The world outside their penthouse windows had blurred into streaks of city lights and muffled sounds, but Liam barely noticed. His hands were still trembling faintly, the echoes of his earlier madness gnawing at his nerves. His veins still burned from where he had tried to bleed himself, as though the memory of Adrian's scent still clung to him, mocking him, haunting him.
But then Alex was there.
Alex, sitting across from him on the plush couch, legs folded lazily, an easy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The golden halo of the lamps above made his hair shimmer, his eyes softer than the sharp city skyline behind him. He was sipping from a glass of water like nothing had shattered hours ago — like Liam hadn't nearly destroyed himself.
"You know…" Alex set the glass down on the table and leaned back, stretching his arms with a groan, "for a guy who can heal from almost anything, you're awfully dramatic about cutting yourself."
