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“I had sex with Valentine once.”
A dark flash crosses Tseng’s eyes, Reeve recognises it all too well. He has seen it in the mirror before, as much as he tries to deny it. He is not a jealous man, so he tells himself. The intense coils of possessiveness he feels at times are thus deemed shameful and kept hidden.
He allows a whisper of it to bleed into intimate acts on occasion but it is permitted only by a strong self-assurance that he does not need to claim anyone - or be claimed by anyone - beyond those times. They all have work to do, and individual lives to lead. He values independence in others as much as he continually cultivates it within himself.
Yet Reeve does not know what to do with that look in Tseng’s eyes. He adds, “It was a mistake.”
The words are not said placatingly, or reassuringly. The cool silence from the Turk beside him is palpable. Reeve is not quite sure what to do with that either.
His teeth clench together and he averts his eyes, breath flaring his nostrils in exasperation. Tseng does not seem to want an explanation, yet he finds himself offering up one regardless, “Vincent is still trying to atone. For more than one relationship, I believe. He seemed to be thinking of another, at least...”
I was too, are the words left unsaid.
Nae. Noo this time.
“...I was too.”
“Reeve. Stop.”
“No. Not this time.”
Reeve glances to the side and sees that the Turk’s expression has gone from cool, practiced indifference to what looks like simmering anger, feelings reigned in on the tightest of leashes. He knows that look too. Intimately.
“Vincent has his guilt, but you and I, Tseng? We have abject denial. We've spent so long being whatever we should be - to others, to ourselves even - that we know no different.”
Tseng has not moved.
Reeve hangs his head and tries not to wring his fingers together in the space between his thighs, “But change is what I do. I take the spaces that have been razed to the ground and attempt to build something better in its place. Something more… effective.”
They have both been tied up with being efficient to the point of perfectionism, yet Reeve has learned much about himself during these years of leading the planet through two major disasters. And he has lost. Lost far too much.
He has nearly lost Tseng several times over, and here they are again. As if nothing had ever happened.
He takes a deep breath and braces himself, straightening up his spine as he presses forearms deeper into his thighs.
A statement, simply given, “I love you.”
He hears a hiss of breath, a snarl bitten short, “Get out.”
Tseng is not even looking at him, hands white knuckled and exposed without the gloves, staring straight ahead.
He adds softly, “I have for a very long time now.”
“Get out!”
Reeve stands. He knew this was going to hurt, but he had not expected to feel so winded. The fact that Tseng does not even reach out as his legs give way momentarily from underneath him, punches even more air from his lungs.
Yet, this was necessary.
“I can’t keep doing this and pretending it means less than it does, Tseng. I can’t keep living in denial of myself. I’ve spent decades doing so. You have too.”
He reaches the door and looks back over his shoulder. Tseng is still staring forwards, straight-backed on the sofa. Yet it is the quiet, desperate look on his face that nearly makes Reeve break his resolve. It makes him want to run back with renouncements and assurances, yet more denial that this conversation even happened. Habits of a lifetime.
Instead he clicks open the latch and adds, “Think about it. I will respect whatever decision you come to. As I hope you respect mine..." before he crosses over the boundary line.
"Farewell for now, Tseng. You’re not Vincent, nor would I ever want you to be. Don’t be a stranger."