TRIGGER WARNING: Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); emotional rifts.
This chapter will have a depiction of PTSD, read at your own discretion. Do provide some feedback regarding accuracy or reader effect.
Russian translation written in the end notes.

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Damien had been walking around the apartment all morning. He had made seven rounds in the kitchen, twelve in the living room and walking in and out of the bedrooms several times as well. He had taken off his shirt, too, leaving it stranded on the floor of the living room. After Patton told him about his plan of reading the letter with Logan, Damien couldn't get the thought of his father's letter out of his head. He didn't want to read it, mainly because he didn't know what to expect and didn't want to see what his father had left him. And why did he have to read it with his soulmate?

He and Remy had an odd moment a few nights ago in the tree house. There were things he wanted to say, but Damien didn't feel safe. Not because Remy was threatening. He didn't want to lie to Remy, but he didn't want to push his soulmate away either. If he told Remy the things he wanted to say, Remy might back away. This was the first time Damien was not truly alone. He finally had someone—a friend. The letters didn't help the agitation building up in his mind. He stopped his track in front of his bedroom. Whether he wanted or not, he will have to read the letter eventually.

He wasn't sure what to do, but he did have a small plan. He quickly ran to retrieve his abandoned t-shirt and shrugged on his usual black bomber and beanie. The letter was still in the pocket of his jacket, Damien realized. Getting his phone from the kitchen counter and snatching the keys by the door, he was out in a flash. Now that he knew where his soulmate lived, he could pay Remy a surprise visit. He only hoped Remy was there when he came.

He had thought of driving to Remy's, but it was only a few blocks of walking. Besides, it was sunny outside. When he was little, he'd wished he lived in New York or somewhere where snow would pour down from the sky. That way he could build snow-friends to play with. He could enjoy the freezing weather even though he had a very low tolerance of cold places. He thought being able to play in the snow must be fun. In the scorching Florida, there was no snow, but there was plenty of the sun. He never understood why people always shouted "wake up. The sun's shining!" What did they think he was supposed to do? Photosynthesis?

Twenty minutes later, he was standing in front of a dark wooden door. 'Number 708... Yep.' He raised his hand hesitantly, pressing the doorbell without another thought. He could hear the sound of shuffling feet before the door cracked open. A pair of jade eyes peeked through before the door flung open.

"Oh, it's you, babe." Remy leaned against the door frame. He tilted his head to one side in question. "What are you doing here?"

The first thing Damien noticed was Remy didn't have his sunglasses and jacket on. He had seen Remy without his shades, of course, but it was still a rare sight. Without them covering half his face, Remy looked much younger—which Damien thought was an odd thing to notice. And without his brown leather jacket, he could see Remy's figure more clearly. Another thing, he could see the dark circles under Remy's eyes. Dark purple like deep bruises.

"Hey, when was the last time you sleep?" Damien asked, still standing outside awkwardly since Remy had not invited him inside.

Remy stiffened at the question. He pressed his lips tightly, making it appear as a thin, white line across his face. In truth, Remy didn't quite remember when the last time he slept. It had to be a few nights ago, but the night terrors had become much, much worse—more than he could handle. The night after they went to the Harveys' home had to be the worst. He didn't remember the dream exactly. It had been a fractured sequence of events; things he could remember from the past. The fear was too much for him to risk slipping into slumber. He had consumed much caffeine in the past few days, substituting much needed sleep.

"Last night...?" Remy answered, cursing himself for sounding hesitant.

"Really?" Damien retorted in scepticism. He peeked into the apartment through the crack of the door, not seeing much. "You're not letting me come inside, are you?"

"I—um, well..." Remy took a glance at the living room of the apartment. The floor was lined with old newspapers, splashes of paint here and there. His old easel stood in the middle of the room, though the canvas faced the other way. "Okay. Come in, moy milyy." He shut the door behind him after Damien walked in.

It was odd, he thought. He had never felt threatened by Damien's presence before, but seeing his soulmate walking in his living room brought a feeling of unease. Is this how Virgil feels all the time? No wonder his cousin always jumps at the smallest things. Perhaps it was the paranoia, combined with lack of sleep which made him unable to think clearly. Remy stood by the door, unmoving. His mind was screaming at him, again. The last time someone came to his place, things didn't go well for him. But of course, of course, Damien wouldn't do anything like that... right? He took a step back, then another and another until his back met the wall. No, no, no, this was a bad idea. It was a bad idea to let Damien inside.

Damien had been looking at the painting, a frown growing with every second. Something was wrong. The painting was of a white string, pulled apart at the middle. Remy had done a great job painting the small details of the frayed tips of the strings where it had been tugged forcefully until it broke. The odd thing was, there were red spots on some parts of the string—some dripping.

Speaking of, where was Remy? He looked up, eyes scanning the room before finally spotting Remy a distance away right by the entryway. He approached Remy, who was cornering himself to the wall.

"Remy?"

Remy jumped at the mention of his name. Damien was standing in front of him. Since when? He tried moving away, but there was a wall behind him. 'No, no, leave me alone. Leave me alone, please.' He didn't dare look Damien in the eyes. Or was this Varden? 'Leave me alone. leave me alone!' Still, every alarm and siren in his head that had been dormant came to life. He needed to get away.

"Damien?" Remy's voice was unusually timid. "I—I think you—you should leave..."

"Why?" Damien tried catching Remy's eyes to no avail. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing. Please, just leave."

"Talk to me, please."

"No, I can't." Remy choked on his words. Too much. Everything was too much. "Just go," he said in a whisper. "Please, just go."

"Remy, please, what's wrong?"

"Leave me alone!" Remy shouted, his voice echoing in the empty apartment. His hand flew to his face, slapping his mouth shut as his eyes blew open.

Damien had taken a few steps back in surprise. 'What the hell did I do? Did I do something?' Remy was looking at him with apparent terror in his eyes. The dark shadows under Remy's eyes made him look weaker—almost fragile. Damien ripped his beanie off as nerves consumed him. What was he supposed to do now? He couldn't possibly leave Remy like this.

"I'm sor—I'm sorry!" Remy said with urgency and horror. "I didn't—I swear I didn't mean to shout at you. I—don't be mad, please. Please, don't hurt me. Don't hurt me."

"What? No, no, why would I do that?" Damien took a step closer.

And that was it. Remy was back to two years ago. Standing in his house, home alone with Varden standing in front of him. He was furious. Remy must have done something. He couldn't remember what it was. Whatever he did, it must have been bad, because why would Varden hurt him otherwise? Whatever he did, he knew he deserved a punishment.

"Don't... ne delay mne bol'no..." Remy said weakly, unaware that a distressed Damien was standing in front of him. "Ne delay mne bol'no."

Damien was at a loss of what to do. He came to visit to read the letter, but boy did the universe gave him a surprising present. He reached a hand slowly, trying to give a reassuring touch on Remy's shoulder. But it seemed his touch only made things worse as Remy flinched quite harshly, body quivering. He could see that Remy's eyes were glazed over, and he didn't know what else to do. He couldn't understand what Remy was muttering.

"Ne delay mne bol'no. Proshu, ne delay mne bol'no." Silent tears started to fall. Varden is so close. So close. He had to get away! Why hadn't the blows come yet? "Proshu, ne delay mne bol'no. Ya sdelayu vso, chto skazhete, no pozhaluysta, ne delay mne bol'no."

"Remy. Remy, please." Damien tried gaining Remy's attention only to be met with more muttering. "Remy, you're scaring me. Talk to me. Don't cry, come on, it's okay."

Damien reached both his arms out this time, gripping Remy's shoulders and ignoring the harsh flinch of his body. He pulled Remy into a tight embrace, hoping to snap Remy out of whatever it was that consumed his mind. Remy's screams and cries rang through the apartment, and still he held Remy tight. He didn't let go until the squirming stopped.

"Hey. Hey, okay, you're back. You're here," Damien said as he pulled Remy closer, not knowing what else to do. "God, you scared me."

"Let me go, please..." Remy sobbed, trying to pull away. His legs buckled as soon as Damien let him go. He leaned back against the wall, hugging his stomach and continued to let out strangled sobs. His vision blurred with heavy tears, body convulsing as more violent sobs broke free of his throat.

Damien cautiously took Remy's hand, leading him to the couch of the living room. He ran to the kitchen, getting a glass of water and offered it to Remy.

"Hey, it's okay," Damien whispered again. What else was he supposed to do? His hands squeezed the beanie he had in his hand, feeling the soft texture of the fabric. He then thrusted his beanie into Remy's hands, not sure what he expected Remy to do with it. To his surprise, Remy buried his face into the soft wool, taking a deep breath.

Damien. It smelled like Damien, Remy thought. He inhaled once more, feeling calmer as each second passed. He peeked through the fabric, seeing Damien looking at him with concern. He leaned back on the couch, burying his face even deeper into the black beanie.

"What happened?" Damien scooted closer on the couch, though still putting a fair distance between them.

Remy only shook his head, not wanting to say anything for now. In truth, he wanted to stay in Damien's embrace. It felt safe and comforting. But he didn't know if he could trust Damien. He wasn't going to risk anything to find out. Still, he wanted someone to give him a hug and tell him everything was good. He was tired of keeping everything inside. It had been two years and still, no one knew about Varden—only a handful of trusted friends back in Russia.

"Why did you come?" Remy mumbled his question.

"The letter. But we'll talk about that later. What happened to you?"

"I don't know... I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay... do you—do you want me to leave now?"

"No!" Remy said almost immediately. No, he didn't want to be alone. "No, sorry. Unless you want to leave."

"I'm not leaving if you don't want me to." Damien scooted closer again. "What do you need? Do you want me to do anything?"

"Just read the letter. I need a distraction."

To Damien's surprise, Remy moved closer, not leaving a gap between them. Maybe he needed comfort. He took the yellow envelope from his jacket and opened it carefully. He started reading the letter out loud, but keeping his volume low as not to overwhelm Remy.

Dear Damien,

You may know that once you read this, it means I am no longer there with you. There are many things you have yet to learn from me, but sadly I had to leave. This is the last thing I'd like to say and a few things I want you to do. You might have done some of the things I will ask you to do. Maybe not. I'm not sure when you're reading this. I do hope I've done a good job as a father to you.

I see myself in you (and I'm sure your mother have said the same to you.) You hide secrets; I don't know why. You always say you're not afraid of being alone, but I can see you don't like it. Don't hide. You'll hurt yourself, and it's going to be ugly. I know you will grow to be good, but I hope you can be more open. Especially about yourself.

Could he do that? Live a life with honesty. He was as familiar to lying as he was to the English language. Then of course, he wouldn't want Remy hiding things from him. Especially not big things that could harm each other. He glanced over when he felt a weight on his shoulder. It was odd having someone lay their head on his shoulder. Even Patton had never done that to him.

Note to Damien's SM: Hello there, I'm Travis. We might have met or might not have. I know this will not be easy for you or Damien. He's a tough nut. There will be challenges but you both have to be strong to go through it. Don't hide away from each other. When the world falls apart, you will only have each other. Care and value each other with all you have, romantically or platonically. Remember you will need each other in life. Please, take care of Damien, and I know he will fight for you. Literally.

I have a few things that I want you to do:

Engage in each other's interests/hobbies.
Answer these: What do you see in your future together? What would you be like as a romantic pair? Platonic?
Share a harmless secret with each other.

Good luck!

~ T. Harvey

They were silent, trying to understand what Travis tried to say. The note directed specifically to Remy was interesting. At least to Damien it was. Before he could think of anything else, Remy shoved his face onto his shoulder, slowly soaking it with more tears. He shifted, taking Remy into his arms again, but this time there was no resistance. He pulled Remy closer, ignoring the wetness of tears soaking through his jacket. Damien wasn't one for physical affection, so his attempt at comfort was terribly stiff and clumsy. He took his jacket off, draping it across Remy's back as a mini blanket.

"Remy," he whispered into Remy's hair. "What do you need?"

"Just stay," came the answer spoken through tears and sobs. "Don't go."

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Remy had fallen asleep on his chest. Not that Damien minded. It was such a curious thing how Remy was absolutely horrified at the sight of him earlier, but trusted him enough to fall asleep on him. He'd never seen Remy like that—cowering in fear and crying. He much prefers the sassy and witty Remy he knew. He kept his arms around his soulmate, not knowing what he could or should do. He had been asked to leave and then asked to stay.

He had felt differently about Remy, and it was difficult to admit even to himself. Damien thought their flirty banter had become something else. He didn't know how to show he cared. And seeing Remy broke in tears had been terrible that he, too, had wanted to cry. He threaded his fingers gently through Remy's auburn locks absently. Perhaps it was time for him to be honest to himself. He couldn't lie to Remy about anything, so he had to be honest to himself first.

"Damien..." Remy whispered, furrowing his brows.

"Yeah? I'm here, what's wrong?"

Slowly, Remy opened his eyes finding himself leaning against Damien. He tried to move away, but Damien pulled him back. He let out a relieved sigh as Damien laid a hand behind his head, as if protecting him from the world. He still had Damien's beanie clutched in his hand. He brought it to his face again like before, inhaling deeply.

"You really like that beanie, don't you?"

"It smells like you."

More silence. But this was unlike any other silence they've shared in the past. It was not an awkward and unpleasant silence, but rather a comforting one. Different thoughts swirled through their minds, but none came to stay.

"Day?" Remy called, voice hoarse from the crying he'd done before. "There's a list in the letter right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"What's it say?"

Retrieving the letter from the table, Damien read it slowly. "First, engage in each other's interests or hobbies. Second, answer these: what do you see in your future together? What would you be like as a romantic pair? Platonic? Last, share a harmless secret with each other."

"What harmless secret do you have?" Remy asked after gathering his thoughts. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Damien's fingers threading through his hair.

"Well, I can share you my thoughts on what I think about my soulmate," Damien said with a smile. He thought if he could act as if nothing had happened, it would cheer Remy up.

"Do tell." Remy let out an amused huff, nuzzling his face on Damien's chest. "Give me the juicy secrets, too."

"Okay, let's see. I think he's super talented. Art isn't my thing, so seeing him draw and paint stuff is fun. Plus, he's good at it." Damien smiled at Remy's weak giggle. "He's a pretty cool guy, I think. Super sassy and sarcastic, too, sometimes. I like it.

"And—and, uh—I think, um... I think he's—he's pretty cute." Damien ignored the rising heat climbing up his neck and face. "He calls me nicknames in his native language that I don't know the meanings of. I just hope those aren't mean nicknames."

"Trust me. They're not mean, sweetie," Remy said, poking Damien's cheek.

"Good. I like my soulmate a lot. He makes me feel human, if you get what I mean." Damien smiled when he saw Remy giving him a shy glance. "Aw, you're blushing like a rose."

"Shut up." Remy laid his head back on Damien's chest. There was something shifting in his chest; he didn't know what. Maybe he wanted this. He felt so secure in Damien's arm and he was sure Damien was nothing like Varden. Then again, Varden was incredibly kind and charming at first. He still remember how Varden talked to him the first time they were together. He didn't know what went wrong, but he felt that it was all his fault. It was his fault that he couldn't make Varden happy.

"Day, I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"This. I can't, like... It's just not possible." Remy forced himself to sit, suddenly distancing himself from Damien. He didn't know what he wanted. "I'm just—I don't want it!"

"What—what do you mean?" Damien steeled himself, trying to hide the sudden ache in his chest.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm scared." Remy looked away, wincing at the look of hurt written across Damien's face. "Not of you—well yes, of you. It's just—"

"Remy, look at me." Not a single response. He put two fingers under Remy's chin gently, tilting his head to meet his eyes. "Listen, dear. I'm not going to hurt you. Whoever did that to you can go to hell. I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to do. And—and yeah, I don't know how this works, so we can... we can just... take it slow. We can just be friends if that's what you want."

"And what do you want, moy milyy?"

"For you to be okay? For you to not be hurt. I'll take what I can get. You were the first person besides Patton that's ever treat me like a decent human being. I'm not letting you go, Remy."

"Just stay, then." Remy leaned back into Damien's embrace, nuzzling his head against Damien's chest. "Don't go."

"Okay. I'm here for you, dear."

**********

My childish brain couldn't to wait until Sunday to post, so here it is. From yours truly.

Well, this was quite a chapter. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did while writing it. At least now we know what Remy and Damien's relationship might look like in the future? I don't know, actually. Clearly, the secrets they both have had not been discussed yet. But it was really close, though. Do read the Russian translation written below, as it is the most heart-breaking thing about this whole chapter.

Q: What is going to happen to Remy? The two did seem like they're closer now, but is this going to continue?
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Russian stuff (feel free to kill me):
мой милый
moy milyy
[my precious; my dear]

Прошу, не делай мне больно.
Proshu, ne delay mne bol'no
[Please, don't hurt me; Don't hurt me, I beg you.]

Я сделаю всё, что скажете, но пожалуйста, не делай мне больно.
Ya sdelayu vso, chto skazhete, no pozhaluysta, ne delay mne bol'no.
[I will do anything you say, but please don't hurt me.]