episode 4 I'm tired

The next day

Drew-

The night is quiet, too quiet.

The city hums in the distance, its golden lights flickering against the dark sky, but up here—on the ruined balcony of this abandoned tower—it feels like we’re the only two people left in the world.

Krays leans against the stone railing, his back to me, shoulders tense. His usual smugness is gone. There’s no teasing smirk, no sharp remarks. Just silence.

And blood.

It drips from his knuckles, dark against his pale skin. His hand is clenched too tight, fresh wounds splitting across the places where he must have punched something—or someone.

I swallow hard. “Krays.”

He doesn’t turn.

I step closer, hesitating before reaching for his arm. “What the hell happened?”

His muscles go rigid under my touch, like he wasn’t expecting it. Like he doesn’t deserve it.

“It’s nothing.” His voice is quieter than I expect. Flat.

I don’t let go. “It’s not nothing.”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Why do you care?”

The words sting more than they should.

I don’t answer immediately. I don’t know how to answer, not when he’s looking at me like this—like I’m seeing something I shouldn’t. Something cracked.

His golden eyes flick to my hand still wrapped around his wrist. His expression shifts—so quick I almost miss it. And then, very softly, he murmurs, “You should let go.”

I don’t.

Instead, I tighten my grip. “Make me.”

A ghost of a smirk twitches at his lips, but it doesn’t last. He exhales, closing his eyes, tilting his head back as if the sky holds answers.

“It’s a habit,” he finally says. “That’s all.”

I frown. “Hurting yourself?”

Silence.

Then—

Krays laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “And others.”

The admission is soft. Raw.

And it hits.

My chest tightens, but I don’t look away. I won’t.

“How long?” I ask, because I need to understand.

Krays finally turns to me, his golden eyes catching the light. They should be sharp, untouchable. But right now, they just look—

Tired.

“How long do you think?” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

I don’t have an answer for that.

Because I know.

I know it’s been long enough that he doesn’t flinch at the pain anymore. Long enough that he thinks this is just the way things are.

I let go of his wrist, only to reach for his injured hand instead. His fingers twitch like he wants to pull away, but he doesn’t.

I trace over his knuckles gently, feeling the fresh wounds, the ones not even his unnatural healing has fixed yet.

“You can stop,” I say, my voice softer now. “You don’t have to keep doing this.”

His gaze flickers, something sharp behind it. He licks his lips like he’s about to say something cruel, something to push me away.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lets out a slow, unsteady breath. “I don’t know how.”

The honesty in it—god, it hurts.

I squeeze his hand, grounding him. “Then let me show you.”

For the first time, Krays doesn’t have a clever remark.

For the first time, he just lets me stay.

The silence stretches between us, heavy and fragile—like one wrong word could shatter it completely.

Krays’ golden eyes flick between mine, searching, unsure. His hand is still in mine, warm despite the blood drying against his skin.

I should pull away.

I should give him space.

But I don't.

Instead, I step closer. Just enough that the heat of him wraps around me, making the cold night feel further away.

His breath hitches.

“Drew,” he murmurs, low and strained—like he’s warning me. Like he’s warning himself.

“I’m not afraid of you.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.

His eyes darken, flicking down to where my fingers still cradle his broken hand. He doesn’t pull away, but I can feel him fighting it—fighting me.

“You should be.” His voice is rough, barely a whisper.

“Why?” I press, stepping in until there’s barely an inch between us. “Because you hurt people?”

His jaw clenches, eyes snapping back to mine. That flicker of anger rises—sharp and defensive—but I don't back down.

“Or because you’re afraid I’ll see the parts of you you’re trying to drown?”

His breath leaves him in a sharp exhale, like the words hit something raw.

I don't know what I'm doing—only that every instinct is pulling me closer, despite every warning flickering in his molten gaze.

Krays leans in, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath against my lips. His hand tightens in mine, rough fingers curling around my wrist like he’s holding on.

“Don’t,” he rasps, his voice wrecked. “I ruin everything I touch.”

I reach up slowly, brushing my fingers along his jaw, feeling the tension locked beneath his skin. He flinches like no one's touched him like this in a long time—like he doesn’t know how to let it happen.

“You’re not ruining this.”

His eyes squeeze shut, like the weight of those words is too much.

“Drew—”

I kiss him.

It's not careful. Not soft.

It's desperate.

He shatters beneath it, all sharp edges and broken pieces. His mouth crashes against mine, rough and searing, like he's trying to burn the taste of me into him. His hands find my waist, pulling me flush against him, fingers digging into my sides like he's afraid I'll disappear if he lets go.

I don't.

I press harder, threading my fingers into his dark hair, swallowing the low groan that slips from his mouth.

His walls crumble beneath my touch—but there's something wrecked in the way he kisses me, something aching.

Like he’s memorizing this.

Like he thinks it won’t last.

When he finally breaks away, his forehead drops against mine, breath ragged. His fingers tremble where they grip my waist, holding me like he's both terrified and starving for more.

“You shouldn’t want this,” he whispers, voice breaking. “You shouldn’t want me.”

My heart aches at how wrecked he sounds—like he's already preparing for me to leave.

I tighten my grip in his hair, forcing him to look at me.

“Too bad.”

His golden eyes flick between mine, something vulnerable cracking beneath the surface.

He leans in again—slower this time, like he's giving me a chance to pull away.

I don't.

I never would.

His lips brush against mine, softer now. Desperate.

Like maybe—for once—he doesn't want to ruin something.

Like maybe he's scared he already has.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***