CHAPTER SONG - Carry You, Ruelle

The soft knock on the door startled me, even though it was so meek. I wasn't expecting anyone, and the thought worried me a little. Slumping down on the couch, I pull my phone out quickly and opened up the app for the door camera. To my surprise, it was Mateo. He mentioned that he will come by, but not this early. The sooner, the better. I'm happy to see him.

Hopping off the couch, I rushed to the door, and swung it open. My smile bright on my face, I looked up at him, and my heart ran a full marathon at just the sight of him. Except when I really looked at him, then my lip's started to slip, down, down, and down until they were in a straight line and my blood was zipping through my body at ice temperature.

Hand's stuffed into the pockets of his black jeans, he stared down at his white Air Forces unmoving. He stood so still that I swear he was hardly breathing, and only his black hoodie was ruffled by the wind. Jet black loose stairs of hair hung off his forehead, covering the top of his eyes as he stared down at the ground like he was searching for answers there. And his shoulders were slumped down as if he couldn't muster up the energy to ever pulled them backwards into their normal stance.

Panic seeped out of the single word that rushed past my lips, "Mateo?"

He looked up at the sound of my voice, as if he didn't realize I was standing in front of him. He didn't look sure of where he was, of what was going on, or who he even was. He looked purely confused, and out of it. Like a hazy cloud was covering his mind and swaying him around the sky. Slowly, he lifted his head, higher. His eyes glazed over, like he was looking at me through a thick sheet of glass and couldn't find a way out. Like he was trapped somewhere behind that wall and was begging to get out. Begging for someone to find him, to free him, to save him.

Air hit the back of my throat and stayed stuck there. I took another step forward, and he just stared at me, like his not sure what to do. Like his not even completely himself, only half, or even maybe a quarter. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew I would do anything to help him through whatever it was. I would find him, in the dark, in the next world over, in the next galaxy for whatever its worth. I would spend years searching for him, and I knew in my heart I would never give up. He wouldn't give up on me.

Closing the last inch between us, I lifted to my tippy toes and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. I don't know if it's what he needed, but it's what I had to offer. Closeness, comfort, and blind understanding. His offered it to me plenty of times, and the action saved me.

The second my arms were around him, he dropped. His full weight collapsed on me like it was a thousand pounds on his shoulders that he couldn't hold anyone. Like he was passing it off to me to hold because if he held it for another second he would fade away into that darkness he always talked about. He was heavy, but I knew without a doubt I could hold him. I don't know where this new strength was coming from, or this sureness but I held him. Squeezing himself tightly, I held on, not letting go. I remember begging him to find me, to hold on otherwise I might fall apart, and this felt the same in some way.

His arm's slid around my waist weakly, and his head dropped to my shoulder. The weight of him dragging me down but I stayed up, holding him because I could feel it's what he needed. He needed someone to hold him, otherwise it felt like the floor might just welcome him with open hands.

He still hadn't said a word, and I still had no idea what was going on but by his heavy breathing I could tell he wasn't okay. By the strange way he was acting I could tell something got to him and that scared me because nothing got to Mateo. Nothing could reach deep enough to trigger him to fall apart.

Seconds turned into minutes that we stood on the porch, just holding onto each other. Eventually, the quite night surrounded us and left us with nothing but a buzz. Nothing but the shine of the moon, and the wind swaying back and forth. We were left with nothing but just us. In each other's arms. Holding on like our lives depended on it. Because otherwise, the ground would rip open and swallow us whole.

After a long moment, I pulled back and regarded him for a moment. He still looked like he was on a different planet all together, like it was just his body standing here. I knew I would find him; I would always find him. No matter how far I have to go, it doesn't matter because my home was where he was and without him, I had no home.

He could go light years away, and I would follow.

I led him into the house, and up the stairs to my bedroom. My mom has been working double shifts ever since that night we fight. We haven't talked much after that, and I think she was avoiding me at this point. It hurts, but honestly, I'm used to it at this point and have stopped dwelling on it. Her choices are not mine to deal with and I had to remember that. I can't take her mistakes onto my self anymore.

Opening the door to my room, I walked him through it, and he sat down on the bed, dropping his hands to his knees and running them back and forth. Beyond that, he just stared forward in silence that seemed to echo into the world. Bold, and loud, like a note in the eight octave. It almost hurt against your ears, and it was unnatural in every way.

I didn't know what to do. Maybe he needed space? Or a moment to get himself together. Either way, I decided to sit down next to him. But before I got to far, he shot forward and stretched his hand around my waist. Panic tore into his eyes, and he held onto me like he believed if I took another step away from him he would fall apart.

I nodded gently, "Okay." I said, turning for him, "I'm right here." I walked over to him and stood between his legs. His arms circled around my waist, and he laid his forehead on my mid chest in defeat. I felt every hard inhale impale me, and all I could do was hold onto him.

Tension stretched across the room and filled every darkened corner. And his sharp inhales were like microblade cuts on the skin. So razored, and small, and just everywhere. I wished I could help him. I wished I could take all his pain from him, but I can't. The best I could do was be there for him, and as I stood there with panic plunged in my stomach and rubbing his back, I did my best not to cry for him.

A long time passed by. So long that when he actually started talking, I flinched. His tone was so hallowed out and sounded like he had water being poured down it as he chocked on it. "You know the first time I was shot I was twelve?"

I didn't have time to shake my head because he was already pulling back and lifting his shirt. I saw the jagged scar on his stomach, to the side of his giant, stretched out tattoo. The one I have seen before. And it didn't change his beauty, only made it rougher and I didn't care. I didn't care that he had other scars, and that each held a dark patch on his soul. I didn't care because all I cared about was him.

But he stared at it with a vacant look. "Right there. The thing ripped through me, and I still remember every second of its pain. I still remember how much it felt like I can't breathe, and how I had no option but to fight without air because I had responsibility's. I had people replying on me. I had Maddox in my arms barely conscious, and he needed me to fight. Bleeding, and limping, I got us out and I don't remember the rest of that night. I was twelve then, and I remember that shot taking whatever remaining innocence I had."

I stood here, frozen in place and listening to a story that would leave me with haunted nightmares for the rest of my life. Hands sweaty, and head spinning, I watched him drop his shirt and cling back to me. I could barely catch my breath, and every single one that managed to come through my throat, hit my lungs like a bat. Over, and over. I knew a little about him, but never to this extent. He never told me this, or any traumatic moment he lived through. I'm not foolish to not believe there were many. I always knew it was because he felt like it would make him weak if he let someone see how broken he really was. He stood tall, unbothered, and untouched because he felt like he had too. He felt like that was his duty, but that was only hurting him.

I blinked tears away, as he started talking about it again. "The second time, Maddox was shot. He took a bullet meant for me at fifth-teen. Left shoulder, right blow his collar bone there's a mark that was meant to be mine, and he carries it. He carries my scars, my mistakes, and my misery. I should have been hit; I made the fucken mistake of not checking the warehouse good enough. It was my fucken mistake, and he took the fucken hit. He took it and saved me from another bullet wound." his voice broke off into fragments of pain, "I wish it were me, Lina. I wish I had the scar and he never had to feel the pain. I wish they never knew what it felt like to watch a bullet come at you, and to know that any second it would impale you, and you can't do anything. I wish they never knew what it was like to think you're going to die, and in the back of your mind know that you're ready anyways. A part of you was always ready."

My hand started to shake, and I fist them, but they trembled anyways. This was too much. Having to listen to him talk about death like it meant nothing to him was to much. His life meant everything, and he was to young and good to know the meaning of death, not to mention be ready for it. I wished he didn't know that dreadful feeling, and I wished he never had the scares to prove he knew it all to well. But I understood that if it wasn't for that, he wouldn't be who is he. He wouldn't be the man I love, and this part, this side of him was all apart of him. Even this part deserved to be loved. No matter how damaged, dark, or overwhelming it was, it deserved to know kindness, love, and blinding support.

He pulled back a little, taking my shaky hands into his and I knew he would stop. Because of me, because he thinks I can't handle it, he would stop. But I can. No matter how hard this was, I needed to know this, because I wanted to love all of him. "Please, keep going." I begged, even if I knew it would hurt.

He tipped his head up, his gaze full of uncertainty but I gave him my best confident look. And he regarded me for another second before dropping that gaze and pulling me into his lap. "You don't know so much, love." he whispered, burying his face in my arm. "So much, and I'm fucken afraid to tell you. I'm afraid for you to know who exactly I am because you'll look at me differently. You'll see the monster I have let myself become. And I can't, I can't see you look at me like that. You're the only one who looks at me like I'm not this terrible beast inside me, and like I'm more then my bloody sins. You look at me, and I feel like I deserved to be loved by you. But I don't. Your pure selfless love shouldn't be wasted on me. And yet I'm selfish enough to take it anyways."

I shook my head, disagreeing with him strongly. I pulled backwards and grabbed his hand between my hands. "You deserve my love." I told him, so confident that nothing could change my mind. "You can say you don't all you want, and you can even think it and believe it but your wrong. I'm going to love you regardless of your sins. I'm going to keep loving you no matter what you tell me because who ever you think you are; I know the truth. I see you, Mateo, and there's nothing you can say that will change my mind. I have come to love you, for you, and nothing will change that."

His unworldly colored eyes glazed even more, glossy and soft. Ocean's finally full and having nowhere to go and now it just sits there misty, and full. He sighed, swallowed roughly, "Are you sure? Because you have no idea what you're getting yourself into by even giving me a sliver of your time."

I nodded, "You have all my time. And I'll listen till the very last word, and you'll see, I will still love you."

Doubt filled his gaze, and I was washed in hurt. Not because of him, but because he didn't believe that someone could love him after all his done. He thinks I don't know that his not a saint, and that his a part of some dangerous thing. He thinks I don't realize who his family is, and why they are this guarded. I'm not clueless. I like to research. And I might or might not have done a little to much on him. I live in Texas, I know the rumors, and hears the news. Sure, nothing every sticks to them and maybe that's because their lawyers are too good but their names are well known in the right circles. You have to be blind, and deaf to not know the danger around this state. I might not know the full extend of his life, but I'm not clueless. I saw the guards with guns, and I see the money that fills their pockets. And even blind, you could see the danger that follows behind them in shadows.

And despite it that, I know Mateo. I know the man that's shown up for me time and time again. I know the man that's cared and found ways to calm me when I didn't believe it was possible. I see a man who's repeatedly been there for me when I thought I was alone. I see the man who came into my life with all of his darkness, and somehow found a way to make my soul light again. He might be cruel, and evil in other's eyes, but in mine he was always my savor. He might be morally damaged, but he was exactly who I needed him to be. He was who I fell in love with, and it didn't matter how the world saw him. Only that in my eyes he shinned with dark magic that lit my mind.

I felt his thumb brush my side over and over, like he was counting the stroke to keep himself here and sane. I relaxed into him, like always felt most safe in his arms. And through a deep breath, he started talking again, "I know you know my name, but my full name is Mateo Adam Ramos. My father died before I was born, and I was raised by Angelo Ramos. His know to be the most heartless man, but I never for a second doubted that he loved me. He never made me question his love, or loyalty or treated me like I was anything but his son. I grew up loved, and cared for and yet something always lacked. My family, we are the biggest cartel around the west and east coast. And I am the heir to it all."

The sheer numbness of his words and empty tone struck my skin like a whip. It stung so hard and dried out my lungs to the point that it felt like they might explode in my chest. I couldn't prepare for this even if I tired, even if a part of me already knew this. The news still hit me hard, and yet, I knew it changed nothing. It didn't change who he was, it only explained why he was who he was.

He kept talking, despite how hard it was for him to tell me this. "I was raised for this role. I was built and trained to be a solider that'll kept my family's name alive and fearsome. After it all, I was meant to take it over. I have spilt my blood until it was dry, and empty of a different life. There was no other option for me, and I never let myself imagine more. Because if I took this, then none of my brothers had too. None of them had to force themselves into this brutal life, and I made myself believe I wanted it."

His word's died out, and his breath turned heavy, like he was finding clarify in his own words. Realizing things that were right in front of him and as his chest collapse, so did his life around him. "But I don't want it. I never wanted it." he whispered.

He squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't want any of it. The fucken brutality, or hate, or tragedy that comes with it. I don't want it. I see the tainted scars my father's death left on my family, and I always felt like I needed to be vindictive. I needed to keep his memory alive, and the only way I knew how was through rage. But I don't want too anymore. I'm so tired of feeling this vengeful, and this full of unforgiveness. I hate the world for taking him, and I'm so tired of it. I want more. God, Lina, I want more then this."

I squeezed him harder, but he shook his arms anyways. "I don't want it Lina, I don't want this, and I spend my whole life making myself want it." he said, hurt crippling his broken tone.

My voice creaked as I whispered, "You can have more."

His eyes snapped opened, full of crushing pain that felt like splinters being shoved under your skin with force. And yet, his body slumped in my hold with heaviness because he was finally starting to believe that he can have more. That there's really a chance for him to have more. "You know there's night's I can't sleep on my own?" he asked, a tone full of misery, "Sometimes, I wake up shaking, and covered in sweat. I can't breathe, or think straight, or even find an ounce of strength to get up out of bed and try to get my shit together. I can't do anything because I'm so fucken terrified to wake up Maddox sleeping next to me because at some point his own nightmares got so bad that he started sleeping in my bed. Because otherwise he won't sleep. For days, he won't dare close his eyes because his memories torture him."

His licked his dry lips and shallowed a shaky breath. "He doesn't deserve that, Lina. He doesn't deserve to be fucken afraid to sleep, and he is. Maddox should have the world, and if I could, I would give mine to him." he swore, love pouring out of his tone.

My heart reached for another man who's become so important to me, despite how obnoxious he could he. "What happen to him?" I asked, knowing this will hurt me even more.

Guilt washed Mateo expression, and clung to his dead like tone. "Maddox was kidnapped and tortured for information. For four days, they had him, and I can't tell you what they did because he won't tell me. He wouldn't talk about it, and his not the same anymore. The Maddox you know, that's not the same Maddox I knew. His a haunted shell of himself now, and I don't know how to get him back. I don't know how to get him to live again, because his not. His stuck in a memory, and he can't move past it."

I felt tears gather in my eyes and they stung as I forced them to stay there. "I don't know what he went through but if I know anything is you won't give up. And he needs that." I told him, my chest squeezing the life out of every breath I took.

"I'm trying, love, but every day I feel like his getting further from reality. He flinches under my touch, flinches. And you have no idea how much that hurts me because fuck me, I don't care that he can't stand my touch, I care that it's because of what they did to him that he can't stand anyone's touch."

Truth is I have seen Maddox flinch, or more then one occasion. I have seen him recoil backward, and even leave the room. I always though it was just who he was, and that he wasn't a fan of touch but this made me see him in a whole new light. This was heartbreaking in the worse way. I can't imagine how his doing, and it hurt's me so bad to know his gone through this. "That's not the point of this though. Not the reason I'm sitting here tonight." Mateo said, stopping my mind from spinning over this new information.