Page 170 of 912321

“And you were about to lose everything,” he counters. “At least this way one of us doesn’t.”

“That’s not how this works!”

“It is now,” he replies with a certainty that leaves no room to argue.

I laugh again, but there’s nothing left in it. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“And you don’t get to destroy yourself in front of me and expect me to just, what? Watch?”

“Yes!” I shout. “Yes, you do, because that’s the job. That’s the boundary, you’re my instructor, not—” My voice catches. Not what, Mireya?

His expression shifts slowly when he understands what I’m trying to keep hidden. “You think this is about boundaries?” he says, softer now. “You think that’s what this is?”

I step back carefully. I should stop talking, but I can’t.

“It should be,” I say, even as my voice shakes. “It has to be.”

He closes the distance again, slower this time. “And if I don’t want it to be?”

“You don’t mean that, Damien…”

“Don’t I?” He’s close enough now that I can feel the heat of him, solid and real in a way I’m not. I hate it. I need it.

“You’re not thinking clearly,” I say, but it sounds weak even to me. “You just…you think you’re helping, but you’re not. You’re just making it worse.”

“Worse than this?” he gestures at me, at the room, the mess, the state of me. “Worse than you on the floor, shaking and lying to yourself?”

“I’m not lying to myself.”

“You are!” He snaps, his voice breaking through the room louder than I’ve ever heard it.

I flinch, and something in his face breaks, then he exhales sharply, as if trying to pull himself back together and failing. “Come here,” he says.

I shake my head immediately. “No.”

“Come. Here.”

“I said no.”

He doesn’t argue again, he just moves, closes the space, grabs my arm and pulls me into him. I hit his chest with a weak, useless protest. “Stop⁠—”

“Enough.” His arms wrap around me, tight and… safe. Fucking safe. That’s what breaks me. Because I can fight the anger, I can fight the disappointment, I can even fight myself, most days. But this? This I can’t. I collapse into him with a sob, fingers clutching at his shirt like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.

“I hate this,” I choke. “I hate it, I hate it, I hate it⁠—”

“I know.”

“I can’t keep doing this, it hurts so much,” I sob harder against him.

“I know, Mireya. I know.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I whisper, burying my face against him. “You shouldn’t have. You’re going to regret it…”

His hand comes up to the back of my head, pressing me closer. “I won’t.”

“You will.”

“I won’t,” he breathes quietly against me.