“What happened to him isn’t going to happen to me.”
Falco’s brows twitch together and his eyes drop away from me to my hand, then he takes it between both of his. “Remember to keep your thumb outside your fist.”
“Falco,listento me.”
“I…just need to make sure. If I’m ever… If I’m ever not there then you have to fight, you hear me?” Slowly, he lifts his gaze. “You fight because they might be stronger than me. Faster than me. They won’t hold back.”
“That was you holding back?” I scoff gently and lift my arm, glancing down at my ribs. “This hurts.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.” I reach for him and place my hand on his forearm. “Me too.” That apology carries far more weight than a gentle apology about my terrible punch.
Falco remains silent then climbs to his feet and holds out his hand to help me up. I accept it and flash him a smile, hyper-aware that at any moment someone could look at the CCTV and see us this close.
“Maybe it’s time we shower?” I suggest softly. “I stink.”
Falco’s lips press into a thin line, as if he’d much rather keep training until I’m capable of beating him to a pulp, but he relents with a nod. “Fine.”
After cleaning up the mats, we head for the showers tucked inside the small changing room, the one place without people or cameras watching our every move. Everything my father said to me about responsibility and the Irish fades from my mind when Falco joins me under the hot spray of water to wash off the sweat and stink of exercise. Falco’s presence is equally exciting and nerve-racking. His bare torso immediately catches my eye. But just as my thoughts wander to a cheeky place, something about how he turns his face into the spray has me hesitant to reach out.
He’s hurting.
I ache to help.
I do reach out, but rather than trailing my fingers over his arm like I planned I hug him. He tenses immediately at the touch, then he melts into my hold. Never in my entire time knowing him as Falco ever looked or felt small, but the second he winds his arms around me and pulls me close under the spray, he feels small.
“I miss him,” Falco murmurs brokenly in my ear. “It’s my fault he’s dead.”
Pidge.
Nothing I can say will ease his pain and nothing will change his mind, not right now. All I can do is hold him as tightly as I dare and soothe him with gentle noises in my throat.
“It’s not your fault,” I whisper, knowing he won’t believe me. “It’s not.”
If anything, it’s mine. Everything ties back to me, somehow. I just wish I knew who was pulling the trigger so I could make sure no one else I care about shares the same fate.
When we part, Falco quickly wipes his eyes and my heart immediately shatters.
Was he crying? Did he trust me enough to let that happen even under the rush of hot water?
That sight doesn’t leave me even as we wash, grab some fruit as a snack, and retreat to our rooms for the night with strict orders to sleep. More of an order for Falco than for me because everyone can see how tired he’s getting.
It’s a little after two in the morning when, after tossing and turning to no avail, I find myself sneaking down the hallways and avoiding the night patrol on my way to Falco’s room. Once outside the door, I raise my hand to knock but a sudden grunt from inside catches my attention.
Is he busy?
Another grunt sends a shock down my spine and worry coils in my gut, so I press on the handle and slip inside his room.
Falco’s asleep. But judging from how he’s lying and how the sheets are strewn low down at his waist, it’s not pleasant. He grunts again and his head rolls sharply to one side.
“Falco?”
Another grunt and he shifts, drawing one leg up across the bed.
“Falco.” My voice lifts as I creep closer while still maintaining some distance.
He grumbles something, his incoherent words laced with fear and his head rolls to the other side.
