We're lying on the sofa, in front of the fire. Patch's arm is draped around me and a blanket is swamped around both of us. In any other universe, this would be considered a romantic setting; but in this case, it's ruined by the underlying tension in the air.
Just an hour earlier we had found out that I was Public Enemy #1, and that pretty much every Fallen Angel and Nephil wanted me dead, mainly due to the fact I had killed the Black Hand – someone who was taken to be immortal – and now I apparently had the power to take over the world. Not to mention, Patch and I were the leaders of our respected groups (Patch, Fallen Angels; me, Nephilim – though not by choice) and the outcome did not sound pretty.
"What will I do?" I whisper to Patch. The fire is roaring, Patch feels warm against me, but somehow I can feel a chill seeping right into my bones. I did not like the potential consequences of this discovery.
Patch sighs against me, and plays with my hair. "I have a few ideas,"
"Like what?" I say my voice growing louder."People want to kill me! Anywhere I turn could be my deathbed. And not only that, what about my mom? And Vee? And YOU?"
Several scenarios roll into my head, none of them reassuring or comforting; rather they make me want to be sick and wish more than ever that I could be a normal human being. That idea was thrown out of the window, out of sight the second Patch came into the picture.
I'm standing up now, on a roll. "How will I be able to explain any of this to them? What if the next thing I know they're dead, just because I'm trying to keep myself alive?"
"Nora…" Patch starts, but I immediately cut him out.
"And even then, how would I even know that I'd win? What if I lose and everyone's dead?"
"But it's not that I'm most scared about," I whisper, turning my attention away from the fireplace, and facing Patch, my eyes locking with his. "It's you."
I feel the adrenaline draining away, and tears starting to build up in my eyes. "I love you." I whisper. "So much, and if I lose you…I lose everything. I won't have a reason to fight for anymore, a reason to live for anymore…"
I stop talking as I feel his strong arms envelope me, and holding me tight.
"Don't think like that." He says roughly. "We will get through this, and we will be together, and everyone's going to be safe. I promise."
A couple of minutes later, I've calmed myself down, enough that I'm not crying anymore, and my breathing is normal again. Wiping away the last of my tears, I look up into his beautiful endless black eyes, and think about how there's no one else I'd rather be with at this moment.
"I love you," I whisper
"I love you too, Angel." He murmurs, tucking back a piece of my hair and then placing his hand on my face, and pulling my face closer so he can kiss me.
We spend the rest of the night watching a movie - Just Go With It - picked for the sole reason I needed to watch some comedy to take my mind off things - laughter was the best medicine after all -; and what better way to do it than with some good ol' classic Jennifer Aniston, and my hot boyfriend next to me?
In bed, with Patch's warm embrace, I sleep with the thought that as long as we're together, everything would turn out okay.
I wake up the next day feeling more optimistic and in a ready-to-take-on-the-world-with-my-hot-boyfriend mood. The space next to me on his bed is empty, and judging by the empty bathroom, I assume he's downstairs making breakfast.
After brushing my teeth and putting on my robe, I go downstairs ready to see his smirk, and a plate of hot food on the counter…except the kitchen is exactly the way it was last night. There are some dishes in the sink, the utensils are in exactly the same place and everything appears untouched.
I look out the window and see his motorcycle and Jeep in still there, and that's when I feel some panic settling in.
"Patch?" I call out. There's no answer.
"Patch, this isn't funny anymore!" I start running around the house like a crazy person, into every single room in his house, but he's not there, and my heart's beating faster and faster with no discovery of him.
Patch never leaves me, ever, without telling me exactly where he goes. Even if he leaves before I wake up, there's always a note next to me telling me where he is. There was definitely no note on the bed this morning, my phone was empty from any calls or messages from him, and he didn;t mention anything the day before about him going anywhere.
So where was he?
Tears running down my face, and a horrible feeling settling in my chest, I call his phone. I hear a ringing coming from our room, and I realise his phone is left behind. He never leaves his phone behind.
Patch is gone. Patch is missing. And I have no idea where he is.
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