Page 244 of Breathe Like Hell

I love you so much.

We didn’t say anything for a while, and neither of us made any move to head back towards the shore. We remained in the middle of the ocean, treading water, fresh tears streaming down my cheeks. He might’ve been crying too, but I didn’t look at his face.

His ultraneon waned and disappeared, the glow dissolving into the normal shade of his skin a couple of minutes after mine had. There was the slightest ache in my veins, which I recognized now to be akrasia. I didn’t want to think about how strongly that had accumulated in Mason’s veins, how badly he’d need to burn through it now.

We could worry about that on land.

Eventually, we both swam the distance back to shore, water pouring off of us as we trudged up the sand. Mason sat on the big rock with his head in his hands, fingers weaving through his hair that was made darker by the water, wet strands hanging in his face. I sat next to him, my own hair long and tangled down my back, wrapping around my shoulders.

“Akrasia?” I asked, hoping to start with an easier subject.

“Pretty fucking bad,” he mumbled.

“Do you want⁠—”

“No. I’m fine. I’ll deal with it later.”

“Okay.”

The wind took over for our voices, racing over the choppy gray waves, funneling against the cliffs at our back. The scent of the ocean was heavy in my lungs, thick in the air, but the scent of Mason was still there below it, seeping under everything like dark fog. I licked salt off my lips, which might’ve been from the ocean or my tears. I was never sure anymore.

I could feel the coldness of my body, my damp skin, my clothes clinging to me, but in my new body it didn’t ache in the same way. My nose was running, and I wiped my face with the wet sleeve of my shirt.

“Maybe if we talk, it can help you,” I said quietly, quiet enough that Mason could pretend he didn’t hear it if he wanted. “We’re not really talking about anything.”

“I can’t talk about it.” He shook his head. His voice was rough, grating over my bleeding heart.

“Well, I could⁠—”

“No. Shut the fuck up.”

I looked at him, my vision blurry. Despite us sitting together on this miserable beach, I was completely alone. I was always alone.

“You hate me when I try to talk about him. You’re acting like he never existed,” I said, ignoring the tears that’d begun rolling down my cheeks. Pathetic.

“No—I’m acting like I watched him die,” he bit out.

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

The wind claimed our conversation again, all our words blown away into the gloomy sky. Drops of ocean water clung to Mason’s strong shoulders, gliding down his chest, dripping off his jaw. His dark eyes stared at the dark sand, but he wasn’t looking at it. He was watching something replay in his brain.

I watched him die.

In my own memory, I thought about images of Mason’s face looking at Micah before everything happened, all the longing in his expression. Micah’s face looking at Mason, all the angst in his eyes. Their bodies together in the shower. Their voices arguing with the venom that only came with great familiarity. Fists thrown across jaws, crimson blood and golden ichor. A ritual rooted in many years of history.

They weren’t business partners.

I’d never truly believed that, but it took me until now to fully understand what I’d been witnessing the whole time. In the back of my head, I felt it. I knew.

“How long were you and him together?” I asked quietly.

“We weren’t⁠—”

“Mason,” I cut him off, shaking my head. He wouldn’t look at me. “I know you loved him.”

Even if I didn’t know that, I could feel the deception in his brain. He wasn’t strong enough to try hiding it from me now, to try curating some form of indifference with his emotions to conceal the truth. I knew he hated when I searched the inside of his skull, but I found it difficult not to.

His grief was too consuming for just sex.