A loud bang steals my attention from the pile of clothes in front of me. My head snaps toward the location of the sound and I’m instantly on alert. Even though I can’t see him, I know something alarming just happened in there. The water isn’t running and it’s eerily quiet as I near the bathroom.
I’m definitely noticing a trend since I’ve been here. I tend to waltz into these startling situations, unsuspecting of the potential risks. This is reminiscent of when I found Xander panicking after we had sex. What will I stumble upon this time? I hear another disturbing clatter loudly echo through the small space, which propels me forward.
Formalities and etiquette flew out the window when I first arrived so I don’t knock on the door before opening it. I edge into the bathroom totally unprepared for the sight before me. Again. The startled gasp leaps from my throats before I even realize it.
Xander is kneeling on the floor in a defeated position and tenses further from my sound. His big body is hunched over and curled in a distinctively protective manner. My frantic gaze doesn’t settle on his position because I’m too preoccupied scanning for injuries.
My eyes barely register the scars littering most of Xander’s upper body because something much more fascinating has caught my attention. I silently study the intricate tattoo that covers a huge portion of his right side. The dark lines start at his forearm before growing up his upper arm and wrapping around his bicep. From there it branches out to flow onto his pec and extends to his shoulder. The ink reaches around his back to complete the enormous work of art.
It’s absolutely mesmerizing and I am stunned by the creative beauty. I inch forward to get a closer look to determine what the design is. I’m a bit puzzled by my findings because I can’t comprehend the hidden meaning. The tattoo definitely resembles an exotic tree.
It’s so freaking stunning!
Another gasp slips out without warning. “Oh my gosh, Xander!” I don’t know what else to say. I’m a little stunned. That’s for sure. My curiosity sprouts like an annoying pest that I can’t get rid of as I continue investigating his arm.
Why didn’t I see this before?
What does this tree mean to him?
After hearing my exclamation, Xander snaps out of his silent stupor to lash out. “I know I’m a fucking freak. The fucked up disaster outside matches the messed up mayhem in my mind. When are you going to believe me that you should just leave?” His tone is feral and I’m suddenly heavy with disappointment that he’s reverted back to this defense mechanism.
At first I don’t understand why he’s so angry. I’m sure he doesn’t appreciate me drooling all over him. It takes monumental effort to look away from the intricate tattoo but then I scan over the collection of gashes, scars, and wounds that decorate the rest of Xander’s skin. It looks like a horrible scrapbook of memories he’s desperate to forget.
My mind is a blank slate as I scramble for what to say. I need to do something but my body remains locked in place. Xander hangs his head before his shoulders slump forward further. He appears to be in an extremely vulnerable state and I don’t want to make it worse. I am so freaking confused. Maybe it would be better for me to give him space. Selfishly, I don’t think I can. Just thinking of leaving him like this makes my chest ache. I need to reach him before he gets pulled farther into this madness.
“Let me see you, Xander,” I whisper. “Please.”
He doesn’t respond so I try to be patient while surveying my options. His eyes are squeezed shut and his fists quiver as he fights the battle against his mind. I need him to understand that I don’t see the damage when my gaze feasts on his glorious form. He could never be a monster to me, no matter what horrible poison fills his head.
I shuffle forward a few feet to lean against the vanity. Xander has his face averted and clearly doesn’t want to chat. He’s disappeared into his mind and is allowing his crippling thoughts to take over.
My limited interactions with Xander have been strained but have provided some explanation into these erratic shifts in his character. I’ve witnessed similar behavior from patients with severe trauma. I hate comparing Xander to cases I’ve worked with but in these instances, my experience has proven useful. It’s clear that all he can see right now are the flaws. He’s trained himself to believe that he’s ruined and worthless.
Xander seems to forget how well I know him and that I’m aware of who he is, buried deep within. That’s what I truly care about. It’s Xander’s beautiful heart that I want. The scars are just superficial. What truly defines him has nothing to do with the markings on his flesh. Other than the newly discovered ink . . .
I desperately want to get a closer look at his tattoo.
I hesitantly reach out to trace the delicate details of the tree but stop before my fingers touch his skin. It’s absolutely magnificent. The winding roots merge into a swirling trunk with endless branches and eccentric twigs. Each line is perfectly placed to create the extraordinary piece. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me about this sooner. Alright, that’s laughable but honestly, I can’t imagine him permanently getting this symbol etched into his arm for no reason. The Xander I always knew wouldn’t impulsively choose some random item. There has to be a story that goes along with it.
When did he get this done?
I’m so effing curious about this ink embedded into him but clearly Xander is not in the mood to explain. I’ll add it to the growing list of topics to readdress at a more appropriate time. My head spins as I attempt to gather my scattered ideas.
Xander’s body is still locked up as he remains closed off. He’s full of so much hate and fury. He’s bottled it up so tight that I’m worried he’s about to implode. His entire form begins to tremble and shake as he cowers on the bathroom floor. Xander is trapped in such a horrible place and can’t find an escape route. I don’t know how much longer I can watch this without intervening, forget the consequences.
Ever since I found out Xander was back, I’ve been desperate for a cozy hug. The type that steals your breath and leaves you tingling with warmth. It used to be our thing and I miss it terribly. I’ve wanted to jump into his arms and spin around like a cheesy romantic comedy.
Obviously, I’ve realized that would be about as well received as an ice bath, so I’ve held off. There isn’t anything for me to fear from this man, not anymore. Based on recent observations, Xander has a specialty in attacking himself and it’s slowly breaking my heart.
I’m not waiting another minute.
I descend on his broken form and tightly wrap my arms around him. Overwhelming warmth engulfs me as I pull Xander close to me. I’ve craved this simple affection, though I’d rather have it happen on better terms, I’ll take what I can get.
At first Xander stiffens and my gut clenches in feat that he will reject me. I’m sure it isn’t easy for him to accept my touch in this dark moment. But the change is drastic and sudden. His glacial exterior cracks open and all the pain seems to purge out rapidly.
Gut wrenching sobs echo off the tiled floor. Xander’s body is heaving with his ragged cries and I’m astonished by the flood of crushing emotion before me. The broken noises ripping from his throat break my heart but his is exactly what he needs to release his demons. The tears soaking into my shoulder are evidence of the pain he’s held onto for too long.
When I imagine what could cause such a significant reaction, my mind instantly goes to horrible places I’ve heard from my job. I’m only a bystander to this onslaught of agony but it cuts me deep regardless. My chest aches with empathy for what he’s currently going through but I’m relieved he’s letting it out. The wounded layers seem to shed away with each quiver of his skin.
I whisper soothing words close to Xander’s ear while rubbing his back. Maybe they aren’t registering but I want him to know I will always support him. No matter what, I’ll be here to love him. I continue softly stroking his skin while he is fisting the material of my shirt. I grip him tighter and hold with all my might. I need to be his solid ground while he’s slipping off the edge.
I lose track of time as Xander keeps releasing his anguish with convulsing tremors. I can only hope he’s finding some relief in this and it’s helping him heal. Even though my legs are cramping and my arms are strained, I don’t move or complain. I can handle the temporary discomfort if it means Xander is finding some semblance of peace.
Eventually his sounds of sorrow taper off but he doesn’t release me. His hands smooth over my sides and ease around my lower back. Xander shifts slightly, which allows me to adjust my sore limbs. I never lose contact with his skin and once we’re settled again, I dig my fingers into his muscles. He turns his head so his lips are nearly touching my neck.
“Thank you, Willow.” His raspy voice cracks. He clears his throat before speaking again. “I’m really overwhelmed right now. That was so fucked up I should be ashamed. My head is clear for a change. That’s thanks to you.”
He places a gentle kiss against my sensitive skin and I quickly angle my face to hide my own onslaught of grief.