Something About Us

Rhys went out of the room with a pillow and a blanket, the soft fabric feeling almost alien against his skin. He placed them on the couch, a makeshift bed that offered little comfort. He wandered to the kitchen, the cool tile a stark contrast to the burning in his chest. He was planning to drink a glass of milk, a soothing ritual, but his hand instinctively reached for the bottle of beer instead. He needed something stronger, something to numb the raw edges of his anger and fear.

He finished two bottles, the alcohol a dull ache in his veins, and went back to the living room. He turned on the TV, muting the volume, a flickering screen casting shadows across the room. He switched the channel to the news and saw that they were reporting about what happened to Heather.

The news report played out in stark, clinical terms, but the images were a brutal reminder of what had happened. Rhys's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. He wanted to shatter the screen, to erase the image of the man who had violated Heather. The reporters didn't mention her name, a small mercy, and when Mr. and Mrs. Go appeared on the interview, their faces were blurred, and their voices were altered for their privacy, a shield against the prying eyes of the public.

When the criminal's face was shown, Rhys's breath hitched. He wanted to throw the remote in his hand and smash the TV, to vent his rage against the glass, but that would wake Heather. He remembered the scene, the way the man was on top of her, tearing her clothes, the way Heather had looked, her eyes wide with terror, her body trembling. A wave of possessive rage washed over him. No one touches her. No one.

He felt the anger coming out of him again, a hot, corrosive tide. Just thinking about that bastard made him want to go to the police station and beat him to death. I need to calm the f*ck down or I won't be able to sleep.

Rhys got up, went back to the kitchen, got another bottle of beer and drank it in one go, the liquid burning a path down his throat. When he returned to the living room, he changed the channel back to the movie, a mindless distraction, and switched it off, the dark screen reflecting his own tormented expression. He removed his top, the cool air a welcome sensation against his skin, and laid on the couch, the worn cushions offering little comfort.

***

Rhys was awoken by a sound of crying, a soft, heart-wrenching sob that cut through the silence. It was coming from Heather's room. He got up slowly, his body stiff from sleeping on the couch, and walked towards the bedroom, his footsteps silent on the carpet.

"No... No... No... Stay away from me..." Heather's voice was a broken whisper, punctuated by choked sobs.

When he opened the door and saw her face stained with tears, her body thrashing against the sheets, his heart started to ache. She might have forgotten what happened, but the trauma was still there, a phantom limb that throbbed with pain.

He went to her and touched her arm, his touch feather-light. He wanted to wake her up from the nightmare, to pull her back from the darkness that held her captive.

Heather flinched from the contact, her eyes flying open, more tears pouring from her eyes. "No... Please..."

"Come on, baby. Wake up. It's just a nightmare," he said, his voice soft, a soothing balm against her fear. He shook her lightly, his touch gentle.

"No! Don't!" Heather pushed him away, her eyes wide with terror.

Rhys hugged her, pulling her close, his arms a protective shield. He ran his hand in an upward manner on her back, trying to calm her racing heart.

"It's okay, baby. It's okay. You're safe. You're safe. It's just a nightmare," he repeated, his voice a low, soothing murmur.

Heather woke up from the nightmare, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her body trembling. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his arms, her body shaking with residual fear.

"Sshhh... I'm here," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Heather hugged Rhys, afraid that if she fell asleep, she would be back in her nightmare. "Don't leave me," she whispered, her voice thick with tears. "Please, don't leave."

"I won't. I won't ever leave you," he promised, his voice a low, fervent vow. He kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering against her hair. "Go back to sleep. I won't go anywhere." He continued rubbing her back lovingly, his touch a silent promise of protection.

Heather nodded her head, her eyes heavy with exhaustion, and after a few moments, she fell back to sleep, her breathing slow and steady.

Rhys didn't know what time he fell asleep and how long he slept, but when he woke up the next morning, they were still locked in an embrace. His arm, the one Heather used as a pillow, was already numb, a dull ache that radiated through his shoulder, but he didn't mind it.

He turned slowly, his movements careful not to disturb her, and with his free hand, tried to get Heather's phone on the bedside table to check the time. Seven o'clock. Jess didn't mention what time he'll be picking me up.

Heather shivered from the loss of Rhys's body heat, she unconsciously moved closer to him, her body seeking his warmth. Rhys smiled, a soft, tender expression that softened the harsh lines of his face, and just as he hugged her again, he heard the doorbell ring. Great timing, Jess. He sighed. Time to go to work.

"Hey baby, I have to go to work. I'm gonna need my arm back," he said, his voice a gentle murmur.

Heather groaned, not moving her head away. Rhys chuckled. So cute. He pinched her cheek, and she swatted his hand away, a playful gesture that belied the lingering fear in her eyes.

"Come on, baby, Jess is already outside." The doorbell rang again, a persistent sound that echoed through the suite.

Rhys slowly lifted Heather's head and moved the pillow closer to her, placing her head back down. He covered her with the blanket so she wouldn't get cold and got out of the room, making sure the bedroom door was closed.

"Morning," Jess greeted him, his eyes filled with concern.

"Morning," Rhys replied, opening the door wider so Jess could come in.

"I brought coffee," Jess said, placing the take-away coffee on the table. He noticed the empty beer bottles scattered across the living room. "Did you drink last night?"

"Yeah, just three bottles. Saw the news last night and couldn't sleep," Rhys said, his voice heavy. He sat on the couch and covered his face with his hands. "And Heather had a nightmare."

Jess understood what he meant. If the same thing happened to his best friend, he didn't think he'd be able to sleep at night right away, even if the bastard was already locked up.

"Were you able to sleep at all?" Jess looked at him, worried. Rhys had dark circles under his eyes, a testament to his restless night. He looked like he hadn't slept at all.

"Yeah. Yeah. I actually just woke up seconds before you rang the doorbell. Though I didn't know how long I was able to sleep," he said, sipping from the coffee cup.

"Good to know that you were able to sleep, at least," Jess said, patting Rhys's shoulder. "The meeting's at nine. You better start moving."

"Okay. I'll just take a bath. Wait for me. Here, you can watch some TV..." Rhys handed him the remote, grabbed the pillow and blanket, and went inside the bedroom.

He placed the pillow on the bed, folded the blanket and placed it on the foot of the bed, then went to the bathroom to take a shower, the warm water a soothing balm against his weary muscles.

Heather woke up a few minutes later and heard the sound of the shower running and then turn off. A second later, Rhys came out of the shower. Water dripping from his hair down his body. If he were wearing clothes, you wouldn't think he had muscles, as he's more on the slim side. But seeing him topless, with just the towel wrapped around his hips, Heather could see how defined his body was.

"You done checking me out?" Rhys asked, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Heather was surprised to hear Rhys. She didn't think he knew she was already awake. Dammit.

"I feel violated, you know. Like all that's left is for me to drop this towel," he chuckled, his voice low and teasing.

Heather threw the pillow at him, but he caught it. "What violated? I was just thinking that you're so skinny! Who would stare at that skinny body of yours?" She retorted, but she was already blushing, the heat rising in her cheeks.

"Only you," he laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'll leave in a few. Jess is already outside, waiting." He grabbed his clothes and went back inside the bathroom to get changed, the sound of the door closing a soft click in the quiet room.

Heather sat up, her heart still pounding from the unexpected encounter. She ran a hand through her disheveled hair, her cheeks still flushed. Why do I always get flustered around him? she wondered, a mix of annoyance and something else, something she couldn't quite define. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 7:30 AM. I should probably get ready for the day.

She got out of bed, her bare feet touching the cool floor, and walked to the bathroom. She paused at the door, her hand hovering over the handle. He left his towel on the floor, she thought, a small smile playing on her lips. She picked it up, the soft fabric still warm from his body, and folded it neatly, placing it on the counter.

After a quick shower, she changed into a comfortable pair of jeans and a sweater, the soft fabric a comforting weight against her skin. She went to the living room, where Jess was scrolling through his phone, his expression serious.

"Morning, Jess," she said, her voice bright.

"Morning, Heather," he replied, his gaze lifting from the screen. "You look better today."

"I feel better," she said, offering a small smile. "Where's Rhys?"

"He's still getting ready. We have a meeting with the CEO this morning," Jess explained, his voice laced with a hint of tension.

"Oh, okay," Heather replied, her smile fading slightly. She knew how important these meetings were, how much pressure Rhys was under.

Rhys emerged from the bedroom, dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans, his hair still slightly damp from the shower. He looked tired, but his eyes were bright, his expression determined.

"Ready?" Jess asked, his gaze fixed on Rhys.

"Yeah," Rhys replied, grabbing his jacket. "See you later, Heather."

"Take care," she said, her voice soft.

They left the suite, the sound of the door closing a soft echo in the quiet room. Heather sighed, a sense of loneliness settling over her. She wandered to the kitchen, making a cup of tea, the warm liquid a comforting sensation against her cold hands.

She sat on the couch, sipping her tea, her gaze drifting to the window. The city spread out before her, a tapestry of buildings and streets, a constant hum of activity. But in the quiet solitude of the hotel suite, she felt isolated, adrift.