Chosen (Damiano David & Victoria DeAngelis)

Chapter 38

She was still holding him in a strong hug, feeling incredibly guilty for having left without telling him. His breathing was irregular...he sounded panicky, scared and extremely anxious. Was that a panic attack? She didn't know. He was shaking, constantly whispering the same words over and over again: "I thought you were gone." She felt tears in her eyes but she couldn't allow herself to cry now. "I'm here, Angel...I'm here and I will always be here, I promise.", she didn't let go of him, though she soon realized that she might have to think of something else. As far as she knew, panic attacks could very much vary from person to person which made it hard to know what she could do to help him. "I'm sorry, Angel...I'm so sorry...we'll get through this...", she didn't know if the words actually got through to him but they were more of a support for herself than for him anyway. That was the first time she really didn't know what to do. Maybe they could just sit through it. It was worth a try, at least. She pulled away from the hug which definitely hadn't been a great idea as he seemed to panic even more: "Don't leave...don't leave...I'm sorry. I'll stop crying, I'm sorry..." She didn't know what to say...no words would be able to help him at that moment. Very slowly, she walked him to the bed. She laid down first and pulled him towards her with gentle movements, so she wouldn't hurt him. He was crying so much, it was almost unbearable.

"ShhShh, it's okay, Angel. I'm here...just cry it out.", she soothed while brushing through his now sweaty hair. He was cuddled up close to her, like a scared and hurt child. His head was resting on her chest...well, her boobs to be more specific...but she didn't care. She had seen him naked and hurt...she had been in a bathtub with him and she was constantly taking care of him...by now, this was basically a friendship without boundaries. "Try to take some deep breaths with me, Damiano, okay? I need you to breathe...", she knew that probably sounded stupid but he was so caught up in his sobs, she was scared he would pass out due to lack of air. She took some deep breaths in and out, hoping he would copy her...and it worked. "Good job, Angel...you're doing really great.", she praised him and began to gently rub his back. She already figured that she wouldn't get much sleep that night. Calming him down after something like that probably wouldn't be easy. His breathing was a bit calmer now, though he was still crying. He had stopped trying to hold it back which was good because in her opinion it was never a good idea to pretend to be something that you are not. She just held him close, listening to his quiet sobs while wiping away his tears from time to time.

It took him quite some time to calm down completely but eventually, he managed. "I...I'm so sorry, Vic. I guess I should really man up a bit...", his voice sounded a bit husky from the crying and it still had a slight quiver to it. Once again, she let her slim fingers brush through his slightly wet hair: "No...you know, what? Our society needs to get rid of phrases like "man up" because that's bullshit. I doesn't matter what you identify as...when you get hurt or when you're sad, you need to let it out, period. Anyone who tries to deny that is stupid." She hated things like that. Who was to say that he wasn't allowed to cry just because he was a guy? Everybody always said that women had it bad...which was obviously true because there was a lot of inequality in the world. But whoever thought that men were worth less than women or that men were not suffering from prejudices and stereotypes was simply ignorant. Why was it that women could go around blaming men of sexual assault but when men did that, they were told that they should have liked it? Why did gender matter so fucking much? Why couldn't people just start believing victims? Why was that so fucking hard?

She was snapped out of her thoughts when he spoke again: "I don't feel good, Vic...I feel sick." She could only guess but that could be the aftermath of the panic attack earlier. She helped him get up: "It's gonna be alright. Come on...", she grabbed his hand and guided him to the bathroom where she made him sit on the ground. "Shower or bath?", she asked softly, not caring that it was about 3 in the morning and she would probably wake other residents of the hotel with the running water. "I don't know...bath...", he didn't sound okay at all. Obviously. She nodded and turned the water on, pouring some bubbles into it. She then kneeled down next to him, gently caressing his back. He looked so pale...almost like a ghost. "You're doing really good, Damiano. I'm not that experienced but I think it's normal to feel sick after something like that. That's just your body reacting to the stress, so, if you need to throw up...that's okay. Don't be ashamed." Shortly after, that exact thing happened. She caressed his back in circles to make it a bit easier for him even though it probably didn't help much. He was retching pretty badly but there wasn't much coming out...he hadn't eaten a lot lately. His stomach was probably cramping as well, as he seemed to be in pain. She couldn't really do anything for him though, so she just waited until his nausea seemed to have faded away a bit.

"Are you feeling any better?", she asked as she helped him get up. He shrugged: "Kind of...I don't feel that sick anymore. But my stomach kinda hurts." She nodded, handing him a glass of water: "It'll get better soon, I promise." She sounded confident and reassuring even though she didn't feel like it at all. While he was still sipping on his water, she took off her clothes, keeping her underwear on though...she would just take a bath with him...nothing weird about that, right? It was just to help him because he seemed to need the physical contact. There was nothing wrong with that, right? She shook her head to get rid of the thoughts...thinking about that right now was stupid. Why did it matter anyway? She turned to him, he looked reluctant but slowly removed his shirt. It was only now that she realized that her own clothes had gotten bloody from his wounds. He didn't have many new ones but some of them looked a bit swollen. There was probably blood on the bed too, then. She waited until he was undressed. He seemed unsure whether or not he should take his boxers off as well, so she just smiled at him reassuringly: "You don't need to take them off, Angel. I just want to get you cleaned up and help you relax a bit." That seemed to be a relief to him and so, once again, she ended up, holding him close to her body while they were surrounded by hot water and bubbles that smelled like caramel. If it had been a different situation you could've said it was romantic...but for Damiano and Victoria, all it was was comforting.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Hey ;)

As promised, it's a longer chapter. I wrote about 600 words more than usually, so let me know if you prefer the shorter or the longer chapters or if something in between would be best.

Again, I would love to hear your opinion on things. Do you think he overreacted and should "man up" ? Do you think Vic should have known better than leaving him alone? Do you think her way of thinking is right, in terms of prejudices against men? And do you think there might be a bit more than friendship already? Let me know in the comments :)

Thanks for reading.

- Thalia