Through the Screen

Chapter 85

amidst the hot vapour rising rapidly in the small bathroom, abel can feel his thoughts evaporating as

well, not taking away the pain in his chest but soothing the dull ache that had been prevailing in every

part of his body. the muffled sobs and strained breaths have now turned into mere fog, sticking to every

reflective surface in the ceramic room and plastering themselves onto white tiles.

the shower is turning colder by the second, the vermillion hue that stained his back when the water was

punishingly hot was now fading away into a pale pink, soothing the welters with the lukewarm liquid

sliding down his back.

it had been six hours he stepped into the cheapest hotel he could find, a small lumbered room with a

single bed, accompanied by a medium sized cherry desk and two worn out armchairs facing towards

the smallest flatscreen tv. the sheets that smelled like detergent were now holding warm tears of regret,

scattered thoughts that wracked his lean frame and imprints of fists balled in agony. Content is property of NôvelDrama.Org.

for the first four hours he couldn't bring himself to do anything but pathetically sob, trying to stop himself

from thrashing the small hotel room that was going to be his companion for the next few days. the

image of noah—the way he was completely heartbroken once he got to know what abel had done, his

emotions expressed wildly in the expression on his face and the fading colour of his eyes—was

something that abel couldn't blink away from behind his eyelids, the effect of his betrayal was all abel

could see when he closed his eyes.

they were already in a losing battle, hope sprinkling once in a while to make things bearable. they had

been taking the smallest of steps towards a healthy relationship, trying to understand each other better,

trying to keep the irrational thoughts under control, trying to love each other the same indescribable

way that they did four years ago.

and now abel had ruined it all, splashing the brittle sand castle of their relationship with an angry wave

of mistakes, overruling all the years they had spent together in a single second, putting their marriage

and their family at stake—now it was just noah's family.

he hasn't touched his phone once, afraid of the fact that adrian will call him and demand an explanation

as to why his father was missing on christmas eve. he has been selfishly hoping that noah doesn't tell

adrian anything, hoping that maybe noah would have enough sympathy for him to make up an excuse

because abel just can't afford to lose adrian from his life.

when the hour long shower ends, abel lethargically wraps a towel around his waist, the lukewarm drops

of water in his hair turning cold as soon as they drip down his shoulders, brown strands coiled into a

stringy mess. his cheeks hold a pallor, but are splashed with a bright rose at the same time, lips red

and bitten.

he walks out of the bathroom, wet footsteps staining the cool wooden floor, and he wipes his damp

hands on the towel before increasing the temperature of the room and slumping in the tiny bed without

putting on his clothes. his wet hair soak the limp pillow as soon as he rests his head on it, the cheap

cotton sheets feeling scratchy against his body.

when he tiredly moves to get his phone from the nightstand, he's surprised that he has no messages

from adrian, only a single message from chris asking how he's doing. his fingers involuntarily reach for

the contact that he knows will probably not reply, but he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and

types out the message either way.

abeltross: i'm sorry

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