Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 138

XANDER'S POV

It echoes in my head, over and over, those five words like a curse of their own. They loop like a broken record, each repetition cutting deeper, stripping me down.

*I feel like I'm cursed.*

He’s standing there against the window, rainlight haloing his shoulders, and he looks.... God, he looks wrecked. Like a man wrestling shadows he can’t shake, haunted eyes fixed on some place I can’t reach. I drop my voice low, almost a whisper, like anything louder might shatter him.

“Cursed how?”

He exhales sharp, bent under the weight of it. His back hits the window, shoulders hunched and head bent. It’s the posture of someone forcing himself to bleed when he’s spent years stapling the wound shut. Every line of him screams resistance....yet he’s trying.

I don’t say a word. I just wait.

One hand clenches against the sill, the other buried in his hair, tugging like he needs pain to anchor him.

His voice finally breaks the silence, heavy and dragging.

“Every little thing I care about somehow gets snatched away.... Everything precious I touch either fucking combusts or gets taken from me. ”

He chuckles, bitter and humorless, the kind that tastes like smoke. “So I got used to not caring about shit.”

Then he looks at me. And the look alone nearly puts me on my knees.

“And then you showed up and now I'm....”he stops, cutting himself off with a small shake of his head.

And it breaks me, standing here. Watching him bleed like this without lifting a hand to stop it. I want to close the distance, fold him against me, shield him from every monster his mind keeps replaying. But I don’t. Something in me knows he needs the space to force this out, to speak without me pressing in.

When his eyes finally rise to meet mine, they’re pleading and afraid all at once.

“I like what we have,” he says, voice frayed. “It’s the happiest I’ve been in.... I don’t even know how long. But God, it scares the shit out of me. You say you’re not going anywhere, but what if I let you in and you don’t like who I am?”

It nearly buckles me, but I steady myself and meet his gaze.

“That won’t happen.”

I want to say more, to give him every reassurance he’ll ever need, but he shakes his head fast, shutting me out before I can pile on promises.

“I’ve done some really bad things, Xander. And if you leave, if I lose you....” He chokes on it, eyes flickering away, then back.

The silence that follows is a blade.

I breathe through it, then speak. “I know you, Jax. Maybe not as much as I want yet, but enough to know you’re not a bad person. Whatever you did, I’m sure you had a reason. And I'm not here to judge you about it, I'd never do that.”

He shakes his head again, more defeated than before. His hand drags down his face like he wants to scrub the whole confession off him. Then he looks up at me, and his voice comes out a hollowed whisper, stripped bare.

“I’m exhausted.”

The sound of it cleaves me open. It’s the kind of exhaustion that seeps into bone. Like he’s been running from ghosts so long, he doesn’t remember what it feels like to stop.

I can’t stay still anymore. The space between us feels cruel.

I close the distance and pull him into me, one hand sliding into his hair, gripping gentle but firm, the other smoothing across his back, feeling the tremors he can’t hide. He leans in, not collapsing, but enough that I feel the quiet surrender of someone who’s carried too much alone.

I lower my lips to his temple, then ease back just enough to see him, my hand coming up to cradle the side of his face.

I steady my voice, strip it of everything but the truth.

“You’re not cursed, Jax.”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t even try to argue. Just stares with haunted eyes.

“Do you hear me?” I push, firmer now, though my thumbs are brushing slow across his cheekbones, trying to soothe what I’m tearing open. “You’re not cursed.”

He still doesn’t give me anything. So I keep going, because if I stop now, he’ll disappear back into himself.

“I get that you’re scared. I can’t even begin to imagine the hell you’ve been through. But that doesn’t mean you’re doomed to burn everyone who gets close.”

My chest tightens, the words pulling straight from my core.

“You *have* to let me prove that to you. You *have* to give me the chance. Because I’m not afraid of you, or your past... whatever it may be. I’m only afraid of you shutting me out, of you convincing yourself that I’ll disappear before you even let me stay.”

His throat bobs, and for a second I swear I see the crack in his defenses widen, the smallest tremor in his gaze. I press my hands a little firmer against his cheeks, holding him like he’ll slip away if I don’t.

His hand fists at the back of my neck, dragging me close until our foreheads press.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says, his voice scraping at my ribs. “Every time you say all these incredible things, I just feel like a selfish hypocrite for even daring to take them.”

I shake my head before he’s even done, shaking it harder when I see the weight in his eyes.

“No,” I tell him, and my voice is certain. I lean in, kissing his cheek, then the corner of his lips, feather-light touches trailing like I could map my way into him. My lips skim his skin with a reverence I don’t bother to hide.

“Jax,” I whisper against him, “I know whatever path led you here was fucked. And it fucked you up in the process. But it still led you here. To me. And that’s where it ends. Please believe that.”

My arms fold around him and he buries himself against me like he’s afraid I’ll slip through his hands if he doesn’t hold tight enough.

“I’m so fucking exhausted, Xander” he says again, the words breaking against my neck. I feel the weight threaded through them.

I can’t even bring myself to look at him. My eyes are already stinging, my chest tight, and if I meet his, I know I’ll lose it completely. I don’t want him to see me break when he’s already crumbling in my arms. So I grip him tighter instead.

“I know,” I murmur, nodding into his hair, “I know.” Tears blur my vision, hot and insistent, and I swallow hard against the ache climbing up my throat.

All I can think is, if I could carry some of this for him, I would. If I could take that exhaustion out of his veins and shoulder it myself, I’d do it without hesitation.

I pull back just enough to catch his lips, soft and slow, a kiss that feels like an oath. Then I press my face into him again, repeating into his skin, “It’s okay. I’ve got you now. And whatever fucking demon still haunts you, we’ll slay it. But you’ve gotta let me help. This only works if you let me help.”

His fists knot into my shirt like he's trying to fuse us together. I lean back, thread my fingers through his hair, and ask, quiet but sharp, “Can you do that for me? ...For us?”

It takes him a moment. A beat of silence stretched taut between us. Then he nods.

“That a yes?” I press, searching his face.

His voice finally cracks through, rough but so devastatingly real. “Yes.”