Fly rose instantly. “I should head out, too, ladies. See you in the Yard.”
There were groans and disappointed protests, hands reaching to detain him, but Fly shook them off and followed Than down the street.
“Hey,” Fly said, confused. “What’s going on? You don’t like those girls or something?”
Than spun, grabbed Fly by the front of his shirt, and dragged him back into a narrow alley, empty and shadowed. “No,” he snapped. “Those girls are who they are. Who I don’t like is you.”
Fly blinked. “What? Why?”
“Don’t you see what you’re doing to Mei?”
“To Mei?” Fly’s confusion tipped into anger. “What does she have to do with this?”
Than shoved him once, hard enough to make the point. “You’re so blind.”
He turned to leave, but Fly blocked his path.
“Blind to what?” Fly demanded. There was concern now. Real concern.
Than’s chest heaved. He hadn’t meant to say it. Hadn’t meant to let it out. But the thought had been eating him alive.
“You know she’s in love with you, right?”
The words hit Fly like a physical blow. Not because they were true, because Than believed them.
“Mei?” Fly said slowly. “Are you talking about Mei?”
“Yes,” Than snapped. “You’re going to ruin everything either way, because you’re not the right guy for her. If you hurt her, I don’t think I could ever forgive you.”
Fly released his shirt. The space between them felt suddenly enormous.
What Fly had witnessed was the opposite. The way Mei’s attention gravitated toward Than. The quiet gravity between them. But it wasn’t his place to correct him. That belonged to Mei and only Mei.
Than brushed past him, jaw set, already retreating.
Fly walked back toward the dorm alone, the late light fading around him, his thoughts racing.
Panic seeped in, quiet, corrosive.
Losing Mei was inconceivable. She was woven into his life, as permanent as family. The thought that he had the power to hurt her made everything in him recoil. He would die before he hurt either of them.
That alone was bad enough.
But Than…
No.
He’d barely known it before, because since the day they met, Than had been constant. Steady. The one person who saw him clearly and didn’t ask him to be anything else.
Until now.
The idea of losing that cut deeper than any romantic loss ever could. Losing Than wasn’t something he could compartmentalize or outwork. It would be like severing a limb. Facing BUD/S without him, going through that crucible without the one man who anchored him, was almost impossible to imagine. A life without Than in it was worse.
Okay. Than had a point.
If Mei were in love with him, that would be a complete disaster.
He didn’t love her like that. Not even close. What he felt was protective. Familiar. Brotherly. Mei would require presence, not just affection, emotional availability under stress, a willingness to let someone see him fail, hesitate, change.
