The voices in the hallway fade, and I drift into that hazy space between sleep and awake when footsteps approach. My eye opens just as the door swings in, and Bash steps into the room. Cato is on his heels but stops to lean against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
Bash paces back and forth in front of me for a moment, and I recognize his need to collect his thoughts.
“Why aren’t you eating?” he finally asks.
The silver of his piercings glints in the overhead light, but the hard lines on his face are new. He was always so level, almost timid in his calmness. Seeing this raw edge twists something painful in my chest, because I’m the cause.
“Not hungry,” I say quietly, glancing toward Cato.
“You can’t just starve yourself,” Bash retorts, and I move my focus back to him. “Are you trying to get some attention? Is that what this is?”
I hold his gaze as I tug at the collar of my shirt. “Maybe I can’t stomach food when I’m wearing clothes that smell like you on another man.”
Surprise flickers across his expression before he glances at my chest, then at Cato.
“Really?” he demands. “We’re marking territory now?”
Cato shrugs with a lazy smirk, giving Bash a slow once-over that makes another wave of nausea roll in my gut.
“He asked for clothes, and I had clean ones. It seemed logical.”
Bash draws a deep breath before turning back to me, and his anger softens as he searches my face.
“Will you please eat something?” he asks.
The plea in his voice unravels me, and I swallow as I glance away.
Bash is the only person in the world who makes me this way. With everyone else, I can be aloof, but not with him. He’s always been able to see straight through the act.
“If I do,” I say quietly, “will you stay and talk to me?”
“Xeni,” he murmurs, and the sound of my name on his lips draws a shaky exhale from me.
“Please?” I push. “Just talk to me for a few minutes? Let me finish the story and I promise I’ll eat. I’ll… I’ll be good.”
Something shifts in his expression, those tense edges easing into something far more familiar.
“Just us?” I ask.
He hardens again, lips pressing into a thin line. “Cato stays.”
“Bash—”
“He stays. You eat, I listen. That’s the deal.”
“Alright,” I whisper.
Bash sags, dropping his face into his palms for a moment. “Cato, have someone bring his dinner back, would you?”
Cato hesitates, chewing his lip as he watches Bash with obvious concern, but Bash keeps his head down. Eventually, Cato steps out, calling the request down the hall before returning.
We sit in heavy silence until the same woman from earlier brings a fresh tray. My stomach cramps at the sight, but I take it obediently then tear off a piece of bread.
Bash watches as I chew, like he doesn’t even trust me to do this much.
“Where have you been since…” He trails off, unwilling to finish, but I know what he means.
Since you sent me away.
