Smoke…? Shit, fire!
Panic snapped away any drowsiness when your, sleeping, boyfriend had lit himself on fire. Instinctively you grabbed the bucket of water by the bed and doused him.
“Shit!” He sputtered
“Chato.” You whispered, pulling him into your arms. He was sopping wet and shaking. “Shhh…Shhh… You’re okay.” You cooed
He nodded into the crook of your neck. “Thank you amor, Sorry about the bed.”
“Come on, hun. Don’t pull that tough crap with me.”
“No, no. I’m good.” He said, pulling away to look at you.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Now that all the excitement from almost lighting the house on fire was over, you began to register the sharp stinging on your arm. You grimaced and Chato noticed immediately.
“Mi amor?” he visibly stiffened when he caught sight of the angry red skin in the dim light.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. Go to the spare bed, I’ll be there in a minute.” And he almost did, but he chose instead to take you to the bathroom and help you carefully dress the burn. Afterwards you pulled him to the spare bedroom. Your drowsiness kicked in as soon as your head hit the pillow but, unknown to you, Cato stayed awake. With his back to you he stared at the wall until the sun rose.
Over the next week Chato distanced himself from you and treating you like glass when he did interact with you. You let him get away with it for a little bit, that was, until it got to the point where he didn’t sleep. He refused to sleep when the both of you were in the same bed. Even with his tattoos you could see the bags forming under his eyes.
“Chato?” you asked
“Hmm?”
“Please stop pushing me away.”
He sighed, turning to face you. “Carino…”
“No, listen. I know you’re upset over what happened last week. I can tell you aren’t sleeping when I’m in the bed and you barely speak to me.”
“I hurt you.”
“So? I trust you, why can’t you seem to trust yourself?” You asked, voice rising.
“What if…” he sighed “What if next time I don’t just burn your arm? What if I kill you mi reina!?”
“I’m not afraid of you!”
“Well maybe you should be!” He yelled back.
You shook your head, walking forward until you were less than a foot apart. His eyes were glued to the floor to avoid looking you in the eyes. He flinched when you took both of his hot hands in your own but he didn’t pull away. You placed both of his hands on your cheeks and held them there with your smaller ones. “Chato, look at me.” He did, but he looked scared. Like you were the most beautiful fragile thing that would break if he so muck as looked at you the wrong way. “This is how much I trust you. I love you so damn much and I know you would never hurt me on purpose. So, you’re not going to argue when I make us tea and then put on some corny movie that you will fall asleep ten minutes into with your head on my lap.”
“Y/N…”
“Ah, ah, ah. What did I say? No arguing. Now come here.” You said pulling him into your arms for a chaste kiss. His warm hands on your hips placed hesitantly on your hips were comforting while your colder ones laced themselves around your neck. “So, Ghostbusters or Footloose?”