Victor waited a second before standing up. He took a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to collapse then he showered as quickly as he could. His hand reached out for the towels and he dried himself off as best as he could. He donned the robe and left the bathroom. Victor found Summer leaning against the wall and a pang of guilt went through him. “I don’t need any more blood right now Summer. I-it’s jus’ tha’ things happened while I was captive. I haven’t been the same in a while an’ I need t’ heal.” He wrapped his arms around her gently, the wall holding both of them up.
When he put his arms around her, she let her hands fall to his shoulders and her head to his chest. “I was so worried,” she whispered. “I was afraid you’d gone back to the alcohol. That someone had killed you and I would never know, because to the real world you don’t exist anymore. That vanishing was your way of putting an end to, to us. So many things.”
She sniffled, and went on, “I missed you so much. So much. And then just when I finally started to heal, when it finally stopped being my first thought when I woke up — then you’re here, on my doorstep, in the rain you melodramatic shit,” she shoved one shoulder, “and I don’t know how to feel.”
“I missed you too Summer. I swear I came t’ you as soon as I could. I didn’t even bother t’ hunt. I wouldn’t even dream about putting an end t’ us. T’ be honest, the thought of you reinforced my will t’ not give in t’ Xander.” Victor held her tighter. “The weather wasn’t my fault though an’ definitely not planned, love. You can be mad, distraught or whichever but I’ll always make my way back t’ you so long as you let me.”
His grip was starting to hurt, but she didn’t care. He was real, he was there, so she held on tighter. Maybe later, maybe tomorrow she would yell at him; the backlash of six months of absence would spill over into their relationship — whatever that was.
Into his shoulder, she muttered, “Can I kill him? I’m tired of this.”