Julius Caesar

I held the 'supplies' closer to me as I stepped into the darkness and gulped several times because I couldn't hear anything. No breathing, no nothing. And it scared me that he might've bled out or that my brother might've come down here, when I wouldn't know, to finish off what he started.

This thought filled me with enough urgency to call out his name.

"Leave," came his steady, breathy reply, relieving me.

"Please, brighten the lights," I requested softly.

"You don't want me to."

Is it that bad?- I teared up at the possibility and started working on locating his voice- it was my speciality after being blind for almost a decade. "Please. Julius."

"I've had enough humiliation for the day," he told me, his voice raspy, slightly broken. "You needn't come and rub it in my face."

I walked toward the stage platform, hand outstretched in front of me as I tried feeling his heat. I found none. I turned away.

"I wouldn't do that," I replied honestly and was met by silence. I then sighed heavily, trying to make out where he'd be.

"Julius-" I instantly stopped, spotting him stand, hunched, staring at the ground, hair covering his face, next to a pillar, one hand resting against it and the other on his hips. Thanking God that I wasn't wearing heels, I approached him and gently grazed his arm.

"I found you," I whispered as his head snapped up and his breathing became erratic; I could hear it in the silence that draped us.

Recognizing the light-controlling pager clutched in his hand that held his hips, I gently placed all the supplies on the ground and got closer to him. When I was a breath away, I reached for his arm, trailed down to his forearm, and tugged it. He opened his palm and I let my fingers reach for the pager as his breath hitched.

I took the pager and brightened the room just a little. Just enough to see his discomposed face. A contorted face full of so much emotion and pain, with eyes so drained and lifeless. And it hurt me so much; it hurt me to see him so powerless and defeated.

"It must hurt to stand," was the first thing I choked out. "Please sit down."

With a very heavy sigh, he staggered to the platform, hands on hips and back covered by the jacket hanging on his shoulders.

He's performing all of this, I thought. Uselessly pretending to be strong by standing and hiding his wounds even though I was sure it was killing him. It was like he wanted the world to know that his pains, his wounds, his thoughts, belonged only to himself. That nobody else should know.

He reminded me of myself.

He was embarrassed. He was so embarrassed by this. By his pain. Vulnerability.

Wondering at how he could withstand such a heavy jacket on his skin for so long, I dropped it to the ground and stared at him as he stubbornly avoided my gaze, his hair dishevelled and sticking to his forehead with sweat.

"Can I see them?" I asked softly as I watched him clench and unclench his fists.

"What do you want to see?" He replied between his teeth. "They're hideous, I can assure you-" he told me. "I don't want to revolt you away-"

"Revolt me?" I couldn't help but smile at that, because out of all the things he did, this couldn't possibly revolt me. Not in a million years. "You can never revolt me. Ever."

His head snapped up and his glassy, dark eyes caught mine as I watched his throat move. "Then you're here to help-help me?" His reply was forced as if it hurt to speak. I mean, it had been at least two hours of this untreatable pain for him. It must hurt.

"And talk to you-" I added quickly, just to assure him that I wasn't here to pity him by helping him or something.

He nodded silently. "I need stitches," was what he told me breathily, shutting his eyes. "Can you -uh- give me stitches?"

At that, irrelevant images of Maxime stitching a baby's lips popped in my head. My eyes widened and I panicked instantly. "No. No. I don't know-"

He averted his gaze to look behind me before cutting me off. "Is that a medkit?"

"Yes," I replied promptly.

"Get it," he whispered. "Please."

I looked behind and hesitated before complying and getting it along with the blankets. I placed the kit on the platform on top of the blankets and opened it.

"Is there a needle and string?" He asked and I raised my eyebrows.

"I can't give you-"

"Please-" He breathed heavily, his face contorting. "Are there any?"

My lips parted at the pain in his voice before I nodded robotically and searched in the mess in front of me. I came out with them and had to shake my head from the images that threatened to cloud my thinking. And I couldn't afford to have my thinking clouded if I were to help him.

"Come on," he whispered hoarsely. "Put in the thread."

"Put in the thread?" I asked confusedly as I watched him squeeze his eyes.

"In the needle," he exhaled. "There's a pore. Let the thread in."

I immediately fumbled with what I had in my shaky hands and begged myself not to cry.

"Brighten the lights, Samara," he murmured. "Your eyes."

I stared at him, a lump in my throat. "Yes, my eyes-" I then blabbed because I couldn't help but be bedazzled at how he managed to be so delicately caring even when he was in pain. I brightened them anyway, and after a few trials, I managed to let the thread in.

"Now," he took a deep breath. "Stitch me up."

"Julius, I really can't-" I shook my head but he'd already caught my eyes and was staring in them, no longer keen on keeping up his facade. He was in real pain and he needed help. My help.

"Can you get on the stage?" He asked me, ignoring my statement. "Or should I help you up?"

Alarmed at the fact that he wanted to even move an inch to help me, I shook my head and clambered over the stage. It took me one glance and I couldn't help but gasp loudly at what I saw. A map of scars crisscrossing with skin open, flesh showing, and blood pooling out. This sight, I realized, was gruesome claws that ripped my heart out and threw it in a dumpster.

"Haven't you seen scars before?" He sounded irritated. "They're just bloody scars-"

"But they're on you-" I breathed out, getting closer to his back by crawling on my knees.

"Please don't dramatize this-" His shoulders tensed and I had to calm myself because his body's heat reached out to me in impossible ways.

"I should disinfect it first," I said to myself as Julius breathed heavily. "It'll hurt you."

"Do whatever you have to do. But stitch me. Please."

I reached for the kit and picked out the alcohol spray.

"Use my shirt to wipe it off-" He instructed and I looked behind me, spotting the bloody, white shirt he talked about.

"It's bloody-"

"Well, my back is bloody too-"

I sucked in my lower lip before picking up his shirt, cringing at the fact that it was almost all red.

"Wear gloves, love," he murmured. "It's only sanitary."

"I don't need to-"

"Have you no care toward your own well-being?" He snapped, voice strained.

"I won't be able to stitch you with gloves!" I exclaimed exasperatedly.

"Okay, then," he breathed. "Be careful. Don't cut yourself."

"Why? Do you have an infectious disease?" I asked curiously and he shook his head.

"Not that I know of," he said. "But don't hurt yourself. It won't do us good if we're both in pain."

I smiled at that despite the tears springing in my eyes. He had finally admitted that he was in pain. That he was feeling something. I held the alcohol spray in one hand and the shirt in the other with the needle set on the floor next to me.

"Are you ready?" I asked hesitantly and he nodded silently.

I closed my eyes and pressed the nuzzle. Julius' back scrunched up as he let out a suppressed groan, pumping his fist against the platform. Seeing him in so much agony brought more tears in my eyes as I gently used his shirt to wipe his back. I repeated the spraying process to cover his whole back, drenching myself in silent tears as his whole frame shook in pain.

"Now, stitch me," he said between his teeth. "I can't bear it any longer," he stressed. "Please-"

"Julius-" I almost whimpered. "I'm so sorry-"

"Come on, Samara-" His voice was rough from all the clenching of teeth and jaws he was doing. "It's the only thing I've asked you-"

"I'm gonna hurt you-"

"You're already hurting me by refusing to help me!" He hissed painfully and I shut up. Silence. He then spoke up. "How many scars are there that need to be stitched?"

I paused and considered his question. I hadn't counted. I then studied his back. Two cuts at the top, three in the middle and one at the bottom.

"Six-" I whispered horrifically and he gave me no visible reaction. I cleaned the needle with an alcohol swab, gently rested a palm on his strong shoulder and inched close enough to inhale his scent. A mixture of rust, blood, and pine trees.

And I realized that this was how much he trusted me. He trusted me enough to keep a needle in my hands as if sure I'd choose to close his wounds instead of deepening them.

He trusts me- I thought and my heart was a catastrophic supernova while he was the whole expanding, dark universe that contained me and engulfed me. Engulfed me in stark darkness to allow me to shine my brightest. He was all that vacuum that protected me from getting sucked to nothingness by black holes. Black holes in himself and other people.

And I realized that we were never enemies. That he was acting so distant and scary to keep me away from his black holes. He didn't know that I didn't mind getting sucked in them. I didn't mind him stealing my light if we could stay together and if he allowed me to light up his insides. The insides of his darkest black holes.

I inhaled sharply.

I love you by the outrage of the mistake that this love is, I mumbled inaudibly to myself as the needle stabbed his skin for the first time and he cringed beneath my fingers.

I love you by the number of flames in your blazing forest eyes, I let the thread cross the cut and stab his skin the second time, then the third, and fourth.

I love you by the number of angelic demons swirling under your hypnotic emeralds, I finished the first cut and moved on to the second, piercing his skin away as I threatened my hands to stay steady.

I love you by the number of cells in your battered, beautiful body, I finished the third and moved to the fourth scar.

I love you by the number of your scars and the amount of pain you've been through, I let my fingers brush what must've been a bullet scar on his left shoulder as I started stitching the fifth, holding back my tears.

I love you, I started the last one with a deep breath, drying my face in my shirt and sniffing occasionally.

And just like that, I was done stitching him up. I silently disinfected his back again and reached for patches to cover his new scars. He had eleven beautifully horrendous scars on his back. Six new ones and five old ones. It killed me.

I then wordlessly backed away from him and jumped off the stage. His head was bowed and his eyes were shut.

"How are you feeling?"

Julius lifted his head and slowly fluttered his eyes open. He locked my eyes under the bright lights and my heart took off at their intensity. I watched him mumble incoherent things under his breath before he clenched his fists and fought off his thoughts by shaking his head. He then stopped and stared at me more, thinking of his next move. His next move...

He then looked down at his laps, his dark hair a mess before he whispered, almost inaudibly. "Come here."

I pretended I didn't hear him and he lifted his gaze to pointedly study me. So I approached him hesitantly until I stood exactly in front of him. He then frowned to himself before looking down.

"Come closer," he purred weakly and my breath hitched.

I complied and stood right between his legs. His eyebrows were unfurrowed and his gaze remained trained on the floor before slowly, so very slowly, his hands flinched and reached for mine. My heart stopped. His fingers grazed the back of my hand, cruelly bringing a tornado of memories in. He never looked up but slowly got to his feet, and I daren't move an inch.

He towered over me, his hair shading my face. I was too close. His fingers brushed my fingertips before he loosely held them in his cold hands. He tugged me closer and I allowed him thoughtlessly.

Thinking never really mattered in those moments. Heavens, it wasn't even possible.

He then wordlessly leaned in until our foreheads touched and I kissed my heart goodbye. His eyes were closed and his lips were moving. He was mumbling breathily. Maybe praying.

His eyes snapped open and stared into mine. "Can you sleep with me tonight?" He whispered this and I had to move my forehead away.

Sleep with a murderer? Nothing sounded more appealing.

"No-" was my instant reply nevertheless.

"Mara-" he started wearily. "I can't do witty today." My heart stopped again. "Let's stop pretending for a day. Okay?" He tightened his hold around my hands. "I'm too tired."

"But, we-"

But he wasn't taking it, my refusal, my resistance, so he pulled me to him until our chests touched. Too distracted by his hand that found a way to tuck a hair strand behind my ear, I stood frozen, staring at him.

His eyes finally flicked up to mine as his cold fingertips brushed my right cheek, sending tingles down my neck. "Talk to me like before-" he whispered, tilting his head, closing his eyes, and bringing his soft lips to my nose. "Like when we were on that bench," he talked. "In the park, on a cold day. When I was the guy who held your hands-" He then leaned in and pressed his wet, hot lips to my ear, and I had to hold my breath at the sensation. "The one who kissed you and loved you deeply-" He whispered before pulling away and I almost grabbed him to continue what he was doing.

"But I can't be that girl," I uttered truthfully, betraying my body, tears rolling down my cheeks.

"But I can't take it, Samara-" He shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows. "I need someone to talk to. A-A distraction from my thoughts. I need you, please-" He was begging me and my eyes widened. I never expected this. "Just for a night. This-this night. Then I promise you I'll leave you because you deserve-" He inhaled sharply, shaking his head and gulping. "-you deserve better. I know- I know that. But please, tonight-"

"It's difficult-"

"It's difficult to love me?" He asked breathily and my heart and lungs went like, oh. "To pretend?" He then uselessly added.

"Of course not," I said breathlessly, shaking my head and biting down on my lip. "I'm just scared of what it'd mean to me. It can break my heart-"

"No, Samara-" He choked on his words. "It won't." He was lying and he knew it.

"Julius, I-"

"No-" He shook his head, frowned, and re-connected our foreheads, tightening his hold around my hand. "Today, I'm forgetting who I am. Call me, Caesar, Mara. Please-"

"This is selfish, Julius. If you leave me, you can get on with the heartbreak. I won't be able to-" I murmured, tears cascading down as he disconnected our foreheads.

"Well, let's continue acting like none of us is affected by this-" He frowned. "Let's continue acting like we hate each other when we both know what we both desire most. Let's continue acting, cause that will be how our hearts ′won't' break. Because that'd be how we'd actually ′hate′ each other. Let's do that, huh? Let's lie some more."

I stiffened and stared at him speechlessly.

"If you wanted me to ′hate' you-" Julius continued throatily. "-you wouldn't have been here, right now! But here you are. So tantalizingly close. So selfish knowing that you'd always find me here, locked and that you could come whenever you feel like it to get enough of me-" He accused me and I remained silent.

"What about me?" He demanded, looking straight in my eyes. "Have you thought about me? About how I'm not having enough of you even in this little act we excelled at? That the only thing keeping me from lashing out, being locked here like an animal is you? Goddammit, I can't keep lying to myself! And you clearly can't either, cause here you are."

I gulped the truth behind his words and looked down. "I honestly don't know what to tell you, what to do- I don't know if you understand how it's never easy for me. Being in love with a murderer. And not any murderer. The one who killed my father! Did you expect me to run in your arms-"

"No-" was what he vehemently stated. "I don't expect you to run in my arms. All I'm asking for is one night, Samara." His jaws tensed. "One night to give ourselves the goodbye we deserve."

"Goodbye we deserve?" I repeated his words incredulously and he sighed loudly. "What goodbye? You're here. You'll be here for a while. You know that." I told him but not for teasing him. It was more of a reminder.

"Yes. Goodbye," he looked down and I clenched my fists. "Last time. When you left me, I never had the chance to explain myself. And it frustrated me so much. So I decided that this time- it has to be different."

"You're not getting it, are you?" I said, my eyes already tearing up. "Maxime won't-"

"Tomorrow is the day I leave, Samara. I'll leave London for good-" He dropped the bomb and my heart sank. "My brother and friend will help me out."

I froze. Was I hearing right? Tell me that I wasn't. Tell me that my heart was beating too loud in my ears to hear right.

"Bullshit!" My first instinct was rejecting what he was saying as I moved away from his hold and warmth. Moved away because this wasn't expected. And things like those should be expected. Should be prepared for. "You're not leaving-"

"Hey-"

"No-" My breathing quickened and tears blurred my vision before Julius approached me. He managed to grasp my arm and turn me to him. And I couldn't resist whatsoever. "This is all a joke to you."

"Samara, please-" He said softly and I was caught off guard by the intensity of his eyes. "Please don't cry."

"Please don't cry?" I frowned at him. "What do you mean? I have one night with you and you're telling me that?"

And that was all it took for my reserve to shatter. For all my walls to come tumbling down, rocks flying everywhere, blinding me and cracking open my heart's already-fissured shield.

Showtime was over.

"I'm trying to be fair with you-" He breathed wearily.

"No!" I almost shouted. "You're not being fair. You knew you were going to leave and you never told me!"

"You were the enemy-" He whispered with a raised brow.

"Goddammit, Caesar! You knew that I was never!" I continued shouting, tears tumbling down shamelessly. I was about to break free from his hold, but it only tightened around my arms.

"I'm trying to help you-" He said. "It'd be less painful. Only one night."

"Less painful? Do you have any idea how much pain-?" I breathed. "I hate you!"

"No, you don't," he said, gently pushing my back against a pillar to stop me from further backing away from him. "And we need to do something about that."

"Why are you talking like this is only my problem?" I snapped at him and he paused, looked down, and sighed heavily.

"Will it do you any good showing my real emotions? Will it make your pain any easier?" He looked in my eyes and blinked.

I looked at him incredulously. He was close, hands by his side, waiting for my response.

"Yes, Julius!" I breathed out. "Share my agony! Be human for once! Why can't you understand what I really want?"

"What do you want me to do, Samara?" He shut his eyes and sighed. "Do you want me to cry by your side for who I'm destined to be? For how terrible it turned out? Do you want me to waste time doing this? Again?"

I frowned at his words. "Waste time?"

"Well, that's not what I meant-" He inhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. "It's already so very stressful and I just can't find the headspace to do this."

Tears silently slid down my cheeks as he stood, watching me, doing nothing.

"I just-" he then sighed heavily. "I just wanted to talk to you. Talk to you without any barriers for once. I wanted to tell you my story. And then you'd never see me again-"

"But I want to see you again!" I was being frantic. "That's what I want."

"Samara, please, this is all for you-"

"Break my heart and tell me that's for my best! Goddammit!" I yelled at him and he sighed.

"Sometimes the only way to mend something is to break it," he whispered, looking down and I raised my eyebrows.

"Really?"

"Yes, Samara-" he shook his head. "You've no idea what I've been through. And I want you to understand. So instead of arguing about an inevitable thing, let's just discuss what we've missed out on. Please."

I stared at him for a long time, watching him gulp, shake his head out of nowhere a couple of times, and wince when he tried straightening his back. It was obvious that he was being careful not to meet my eyes unless absolutely necessary, and then I understood. Julius' eyes were his story. And at moments of vulnerability, he wanted to shut this book close, afraid of what others peeking into his pages would do to him.

It irritated me so much.

"What are you thinking about?" I then asked him randomly and he lifted his head to stare at me.

"Would you like to know the truth?"

I nodded at him quietly, sniffing away any tears.

"I was thinking about lots of things, Samara," he whispered, stepping closer. "I was thinking if I should tell you my story. I was thinking of how you'd see me in your eyes. Would you pity me? Would you get disgusted? Would you hate me?" He then paused, getting even closer, until our bodies were a few inches apart. My heart didn't even jump out because it wasn't even in my chest. It was on the floor, right there, shattered moments ago.

"I was thinking if I kiss you right now-" He whispered, locking my eyes for once. "If I kiss you, would you kiss me back? I was thinking if that would scare you away. If it would hurt us more to revive our memories and desires."

He then planted a hand next to my head and my breath hitched. "I was thinking if you'd ever forgive me one day for all I'd done. All the secrets that I've kept. And your heart that I've stolen. And I was thinking-" he planted the other hand on the wall so that he caged me. "If I'd be worth remembering if we never get to see each other again. If I'd haunt your dreams, because hell, Samara, you can't blame my thoughts for being selfish."

He was looking straight in my eyes and I couldn't help but gulp as I glanced at his hands planted at either side of my head.

"You were thinking all that?" I squeaked and flushed at the idiocy of my question.

"Yes," he breathed. "I was thinking of breaking you. I want to break your heart so that you'd heal again. And become a better version of yourself. A wiser one." He lowered his head so that our foreheads were a few inches apart.

"You are breaking my heart-" I breathed with difficulty as I watched his eyes flick between my lips and my eyes.

"You have no idea what heartbreak is-" he whispered, lips so plump, red, and so, so close.

"And you do?"

"Yes-" he panted as if being that close was draining him from all his energy. "But I'll tell you about that later-"

"You'll tell me later?"

A smile spilt over his lips and I realized I needed support, because holy stars, I felt like I was going to faint.

"I'll tell you later if you allow me to do something first-" he lowered his head more; I even felt his hair touch mine.

"What-?" I choked breathlessly.

"Shatter your heart into smithereens," his face contorted as his forehead met mine. "Will you let me?" He asked huskily and my legs were shaking with the effort it took to stand still.

And I remember that the way he was saying this, would make you beg for a heartbreak.

And there was it. The wettest kiss I'd ever had. His lips caressed mine teasingly as my tears came tumbling down. I clutched his arms and he had me pulled closer to him by one powerful grip.

And I was like, yes- I never felt my heart more alive. It was like it was compensating for its death a few moments ago. Pumping and pumping and fighting.

He then moved away, his eyes frantic as they searched my face, his hands still on my lower back. "Samara-?"

But there was no 'Samaras' then. There were him, his lips, and the few hours his universe would allow us. So I cradled his face in my hands and kissed his parted lips softly with a soft moan.

He wanted to break my heart? I'd annihilate his heart's existence.

I let my hands travel up his torso and he immediately moved away. "My back-" he panted. "You're too hot for me right now-" his eyes looked insane but he wanted heartbreak, right?

So I smiled at him and licked my lips as I heard his heart erupt. He suppressed a groan and immediately pulled me back to him. He pecked my lips before I felt his tongue lick my lips apart. I parted them and the warmth I felt when our tongues touched made me melt into a puddle. It was so exhilarating and so damn heartbreaking.

His hands slipped under my shirt and traced my spine before he pulled back with the shiniest eyes and reddest lips. It was like we were competing. Competing for who'd break the other's heart more.

And when he planted his soft, scorching lips on my neck, I combusted right between his fingers. And I wondered when I'd get blown away. Cause ashes- I was nothing but ashes. He kissed and sucked and grazed his teeth on my delicate skin, next to my raging pulse.

It was so beautiful, this heartbreak, and it was so clear that he was winning because I wasn't standing anymore. He was holding me and very carefully ripping my heart apart. My heart could no longer support me as I purred softly. He then stopped as I stood breathless in his arms. I couldn't look at him but felt his wet, warm lips next to my ear.

And he was whispering hoarsely, "I'm so turned on right now and I can't make love to you. Do you have any idea how heartbreaking this truly is?"

His words tickled my insides as he pulled away to look into my eyes. And I was smiling because it was funny. This whole thing. So I couldn't help but peck his soft, parted lips. Once. I then took a deep, deep breath, wrapped my hands around his neck, carefully and tiptoed. His eyes looked at me anticipating my next move as his hands supported my waist.

"We need to talk," I said. "Then we can break our hearts a little more."

Julius tried reaching for my lips but I moved away.

"Please, Julius-" I said. "I need to understand."

He looked down, his thick eyebrows shading his beautiful eyes. He then sighed before nodding and stealing a kiss.

"If I can, I'd kiss you to my death," he whispered, pecking my nose, breaking my heart more.

"But we need to say goodbye," I reminded him painfully and he immediately looked down and clenched his jaws.

"Yeah, you're right."

"Let's talk," I whispered and he nodded, not looking at me. "I'll prepare the blankets."

Julius then looked up, eyebrows furrowed before he dropped another short yet sweet kiss on my lips. "Okay."

I then forcefully pulled myself away from him, clambered up the stage, and picked a big blanket out of the four to spread it on the floor in front of a wall where Julius might need to support his back. I then used two blankets to make him a cushion and left the last one to cover ourselves.

I turned around to find him already standing on stage, still hunched, staring at me under the bright lights. His dark hair was chaotic but so were his eyes- all the emotions they swore to contain, were fighting for appearance.

"Come," I whispered, picking up the light pager and dimming the lights considerably because back then, I wanted nothing but to listen to him talk and talk. And I wanted the perfect ambience for it.

Julius hesitantly approached me, wrapped his arms around me from behind, and gave me three soft kisses on my collarbone. Closing my eyes, I detached myself from him despite how hard he was making it.

"Please, Julius-" I muttered, not looking at him. "Let's just sit."

He lowered himself to the blanket, wincing a couple of times before he finally adjusted, back pressed on the blankets and head resting on the wall behind him. I sighed heavily before taking off my bunny-like slippers and sitting next to him on the blanket, spreading the last blanket over our legs.

Julius cocked his head toward me and I smiled weakly before he extended an arm between us and opened his palm. I looked in his eyes, breathed deeply, and slowly placed my hand in his. His long fingers intertwined mine as he shut his eyes and sighed. He rubbed circles on the back of my hand with his thumb before he started talking and wearing my heart away.