I held Nine close, his body pressed against mine. His breathing was still shaky, uneven, and I could feel the tension in him as if it were a physical thing, the weight of his pain sitting heavy on his shoulders. His head rested against my chest, and for a moment, I wasn't sure if he was still awake or if the silence was just a shell of everything he'd been through.
But then his voice broke the stillness—fragile, almost like a whisper carried by a gust of wind.
"...They... they hurt me."
It was so simple, the words so small, but they carried a weight that I couldn't ignore. It was like the floodgates had opened and suddenly he couldn't stop. I didn't know if he even realized he was speaking, or if he just needed to let the words out before they broke him completely.
"They kept me..." He swallowed, and I could hear the roughness in his throat. "Kept me there... for hours. No... no one cared." His hands tightened on my shirt, like he was trying to ground himself, to stop from floating away in the storm of his own memories.
I didn't say anything. I just held him. My hands ran over his back, soft, gentle, trying to soothe him, but I could feel his pain radiating from him. It was raw, unfiltered.
"They kept... using me... like... I wasn't..." His voice faltered, breaking on the last word. It was as if he couldn't even finish the sentence. Like he couldn't admit, out loud, that they had treated him like an object.
I felt Nyx stir inside me—furious, a quiet snarl vibrating against my ribcage, but I held back. This wasn't the time for rage. It wasn't about the people who had hurt him anymore. It was about him. About Nine.
"...The party... boss's friends," Nine continued, his voice trembling more with each word. He wasn't looking at me, but I could feel the way he was sinking into me. Like he was trying to disappear into the warmth of my scent, the steady beat of my heart, as though he could leave everything behind if he just stayed close enough. "They... made me... do things."
His breath hitched, and I could feel the weight of his words pressing into me. It was like a child telling their parent about how unfair everything had been—how they were bullied and hurt by others who didn't care. But the difference was, Nine didn't have anyone who could protect him. Not until now.
I kept my arms tight around him. There was nothing else I could do but listen, let him speak his pain.
"They didn't... care how much it hurt." His voice cracked, a small sob lost within the words. "Didn't... didn't care when I... I couldn't... couldn't..." He couldn't finish that either. It was too much.
I held him tighter, pressing him into me. His words were like daggers, but I refused to let him go. I couldn't.
"...They laughed," Nine whispered, his body shuddering as though he were trying to push away the memories. "When I couldn't... do it... couldn't... move." His words broke off in fragments, like pieces of a puzzle he couldn't quite put together.
I felt it then—the small, almost imperceptible tremor in his hands, the way he was trying to hold on to me. It wasn't just physical pain he was carrying. It was the fear of being left behind, of being discarded again, just like they had done before.
"They told me I was... nothing. Not... not even worth the trouble." His voice was so quiet now, like he was talking to himself, trying to make sense of what had happened. "Nothing... just a toy. A... thing."
My heart clenched, and Nyx let out a low, rumbling growl deep inside me. But I didn't react. I couldn't. Right now, all Nine needed was my presence. He needed to know he wasn't alone.
I could feel his breath slowing now, like he was sinking into the words, letting them go. But there was still so much more I couldn't touch. So much that he couldn't say.
I didn't speak right away. What could I say to that? I didn't have the words to undo the damage they'd done to him. But what I could do—what I would always do—was be here. Right here. With him.
"...Why didn't you come back?" His voice cracked again, but it was softer this time. "Why didn't you come... save me?"
His fingers curled into my shirt, and I felt my breath catch in my chest. There it was—his vulnerability. The trust he was giving me now, more than he had ever given anyone before. He wasn't asking for revenge. He wasn't asking for anything more than this: for me to be here, to hold him, to tell him he wasn't alone anymore.
I had to swallow the lump in my throat. I couldn't fix what had happened, but I could promise him one thing: it would never happen again.
"I'm here now," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "I'm here, Nine. I'll never leave you again. I promise."
He didn't answer. But his grip on me tightened, his face buried deeper into my chest. His body felt like it was settling, like he was finally allowing himself to trust that he wouldn't be abandoned again.
I didn't let go of him. I couldn't.
And then, in the silence that followed, I realized something. I had always known he needed me, but in this moment, I understood—he needed me more than I had ever imagined.
It wasn't just about protection. It wasn't just about being the one who could save him. It was about being the one who could show him he was worthy of more than this broken life they had forced on him.