Chapter Seventeen

SILENCE.

He couldn't remember the last time he had heard it. He was certain he must've heard it sometime before his mother's death, and life was still normal. But afterward?

The buzzing had never really stopped.

Even when he had been risking his neck for the craziest stunts, those things had only been good enough to muffle its sound. Just enough to keep him from losing his mind. But it had always been there. Buzzing like the fucking devil, buzzing like it was just waiting for him to give up and follow in his mother's footsteps.

You're just like your mother. A lunatic!

He had thought he would always have it with him, like an affliction that had no cure.

But he was wrong.

Because after hearing Poppy's words, everything was suddenly silent.

So damn fucking silent.

And he could not understand it.

Just like he could not understand her.

Why, dammit?

Why was she looking at him like he was the one who had almost died?

"Can't you see, Valerian?" Poppy asked him brokenly. "You're the one who's hurting now. Not me. You've been bleeding, Valerian. Bleeding. Ever since that day you lost your mother, your heart hasn't stopped bleeding, and I just...I just want you to stop hurting. So please—" Poppy's voice caught as tears started running down her cheeks. "Please tell me what I can do. Please."

And just like that, he realized she had already done it.

He was on his feet in an instant, and his beautiful Poppy in his arms the next. Her legs locked around his waist, and his chest squeezed at the way she clutched his shoulders while taking extra care not to touch the back of his neck.

"It's okay," he said roughly. "I...shaved it. Go ahead and touch it."

"Are you sure?"

"Touch it."

She slowly reached for the back of her neck, but her face crumpled as soon as her fingers came into contact with his skin. "Oh no."

Poppy wriggled out of his hold and went around him. "Valerian...it's even worse than I thought."

He turned to face her, and she was crying harder this time. "You've cut yourself so many times."

"It will heal—"

"You should've just waited for me—"

He cut her off, saying savagely, "I almost killed you. Not wanting to think of it that way doesn't make it any less true. Do you really think I'd risk a repeat of what happened for the sake of a professional trim?"

But Poppy only looked at him as if none of his words had registered.

"Promise me," she begged. "Promise me you'll never do this again—"

Valerian yanked her back into his arms and buried his face in her hair.

God, why?

The last time he had spoken to God, Valerian had been a boy whose innocence had yet to shatter. His mother's death changed all of that. He had seen no reason to even think of God until now.

Why, God?

Valerian was too fucked up for words while Poppy was too good for this world.

So why?

Why had God allowed her to enter his life?

"Valerian, p-please. Promise me. P-please"

It almost felt like a fucking sin just being with her. Touching her. Holding her. Honor demanded that he get out of her life before he ended up hurting her even more, whether deliberately or unintentionally.

But instead, he heard himself ask, "Do you still want to know how to make me feel better?"

Poppy pulled away and looked at him searchingly. "You know I do."

"Tomorrow then. You'll find out why I asked you to fly here, and afterwards...you can make your decision."

"What do I need to decide on?"

"Whether you still want to make me feel better or not."