lunarubra - Tumblr blog

lunarubra · 6 days

Text

Hey Shel! <3 First, before I forget, I will try to fix the tag list. I'm sorry you didn't get any notifications.

Then... I read your comment multiple times because it resonated so much with me, and I thank you so much for sharing it. It really means the world.

I appreciate it so much, and your messages are always welcomed, anytime. <3

I apologize; I feel this is going to be a long reply. Bear with me. :)

TW: Suicide, Grief.

It was very hard to write this chapter for me, but also so liberating. It was the reason I wanted to write this story; I got inspired by Cillian's character. Then Jiyan was the perfect fit in my opinion for all the ideas I wanted to express, but the core of it all for me was this chapter and talking about trauma, suicide and all a series of things is difficult to talk about. It took me a while to think about how to answer to your comment because I am still not sure how much I am able to share, but your words resonate so much with me that I am gonna try my best.

I am sorry; if this was way too long. I hope I didn't bore you to death or weird anyone out. If I did, I am sorry. To the others reading this, I hope if I made you uncomfortable, just skip this.

Last November, my best friend tried to kill themselves. It's nothing like what happened in the chapter; that's not my best friend's story. I don't think I will ever be able to share it with the world, and I know I am still in the lucky part after what happened, I am still able to hug them, sometimes, during visiting hours.

Jiyan and Samyah's story is inspired by many stories of women you hear here in Italy, and I tried to make a collage of it, telling their stories. To share the struggles of many and try to talk about this topic that is so difficult to talk about and it is a taboo in many cultures.

After what happened last November, one of the most difficult things for me was seeing the world going on like nothing happened, like even if the people around you understood how terrible you were feeling, no one could tell you how to confront the guilt, the horror, the pain and when you try to talk about it you feel no one can understand you. How do you keep it all together after someone that you love almost left you like that? How can you help them? Is there something you can do? Why could you not prevent it?

In this chapter, I was so unsure how to confront the topic, even though I wanted to finally write about it, to put some meaning, because maybe I could finally understand it better too. In the end, I felt I was almost lazy in writing Samah's story because you could see a line between what happened to her, her experience, and the suicide.

Most of the time, it's not like that.

It's not experience A or B -> suicide.

For me, I felt so angry at the beginning, after it happened, because I didn't understand. You don't understand how someone this close to you could hurt you so much. I know I was being selfish, but that hurt, as you said, is unique and so intricate you don't know how to explain it to others. And it comes out of nowhere, at anytime, from riding the bike one day in the park to listening to a song that reminds you of them. The fact that I am still the lucky one, even if it really marks you.

I would love to say that things changed and now my best friend is feeling better, but the reality is that our society is not made to sustain and heal you or help you getting the pieces together after this kind of trauma. And you see the person that you love disappear in front of your eyes, without being able to help, even if you had the wish to take all of their pain on you, to see the person you once knew live again.

That's the reason it was important for me to write Cillian in that way. The only thing that helped me through this was my little tribe of people I care about, supporting me, sometimes literally physically. None of them told me that everything would be alright or all those cliches you hear in these situations; they had the decency to know that sometimes there is really nothing to do but to share a hug or be there for someone.

I'm sorry; I am blabbing... and I am not sure how clear I am being; most probably this won't make any sense.

I will finish saying, reading your message made me feel not alone this afternoon, just after I visited my best friend during meeting hours at the community they are staying at. So I thank you so much for that.

Lastly, I send you a big hug, Shel. You literally made my day, and it was a difficult thing to do. Sometimes it seems this universe gives you some rays of light when you need them, and your comment was one of those. <3

I promised myself to stop writing long chapters, but apparently, I never really learned the skill of synthesis. This is one of the most difficult chapters I have ever written, so please be kind. I've lost count of how many times I've revised it and made changes. I still don't feel entirely satisfied with it, but I'm not sure how else to improve it. Please be aware of the warnings and take care of yourself. I hope you enjoy it.

Pairing: Cillian x OC (Jiyan Fabris)

Summary: After a couple of weeks of rehearsals and work, Jiyan and Cillian see each other again for a movie night.

Warning: English not my First Language, Mention of Suicide, Panic Attack, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Mention of Domestic Abuse, Mention of Depression, Inceptions Spoilers.

Words: 6277

Previous ◼︎ Next | Masterlist

Part 6 - Mourning Tide

Jiyan was at the library, meticulously reviewing the final version of the research she had completed that morning before lunch. For once in her life, she was ahead of schedule. While she had occasionally published her research before, in the past she had always relied on external input and reassurance. Now, she felt confident in her work and couldn't wait to send it to the head of her department.

Her concentration was broken by the buzz of her phone buried in her tote bag. Glancing at her watch, she realised it was almost 4 pm. She checked the message to find a text from Cillian, who was returning from Galway where he had been rehearsing with other actors for the 35th anniversary of the local theatre. He asked her if she wanted to watch a movie at his place tonight, and she quickly replied affirmatively, saying she could be there in a couple of hours.

After Newroz, she felt like things had changed between them. In the following days, they spent almost every possible moment together until he needed to start rehearsing again with Enda for the play in Galway, and she had to return to her research. It was as if they were both afraid the other would disappear or that the spell would break, causing them to lose each other. They didn't do much; most of the time was spent at each other's places.

When they were at her place, she mostly continued making her space livable, assembling the last pieces of furniture needed, while he read a book or searched for new music on his laptop. When she was at his place, she spent the afternoon using his internet connection to continue writing her research. Then they would cook something together. It was nice to exchange dishes; Cillian had become vegetarian years ago, which had pushed him to learn how to adapt and expand his small repertoire. She was surprised by how versatile he was in the kitchen. She was mostly vegan, with some vegetarian treats from time to time, so it was never difficult to find something they both loved to eat.

After an afternoon studying on his sofa, it felt recharging and comforting to spend time with him in the kitchen, enjoying each other's company. There were many times when it didn't feel like spending time with just a friend; their relationship seemed to be evolving more into a partnership without either of them acting on it. There were moments when the tension between them was palpable, but they were both too cowardly or worried to act on it.

She had never felt this way with anyone else. When she and Kareem got together, they were both kids, rushing into a relationship that felt thrilling and exciting. As they grew up and matured, it evolved into more of a partnership. Even though she wouldn't compare what she had now with Cillian to anything else, maybe that's why she was unsure. It had never happened to her to get close so quickly with someone, to open herself up, share her feelings, and discuss her day-to-day life with someone she had known for less than a couple of months. Yet, it came easily; it didn't feel rushed. Every time they spent together felt like the most natural thing, like coming home to each other.

Then he became busy with work again, and she still didn't probe too much into his career. He had told her he finished filming a really important movie, perhaps one of the most significant of his career, last December, and now he was enjoying his free time. His life was a series of dual extremes: one where he travelled the world filming, where every moment was about acting, and the other side where he was an introverted man in Dublin. There, he enjoyed doing nothing but reading, playing music, going to live gigs, cherishing moments with his family, and embracing his introverted nature.

She felt lucky to have met him during a quiet phase, as he had become increasingly absorbed in his rehearsals in Galway, leaving only sporadic texts as traces of his presence. While she understood his dedication to the stage, she couldn't help but crave his company as the evening approached. She also wondered if things had changed for him in the last few weeks, if she was the one projecting feelings and he saw them as nothing more than a dear friendship.

Returning to her research, she made a firm decision to wrap up the final review and send off the draft to the department head that very afternoon. When she finally hit "send" just before 6 pm, she let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. It was done.

She quickly gathered her stuff and checked when the next bus was due to go to Cillian’s place, writing a quick message: “On my way. Should I buy something or do we need snacks?”

When she arrived at the bus stop, she received his reply: “Nope, too dead on my feet to cook tonight. Wanted to order something. There's a new Thai place that the neighbours say is nice. Is it okay if we try that?”

“Yup, sure. Just getting something filling, I’m hungry” She replied quickly before boarding the bus that had just arrived.

“Oh I know it’s better to feed you, I learned my lesson. See u soon!”

As she settled into her seat, she chuckled reading his message, thinking about the times when she was too busy writing and she would pester him until he cooked something for her. She took out her old iPod from her jacket pocket. It was a gift from Samyah when she got her master's degree. Although it was old, slow, and couldn't hold much music at once—and she had already replaced the battery twice—she couldn't muster the courage to replace it. She was either sentimental or just too lazy to buy a newer one while this one still worked. Maybe both. When Cillian saw what she was using to listen to music, he initially snubbed the small iPod, teasing her. However, a few days later, he asked if he could connect it to his Mac to share some playlists he had created for her.

The playlist was long, taking up almost all the available space on the small device, but it was also new and expressive. He could spend hours in front of a laptop arranging songs to create a playlist that would transport you somewhere, even if it often evoked feelings of sadness and nostalgia. Then he would switch it up with some old jazz or blues to make you feel entirely different. This playlist, he told her, was inspired by the music he heard during Newroz and then some random selections. She loved playing it in the past weeks when he was away, while she was at home either building something or just dancing in the room.

It took the bus a good ten minutes to finally arrive at his stop, followed by another five-minute walk. He lived in one of a series of townhouses just outside Dublin's city centre, in a quiet family area where neighbours were more concerned about loud noises in the evening than about big actors' careers. When she knocked on his door, since the doorbell was still broken, faint strains of music greeted her from inside. The music stopped just before he opened his front door.

"Hey," he greeted softly, a smile lighting up his face as he opened the door.

"Hey," she replied, mirroring his smile as she took in his appearance. He looked good, perhaps a bit tired, but it was the kind of weariness that came from doing what he loved, which only seemed to energise him.

They stood on the doorstep for a few seconds, simply gazing at each other, before Cillian cleared his throat and stepped aside to let her in.

"Come on in, the food should be arriving soon," he said, ushering her inside. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good, actually. I finally submitted my research today, and I feel really good about it," she said as she removed her jacket and shoes, making her way to the living room where a warm fire crackled in the fireplace. After a few unseasonably warm days in late March, the weather had taken a turn, returning to its chilly, damp, and rainy norm. It was nice to warm up indoors.

"You did?" he exclaimed, surprised. "But the deadline—"

"Was still a couple of weeks away. I know, I'm just as surprised as you are. It's the first time I've been on time for anything," she joked.

"Wow, Jiyan, that's fantastic!" he said, grinning widely and pulling her into a tight hug. "Congratulations!"

"Thank you," she murmured, feeling her cheeks warm against his sweater as his cologne enveloped her. "It feels good to be done," she admitted, returning the hug and basking in his proud smile.

“And you, big actor? How was it working again after your break?”

“Nice, I always love this part of the job, even if it's intense. This is going to be a big one; it's multiple plays together. The audience voted for which play they wanted to see for the anniversary, and I'm working with some dear friends. We've had some really nice nights at the pub,” he said, sitting on the sofa in front of the big screen.

“Are you going to tell me what it's about?” she asked, sitting cross-legged near him.

“No, but it would be nice if you could come. I can find you a ticket,” he asked, uncertainly, avoiding her eyes.

“I would love that.” she said, taking his hand in her to reassure him, “I need to see for myself if you're any good at this acting stuff,” she teased him.

“I can't assure you anything for myself, but all the other actors are amazing,” he replied smoothly.

“So, what's this movie you want to watch?” she asked.

He became immediately serious. “Okay, you remember I finished shooting a film last December?”

“The super-secret one that you can't talk about because otherwise, you'd have to kill me?”

“Exactly, that one,” he said. “Well, Chris shared a copy with me if I wanted to see it before the premiere. It's the first time he's shared an unedited version with me, so I thought we could watch it together. But you have to promise, Jiyan, promise that after you walk out that door, you'll forget all about it.”

"Okay, 007, I promise. Who's Chris?" she asked.

"Who's...? You really have no idea?" he responded, a hint of astonishment in his voice. "You never looked me up on Google after we met?"

"Mm, nope. Should I have? A little egocentric, aren't we?" she teased.

"I didn't mean it like that!" he blushed. "I just thought... okay, you have no idea. It's Christopher Nolan."

"What?!" she exclaimed, jumping up from the sofa. "That Christopher Nolan? The one from Memento? And some Batman movies?"

"Yep," he confirmed. “Wait, some Batman movies?! Jiyan, those films are amazing,” he said, outraged.

“Yeah, maybe. I haven't watched them. Mika did and couldn't shut up about them, but meh… I don’t like superhero movies. They all seem the same.”

“All the same…” he repeated, shaking his head. “You can't say that if you haven't watched them.”

“Fair, still not gonna watch them, I think. I'm sure I already know 80% of the plot.”

“You don’t…”

“There's Batman, right?” she started, emphasising her words with her hands, “from a poor family…”

“He's from the richest city family of Gotham, Jiyan,” he corrected her, amused by her fake dramatics, shaking his head again.

“Okay, well, he's from a rich family. I already don’t like him. Then something bad happens, a trauma linked to some criminality for sure,” she said, continuing with fake sentiment and a dramatic voice, walking back and forth in front of the sofa. “Because even if his family is fair, and pure, and perfect, even if they're rich; injustice always hits first. So he becomes Batman to save us from the cruelty and unfairness of this cruel, cruel world, because we, the commoners, can't live in peace without a strong man leading us to the light.”

“So, am I right?” she asked him, a testing glint in her green eyes.

“Shut up,” he cut her off with a smile. “It’s not all like that… His writing is—”

“Hey, I love his writing; I've watched Memento multiple times,” she interrupted him. “I just don’t like superhero movies. Anyway… You're working with Christopher Nolan?! Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"I couldn't!” he exclaimed. “Legally, I couldn't tell anyone. Not even my family knows," he explained.

"Wow… Murphy, you stick too much to the rules, in my humble opinion. You need to relax a little, try to leave more on the edge.” she teased him, “So, there's a new movie?" she asked.

"Yes."

"And you're in it?"

"That's what I said."

"Okay, fine. Can we watch it, or do I still need to look shocked for a couple of minutes?" she joked, sitting back on the sofa.

"I'm still not sure if I should take your shock as a compliment or not," he muttered under his breath.

"I'll leave that for you to think about. So, food and then we start the movie?" she suggested.

"It should be here in a few minutes. But, Jiyan, this is a Christopher Nolan film. You can't eat while watching," he reminded her.

"Aw, come on," she teased, sticking her tongue out at him. "You're quite the film snob, aren't you? Jiyan you cannot drink chai while we watch a movie. Jiyan you cannot eat, we are watching a movie. Jiyan, have you turned off your phone for the movie?" she said trying to mimic his accent

“You would be a terrible actress,” he stated, crossing his arms over his chest. But they were both interrupted by a knock on the front door, prompting him to stand up and go open it.

After he collected the food, she followed him to the kitchen, where they quickly ate from the small containers, both hungry. When they finished, Jiyan swiftly cleaned up and put away the few leftovers, while Cillian fiddled with the TV in the living room to put on the film. He also added some logs to the fire to keep it alive, warm, and cosy.

They both settled on the sofa, sitting quite close to each other. Before starting the movie, Cillian said, "I hate watching myself, so if I leave because it's getting too weird while I act, don’t mind me. I wouldn't watch it if it weren't a Chris movie."

"Okay, weirdo. Come on, play it. I'm excited now," she said eagerly.

He pressed play, and from the beginning, neither of them could tear their eyes away from the screen, especially since it was so packed with information that they didn't want to miss a thing.

Until that scene.

As the movie unfolded, Jiyan's tension became palpable the moment Cobb entered the hotel and began explaining what happened to his wife. Soon after, almost as if her body could predict what was going to happen, she began trembling uncontrollably, her mind urging her to flee.

“No, no, no. Mal, you listen to me! Mal, you look at me! Mal goddamit don’t do this”

"You're waiting for a train. A train that will take you far away…”

"Mal, you listen to me, listen to me!" Cobb countered.

Jiyan wanted to scream at Cillian to stop the movie, to turn it off. She wanted to shout out loud, but she was frozen, looking at the scene playing out in front of her, feeling useless and weak, with no power to stop it, letting it unravel before her. Her body refused to obey her, and her heartbeat raced, her chest tensing painfully. Then, Mal jumped, ending her life, and the only reaction Jiyan had was a pained sob. She felt her cheeks wet but couldn't understand why. Was she crying?

"Jiyan?" asked Cillian softly, looking at her with concern. Her eyes looked hollow and empty, tears streaming along her face, her expression contorted in a grimace as if in physical pain.

But at that moment, Jiyan wasn't aware of what was happening around her. She couldn't hear his voice, only her rapid heartbeat echoing in her head, silencing everything else. She was transported back to a dark living room where tears flowed freely and screams echoed on a past late afternoon. Her head throbbed, her heart raced, tears soaked her cheeks, making it hard to breathe. Somewhere, a sound akin to a wounded animal pierced the air, and amidst it, someone called her name.

"My sister from another mother..." the words echoed in her mind.

She wanted to scream, to reject the memory unfolding before her, but her jaw remained clenched, her body frozen in place. A searing pain gripped her chest, each breath a struggle as she gasped for air to no avail. It felt as though she was suffocating, as though death itself loomed over her.

My sister from another mother, I'm sorry to have to do this…

"No, not again, please God, not again," Jiyan pleaded inside her head, but her begs emerged as nothing more than pained sobs and wails, lost in the overwhelming darkness of her memories.

My sister from another mother, I am sorry to have to do this but cannot take it anymore, I have to go…

"Jiyan!" someone shouted, causing her to instinctively raise her head, locking eyes with a pair of concerned blue orbs.

"You have to breathe," he said firmly, his voice laden with urgency. "Just breathe with me, please," he almost begged, kneeling in front of her.

"I can't..." she tried to protest, but it came out as more of a moan than a word.

"Yes, you can. With me, please," he insisted, his tone pleading. "Come on, in and out, count with me backwards. Breathe in, 100, out, 99, in, 98, out, 97..."

Following his instructions, listening to his voice gave her some control back, forcing her lungs to expand. Slowly, Jiyan's mind began to clear, becoming more attuned to the sensations coursing through her body, feeling all the physical struggle her body was going through.

"Like this. Come on, you're doing amazing. 83, out, 82, in..." he praised, continuing to count, as she solely focused on his voice trying to shut down the panic that was cursing through her veins.

She couldn't gauge how much time passed; during a panic attack, the concept of time seemed elusive to her. It could have been a minute or an hour. But when her breathing gradually normalised, a wave of nausea overcame her, sending her rushing to the toilet just in time to empty her stomach. Cillian was there behind her, holding her hair and murmuring words of comfort.

When she finished retching, she felt utterly drained, all the energy left her completely, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind. Her mind still lingered on the haunting words of that letter. When she mustered the strength to turn around and look ahead, she saw Cillian kneeling in front of her, his expression etched with concern like she had never seen before.

"I'm sorry," she tried to say, but her voice came out hoarse, barely audible.

"No, no… you don't have to apologise," he said quietly. "Would you like to try and get up? Wash your mouth?"

"I'm not sure I can," she admitted, her voice cracking.

He gently took both her hands and helped her to her feet, offering support as her legs wobbled beneath her. Leading her to the bathroom sink, he guided her to grip the sides for stability. Jiyan splashed water on her face, feeling a bit more grounded as she washed away the remnants of nausea. After cleaning her mouth, she tentatively attempted to stand on her own, but before she could try, Cillian wrapped an arm around her, offering reassurance as he guided her back to the living room.

Sinking onto the sofa, still trembling and teetering on the edge of tears, she murmured, "I'm sorry, I don't know..."

"You don't have to apologise," he repeated, sitting down next to her. "Can I hold you?"

She simply nodded, then buried herself in his embrace, surprising him a little. He held her close, laying down with her nestled against his chest, her tears dampening his shirt. He whispered soothing words, urging her to let it out and gently caressing her hair.

Once again, time seemed to blur as they remained in that tender embrace. Eventually, Jiyan found herself with no more tears to shed, her throat raw from crying. Nestling closer to Cillian's chest, she longed to disappear, overwhelmed with shame.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling overwhelmed by the flood of emotions.

"You shouldn't be. Really, it's okay. Just breathe and relax, one step at a time, right?" he reassured her.

"I want to disappear," she confessed, her voice trembling. "I am so sorry, Cillian. I'm such a mess."

"I would be very upset if you disappeared," he tried to lighten the mood.

"I'm not crazy, I swear. It's just... I felt like I was back there. That scene was so believable, I just went back there," she tried to explain.

"Back where?" he asked, his body tensing beneath her.

"Back when I found Samyah," she admitted, her voice filled with anguish. "After she killed herself."

"What..." he started, pulling her closer, a protective instinct rising within him, almost as if he wanted to shield her from all the pain he could hear in her voice. "You never said—"

“How could I tell you that I let my best friend kill herself?” she interjected, her words heavy with guilt.

"No, Jiyan... Fuck, I didn’t know… but you didn’t let her, that’s not how it works. It's not your fault," he tried to reassure her, his voice steady.

"She was my best friend, my person... and she killed herself." she repeated, her voice echoing like a broken record, as if the words themselves were incomprehensible, refusing to make sense. Cillian didn’t know what to reply to that, nesting her figure close to his chest, caressing her back, trying to bring her some sort of comfort.

"She left a letter just for me, you know? Not for her family, not for her brother, just for me," she revealed into his chest, her voice hollow, one of her hands tightly clasping his, as if afraid that breaking contact would render her unable to speak further. "It's almost as if she thought I could explain it to them, like I was somehow part of it, to justify her action," she continued, her voice trembling with the weight of her confession. "I think they resent me for it. That's one of the reasons why Kareem and I couldn't make it work anymore. We had drifted apart long before, but even though we weren't together anymore, we were still the last pieces left from Samyah. He could never truly forgive me. He said he did, but I know he still blames me, somehow," she confessed, her gaze fixed on their intertwined hands, fearing to meet his eyes.

Cillian sat up to face her, gently reaching out to cup her cheek, his eyes searching hers with unwavering sincerity as he spoke, "It wasn't you. I may not know exactly what happened, but I want you to understand that I firmly believe it wasn't your fault. I'll always be here for you, ready to listen whenever you're ready to share. But know this, Jiyan, I trust in everything that I hold dear that it wasn't you. It could never be you."

Their eyes met, her tear-filled green orbs locking with his blue ones. He caught a tear as it trickled down her cheek. "It's not you," he reiterated, his expression mirroring the depth of his conviction.

But at his last words, she stood up quickly, almost as if electricity surged through her limbs.

"How can you say that?!" she said angrily, her hands clenched into fists by her side, trembling.

"I know that," he said calmly.

"You don't! She was my best friend! My sister! She was a part of me, my responsibility!" she shouted, tears streaming down her face.

"It wasn't you," he repeated softly.

"How could it not be me? What if your brother killed himself tomorrow? Would you feel it wasn't you?"

At that, Cillian felt his heart squeeze, wanting to suppress what her words were hinting at.

"It wasn't you, Jiyan," he said once again, not wanting to match her anger. He knew it wasn't directed at him, recognizing in her eyes the anguish and pain. He then added softly, "It was her choice."

“Why? How could she…” she sobbed, imploring him, “Why wasn’t I enough to stop her from doing that?” Those last words drained the last of her adrenaline rush, making her sit once again on the sofa.

"I miss her so much," she whispered, looking down at her feet, her hands grabbing her knees, trying to steady her shaking hands.

Cillian embraced her tightly again, making her rest her head under his chin. A fresh wave of tears and sobs welled up within her. Without hesitation, he tightened his embrace, holding her close.

"I know, love, I know," he murmured softly, his hand gently stroking her back in a comforting gesture.

They stayed like this for some minutes, until he proposed, "Come on, let's have a cup of tea," he suggested gently, his concern evident as he took her hand to guide her to the kitchen. "You need something warm; you're shaking like a leaf."

Taking a seat on one of the stools next to the kitchen island, Jiyan watched as Cillian prepared some soothing herbal tea.

"It's not chai," he remarked with a tight smile as he handed her a cup, "but it should warm you up a little. You should also take a shower later, to help ease the shock. I'll bring you some spare clothes that I have."

"Thank you", she murmured gratefully, taking a tentative sip of the tea. A comforting warmth from the warm water spread to her chest, easing some of the tension. "I'm not sure what to say, but thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, not for this, never," he insisted seriously. "I'm going to grab some clean clothes and towels. Just wait here; I'll be back immediately."

He didn't take long to come back. She let him guide her to his larger bathroom, showing her his shower and leaving her alone with some of his comfy clothes and fluffy towels.

She felt numb, moving her body on autopilot, without really being aware of what was happening around her. She gratefully slipped beneath the warm cascade, yearning for the solace that only hot water could provide. As the steam enveloped her, she closed her eyes, willing it to wash away the haunting images that plagued her mind like scenes from a relentless horror movie. With each droplet that trailed down her skin, she felt a fragment of her distress dissolve, gradually soothing her frayed nerves and offering a fleeting sense of respite.

Emerging from the shower, she cocooned herself in his oversized sweatpants and a plush hoodie, finding a semblance of comfort being enveloped in his familiar scent and warmth. Returning to the kitchen, she found him methodically loading mugs into the dishwasher, a silent gesture of normalcy amidst the chaos of her emotions.

Even if she felt her body calming down each passing moment and the tremors within her subside, reclaiming fragments of herself that had seemed lost in the tempest of her breakdown. As she stood there, grappling with words that seemed to elude her, she did not know what to say or do. As he turned, his eyes filled with concern and compassion.

"How..." he began, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words.

"I..." she faltered, unable to articulate the storm raging within her.

The weight of her vulnerability hung heavy in the air, her silence speaking volumes of the turmoil she couldn't quite put into words. She felt a pang of shame for her weakness, for succumbing to the same demons that had haunted her for over a year.

Unable to meet his gaze, she felt the overwhelming urge to retreat, to escape the suffocating grip of her own emotions. Yet, before she could act, his arms enveloped her in a comforting embrace, offering solace in the simple warmth of his presence.

In that moment, she realised that sometimes, words were unnecessary. Her world, her study, her research, and job were based on words, most of the time difficult words that few could understand. Her most important skill was based on words, but in that moment, his embrace was the only thing giving her clarity and strength. He didn’t try to say he understood how she felt or that he knew what she was going through. His greatest comfort lay not in eloquent speeches or grand gestures, but in the silent reassurance of someone who cared, someone who was there for her.

"Come on," he murmured, guiding her gently towards the living room once again, "let's get you warmed up by the fire. Your hair's still damp, and you shouldn’t get cold again."

As they settled beside the crackling fireplace, Jiyan felt a profound sense of gratitude wash over her, a deep appreciation for his steadfast presence amidst the chaos of her emotions. In the comforting embrace of his arms, she found solace, knowing she wasn't navigating that storm alone, once more. Together, they formed an unbreakable bond, capable of weathering any tempest that dared to assail them.

Allowing herself to be guided by him, Jiyan placed her trust entirely in his care. As they sank into the cushions of the sofa, she found herself captivated by the mesmerising dance of flames before her, each flicker and twist a testament to the warmth and vitality of their shared sanctuary.

For a while, Jiyan simply allowed herself to bask in the soothing ambiance, the crackling logs casting a gentle symphony of comfort and reassurance. Then, with a steadying breath, she began to release the burdens she had carried for so long, the weight of her unspoken truths bearing down upon her since that fateful afternoon when she discovered her best friend's lifeless body.

As Jiyan poured out her heart, she felt a weight lifting from her chest, like finally letting go of a heavy burden she'd carried for far too long. She started with the story of Samyah back in their university days, a maths prodigy until the university budget cuts hit and threw everything off course. They'd been inseparable on their academic journey, but when the university started slashing, it was like they were adrift.

Then came the tales of Samyah's struggles abroad at various universities. It seemed like one problem after another, with Samyah feeling consistently overlooked and underestimated. When she moved to Vienna, their relationship grew even more distant, to the point where she disappeared from Jiyan's life entirely for six months. Sure, she'd still reach out to her family and Kareem occasionally, but she vanished without a single explanation, leaving Jiyan in the dark.

After six months of waiting and worrying, Jiyan couldn't take it anymore. She had to find out what had happened, if only to put an end to their friendship and have some clarity of what happened. Driving to Samyah's place in Vienna, she was shocked to find a stranger living there with a version of Samyah who seemed like a shadow of her former self.

Jiyan didn't know the full extent of the abuse Samyah was facing. She couldn't tell if it was just mental manipulation or if there was physical violence involved as well. All she knew was that she had to get her friend out of there.

Things got heated when Jiyan confronted Samyah's boyfriend. But what really shook her to the core was seeing Samyah's eyes – they used to sparkle with life, but now they were empty, as if she wasn't even there.

With the help of concerned neighbours who threatened to call the police, Samyah’s boyfriend left, allowing Jiyan to pack some of Samyah's belongings and bring her back home. However, during the ride back, Samyah seemed to gradually awaken from a daze, only to spiral into self-blame for everything that had transpired. Months of enduring his control and abuse had left deep scars, causing her to oscillate between defending him, sobbing inconsolably, and shouldering the weight of guilt for it all.

Jiyan recounted how they finally reached her grandmother's old mountain house after two days of relentless driving, where she could finally reach out to Kareem and her mother, who had been beside themselves with worry.

That was three years ago. It took a whole month up in the mountains for Jiyan to help Samyah regain her health; she was severely malnourished. But mostly, it was anxiety driving her days, sometimes resulting in shaking panic attacks. It was during this time that Jiyan tried her best to help her friend put the pieces back together.

But even as Samyah started to feel physically better, even after undergoing therapy and attending support groups, she still struggled with a sense of fragmentation. Her pieces never seemed to fully come together; insecurities and doubts would often seize control of her life.

Jiyan couldn't help but think that the scars ran deeper than just the year of psychological abuse, control, and belittlement. The crisis in universities in Italy at the time, with severe government funding cuts, had dashed Samyah's dreams of being a mathematician. Unable to find work and support herself, she had to move back in with her parents and take on odd jobs, a blow to her sense of independence and purpose.

But amidst the darkness, there were still flickers of light. There were moments when they felt like kids again, facing the world together. But then there were the times when Samyah would retreat into herself, disappearing before Jiyan's eyes. Her anxiety intensified to the point where she began to self-harm as a way to regain some semblance of control, when Jiyan discovered that she felt utterly helpless and defeated, not knowing anymore how she could help. Her best friend was a shell of the person she knew before.

Then, just before Christmas, a sense of peace finally settled over Samyah. They enjoyed a beautiful time with Jiyan's grandma in Venice, joined by Kareem and Mika. Samyah's parents had taken the opportunity to visit family back in Iran.

The day after Christmas, Jiyan and Samyah sat down for one of their heartfelt talks at her grandma's house—a memory that Jiyan would always carry with her, the moment she felt she truly saw her friend again.

Despite Kareem and her urging Samyah to stay a little longer, she insisted on returning to Trieste alone. Jiyan couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, so two days later, she made the journey to check on her.

"I can't really remember what happened when I found her," Jiyan admitted, her voice heavy with emotion. Cillian remained silent, offering his unwavering support. He listened attentively, never interrupting, simply being there for her in her moment of need.

As Jiyan poured out her heart, Cillian struggled to find the right words to comfort her. Everything suddenly felt trivial and insignificant compared to the weight of her pain. But one thing was crystal clear in Cillian's mind.

Taking Jiyan's hands gently in his, he locked eyes with her, determined to make her understand. "You're the strongest person I've ever met," he began, cutting off her attempt to protest.

“Listen to me,” he urged, gently holding one of his hands on the side of her head. “I know you feel guilty, I know you feel the responsibility. I see that, I can feel it. But I also know this, you amazed me Jiyan. Your strength, your sensibility, your generosity, your vulnerability. I am in awe of the person that I have in front of me. And I know this doesn’t help but also know that sometimes as hard as we try, it’s not up to us. It was her decision, Jiyan, and I know you would love to have the power to change that, but it was her decision. It’s not you, it was up to her.”

“I still feel I should have done more, I should-" she tried, her voice shaking.

“You did everything you could,” he reiterated.

“It doesn’t feel like that. Not when you are so close. Not when it’s a person that feels part of you.”

He drew her close to his chest once more, aware that he couldn't fully comprehend the depth of her sorrow. Despite his earnest desire to erase it, he understood that some pains couldn't simply vanish. So, he simply held her, feeling as though they were two puzzle pieces fitting together again.

“I am so tired, Cillian,” she whispered against his chest.

“I know, I am here, I am not going anywhere. Let it go for tonight,” he reassured her, laying back with her cuddled in his arms. He hummed some soothing tunes until she closed her eyes, and only then did he allow himself to let go, too, welcoming the darkness of sleep.

Previous ◼︎ Next | Masterlist

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter. Your feedback, in any form helps me to continue write this story; and comments makes me happy. See you at the next one :)

tagging who could be interested: @cillmequick, @raincoffeeandfandoms, @emotionalcadaver, @ayomurphys, @beaniegender, @natalie--rushman, @duckybird101, @audiblysmiling, @call-sign-shark

#comment reblog #shadows of the sea #jiyan fabris x cillian murphy #cillian murphy x oc #cillian murphy fanfic #shel <3

26 notes · View notes