A letter to the post man

I had spent the night on a hard, cold rock, my body aching and my mind restless. Questions haunted me, swirling around my head like an endless storm. Despite my exhaustion, sleep barely claimed me, and when morning arrived, I felt more worn down than the day before.

The first rays of sunlight seeped through the canopy above, casting soft, dappled patterns on the forest floor. My stomach growled loudly, a sharp reminder of how long it had been since I'd eaten.

Damian, ever alert, heard the sound and smirked slightly. "Come on," he said, stretching with an ease that suggested he hadn't been affected by the uncomfortable night. "We need to go deeper into the woods. There's bound to be something to eat out there."

I hesitated, not wanting to stray too far from the relative safety of the camp. He must have noticed my reluctance because he added, "Stay here under this tree. I'll bring something back."

The thought of sitting idle while he ventured off didn't sit well with me. I shook my head stubbornly. "No. I'm coming with you."

He gave me a skeptical look but didn't argue. Together, we began our trek deeper into the forest. After some time, the sound of rushing water reached my ears, and Damian pointed toward the river.

"We can catch some fish," he said, already moving toward the bank.

I frowned. "I don't know how to fish."

Damian glanced back at me with an amused expression. "Then I'll teach you."

Before I could respond, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off in one swift motion, tossing it onto the ground carelessly. My eyes widened in shock, and I immediately turned away, covering my face with my hands.

"No—ugh—no one wants to see that!" I exclaimed, my voice a mix of frustration and embarrassment.

I heard him chuckle, the sound deep and rich. "Oh, come on," he said, stepping closer. "It's nothing you haven't seen before."

I felt his presence before I saw him. He reached out and gently pulled my hands away from my face, forcing me to look at him. My protests died in my throat as my gaze landed on his bare chest.

Damian wasn't just muscular—he was sculpted. His chest was broad and defined, his abs a perfect set of chiseled six-packs that seemed to shimmer under the sunlight. His skin glowed with warmth, every curve of muscle speaking of strength and power.

"You'll never see a body this nice again," he said with a smirk, his voice low and confident.

For a moment, I couldn't tear my eyes away. My breath hitched, and I knew he had caught me staring.

"First time seeing one like this?" he teased, his smirk widening.

Heat rushed to my face, and I forced myself to look away, trying to regain my composure. "I've seen better things than this," I muttered, though the unconvincing tone of my voice betrayed me.

Damian wasn't done. "Oh, really?" he said, his hands moving to the waistband of his trousers.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, my voice rising in panic.

He grinned mischievously and shrugged. "Getting comfortable."

Without hesitation, he pulled off his trousers and tossed them in my direction. I barely managed to catch them, my face burning as I clutched them to my chest.

Before I could yell at him, he dove into the water with practiced ease, surfacing moments later with a satisfied sigh. "The water's warm," he said, his voice echoing over the rippling current. "You should join me. You stink."

"I do not stink!" I shot back indignantly, though his words made me self-conscious.

Damian smirked, his hand slicing through the water as he sent a splash directly at me. The cold water hit me square in the face, soaking my clothes completely.

"Damian!" I shouted, shivering as the chill seeped through me.

He laughed, the sound carefree and light. "Get in already," he said, leaning back in the water. "Or are you scared?"

I glared at him but waded into the river, my wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to my skin.

"You didn't even take off your clothes?" Damian asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're going to catch a cold walking around like that."

I hesitated, my cheeks heating again. He wasn't wrong, but the thought of undressing in front of him made me squirm.

Damian swam closer, his voice dropping to a teasing tone. "Need some help?"

"I'll do it myself!" I snapped, shoving him away. "I'm not a child!"

With a huff, I began peeling off my soaked shirt, tossing it onto the riverbank. My pants followed, leaving me in nothing but my undergarments. But as I stepped deeper into the water, the current tugged at the fabric, loosening it until, to my horror, my bare chest was exposed.

I froze, my hands instinctively covering myself as heat rushed to my face.

Damian's eyes widened briefly before a slow, amused grin spread across his face. "Well, well," he said, his voice thick with mock admiration. "Now this is a sight to behold."

"Turn around!" I shouted, splashing water at him in a futile attempt to distract him.

He chuckled but obliged, turning his back to me. "Relax," he said, his tone light. "It's just skin."

Furious and humiliated, I quickly sank lower into the water, trying to hide myself as best as I could. When I finally felt composed enough to move, I climbed out of the river, pulling on my wet clothes with shaky hands.

Damian didn't say anything as he continued fishing, though I caught the occasional smirk on his face that only fueled my anger.

Later, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, he started a fire and roasted the fish he had caught. The savory smell filled the air, making my mouth water despite my determination to stay mad at him.

"Here," he said, handing me a piece. "Eat."

I hesitated, my pride warring with my hunger. In the end, my stomach won out, and I took the fish, devouring it gratefully.

When I finished, my stomach still growled softly. Damian noticed and handed me his portion as well.

"You need it more than I do," he said simply, leaning back against a log.

I stared at him, surprised by his gesture. For someone who loved to tease, Damian had a surprising capacity for kindness.

We sat in silence for a while, the warmth of the fire casting long shadows across the clearing. As the tension from earlier began to fade, curiosity bubbled to the surface.

"Damian," I said softly, breaking the quiet. "Who are you? What's your story?"

He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. For the first time, there was no teasing, no smirk—just a flicker of something deeper, something raw.

"That," he said after a long pause, "is a story for another day."