[UNEDITED]

I was standing completely naked in front of him.

Dylan looked up for a fraction of a second, and then he quickly distinguished the candle he was holding.

I wanted to cry.

"Are you okay?" he asked in the dark.

"Hmm," that was all that came out.

Right at that moment, it felt that I should have worn those blood-soaked and grime-rubble-laden clothes after coming out of the bathroom.

Suddenly the temperature of the room seemed ten times hotter. I did not know what to do right then.

I heard rustling before me, and the suddenly Dylan's hand hit my head.

"Sorry," he said, "Come here."

I swallowed, and then took his extended hand.

"Here, wear this," he gave me something. It was his shirt.

I quickly donned it on, feeling grateful.

"Let me get the lights on," he said, "Sit down, please."

I was still shivering from the whole incident, but decided that I should probably listen to what he was saying.

Dylan left the room, leaving me swimming into a pool of emotions. All the emotions were a hodgepodge inside of me, and they all wanted to spill out of my body in the form of tears; I did not know why.

Dylan did return in a while with the candle aflame again. I sat down on the bed when I saw him. His shirt was long enough to cover below my butts, but I wasn't accustomed to prancing around in front of boys without my underwear, and it was bugging me to death.

Dylan was acting like it was no big deal. He placed the candle on the nightstand, and then turned to me.

"Let me see," he demanded.

"What?" I choked out.

He shook his hand and then bent down before me. I watched him, horrified, as he traced a finger on my left leg.

"Does it hurt?" he had his finger where the towel had caught fire. It actually did, just a little.

I nodded.

There was a long trail of burn mark – a red splotch – that ended somewhere inside the shirt. I wasn't sure if I wanted his hand up that far.

He took his finger off.

"Where do you keep your first aid kit?" he asked.

I suddenly realized that I had stopped being annoyed and bossy, and that I had to slap his hands away and shoo him away by behaving really rudely to him. But for some reason, the hard shell had burnt away with the bites of the flames of fire, and I was slowly melting from his touch.

"It's in the kitchen," I whispered weakly.

"I'll be right back, okay?" he asked.

I knew that I should have run and grabbed the clothes from my room, but for some reason all of that was forgotten. I was so torn because of his behavior. He was apologizing and it was justified. It was not his fault that all of the things were divulged before he was even prepared for it. I had seen him suffer from indecision when he was close to me before, but at the same time I had sensed his feelings for me. If I had noticed the bond between him and Nicole, I would never have approached him or even thought of thinking about him like that. I never noticed the bond because it was not there from his end. Yes, Nicole did like him that way, but that could have been only her feelings, because I had never seen Dylan reciprocate what she was doing for him.

Or maybe he did? Maybe I did not know because he did not do in in front of me.

But then why was Nicole so tense when Dylan spent time with me? Why was she always so tempted to follow my actions when I was with Dylan? Did she know that he had started to grow feelings for me, feelings that Dylan would never have for her?

Her fear was enough to bolster my assumptions. Nicole was not just one of those insecure girls who scared off other girls. She was insecure because he had seen Dylan look at me the way he had never looked at her. She was insecure because Dylan cared about me in a way he had never cared for her.

My heart was about to burst. I had always dreamed of my life to be like those perfect moments of a fairy-tale story. I wanted to be the cute little girl who ended up with her prince charming.

But if I listened to Dylan, would that truly make me the happy little princess? Or would I simply turn into the villain who ruined a perfect love-story?

"Back," Dylan announced as he entered the room and showed me the small box.

He sat down beside me, and then asked me to turn, to face away from him.

"Why?" I asked, "You can see the wound from here," I pointed to my left leg that was dangling from the bed.

"Can you please stop being stubborn and listen to me?" he requested, slightly annoyed.

I huffed, and then turned, with my back to him.

He moved closer. I stopped breathing for a while as I felt the heat coming from his body. He was no less tensed at that moment than I was.

He opened the box, and then after a while, I felt his hand rest on my thigh after two hasty attempts.

"I'm fine," I said, but then figured that it was not the exact thing to say here. But I needed to say something to make it easier for him.

He breathed heavily, and slowly rubbed the cream on my skin. It hurt a little, but mostly it was excitement that was drowning me heavily.

It became really hard after he was done with the skin that was showing.

"Please stay still," his voice was a whisper in my ear, and I felt him close in slightly.

There was probably an inch of a gap between us, and he was trying hard not to touch my back with his chest. I could feel his strain. He was heating up every now and then.

His fingers slowly climbed up over the side of my thigh, and I suppressed a moan. God, this was hard.

By the time he was finally done rubbing burn cream on the side of my waist, I was a puddle on the bed. My head was spinning and all I wanted to do was jump up on his lap and make out.

"I wanted to tell you something," he said as he slowly turned me and then safely tucked me inside the bed spread.

I was leaning against the headboard. His bare chest looked absolutely delicious in the dimming light of the flame. I looked away, to his face. I needed a distraction.

Breathe, Naomi; breathe!

"I told her 'no,'" he said as he looked down at the box.

"Told no to whom?" I repeated, my emotions tumbling onto each other.

"Nicole," he looked up and looked into my eyes, "I told her that I had feelings for you, and that none of us would be happy if I still forced myself into this marriage."

I was dumbfounded.

"And this decision was not taken because of this attack, trust me," he sat closer, "I had told her a few days ago. But at the same time I had told myself to not tell you anything about it. I did not want you to feel guilty about it. But after the incident tonight, I just couldn't hold myself back anymore. I just wanted to see you for once...but...the words just came out."

The tears had finally started pooling into my eyes.

"I didn't for once think that you deserved a better life with someone who was not...abnormal like me. Yes, you definitely do. I am sorry that I was being so selfish."

I nodded.

"Right," I said, "Of course I have no feelings for you. That is exactly why I let you strip me, and then let you offer me your shirt only to rub my skin under the clothes while I am half-nude sitting within inches. Yes, I do that often to boys. That is just a hobby I developed after storming out of your place that day!"

The tears were finally rolling down my cheeks, and Dylan's posture changed. He reached out and grabbed my face in his palms.

"I did not mean to hurt you," his whisper was almost inaudible, "Trust me when I say this, Naomi; I am in love with you."

My heart stopped. I looked at him for a full second. Nicole loved him. Was I truly becoming the villain of this story?

Then I thought, fuck Nicole.

Something must have changed in my expression, because Dylan did not wait for another moment and pressed his lips to mine. I felt that bittersweet experience again as I kissed him back. It was nothing like the ones we had had before, and it slowly pulled me into something outwardly within seconds.

I grabbed his back and pulled, and he was on the bed and over me. I slowly slipped further under the covers, and his face was exactly over my face. He smiled at me, and then lowered his lips again on to mine.

This time the kiss went deeper, and I almost wanted to scream as his fingers knotted in my hair. The shirt was all the way up over my navel, and Dylan slowly grazed my stomach with his palm. His skin was smooth and hot under my own palms, and I wanted to die from ecstasy.

Dylan moved to my neck, drawing circles on each inch of skin with the tip of his tongue, undoing me every time he did so. I was drawing him closer and closer, probably leaving scratch marks all over his back. He never complained.

I don't know how long we made out. I was out of breath, but the feeling never subsided. I wanted more of him with every passing second, and I could feel the same coming from him.

Finally he stopped and looked at me.

"I am naked," I told him, and then we both laughed.

"It doesn't matter," he said, "We're going to go there someday, maybe, but let's not waste this moment because of such a trivial inconvenience?"

I smiled at him, and he buried himself in my neck again.

Soon we had run out of breath from kissing. I was tired from the incidents of the day, and I badly wanted to crash.

"Stay," I pulled him when he got up from the bed, "Don't leave."

He dipped himself on to the bed once again, "What's wrong?"

I shook my head, "I see blood when I close my eyes. I don't think I can sleep with all these images inside my head."

He sighed, "I know. It's not easy to kill people and ignore the burden just like that."

I hugged him as he lay beside me again.

"Will it ever go away?" I asked him.

"Only if you can ever forgive yourself," he spoke into my hair.

Could I ever? I didn't know.

"Those people...the rebels, they came to get me," I suddenly said.

Dylan looked at my face, "What?"

I nodded, "The woman who I killed said that, and so did the man who later took me hostage."

"Could you be the girl they are looking for?" Dylan asked.

"Uncle Benjamin said they had the wrong girl, which means they might have made a mistake," I tried to defend it.

Dylan laughed, "Then I would obviously poke into the matter. If Benjamin Wilkins says something is wrong, then it's obviously right."

"I don't know what to make of it," I whispered, "It has occurred to me as well, you know, with Mel talking about the problems with my blood cells, and all."

"You think they could be interconnected?" Dylan asked.

"Yeah." Sadly. But I hoped it didn't.

Dylan silently stroked my hair for a while, making me woozy.

"I want to visit Uncle Benjamin's labs again," I said drowsily, "I need to find out the truth."

"Are you sure?" Dylan asked.

"Yes, I am." If I could kill armed rebels, I could make an attempt to find out the truth as well. If it truly concerned me, it was my right to know about it.

"Don't worry, we'll find a way to sneak into the lab first thing in the morning. But for now," he kissed my cheek, "sleep."

"Will you stay with me when I break in?" I asked him, grabbing him tighter.

"Yes, then, and forever," he lightly touched his lips on my forehead.

I rubbed my face on his chest, and his smell was the last thing I remembered before being pulled into oblivion.

This was peace, this was life.

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