“It’s not… it’s not you,” I say, unsure which one of us I’m trying to convince.
He pulls my shirt over his head and flashes that painfully cheerful fake smile. “It’s fine, Bash. You needed to let off steam, and that’s…” His voice falters before he steadies it. “That’s what I’m good at. What I’m… here for.”
“Xeni, no—wait,” I call as he turns toward the door, shoulders thrown back in false bravado. “Don’t go. Not like this.”
He hesitates with his hand on the knob before glancing over his shoulder. I yank my shorts up and stand, blatantly aware of the fluids drying on my stomach and thighs. Neither of us knows what to say, but eventually, Xeni breaks the silence.
“Do you remember me telling you about my father?” he asks.
I force a rough swallow as I nod.
Xeni rarely spoke of his childhood or family, even to me. My stories of loving parents were met with quiet longing he tried to hide. I could picture him as a child, seeking approval from strict military parents who saw him as little more than an order fulfilled.
They were encouraged to repopulate after the rifts closed.
Produce the future and pass on the superior genetics.
He was raised by caretakers then shipped to a military academy while his parents lived their crafted life without him. Only when he earned accolades in Project V did they notice, and even then, affection was never given.
It always made me sick.
Xeni’s gaze drops to the knob, sex-rumpled hair curtaining his face in a white veil that hides the storm brewing behind it.
“My whole life, I’ve been a pawn,” he says into the suffocating silence. “A piece in someone else’s game. I’m… used to being used, Bash.”
He glances up briefly, just long enough for me to catch the sadness in his eye. “If I’m going to be used by anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”
“That’s not what this is,” I insist.
He shakes his head while staring at the floor. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about me. I’ll stay out of your way, and I’ll… I’ll wait for you. I can be patient. I know you don't think I can be, but Ican,”he says, not taking a moment to breathe.
“Xen—” I try to interrupt, but it's like he doesn't even hear me.
He shakes his head in a movement that feels manic. “Ican,”he insists again. “I’ve waited this long. I’ll be good… IpromiseI can be good.”
His voice chokes on the last word, and he takes a deep breath that squares his shoulders again. The fragile armor hehides behind rebuilds itself in real time, piece by piece until he’s steady.
“Whatever you need, and whenever you need it, I’ll give it to you, okay?” he says. “Anything. Just please don’t make me leave. You don’t have to love me back, and you don’t have to pretend. I won’t ask that of you.”
I reach for him, desperate to pull him back—to scream that ofcourseI love him, and that we’ll figure this out together, then wrap him in my arms and shield him from any more pain.
But this time I’m the source of that pain, and despite the years I spent wishing I could break his heart just like he broke mine, the reality is not what the fantasy pretended it might be.
There’s no righteous vindication.
No balancing of the scales or righting the wrongs of our past.
There’s no pleasure in the pain I’ve caused him, no satisfaction in watching him offer himself up like a sacrifice.
There’s only guilt like a knife in my gut.
Someone calls my name from down the hall. Before I can force my lips to move, Xeni twists the knob and flees, escaping the danger.
Escapingme.
Ego approaches the open door timidly, and her eyes widen at my state. I swipe a hand over my face, frantically searching for my shirt as she stands there, mouth open.
“What?” I snap, voice fragile.
