“Yeah, of course,” he says. “We’ll be in the hallway.”
“Thanks,” I mutter as they step out and pull the door closed behind them.
As soon as I’m alone, I sink onto the foot of the bed with a shaky exhale.
“Fuck, Xen,” I whisper to the empty room.
Hating how weak it makes me feel, I twist and grab the pillow, pressing it to my face and chasing the faint traces of his scent that linger.
For just a moment, I let myself open that locked place deep inside where my love for him has lived untouched all these years. I breathe him in, remembering when it felt like we could conquer the world as long as we were together.
I force myself out of my head and toss the pillow aside, then spot a folded piece of paper peeking out from under the bed.
It’s a map of the city that’s covered in Xeni’s slanted handwriting. There are notes on places he’d checked, people he’d spoken to, and leads that were bringing him closer to me. He’d even talked to a barista at my favorite coffee shop just days ago.
I stare for a long moment, tracing the penciled lines with my fingertip, and imagine what would’ve happened if I’d run into him out in the market. It would have been like seeing a ghost created by my mind as a means to cope with the never-endingway I miss him, and probably would’ve hurt even more than having him dragged in by Cato.
He would have found me eventually. A reluctant smile tugs at my lips despite the ache.
Stubborn.
I fold the map carefully and set it aside, then grab the leather satchel from the corner and dump its contents onto the bed. Socks, a wrinkled t-shirt, and a few pairs of satin, lacy underwear. Bottled water, dried food rations, a small notebook filled with his familiar scrawl, and a rough map of the wastelands. Coins scatter across the sheets from a side pocket, bronze and nickel glinting in the dim light.
A band of polished silver stands out among them.
My breath hitches as I pinch the ring between my thumb and forefinger. Light catches on the hammered edges. They’re imperfect, handmade from scrap metal I melted down in secret, and sized perfectly for his finger.
Memories flood back so vividly I have to sit, the room tilting around me.
Five Years Prior
Sweat glistens on Xeni’s cheeks and forehead, his eyes heavy-lidded and sated as he snuggles into my chest. “Your heart’s pounding,” he murmurs, pressing the softest kiss to my skin.
My arm tightens around him and I bury my nose in his hair, overwhelmed by my love for him. It fills every part of me until I’m convinced I might burst.
“Bash?” He pulls back just enough to search my face, concern softening his features.
I try to smile, but it wavers.
Xeni props himself on his side, bringing us face to face as he twines a section of my hair around his finger. “What is it, darling?”
“I love you,” I whisper. “So much.”
His worry eases into a gentle smile as he leans in, dragging his nose against mine and peppering kisses across my face until I can’t help my grin.
“I love you too,” he says, still studying me. “What’s bothering you?”
My throat bobs with a nervous swallow that his pale eyes track. I sit up taller and reach for the bedside table, hands trembling as I open the drawer and close my fingers around the cool metal band. Xeni watches without a word as I turn back to him.
“I want to marry you,” I whisper, holding up the ring. His gaze drops to it, eyes widening. “I know it’s a human tradition, and we probably can’t make it official, and you might not even want—”
“Hey,” he soothes, cutting me off gently. “Are you kidding me right now? Look at me, Bash.”
I meet his gaze, and it’s soft, open, and brimming with everything we never need words for. Declarations of love and devotion that could fill lifetimes.
“You think I might not want to marry you?” he asks with an incredulous laugh. “I want you in every way possible. I’ll be your husband, your mate, your best friend… I’ll be your everything, just like you’re mine.”
“We can’t do it for real.”
