The Tearsmith: A Novel

You can scratch love, you can renounce it,

you can wrench it from your heart,

but it will always know where to find you.

Everything was burning around him.

It was a soft, boiling prison.

Where was he? He couldn’t hear anything. He could only make out a diffused pain, it was almost as if the fever had melted the bones under his muscles.

And yet, even in that dense, unnatural sleep, she came to him like a dream.

Nica’s outline was so blurry that no one else would have been able to tell it was her. He only could because he knew every glimmering corner of her by heart.

Even feverish and disorientated, he could picture her perfectly. It seemed like she really was there, close to him, radiating warmth.

Oh, how wondrous were dreams…

There was no terror, no limits. He didn’t have to restrain himself, hide away, hold himself back. In his dreams, he could touch her, feel her, be with her without having to explain a thing. Rigel might have been able to love this unreal world, if he didn’t always wake from this fleeting happiness with such deep scars on his heart.

Nica’s absence burned him. It dug furrows in him as tenderly as she caressed him in his dreams, and he felt each and every one of these cuts when he woke up in the morning in his empty bed, without her.

But in that moment…

It almost seemed as if he could touch her. Circle her narrow waist with his hands and hold her until he felt complete.

He managed to move. Despite being delirious, he felt conscious. But was he? No, it was impossible. It was only in his dreams that he found her next to him.

But she was so real…He held her and buried his face in her hair, as he did every single night.

He wanted to burn in the smell of her. He wanted the eternally bittersweet comfort of Nica not running away from him, but cradling him in her arms and promising to never let him go.

It was as if…oh, it was as if…as if her tiny body really was breathing near him, quivering against him…

Something tickled my chin.

I moved my head, burying my face into the cool pillow.

Outside, the birds were singing and the world was waking up. I waited a few moments before opening my eyes.

Narrow beams of light blurred my vision. I blinked sleepily and reality slowly took shape around me. As my eyes were focusing, I became aware of the strange position I was lying in. It was very warm. Why couldn’t I move? And why wasn’t I in my own room?

Something black filled my eyes.

It was hair.

Hair?

My eyes flew wide open.

Rigel was pressed against me.

His chest was a burning wall of flesh and muscle. I was nestled against his broad shoulders and his arms were wrapped loosely around my waist. I couldn’t see his face, it was tucked deep in the hollow of my neck. I could feel his warm breath fluttering against my skin.

Our legs were entangled and at some point the covers must have been kicked off the bed and onto the floor. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

Suffocating, I noticed that one of my arms was under his neck, the other was softly draped over his head.

My head exploded. A sudden claustrophobia tightened my throat and my heart thudded against my skin.

How had we ended up like this?

When? When had I got in his bed?

And the covers? What had happened to the covers?

I felt his hand trapped between the mattress and my body, holding me tenderly and firmly at the same time.

Rigel…Rigel was embracing me.

I felt his breath on me.

He, who had never let me touch him, had his face in my neck and was holding me so tightly that I couldn’t make out where I started and he ended.

I was astounded.

I tried to squirm free, but then my nostrils flooded with the intense scent of his hair.

His fragrance hit me like a forceful, vibrant shadow. I didn’t know how to describe it. It was…powerful, insidious, and wild, just like him. I remembered the rain and the thunder, the wet grass, the full clouds and the crackling storm.

Rigel smelt like a storm. What does a storm smell like?

I moved my face to the side, trying in vain to get away from those sensations.

I liked it. I liked how he smelt…I found it irresistible, almost familiar. I had the horrible feeling that it was mine. That it was me who had got soaked in the rain, me who had smelt freedom in the wind, me who had embraced the sky so many times. It was exhilarating, maddening.

It couldn’t be real.

It was lunacy.

I closed my eyes, trying not to tremble in the arms I had always fled from…I tried to move away, and strands of his hair flopped over my Band-Aids.

I froze.

Rigel was still fast asleep. My heart was in my throat as I moved my fingers to brush the hair at the base of his neck.

It was…it was…

I touched it gently, carefully. And when he didn’t move…I slowly moved my hand through his hair. It was so soft and silky.

I studied him, my heart aflutter. Every breath, every touch was new, lethal, destabilising. The moment imprinted itself in my memory forever.

As I caressed him as gently as I could, I thought I heard him let out a quiet sigh. His breath was like a warm, invisible wave on my skin. It soothed me.

Slowly, reality melted away. All that was left was Rigel’s heart beating steadily, gently, lullingly.

What did that heart hold?

Why did he keep it caged away like a ferocious beast, if it beat so sweetly?

I desperately wished I could touch it, as I was touching his skin. His heartbeat resounded in my stomach with a disarming softness. Defeated, I rested my cheek on his head.

I gave in…I didn’t have it in me to fight something so tender.

I half-closed my eyes and, with an exhausted sigh, I surrendered myself to the arms of the only boy I should have stayed far away from. I let myself be cradled by his heart. And for a moment…for a moment, lying there close to him, far away from the world, from what we’d always been…just for a moment, heart to heart, I wondered why we couldn’t stay like this forever…

—

I woke again to the sound of a vibrating phone. I opened my eyes in a daze and the room wobbled into view.

I turned over in Rigel’s arms and stretched my arm out.

I couldn’t reach the phone.

‘Rigel,’ I whispered quietly, unsure what to say. ‘The phone…it might be Anna…’

He didn’t hear me. He was still fast asleep, his face burrowed in my neck.

I put a hand on his shoulder and tried to loosen his grip on me, but it was no use.

‘Rigel…I’ve got to pick up!’

The ringing suddenly stopped.

With a little sigh, I leant back down on the pillow.

It was Anna, I could tell. Maybe she wanted to let me know they were nearly there. Heavens, she must be so worried…

I turned over again. Rigel’s breath warmly caressed my skin and I placed my hand on the top of his head.

Clearly but gently, I said, ‘Rigel, I’ve got to get up now.’

Some part of me was scared to wake him. Scared of his reaction. Scared that he’d push me away again.

‘Rigel,’ I murmured reluctantly. ‘Rigel, please let me go…’ I whispered gently in his ear, hoping that my soft voice would somehow reach him.

Something happened.

My voice seemed to melt into his dreams. He exhaled against my throat and gave a low moan before pulling me closer. His seductive smell enveloped me.

‘Rigel,’ I repeated weakly. His muscular body wrinkled the bedsheets. He gripped me tighter, his body feeling hotter and hotter.

I was sure I could feel him rubbing his nose against my skin.

My stomach contracted and my cheeks burned. I thought he must be dreaming, because he was making slow movements that drew me even closer to him.

Maybe I had to move even slower, even more tenderly…

I brought my lips even closer to him. My fingers sweetly pushed his hair away from his ear and I whispered softly, ‘Rigel…’

It just made things worse. He opened his mouth, and his breathing became heavier, longer, slower, almost intimate, as if it was costing him to breathe.

And then, suddenly, his angular jaw tilted towards me.

And his lips landed on my neck.

My heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t breathe. Shivers of surprise ran down my entire body and my fingers pressed into his shoulders.

Frozen, I felt his arms tighten around me. Rigel’s lips moved on my neck, kissing me so tenderly that I wriggled and recoiled.

I was so shocked and tense that I didn’t even protest. Crazy sensations were consuming me from the inside and I felt thousands of little infernos blazing over my skin.

I turned and urgently pushed at his chest.

‘Rigel.’ His name stuck in my throat. His mouth opened and his teeth sleepily grazed my skin. I realised then that he wasn’t asleep, but was in a semi-conscious state because of his fever. Delirious. He must have been delirious.

A moan escaped from me as he gave me a gentle bite. I clenched my jaw and prayed he’d let up. His tongue, his mouth, his bites – all of it – it was mad, a storm of shivers so powerful I couldn’t bear it. It was too much for me.

The situation took a turn for the worse when I heard a door slam and movement in the house.

I was overcome with panic. Anna and Norman.

‘Nica!’ Anna called. I plunged my fingers into Rigel’s shoulders.

Oh God, no, no, no…

‘Rigel, you’ve got to let me go.’ My heart leapt like an agitated insect. ‘Now!’

His mouth overwhelmed me. I was stiff and burning, it felt like I was delirious. When his knee slipped between my legs, all my muscles contracted and my heart skipped a beat. I instinctively tightened my thighs and a raspy breath shook his chest.

‘Nica!’ Anna called again, and I gasped sharply. I threw an anxious look at the door. She was close, she was there, she was…she was…

In a fit of panic, I grabbed a fistful of Rigel’s hair and pushed him away.

He gave a low moan as he fell back onto the mattress and I slipped out of the bed.

I flung the door open and there was Anna, her hand outstretched ready to grip the handle.

She stared at my reddened, panicked face in surprise.

‘Nica?’

‘He’s doing a lot better now,’ I stammered madly, while Rigel slept under the pillow I had thrown right at his head.

I swept past her, pressing a hand to my neck.

I fled from the room on trembling legs, dazed and confused, my heart trapped back there with him, where Rigel’s mouth still burned in a way I would never be able to forget.

—

Several hours later, I still couldn’t shake that feeling. I felt it crawling over my skin. It burned me. It obsessed me. It throbbed all over me like an invisible bruise.

I touched my throat with my fingertips as I went downstairs. When I had looked in the mirror, I had seen a little red mark on my neck, and hoped against hope that if I wore my hair down it wouldn’t be noticeable.

But however hard I tried to hide it, what disturbed me most wasn’t on the surface. Something was roiling deep inside of me like a ship caught in a tempest and I still had no idea how I could save myself.

In the late afternoon, I went into the kitchen to get some water. I came to an abrupt halt in the doorway.

Rigel was sat at the table.

He was wearing the blue jumper which was slightly baggy around the neck. His face still looked paler than usual, but nonetheless alluring. His thick, messy black hair stuck out in the afternoon light and his eyes were staring right at me.

My heart leapt to my throat.

‘I…Oh!’ I bit my tongue nervously. I looked down at the little box in my hands. ‘Anna told me to bring you your medicine,’ I explained, as if I didn’t know how else to fill the silence. ‘I was…well…I came to get some water.’ I noticed the glass he was holding and pressed my lips together. ‘I guess there’s no point now…’

I slowly looked up, hesitant, and my cheeks started tingling when I saw that Rigel’s eyes hadn’t moved a millimetre from my face. They were incredibly bright and shining, not even tiredness seemed to dull the depth of his gaze. His irises stuck out against his skin like black diamonds.

‘How…are you feeling?’ I breathed after a while.

Rigel looked to the side, furrowing his dark brow, and arranged his lips into a sarcastic smirk.

‘Marvellous…’ he pronounced slowly.

I turned the package over in my hands, embarrassed. My eyes followed his.

‘Do you…do you remember anything from last night?’

It was stronger than I was. I needed to know. I needed to know if he remembered. Any tiny detail, however insignificant…

Every piece of my soul prayed that he would remember. I felt engulfed by the question, as if the fate of the world depended on it.

Because…something had changed for me.

For the first time, I had seen Rigel’s vulnerability. I had touched him, brushed against him, been close to him. I had taken care of him. He had been human and disarmed, and even the little girl inside me had had to abandon the idea of the invincible Tearsmith and see him for what he truly was.

A boy who pushed the world away.

A solitary, rough, complicated boy who wouldn’t let anyone touch his heart.

‘Do you remember anything about what happened?’ I asked again. He held my gaze.

Anything…Anything at all…Anything rather than see him go back to being that wolf who always pushes me away…

Rigel stared at me, reticent, confused.

He leant back in his chair and his domineering aura once again prevailed.

‘Oh, well…someone must have taken me to my room.’ He looked around the kitchen before planting his eyes insolently back on me. ‘And I imagine I’ve got you to thank for the bruise on my shoulder.’

The memory of our fall flashed before my eyes. I was silenced by a sharp stab of guilt.

But still, I didn’t move. Rigel had just implied that the wall between us was still there, but I didn’t give in. I didn’t step backwards, I didn’t hide behind my hair. I stood in the doorway of the kitchen staring at the box of medicine. There was something scant but bright flickering inside me – hope. That candid, uncrushable hope that I had carried inside me since I was a child. Hope that I now had for him, and had no intention of giving up.

Instead of pushing me away, an unfamiliar force pulled me into the kitchen.

I approached the table where he sat, opened the box and took out a pill.

‘You’ve got to take two of these,’ I said softly. ‘One now, and one tonight.’

Rigel stared at the white pill. Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze to mine. There was something elusive in his eyes. Maybe it was the knowledge that I had come close to him despite how sarcastic he had been with me. Maybe it was because I was no longer scared of him…

For a moment, I thought he would chase me away.

For a moment, I thought he would mock me or lash out.

But instead, he tilted his head and looked down.

In silence, without uttering a word, he reached out his hand and took the pill.

I felt a warmth in my chest as he lifted the glass. An unrestrained happiness percolated through me, pushing me forward.

‘Hold on, you need more water.’

My fingers brushed his.

It happened all of a sudden.

His hand flinched away and he jumped to his feet. The sound of the chair cut through the air and the glass shattered on the floor, shards scattering everywhere.

I stumbled backwards, stricken by how forcefully he had recoiled.

I stared at him breathlessly. He had flinched away from me with such repulsion that it felt like I’d been stabbed by a shard of glass.

When his eyes met mine, I felt a sharp stab of disappointment. I felt it spreading through me like the roots of a dead tree, snuffing out the hope that had been there before.

And…

It was a little bit like dying.

She was burning.

Her breath was burning.

He should have been able to control himself, but that unexpected contact made his heart quiver. Rigel felt a heat much fiercer than the fever.

He bit back a curse. In a fit of panic, he wondered whether she noticed he was shaking as he jerked away.

When he found the courage to look up, he sensed an emptiness. He saw the disappointment in her incredulous eyes, and felt pain devastating every inch of his soul.

Nica slowly looked down and every second of that little movement was like a splinter jabbing under his skin.

He saw her bend over. Her tiny hands collected the shards of glass that were shining like jewels in the afternoon sunlight. If he let her touch him, Rigel wondered, would she ever do the same with the pieces of his shattered heart?

Even though they were so black. And dirty. Even though they were dripping with all the despair he had always thrown at her. Even though they cut and scratched and grazed, and each shard was the colour of her silvery eyes, each one a smile that he had snatched from her lips.

He knew he just had to say thank you. He owed her much more than he had let her see.

He knew this, but he was so used to hurting and scratching that by now it was instinctive. Or maybe, he was simply incapable of anything other than the wickedness stitched within him.

He was terrified by the thought that she, so pure and clean, could know about his desperate feelings.

‘Rigel…’ he heard her whispering quietly.

He didn’t move; she had turned him to stone. He froze every time he heard his name in that mouth.

‘You…you really don’t remember anything?’

Doubt clawed at him. What was he supposed to remember? Was there something he had forgotten?

No, it was fine, he told himself urgently. Just the idea of her hands touching him as she helped him up the stairs was enough to make him lose his mind. And yet, the thought that he could have forgotten that touch was far worse.

‘What does it matter?’ he heard himself asking. Bitterness seeped from his mouth before he could stop it, and he regretted it as soon as he saw her look up into his eyes.

Her gaze pierced him so sweetly. Her freckles shone on her delicate, graceful features and her lips stood out like forbidden fruit, like some sort of punishment.

She watched him in that way of hers, like a defenceless nymph, a forest fawn, with an innocence that took his breath away.

Rigel suddenly became aware that she was kneeling in front of him. He felt the burning sensation again, but this time, much lower than his chest. He quickly looked away. Torment rendered him speechless, he felt the need to get away from her. He clenched his jaw and moved away.

He would have left had she not grabbed him by the heart.

He would have left if she hadn’t chosen precisely that moment to utter his name again, stopping the earth from spinning under his feet.

He would never forget what she said next.

‘Rigel…I don’t hate you.’

I had just told him the truth.

It didn’t matter how many times I had run away.

It didn’t matter how he continued to bite me.

It didn’t matter how hard he had tried to push me away.

None of it mattered…

I couldn’t bring myself to snap that thin thread that had always bound our lives together.

I couldn’t go back…not after he had given himself up, defenceless in my arms. Not after that morning, when he had marked me in ways that were more than skin deep.

I had seen him.

Not as the Tearsmith I thought he was, but as the boy he had always been.

‘And do you hate me?’ I remembered our conversation in the hallway. ‘Do you hate me, little moth?’

No…

Rigel lifted his chin.

It was like watching the conclusion of something that had been foreseen, that was planned, painfully inevitable. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

He turned to me and stared. After a while, he smiled.

‘You’re lying to the Tearsmith, Nica,’ he mocked, slowly and bitterly. ‘You know you shouldn’t.’

There we were again: me, the little girl from The Grave, and him, the Tearsmith, with that wall still between us.

We were back to where we had started as children.

History was destined to repeat itself.

Fairy tales always followed the same rule: you get lost in the woods and vanquish the wolf. That was the only way to reach a happy ending. After all, fairy tales end with ‘ever after’.

Could we be the exception?