Not because it hurts.
Because itmatters.
I don’t know when the tears started.
Somewhere between the way his hands curled against my spine and the way his mouth brushed over my collarbone like I was something delicate.
They weren’t sobs. Not loud. Not messy.
Just silent.
Justreal.
They slid from the corners of my eyes and into my hairline, soaking into the sweat already there. Salt and salt and salt. Like my body couldn’t tell the difference between grief and need.
Naull didn’t ask.
Didn’t flinch.
He just held me tighter.
Like he knew the ghosts I carried. Like he’d met every one of them and decided to wrap his arms around meanyway.
His voice was a breath against my ear, rough and reverent.
“I see you,” he whispered.
Then again, softer: “All of you.”
And for the first time in gods know how long, Ibelievedit.
I let myself.
I didn’t armor up. Didn’t shrink away. Didn’t toss a joke into the air to deflect.
For one perfect hour, I wasn’t an engineer. Or a soldier. Or a cog in some grinding machine meant to chew up people like us and spit out bone dust.
I wasn’t broken.
I wasn’t doomed.
I was just…his.
And I let myself have that.
Fully.
No fear. No guilt. No holding back.
I whispered secrets into his shoulder. Things I’d never said aloud. Things I hadn’t eventhoughtin years. Fragments of memories. Names. Shames. The first time I ever saw someone die. The last time I felt safe. The number of dreams I’d buried under rank and orders and survival.
He didn’t say a word.
Just held me tighter, his hand moving in slow circles across my back, his lips brushing my throat as he murmured promises in a language I didn’t understand—but felt in my bones.
Vows made without ceremony.
Justtruth.
