It can’t be more than a minute. Of silence—of stillness. Of the sound of our lungs gasping for air. Of the sudden ache in my chest that’s bleeding. But the moment Reuben steps forward, into my space, I grab him by the collar, “Apologize or I won’t forgive you.”
My anger has deflated and he knows it, because his eyes flicker and his voice is sincere, “I’m sorry.”
But it’s not enough. There’s still this big gaping hole in my chest from his words.
“No, get on your fucking knees and apologize to me!” I yell.
I know he won’t. Why would he? When everything he says is the truth. I can feel a familiar sting behind my eyes, and the world has become blurry again. My second tears since Christian’s death—the tears I could always feel but never came.
A broken sound leaves me as I release Reuben. Unfamiliar. Raw.
Iama child, aren’t I? I don’t even know how to grieve properly. I drop to a crouch because it’s too much. If it was this painful to let out, then I’d rather have kept it in.
“I’m sorry.” Reuben’s voice is suddenly closer than I expected, inviting me to open my eyes.
And his face is right before mine. Even with my blurry vision, the obsidian colour of his irises is sharp and clear.
Reuben Taiga.
Down on one knee.
I don’t have the strength to pull away when he rests his palm against my cheek; I can only shut my eyes tightly against the pain that is suddenly gushing out of my chest.
“I was wrong.” He tries to wipe my tears away, brushing his thumb against my skin, and somehow, it only makes another broken cry leave my throat—makes the world even more blurry.
“Every time I look at you, I can see you’re hurting,estrellito.” Reuben’s voice is quiet. Gentle. “I can see it eating you up every time you’re alone… You can’t keep going like this.”
I hate that I can’t say anything. I hate that it hurts so fucking much, but every moment of my tears eases the pressure in my chest. I feel ashamed that I can’t help the agony. I didn’t know I could feel shame for grieving.
Maybe because I don’t have the right to grieve… I’m not human after all.
Still, Reuben’s presence—his silence—comforts me as I cry, silently. His hand never leaves my face—his thumb never tires from trying to wipe away my tears… and it is a warmth I didn’t expect. A warmth I may or may not have leaned into, in my moment of weakness.
It’s hard to tell when the agony finally eases into something bearable. I’m still on the job, so I can’t exactly spend all night crying down here… but though the tears dry up prematurely, I still do feel lighter. Less fractured.
“Tell me about them,” Reuben’s words break the silence after a long time.
I still don’t feel like forgiving him, so for now I remain silent.
“Your team,” Reuben urges me quietly. “Tell me about them.”
I’m not certain if it’s a request or an order, but I know somehow, I’m not ready. He can push me to the brink—get me to cry and grieve… But he can’t get me to talk. Not yet.
“Christian.” His voice is sharper. More insistent. More desperate. “It's been more than a month. I've been waiting for you to tell me about them... we all have.”
In my mind's eye I can see Tobias and Xavier. Even Gabriel had become less of a boar over the weeks... but somehow, I hadn't really noticed until now.
“But you just keep going and going and going,” he huffs a bitter laugh. “I’m almost convinced I'll be sending you back to them in a few days... back to the Adler Squad.”
I close my eyes tightly against the mention of them.
The Adler Squad.
A squad I can’t even call mine.
How would I even begin to talk about them?
“Most people who survive a tragedy like that can't even hold a weapon,” Reuben continues hesitantly, “I’ve seen it. It builds up until an expert marksman can’t even look at a gun without freezing up… But Christian I've never seen you cry. I've never seen you get angry or raise your voice. 6 weeks, and no one knows what you like, what you hate, or the names of the people you love, the people you lost.”
