My Long Lost Mate

"Better?" he queried, his voice as small as a whisper but also as soothing as rain on a summer night. His big, strong arms wrapped around me securely, protecting me from many unwanted emotions and unpleasant memories.

My breaths were slowly coming back to normal, not again the shallow and rapid ones. My body had stopped from shaking, and my heart had slowed its ferocious beatings.

"Better," I said, closing my eyes to listen to his steady heartbeats. He didn't say another word, but his silence spoke for itself. It was peaceful in a way that I could feel at home and knew that no matter what happened, he would always be there for me.

"I was... reminded of the water they gave me," I mumbled. The more I explain, the more panic I became, "It was poisonous and it—"

"I know," he broke off the hug, his palms cupping my cheeks, "You don't need to explain. It's okay."

His eyes looked different when he stared at me. It was soft and full of emotions. It was not the eyes he usually showed to others, but the eyes of someone who loves deeply. If it were anyone else, I would have dropped my gaze. But him, I was drawn closer.

"Thank you... for this and for saving me," I smiled at the man, forever grateful for everything he has done for me. I wouldn't even be alive if it was not for him. I might be long dead on the Quinn's manor, or that cold cave, or even on the street. But here I am, alive and well, just a little wounded.

"I was simply doing what I need to do," he returned my smile with his dashing one, "And that is loving you."

Right after he said those words, the door made a knocking sound, which turned his attention away from me. "That must be the food," he said before planting a soft kiss on my forehead and heading towards the door.

Will there ever be a time where I could return the feelings he held towards me? I was sure that he had become someone important to me but was this love that I feel? Just what is this love, I wonder?

For most of my life, all I received was hatred and never love. The two people that I held the dearest had left, leaving me alone in this cruel place we called world. One left me for a better place, while the other changed into a whole different person I never knew existed.

Growing up, I was never taught how to love, only how to hate. When one could love naturally, I couldn't. The ability to do that was long lost the moment the world turned its back on me.

I grew up knowing the bad in people, where I saw mostly in my dad and Fiona. They pretended like they were good, donating their wealth to people in need and always going around with a smile on their faces. In others' eyes, they were both known as people with a heart of gold, but I knew them as the most evil.

Escaping them was the best thing that I've ever done, and meeting Luke was the best thing to ever happened to me. Meeting him was like a breath of fresh air, after years of breathing in polluted air. I didn't know what kind of feeling I had for him right now but, maybe, it will grow into being love someday. Someday, when I finally understood the true meaning of love.

Returning with a tray of food in his hands, he sat down on a chair, pulling it closer to the bed. My stomach started to grumble at the sight of the food, my mouth watering as it has been days since I last touched any food.

"I asked for some porridge," he said, grabbing a spoon. "It's not Bob's, but I suppose it's still edible. Do you need me to taste it first?" he offered, "You know, just in case you are scared of being poisoned again."

"And what?" I chuckled, "Risking you to be poisoned in my stead?"

"I don't mind if it's for you," he shrugged, looking at me as if he really meant his words. Actually, if it's him, then it was probably the truth.

"It's fine," I quickly waved him off, "You don't need to do that."

Despite my rejection, he scooped a portion of the porridge and put it in his mouth. "What are you doing?" I asked, bewildered.

"Tasting for poison," he answered, nodding his head in acknowledgment, "It's safe."

"I told you it's fine," I huffed, "Now I lost a spoonful of my porridge."

"Sorry," he laughed, "Were you that hungry? I will ask for some more if you want," he pinched my cheeks softly, then scooped another portion of the porridge and blowing on it before he turned the spoon towards me. Was he trying to feed me?

"Wait," I raised my palm, stopping him from doing whatever he intended to do, "I can do it myself. Eating, I mean."

"What are you talking about? Of course you can't," he retorted, his head shaking side to side, "You need a complete rest."

"But it's only—"

"Here, aah," he cut me off, and the spoon soon arrived at the front of my mouth. When I didn't open my mouth, he complained, "Quick, my hand hurts."

But looking at Luke, it didn't look like he was going to give up any time soon. He looked like he was really determined to feed me, his eyes were burning with anticipation. Should I really? I sighed as my hunger won over my embarrassment, and my mouth begrudgingly made way for the spoon to come in.

"There you go," he beamed, a big smile spread across his face while I ate with a face as red as a tomato. My eyes were wandering to anywhere but him, trying to avoid meeting his eyes to not further embarrass me.

"Are you shy?" he teased. I could imagine him with a cheeky smile on his face even without looking.

"Am I not supposed to be shy in this situation? I'm not even a kid," I grumbled, my eyes glued to the paintings.

"Why should you? Don't you remember feeding me too just a few weeks ago?" he quizzed, "I'm simply returning the favor."

"You don't need to return any favor," I appealed, turning my head at the man, "I was forced that day."

"I insist," he countered. He smiled at my crestfallen state, "Here, have some more."

I was utterly hungry, so I had no choice but to comply. Though embarrassed, I have to admit the warm porridge was worth it. It suddenly felt like the most delicious food to be ever made, as it relieves the hunger I felt.

"It's nice to see you eat," he professed, "You should eat more. You are getting too thin. I'm scared you will get blown away by the wind."

"Says you," I nagged, "Did you even eat at all?"

"I did," he smiled, but I could tell that it was a lie. Anyone could tell that he had lost a lot of weight just by looking at his face. I felt bad. Was it because he was worried about me?

"I really did eat, Violet," he ruffled my hair, noticing my worry, "You don't have to be worried about me. I'm really fine," he ȧssured me.

I nodded, but still not ȧssured. I wish I could be a help to him, just like how he was to me. He rarely talked about himself. While he knew everything about me, I knew only a little of him. I wanted to know things about him that no one has ever known, not things that were already known to others. I wanted to know more about him.

"Is your head itchy?" he asked, noticing how I scratched my head from time to time.

"Yeah, it is," I grunted, starting to get annoyed at the itchiness. Considering the number of days I haven't showered, I guess this was pretty normal, "I think I will need a bath."

"I don't think you will be able to take a bath with all your wounds," he doubted, and I could feel the immediate disappointment in me. "But if it's only your hair, I guess it's fine."

"Really?" I beamed, excited to thoroughly wipe all the grime off me, to finally be freed from the itchiness even though it's only on my head. Although my body has certainly be cleansed, I was sure that there must be some places where it was not clean enough.

"Really," he repeated, smiling. I then gingerly opened my mouth, willingly be fed by him to quicken my visit to the bathroom. I was all smiles until he said the few words that sounded like a nightmare to me, "I will help."

"You what?"