he murmured roughly as his fingers brushed the hem of my shirt. I felt my cheeks flush as he slowly pulled it over my head. His hands felt sure against my skin. He didn't rush. He took his time, his lips following the path of his hands, kissing every inch of exposed skin as if to showhe wasn't just taking he was giving and honoringwith every touch.

When his lips trailed lower, down the curve of my stomach, I tensed slightly, uncertain, but his hands found mine and entwined our fingers, grounding me. "Angel," he said softly, then he looked up atwith an expression so sincere it stole my breath. "Lettake care of you." There was no hesitation in his voice, only a sort of confidence, and I felt my body relax under that warmth which was spreading throughbut had nothing to do with the way his lips were moving lower.

His kisses were slow, and when he reached the waistband of my shorts, he paused and used his fingers to toy with the fabric as he met my gaze again, silently asking for permission. I nodded like a starving hyena. My heart was pounding as he slid them down, and I immediately felt the cold AC graze my heated skin. His strong hands settled on my thighs, holdingopen as his lips began their slow descent.

The first touch of his tongue sent a shiver through me, and I gasped. My hands gripped the sheets as he exploredwith a careful intensity. His mouth was warm, and his tongue was skilled as he moved in slow strokes that lefttrembling. He wasn't just touchinghe was unraveling me, piece by piece, each flick of his tongue pullingfurther under his control. "Thomas..." I breathed out his nwith a broken voice as my hips bucked instinctively against him. "Stay with me," he murmured against my skin as his grip on my thighs tightened, anchoringto him. The vibration of his words sent another wave of pleasure rolling through me, and I cried out, letting my head fall back against the pillows as he pushedcloser to the edge. His tongue moved faster now, and his lips sucked gently on the sensitive bundle of nerves that hadshaking, incoherent. "Please..." I wh ed, unsure if I was begging for him to stop or for more. He didn't stop, didn't let up; his hands and mouth were working in perfect harmony as he drovehigher and higher until I shattered and a soft cry escaped my lips as pleasure overwhelmed me, leavingtrembling in the aftermath. He stayed withthrough every shudder, and his hands, now gentle, brushed over my skin, soothing me.

When he finally lifted his head, his lips were glistening and his expression was soft, but there was an edge to it, a hunger that hadn't been sated. "Angel," he murmured as he moved up my body and slid his hands under my back to pullup with him. He sat back on his knees, holdingclose as I straddled his lap. My legs wrapped around his waist and my arms looped around his neck.

We were face-to-face now, our breaths mingling, our bodies pressed together. His hands settled on my hips, holdingsteady as I shifted to feel the heat of him against me. The sensation was electric and sent a rush of anticipation throughas he pulledcloser to rest his forehead against mine. "I need you," he whispered with an honesty that leftbreathless.

"I'm yours," I whispered back and brushed my lips against his as I adjusted my hips, guiding him into me. The sensation was overwhelming; it was painful and pleasurable as he filledcompletely. His grip on my hips tightened as he buried himself to the hilt. We stayed like that for a moment with our foreheads pressed together and our breaths coming in shaky gasps as we adjusted to the intensity of the connection.

His hands slid up my back and pulledcloser as I began to move, slowly at first, rocking my hips against his as we found our rhythm. His lips found mine again in a deep and unrestrained kiss, and his hands were roaming over my back, holdingto him as if he couldn't bear to letgo. The feeling of him under me, around me, inside me, was overwhelming, and my fingers tangled in his hair as I lost myself in the moment, in him.

The world outside ceased to exist, and for the first time, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be wrapped in his arms, our bodies moving together, the connection between us undeniable. His hands tightened on my hips as he guided me, and I could feel the tension building again. The pleasure spiraled higher as he whispered my nlike a prayer.

As I continued moving against him, his hands guidingwith a patient strength, I couldn't stop the thoughts that creeped in-the comparisons. It was wrong, I knew it was, but the memories of Hendrix still lingered in the corners of my mind. Hendrix had always been fire and chaos, overwhelming in his intensity, leavingbreathless but raw, like I had survived a hurricane. But Thomas... Thomas was different. He was steady, and his touch was like a soothing ice pack. He didn't just take he gave; his every movement was an unspoken vow that he was here forand with me.

My breaths cin short gasps, and my forehead pressed to his as I clung to him, trying to focus on the present, on him. "Thomas," I whispered as my voice trembled with pleasure and emotion. "You makefeel... safe." My raw and unfiltered words cout unexpectedly, and I felt his arms tighten aroundin response. He didn't speak, didn't need to. His touch, his gaze, the way he heldso gently while our bodies were locked in something so intimate-it said everything.

I didn't know why tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but they did. I rested my head against his shoulder and brushed my lips against his neck as I whispered, "You take care of me... in ways I didn't know I needed." My voice cracked slightly, and I felt his hands pause for a moment. His fingers pressed into my back like he was trying to holdtogether. "Thank you for being this for me. For being... you." He groaned softly, and his lips found mine again, silencing my words with a kiss that felt like reassurance and a promise. I moved with him. Our bodies found a rhythm that spoke to something deeper, and for a moment, I let myself forget everything but this the way he madefeel, the warmth of his hands, the strength in his arms, the softness in his gaze. I felt the tension building again and the pleasure rising like a tide that I couldn't stop, and when it finally crashed over me, I was shaking and holding on to him like he was the only thing keepingafloat.

When it was over, he collapsed back against the bed. His chest was heaving as he tried to catch his breath. I was still straddling him, my legs wrapped around his waist, but instead of moving, I reached out and framed his face with my hands. He looked up at me. His hair was damp with sweat, his cheeks were flushed, and for a moment, I just stared at him, marveling at the man under me. My thumb brushed over his cheekbone, tracing the line of his jaw, and I felt something stir deep insidea quiet, persistent thought that maybe I should have seen him this way all along.

"Thomas..." I murmured as I took him in. The way he looked at me, his eyes soft and filled with something I didn't know if I deserve, made my chest tighten. "Maybe I should have... maybe it's always been you." My voice trailed off; uncertainty was surely creeping in. I didn't know if I was saying it for him or for myself, trying to convince myself that I had made the right choice. He didn't respond. His eyes were searching mine as his hands settled on my hips.

But then, that quiet doubt crept in the but. It was there, lingering in the back of my mind like a shadow I couldn't shake. Why did I feel it? Why, even now, when he was everything I could ask for when he was kind, patient, loving-did the memory of Hendrix still linger? My heart ached with the contradiction and all the unresolved feelings pulling ateven as I sat there, wrapped in Thomas's arms.

I pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and slid my hands down to his shoulders as I rested against him, trying to quiet the storm in my mind. Maybe he was the right one for me. Maybe, with time, that but will disappear. But as his arms tightened aroundand I felt his steady heartbeat against my chest, I could help but wonder if I'll ever truly let go of the past.

(Cylan's POV) The message cagain, late at night.

>>They're watching me. I need you to help me, Cylan. Please.<<<

My hands trembled as I stared at the screen. Emily. She was alive. Somewhere. But the desperation in her words was suffocating, and I didn't know how to respond. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, but no words came.

I couldn't sleep after that. The center's shadows felt darker, the air heavier. By morning, my mind consumed with feaxanddetermination. I needed to find her, to figure out where she was and what the hell was going on. Hande noticed something was off. "You okay?" she asked. Her brow furrowed as we sat in the common room. "Yeah," I lied, avoiding her gaze.

"You don't look okay." "I'm fine," I snapped, harsher than I intended. Her face fell, and I immediately felt guilty, but I couldn't bring myself to explain. She wouldn't understand.

The day dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity. My phone buzzed again as I walked back to the dorm.

>> Ellen called.<<

Ellen? Why was she calling now? Panic bubbled in my chest as I made my way to the nurse's Station, where they handedthe phone. The line was faint, but I recognized her voice immediately. "Cylan?" she croaked. She sounded so weak. "Ellen? What's wrong? Where are you?" There was a pause, and then she whispered, "Hospital. He... he did this to me." My blood ran cold. "Who? Ellen, who did this to you?" Her answer was barely audible, but it hitlike a punch. "My fiancé." The phone slipped from my hand, and the nurse's concerned voice faded into the background. Ellen. My Ellen.

Beaten and broken by the person who was supposed to love her.

I turned and ran as her words crushedwith every step.