Flame’s hands tensed at his sides. His chest heaved with movement that was too quick, then he abruptly turned on his heel, and with a rigid back, he headed back into the forest.

My stomach sank as he turned to leave, and without conscious thought, I slammed my sketchpad shut, shuffled to the edge of the seat and called out, “Wait! Do not go!”

Flame stopped dead.

As did I.

Swallowing back my nerves, my shock at what I had just done, I said, “Please, Flame. Do not go… I… I am glad you are here.”

Flame’s fingers curled and uncurled, then straightening his shoulders, he slowly turned. His large frame was rigid as he faced me once more. Then he just stood. Stood at the end of the forest, his attention fixed forward.

But I wanted him closer.

Still perched on the edge of my seat, I asked, “Would you like to come closer? I… I have been sitting out here alone as I could not sleep. It…” I took a deep breath, fighting my natural instinct to flee, and continued. “It would be nice to have some company.”

Flame remained still, his rigid body convincing me that he would not come any nearer. Then, to my surprise, he began walking, his powerful legs bringing him closer to where I sat.

In the still and silent night, I could hear him counting his steps one to eleven, then repeating it back to himself under his breath. My head tilted to the side as he approached, a swirl of anticipation and fear mixing in my stomach.

His skin on his arms looked newly cut, and I could not help but feel sad for him. For whatever had happened to make him need to harm himself in such a way.  Grasping a blade from his belt, his fingers tightened on the handle. Like he needed the blade as a comfort.

As though he was nervous to be here with me now.

Inhaling a long breath, I asked quietly, “Would you like to sit?” I pointed at the chair in front of mine. Flame looked at the chair through his long black lashes, and exhaling sharply through his nose, sat beside me. I smelled the oil and leather. I smelled the rich musk and spice scent that only belonged to Flame, and warmth filled my bones.

He was sat beside me.

Flame was sitting right beside me.

Dropping my eyes to the frayed edges of the gray blanket wrapped around me, I played with the clustered strands of wool just for something to help with the nerves accosting my body.

But Flame was absolutely still. Absolutely silent.

I glanced to the side, only to see him watching. As soon as our eyes met, he dropped his. A blush raced to fill my cheeks, and for some unknown reason, a whisper of a smile pulled on the corner of my mouth.

Lifting my head, I stared at the large moon, and found the courage to speak. “I did not think you would be coming to see me tonight.”

After several seconds of silence, I believed Flame would not respond. Until I caught him shift in his seat, and he said roughly, “I couldn’t stay away.”

My pulse raced at his response and I whispered, “Why?”

Flame’s shoulders shrugged, then focusing back on the blade in his hand, he said, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And I…” Flame trailed off.

“And what?” I pushed.

“I needed to be near you. I needed to know you were safe.”

I watched Flame’s finger stroke along the edge of his blade, but his words circled my head and my heart bloomed.

“I am happy you came,” I said in response. Drawing in a breath, I added, “I… I have missed you…” The confession was made on a whisper, my voice too nervous to be bold. Though I meant it with all my heart. I had missed him more than I ever thought possible.

Flame’s sharp exhale slipped from his lips. “I can’t fucking stand that I was gone from you that long. It’s fucking with my head.”

My attention slipped to the red scar at the side of his neck, his gauze now gone, and I asked, “Were you in pain?” My stomach turned. “I cannot bear the thought of you in pain because of me.”

“No,” Flame said coldly. “There was no pain. I’m good with pain. But they fucking strapped me down. They strapped me down and I couldn’t fucking stand it. Then they drugged me. Drugged me so I couldn’t get to them. Couldn’t kill the men that strapped me down.”

Flame was panting, his nostrils flaring. My head dropped. “It was my fault,” I whispered. “It was my fault you had to go through that.”

“I had to protect you.” He then shifted in his seat and admitted, “When I woke up, when AK and Viking woke me up, you were the first person I thought of. And I had to see you. I just… I just had to fucking see you.”

My lip hooked at the corner, his desperate need to see me igniting a flicker of happiness in my heart. But as I looked at his face, at the dark circles below his eyes, that smiled faded.

“You appear tired,” I said quietly, and Flame briefly closed his eyes.

“I don’t sleep. I can never fucking sleep.”

Flame’s torso went rigid, his knuckles white as they gripped the blade and I whispered, “Why?”

Flame’s head shook and his teeth gritted together. Then staring into the distance, replied, “I just fucking can’t.”

Understanding he did not want to talk about it, I let it be. “I understand,” I soothed. “I do not sleep much either.” Brother Moses’ face flitted through my mind, and I explained, “I have too many memories that visit at night… memories I would rather not relive.”