Loyal drummed his fingers against his thighs, whistling while he tapped his foot. Just the sight of him, Odessa thought, would give any prone person a seizure.
"Loyal-" His song ceased abruptly, failing to reach the inevitable crescendo, "-Why do I have the feeling you need to tell me something? Imminently, that is." When he failed to conjure a reply, Odessa continued, "Stop shaking your damn foot and answer me, for god's sake."
She lay against the wardrobe door, laying open as to conceal the mirror on its face. Loyal sat on the edge of her bed, clothed in an unbuttoned dress shirt, several fasteners belonging to which were absent, and boxer briefs. His eye fell pointedly upon the carpet, as if he was stubbornly attempting to solve the case of the missing buttons.
Odessa moved forward. For a moment, she considered kneeling at his feet and forcing him to look in her eyes. Ultimately, however, she opted to fold her feet beneath her and lay her chin upon his shoulder, perched herself on the bed's edge.
"Well?" She prompted, attempting to wear a whole into his cheek with her gaze.
Reluctant still to grace her with his attention, Loyal's knee continued to bob ceaselessly as he confessed, "Caoimhe."
Odessa hummed, prompting his words forward as one of her arms came to circle his waist. Swiftly, she discarded the remnants of his shirt, sinking into the warmth beneath.
"You deserve to know, it's just..." His voice trailed into halted breaths. Then, "Dess?"
With her thumb, Odessa encouraged him to turn his head. His eyes, those which she was accustomed to thinking of as a clever hazel, armed when necessary, were wide and bright with pin-prick pupils.
"Hi." She muttered, swiping the pad of her thumb over his cheekbone.
Loyal swallowed, "You're beautiful." He told her, almost like a reflex. Before Odessa could react warmly, he continued harshly, "And Caoimhe-" His expression contorted, transforming his features into a grotesque caricature of themselves.
"Loyal, if it's just abuse, I-"
"I know you can handle it." An edge of delirium in his voice, warned Odessa however abstractly toward what was to come, "And how unbothered you are? Sometimes it terrifies me, Odessa. How much you treat it like another day at the office. I love you for everything you are not- Not just what they'd stick on a magazine cover." For a moment, he seemed to stall, "I know you can handle it. But I fucking hate that you have to. Then I just feel like a bastard for making it about me when you- You!- are the one suffering just because... Because you're here. With me."
Now, Odessa saw the dried blood at his cuticles, the torn skin of his lips. If she were to kiss him, she would taste the familiar metallic tang of the same.
"I made that choice." Bringing one hand to toy with the overgrown hair at the base of his neck, Odessa bridged the gap between them, "Okay, I care too little and you, too much... It's a balancing act, Hayden. We're spinning the damn plates on our noses and it's haphazard and- Fuck- dangerous but we're doing it. Okay? We are doing it." Every word, she imbued with an emphasis that almost shattered her pristine facade, "And anyway, I still think Caoimhe is a little bit pissed off still that you didn't marry her for publicity. She's just yammering away to get her fifteen seconds of attention before you come home to my bed- Our bed."
Loyal produced an exhale so fragile that Odessa feared fractures in his skin. But then his laughter rose above them, lighter than helium.
"You're right." He began, as if she required assurance, "And speaking of the bed..."
