Fadel

I stood by the window, watching the world outside move in its usual rhythm, but none of it felt real. My mind kept drifting back to the motel, to the moments I'd spent watching Kant sleep, the way his words had stayed with me longer than I'd liked.

It wasn't supposed to matter. It wasn't supposed to hurt like this. I'd done my best to keep my distance-my job was to keep him alive, not get tangled up in whatever this was-but the truth was, it had already happened. It had already shifted in ways I couldn't control.

I'd told myself that the right thing to do was let Bison and Style handle it. They were the ones who could keep him safe, keep him where he belonged. But as soon as I'd made that call, as soon as I'd stepped back, the emptiness had hit me. I didn't like it. I didn't like feeling like I wasn't the one taking care of him.

I let out a slow breath, leaning against the wall. I hadn't seen him since I left him in Bison's care, hadn't even checked in. I didn't want to-I couldn't afford to-but I couldn't stop thinking about him either. The quiet way he'd looked at me, the way he'd trusted me when he didn't have to. The shift between us that neither of us had asked for, but that was so damn obvious it made my skin itch.

I hadn't gone to him. I hadn't called him. I hadn't even tried to see how he was doing, and every second that passed, it felt like I was digging myself deeper into a hole that was slowly swallowing me whole.

I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated with myself. He was fine, Bison had said. He was with them, healing, getting back to normal-whatever the hell that meant. I didn't need to be there.

But the truth was, I didn't know if I could let go of this. Of him.

I wasn't sure when it had crossed over into something more than just the job. Maybe it had happened when I'd caught him looking at me, not as some random guy he had to trust, but like I mattered. Like my actions meant something to him. Maybe it had been when I'd stayed beside him, willing to do anything to make sure he didn't slip away.

I cursed under my breath, pushing off the wall and pacing across the small room. This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to care like this.

But all I could think about was how much I wanted to see him again. How much I wanted to know that he was still there, still breathing, still needing me in whatever strange way we'd come to need each other.

I wasn't ready for any of this, but I couldn't ignore it.

And if he needed me again, I'd be there. No matter how much it scared me.

I had promised myself I wouldn't check up on him, that I wouldn't go looking for something I wasn't supposed to find. But that didn't stop me from buying groceries, something so mundane, so ordinary, that it would've been laughable if I hadn't needed the distraction.

The store was quiet, just the faint hum of refrigerators and the shuffle of distant footsteps. I wandered the aisles, grabbing things I didn't need, filling the cart as if it would somehow take my mind off the weight of what I'd been trying to avoid. But the truth was, I couldn't stop thinking about him. Kant.

I cursed under my breath. I hadn't meant for it to go this way. I hadn't meant for him to matter this much.

I rounded the corner into the produce section, looking for something, anything to focus on, when I froze.

There, standing at the end of the aisle, was Kant.

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, neither of us moved. Time seemed to pause. The noise of the store faded into the background, and all I could hear was the sound of my own heartbeat.

I didn't know what to say. What could I say? After everything? I hadn't planned on seeing him like this, not here, not in the middle of some stupid grocery run.

He looked... different. Healthier, maybe, though still a little pale around the edges. The bandage from his wound was gone, replaced by the thin t-shirt he was wearing. He looked almost normal-like the man I had taken care of wasn't the same guy standing in front of me now.

But even in the fluorescent light of the store, I could still see the shadows under his eyes, the tightness in his posture like he was waiting for something to happen. Waiting for me to make the first move.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the words stuck in my throat.

He was the one who broke the silence. "Of all places," he said, his voice dry but with a slight chuckle under it, like he was amused by the sheer coincidence of it.

I took a step forward, not sure what I was supposed to do. "I didn't expect to see you here," I said, my voice hoarse, as if the tension from before had followed me here.

Kant gave a small shrug, though his eyes were calculating, studying me more closely than I was comfortable with. "Guess it's just one of those days."

I couldn't help but let out a breath, half-laughing at the absurdity of it. One of those days. Yeah, right. Like I was just going to pretend like everything was fine now. That nothing had changed between us.

I couldn't shake the feeling that he was waiting for me to explain myself, to give some kind of reason for why I had disappeared without so much as a word. And maybe, just maybe, I was waiting for him to say something too. Something more than just the casual tone he was using now.

Instead, I did the only thing I could think of-I moved closer. "How are you feeling?" I asked, my voice softer now, but still guarded.

Kant's gaze flickered to my hand, which I had subconsciously shoved into my pocket. He didn't say anything at first, but the moment lingered, thick with the unspoken questions between us. "Better," he finally said. "I'm healed. Mostly."

I wanted to ask more, wanted to know what the hell was going on in his head, but the words didn't come. He was still here, still standing in front of me, and part of me was afraid if I pushed too hard, I'd lose whatever strange thread was left between us.

The silence stretched again, uncomfortable in its honesty.

"I-" Kant started, but then stopped himself, like he hadn't quite figured out what he wanted to say either. His gaze met mine once more, but this time, there was something else behind it. Something raw.

And for the briefest moment, I almost felt like I could reach out, like I could bridge the distance between us. But I didn't.

The moment stretched out between us, thick with everything unspoken, all the things I was too afraid to admit. I could feel it-a pull, a tension I couldn't shake, no matter how much I wanted to ignore it. I didn't want to care. I wasn't supposed to care.

But here I was, standing in front of him, aching to close the space between us, to reach out and tell him everything I hadn't said before, everything I didn't know how to say. The problem was, I didn't know how.

I was supposed to hate him. I had hated him. I had kept my distance for so long, built my walls high, kept everything about me hidden beneath layers of indifference and cold detachment. It was easier that way. It was safer.

But now, standing in front of him-seeing that flicker in his eyes, that slight vulnerability that mirrored my own-I couldn't ignore the truth any longer.

But I couldn't say it. Not now, not when we were standing in a grocery store like any other day, pretending nothing had changed. I couldn't risk it. What if I was wrong? What if it was just a passing thing? A reaction to the tension we'd been living in for so long. What if, in the end, he didn't feel the same way?

I shifted uncomfortably, taking a half-step back, as if I could physically distance myself from whatever was rising between us. "You want me to take you back to Bison's, or...?" The question felt weak as it left my mouth, even to my own ears. I hated the way it sounded, like I was pushing him away without even trying. But I couldn't help it. I had to keep him at arm's length, or else everything would fall apart.

Kant looked at me, his eyes searching mine. He seemed to be doing the same thing I was: trying to figure out where we stood, what had changed, and why it felt like the ground was shifting beneath us.

"I don't need you to play the good guy," he said, voice rough but steady, like he was daring me to admit it. The words hit me harder than I expected, and for a split second, I wanted to laugh bitterly at the irony of it all. He didn't need me to be the good guy. He had no idea what I was struggling with inside. But I also knew that he was right in a way. I wasn't doing this for anyone but myself.

"I'm not," I said, trying to mask the cracks in my voice, forcing myself to sound like the man I had been before. Detached. Cold. Untouchable. "I'm just trying to keep this simple. Keep you safe. That's all."

He raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Damn him. He saw right through me, and it made my chest tighten in a way I wasn't ready to confront.

"You know," he began, his tone casual but with an edge of something I couldn't quite place, "you're not fooling anyone. Not even me."

I could feel my heart skip a beat, my breath catching in my throat. The way he said it-it wasn't a taunt, it wasn't mockery. It was truth, and I hated how easily he laid it bare.

"Then what do you want me to do, huh?" I shot back, my words sharper than I intended. My gaze locked with his, daring him to push me further. "Tell me what you want me to say, Kant."

The silence between us felt heavy, and for a moment, I thought I had pushed him away. But then his eyes softened-just a fraction-and I saw something flicker there. Something real.

"I don't know," he said quietly, almost like he was talking to himself. "I don't know what I want you to say. I just... I can't figure you out."

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but the words caught in my throat again. I can't figure you out either.

Instead, I forced myself to look away, my gaze landing on the cart in front of me. "You ready to go?" I asked, the question more out of habit than actual curiosity.

Kant took a slow step toward me, his hand brushing against mine just enough that I could feel the heat of his touch. I froze, my pulse kicking up a notch. He didn't pull back, and neither did I.

"I'm ready," he said, his voice lower now, more certain. But there was something in it that made me feel like he wasn't just talking about leaving the store. He was talking about something else. Something that we hadn't said, but both knew was there.

And for the first time in a long while, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I wasn't as alone in this as I thought.

But I couldn't say it. Not yet. Not when I was still so damn scared of what would happen if I did.

The ride back to Bison's was quiet, too quiet. The hum of the engine filled the space between us, but I could feel the tension hanging thick in the air. Neither of us said much, but there was something unsaid in every glance, every brief shift of posture.

When we finally pulled up to Bison's place, I glanced over at Kant, and for a moment, I almost expected him to say something-to challenge me, to ask what the hell was going on between us. To make me answer for the walls I had built around myself.

But he didn't.

Instead, he just sat there for a second, eyes lingering on me, like he was waiting for me to make the first move. The way he looked at me, it felt like he was reading me-figuring out the part of me I was desperate to hide.

I didn't want to go there. I couldn't.

"Thanks for the ride," Kant finally said, his voice low, but there was something underneath it. A question. An unspoken expectation. He was waiting for me to break. But I couldn't. I wouldn't.

"Yeah," I muttered, my fingers tightening on the steering wheel. I couldn't stay here, not with him looking at me like that. Not with all the things left unsaid hanging in the air. "You're good here. I'll see you around."

I turned away before I could see his reaction, before I could hear what might come next. There was something in my gut, something pulling me in his direction, but I slammed it down hard. He wasn't mine to hold onto. I couldn't afford to want him like that.

I didn't wait for him to get out of the car, didn't wait for anything. I pulled off without a second thought, heading straight for the small, empty space I had claimed as my own for the past few days. The room where I could finally breathe, where I could shut everything out.

I walked into the room, locked the door behind me, and let out a long breath. My body felt wired, restless. There was a wild, aching part of me that needed him to confront me, that needed him to push until I cracked. But I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't ready to face whatever was building between us. Not now.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, my hands shaking slightly. I could still feel the heat of his touch, the way his hand had brushed against mine in the store, like it had meant something more than just a casual accident. I cursed under my breath, my mind racing.

I couldn't let it happen. I couldn't let him get too close, not when I knew the mess I was in. I was the kind of man who ran-always had been. Getting tangled up in this... it wasn't an option.

But as I sat there, trying to ignore the gnawing in my chest, I couldn't stop thinking about him. The way he'd looked at me. The way he made me question everything I thought I knew about myself.

And as the silence stretched on, I realized that no matter how much I tried to disappear, no matter how far I pulled away, he wasn't going to let me.

Not without a fight.

But for now, I had to pretend. Pretend that it wasn't there. Pretend that I was fine. Pretend that I wasn't aching for someone I couldn't have.