Archive of Our Own

“I’ve been having the dreams again.”

His therapist looked at him with the kind of patient sympathy that made Alex want to scream.

“The man with the scar?”

“Yes.” Alex twisted his fingers together, then realised he was doing it and forced himself to stop. Stupid really, if he was allowed to look vulnerable anywhere it was here, but he didn’t like having nervous tells.

“Are they the same as before?”

Before. Before Alex had become mixed up yet again in an insane plot, before he’d seen more people killed in front of him, before he’d again nearly died himself. Before he’d had the man in question’s blood wet on his hands.

The man with the scar. Somehow Alex never used Yassen’s name in these sessions. It felt like something he wanted to keep for himself.

“No. No, it was different this time.”

“Different how?”

“Before, he was following me. I’d turn round, and he’d be there. This time – this time I think I am him. In the dream.”

“How does that make you feel?”

Alex hesitated. “Scared.”

“Because you feel he intends you harm?”

Alex shook his head. “No. Scared for him, not of him.” He looked up. “It’s always like - something bad is about to happen to him. I think he might be in danger.”

“It’s just a dream Alex.”

“Yes. Yes, I know. I meant in the dream.” Did he? It always felt so real. But of course it was only a nightmare. Just one of many.

“He seems to have become a significant figure to you,” she said ponderously. “In your dreams, he has come to represent all your fears, your trauma. It may be that your subconscious is trying to deal with your fear of him and what he represents by showing you that he’s not invulnerable. That he – your fear – can be dealt with. Overcome.”

Alex bit his lip. He didn’t agree, but he never felt like he could argue with her on points like these. She made him feel small and ashamed somehow. He’d asked for another therapist, but one had never been forthcoming.

“I see. Thank you.”

“I’m afraid that’s all we’ve got time for today Alex.” She bestowed a benevolent smile on him. “See you next week?”

He walked out feeling as he always did after these sessions, more confused than when he went in.

–

The lights were flickering. The corridor stretched away before him, the dark institutional paint job and scuffed lino floor bringing back memories that made him shudder. How had he ended up back here? He’d escaped. Hadn’t he?

He wasn’t alone. There were guards on either side of him, and his wrists were cuffed. And his ankles, Alex realised, looking down. He could only shuffle along. No running. No escape.

They passed a window and he craned his neck for a glimpse of the world outside, but it was dark. They only ever seemed to move him in darkness.

How did he know that? Dream logic, dream certainty. He was dreaming, wasn’t he. Maybe he could wake himself up.

Another window, and a pause in proceedings as his guard unlocked a door into the next wing. Alex looked out into the night, but all he could see was his own reflection in the glass. Dark, haunted eyes looked back at him, above a deep scar down the side of his face.

–

Alex sat up in bed, heart pounding and fighting for breath. It wasn’t even as if anything terrible had really happened in the dream, but he’d known with an unshakeable certainty that it was going to.

It made no sense though he told himself sternly, trying to breathe slowly and calmly. Yassen had got away from the airfield, and anyway there was no reason on earth for him to be back at Point Blanc as a prisoner. It was just Alex’s head taking jumbled images and sticking them together.

He lay down again, telling himself everything was fine, that it was all in his head. Laughable, really, that phrase all in your head. Could there be a worse place for it to be?

–

“Alex, you need a break. Why don’t we go away somewhere?” Jack ventured over breakfast a few days later, looking at the dark shadows under his eyes and the way he’d barely touched his toast. “Or you could join the school ski trip next week? I’m sure they’d take you as a late addition. You like skiing?”

Alex gave her a look that said he’d had enough of snow and mountains for a while thank you very much, but to show willing he leafed through the papers she’d pushed across. He’d brought them back from school and hadn’t looked at them since, but for the first time he took in where they would be going, and stared.

Then he brought up a map and tried to work out if his suspicion was correct. Point Blanc Academy wasn’t marked any more, even the Google Earth satellite shot was suspiciously empty of any buildings but he knew full well where it was, and it was about ten miles away from where Brooklands was flying out on a jolly.

The idea wormed its way into his head quietly. Ten miles wasn’t so far, if the weather was good. He could slip away from the group early, and –

And what?

Alex considered. If he could just prove to himself that the building was abandoned and empty then maybe he could finally get a good night’s sleep. It seemed like a ridiculous length to go to, but then no amount of therapy or deep breathing was helping with the nightmares.

If anything they were getting worse rather than better. Sometimes they were dreams of being strapped down, blurry faces and bright lights, the memory of pain when he woke up, tense and gasping for breath.

It would at least have made more sense, albeit in a horrible way, if he’d been dreaming about these things being done to himself. But every night was the same, and he didn’t need glimpses of a reflection to confirm it any more – in the dreams he was always unquestionably Yassen.

Alex pushed his plate away and looked up. “You know, maybe you’re right. I think I will go on the ski trip.”

–

His legs were tired and aching and his hands numb on the ski poles. Ten miles in a straight line on the map had inevitably turned out to be a lot further on the ground, and he was going to be in deep shit when he finally got back. They probably had mountain rescue out looking for him by now, but he’d just say he got lost. He’d certainly be cold and tired enough to be convincing.

It was with a mixed sense of triumph and fear that Alex crested the final rise and saw the dark bulk of Point Blanc ahead of him. No covert ops group to back him up this time, no friends waiting for him inside.

But this time there would be nobody at all inside, that was the point. Alex was about to ski down to the door when a movement caught his eye and he instinctively ducked.

He stared. There were people down there. Two figures in black had come round the corner of the building, and were walking slowly round the perimeter. Patrolling, Alex realised, watching them out of sight again. Had MI6 left guards here? It was too far out of the way for looters to be a risk, and they’d surely stripped everything of use long ago. Why would there still be anything here worth guarding? Unless…

Unless it wasn’t MI6. The building had been owned by Greif after all, what if it was still in the hands of others?

Alex worked his way round to get a view from another angle, staying carefully out of sight. From his new vantage point he could see a number of snowmobiles – and a helicopter. So there were people here. Several, by the looks of it.

Of course that didn’t mean it had anything to do with his dreams. Objectively, there was no way there could be a connection – but the fact remained, the building was occupied when it shouldn’t have been. He’d come this far, he had to know more.

Lying shivering in the snow, he watched the guards for two full laps of the perimeter, timing how long they were fully out of sight.

When they disappeared from view a third time he acted, shaking life back into his cramped limbs and skiing down in the shelter of the buildings.

He could hardly just walk in the front door, but he had a plan. There was a chance nobody had bothered to wipe the access codes, and if he was lucky he could slip in at a side door.

His luck held. Pulling off a glove, with fingers shaking from cold he punched in the number and the door clicked open. Alex ducked quickly inside. He’d hidden his skis under a pile of snow, where hopefully they wouldn’t be noticed. CCTV was a worry, but there’d been no sign of an alarm being raised so far and he couldn’t see any cameras inside. Probably whoever was here didn’t expect visitors.

Now he was inside though, Alex was faced with a different problem. The building was huge, how could he search it all without being discovered?

Maybe he didn’t have to. Walking cautiously down the hated corridors he realised he knew where to go – or at least he thought he did.

Well he’d come this far based on nothing but a dream, might as well listen to his instincts now. He made his way up through the building, keeping to the shadows and freezing at any sound.

Voices and the clink of crockery came from the dining room, and he realised his luck was still holding, as people seemed to be gathered for a meal. An evening meal Alex thought with a jolt, as he passed a clock and noticed the time. It was far later than he’d imagined, and would soon be dark outside. That would make the journey back interesting. Maybe he could borrow one of the snowmobiles.

It crossed his mind that maybe he should have tried to lock the people in the dining room in, but that would definitely have alerted them to his presence, and anyway he couldn’t be sure everyone had been inside. Stealth was the better option.

He continued on his way, and the sense of uneasy familiarity was such that he was halfway down a corridor before he realised he’d never actually set foot in this part of the building before.

Alex looked behind him, then ahead. Everywhere looked the same to a certain extent, but he was certain he’d never been up here previously. And yet he had. Most nights, for weeks.

He carried on a little hesitantly, knowing if he was right there would be a window just here on the left, before the door. There was.

Alex swallowed, and with an effort of will made himself look. His own face looked back at him, and he sagged with relief. Somehow a part of him had been terrified he’d find out he’d been dreaming all this time.

He pinched the skin on the back of his hand hard to reassure himself, and turned back to the door. This one too opened to the same code, and he slipped inside.

On the other side was a row of solid metal doors, but when Alex tried one it was firmly locked. No key pads here, although there was a deserted reception type desk part way along, and on the wall behind it a large lever switch. Alex eyed it with interest. It wasn’t labelled but looked like the kind of thing that might, say, control the central locking mechanism for a whole wing in a building of this age.

The trouble was, trying it out would probably not only alert people to his presence, but potentially unlock doors that he didn’t want to. He had no idea who else was being held prisoner here, after all.

Alex hesitated. He didn’t know for certain that Yassen was here, come to that. And even if he was – did Alex really want to let him out? He realised he’d come this far to find out if his dreams had been true, but if it turned out they were – what then? Yassen had killed Ian. Yassen had killed lots of people. If anyone deserved to be locked up in a miserable hole like this, it was probably him.

But – Yassen hadn’t killed Alex. Had, in fact, deliberately not killed him on several separate occasions. Had saved his life, even. Alex gave a groan of resignation, and let his feet carry him to the cell door that they insisted they wanted to go to.

There was a spyhole in the door, and Alex cautiously put his eye to it. Inside the room was dim but he could make out the shape of someone lying in a bed.

Was it Yassen? How did he find out without alerting anyone else to his presence? Or indeed alerting the person inside, if it was someone else entirely?

He tapped his finger thoughtfully on the door frame, then had an idea. Yassen was bound to know morse code, right?

He carefully tapped out a series of letters on the metal door, then again, slightly more loudly. The building was fully of strange creaks and ticks, hopefully it wouldn’t be noticed by anyone else. It seemed to have been noted by the person in the room though, as whoever it was rolled onto their back.

To his frustration Alex still couldn’t see who it was, and tapped out the sequence of letters again.

Y.A.S.S.E.N.

The man on the bed sat up, and the faint light from the narrow window above the door fell across his face. Alex caught his breath, hardly knowing whether to be relieved or not. What did it all mean? How could he possibly have known this? Because the man locked in the room in front of him was, without a doubt, Yassen Gregorovich.

“Yassen!” Alex whispered as loudly as he dared. “Yassen can you hear me?”

“Who is it? Who’s there?” Yassen looked about him, puzzled.

“It’s me. Alex. Can you come to the door?” There was no keyhole for him to pick the lock, but maybe between them they could force it open.

In answer, Yassen raised his right arm, and Alex saw with a shock he was shackled to the bed.

“Fuck.”

“Alex?”

Yassen sounded like he thought he was dreaming.

“Yeah. ‘s me. Hold that thought, I’m going to try something.”

There was nothing else for it, he’d have to risk the switch. Alex ran back up the corridor and took hold of the lever. Hopefully he was right, and wasn’t just about to turn all the lights off or activate the fire alarm or something.

He pulled it down with a heavy clunk, and all down the corridor the loud metallic rattle of locks springing open made him wince. Hopefully everyone was still occupied with their meal, and wouldn’t come to check on the prisoner or glance at a security camera feed any time soon.

About to return to Yassen’s cell, Alex suddenly had another thought and looked around for something to pick a handcuff lock with. The desk was empty, but the door he’d tried before was open now, and he stuck his head inside hopefully.

Inside was some kind of clinic room and he shuddered, wondering if this was where they’d performed operations on the clones to alter their appearance. There were various trays of metal implements on the counter and he grabbed a couple that looked like dental picks, thinking vaguely that everything looked very clean and free of dust for a room that had presumably been abandoned for several months now.

Still, it was the least of the mysteries on his mind, and he had an assassin in distress to rescue. Alex dashed back to the cell, realising that Yassen had clearly been the only prisoner as no one had emerged or shouted from the other rooms.

“Hey.” Alex found Yassen still sitting up with an air of confusion. “Give me the cuff.”

Yassen stared at him, clearly wondering if he was hallucinating.

“Alex?”

“Yeah. Hi.” Alex started working on the lock, trying to concentrate. Come on, he told himself, you’ve done this loads of times. There. It clicked open and he breathed a sigh of relief, straightening up to find Yassen still staring at him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Getting you out. Come on.”

Yassen shook his head slightly, but it was sadness rather than refusal.

“They shouldn’t have involved you in this,” he sighed.

“Who? Nobody’s involving me in anything. Nobody knows I’m here.”

“Nice try. What, I’m supposed to trust you? Tell you everything, perhaps, confide in you? Then you hand me over to the guards again outside?”

Alex stared at him in frustration. “No! I’m not a plant, I promise, I’m here to rescue you!”

“Really. So how did you know where I was?”

Alex opened his mouth then closed it again. Somehow he didn’t think telling Yassen he’d seen it in a dream was going to inspire confidence.

“Look, are you coming or not? Because if the only way I can convince you is to get locked up in the next cell, I really don’t fancy that. Look at it this way, even if it is a trap, don’t you fancy getting out of your cell for a bit?”

Yassen studied him for an agonisingly long time, then groaned. “Oh, why not. You might have to help me though.”

Alex frowned as Yassen pushed back the thin cover and hauled himself unsteadily to his feet. He was wearing a ragged shirt, open to the chest and rather dirty looking trousers. Letting go the support of the bed Yassen staggered into him slightly, and when Alex looked down there was blood on his coat.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Being shot in the chest will do that to you.”

Alex stared. “They haven’t treated you?”

“Oh, just enough to keep me alive. But ultimately they don’t care if I die, all they need to do is keep me around long enough to break me. Plus it keeps me weak. Docile. Well, relatively.” Yassen gave him a glimmer of a sardonic smile, but now he’d moved into the light from the corridor and suddenly Alex could see the marks. Bruises, dried blood and welts from what looked like electrical burns peppered his wrists and face and chest.

“They’re torturing you,” he said blankly, stupidly.

“Of course.” Yassen looked at him. “You didn’t know?”

“Of course I didn’t know!” Alex blurted, realising Yassen still believed he was part of this, but then with a shock he realised he had known. All the pain and fear from his dreams – it hadn’t been his. It had been Yassen’s. “Oh, God.” He choked it out, but Yassen was bleakly philosophical.

“I’ve had training, to resist interrogation. The trouble is, the thing they don’t tell you is that it just means the torture lasts longer,” he said, and Alex winced.

“Come on.”

He half dragged, half-supported Yassen as they made their way out the way he’d come, convinced with every step that alarms would ring out.

Somehow they made it outside, where Yassen shivered in the biting wind. Alex stripped off his own coat and gave it to him, cursing himself for not risking the time to look for another. He didn’t even have shoes.

“You can’t ski in that condition,” Alex said worriedly. “We’ll have to steal a snowmobile.”

“Or better yet,” Yassen said, looking over his shoulder. “We could take that.”

Alex looked where he was pointing, and blinked. “You can fly a helicopter?”

“You mean you can’t?” Yassen half-smiled, and Alex made a face at him.

“No, so don’t pass out on me at the controls!”

“You’re intent on coming with me then?” Yassen said, and Alex blinked. It hadn’t occurred to him to just leave, but he supposed he could. Retrieve his skis and disappear into the gathering night. Let Yassen take his chances alone. He also realised that insisting on going along wasn’t necessarily going to make Yassen any more inclined to trust him, but – the man was injured, and weak, and Alex wasn’t going to give up mid-rescue.

As he hesitated, alarms finally blared out in the building behind them and he jumped.

“Fuck, they’ve noticed.”

“Took them long enough, no?”

Alex glared at him. “Great, now you think I’m part of it just because they have shit security? Come on Yassen!”

Yassen finally gave in and half-ran half-staggered as fast as he could manage with Alex towards the helicopter.

“Are you sure you can fly this?” Alex asked nervously as Yassen flicked switches and familiarised himself with the controls.

“Fly yes. Land...maybe.”

Alex looked alarmed, then sour. “Very funny. Get us the hell out of here, they’re coming.”

“Last chance to stay behind.” The rotors were whirling overhead and Yassen looked at him questioningly.

“Last chance to shut the fuck up,” Alex snapped back, and with a twist of a smile Yassen took them into the air.

–

It was fully dark when Yassen put the machine down in a field outside a small town, and Alex had no idea where they were. He was worried too about Yassen, who’d been speaking less and less, and looked like he was about to pass out from exhaustion. Alex wondered how much he’d been given to eat.

“Where are we going?” Alex asked finally, as they trudged down a country road towards the lights in the distance.

“There is a safehouse not far away, but it would have been stupid to fly right to it. If we can find a car – ah, that should do.”

There was an old Citroen parked in the hedge. It wasn’t even locked, and it took Yassen under a minute to get it started.

Sitting beside him in the dark, Alex marvelled at the way Yassen seemed able to keep going even though he was clearly running on empty. Presumably the adrenaline of their escape was helping, but he’d probably sleep for a week after this. At least now he’d be able to.

They drove slowly through the anonymous French town and out the other side, then a short way up into the hills before turning onto a rough track. It lead to a ramshackle house hidden in overgrown rhododendron bushes, where Yassen retrieved the key from inside a drainpipe.

He leaned heavily on Alex’s shoulder as they made their way inside, and Alex closed the door on the cold night air with a sense of relief.

It wasn’t much warmer inside, but there was a wood burner and Alex got a fire going while Yassen sat on the floor nearby, shaking slightly but trying to recover some of his strength.

Alex found some ancient teabags in a cupboard and set a pan of water to boil while he hunted through the bedroom wardrobes and came back triumphantly with a jumper and some old boots for Yassen to put on.

“Here. Hopefully a hot drink’ll make you feel better,” he said. “Maybe we should have stopped for some food.”

“Why are you doing this?” Yassen asked, pulling the jumper on with hands that shook.

“I could hardly leave you there.”

“No. I mean why are you letting them use you? Are you wired, is that it?” Yassen’s voice was hard and Alex looked at him in shock.

“No of course I’m not. I told you, I’m not working for anyone.”

“You must think I was born yesterday. How did you find me, if nobody told you where I was? It’s clever, I’ll admit, using the only person I’d be inclined to trust. Clever, and so cruel,” Yassen added more softly, sounding sad, but the flicker of vulnerability was gone in an instant and he grabbed Alex’s arm.

“Let’s see shall we? Find out how many bugs you’re carrying. Who’s listening Alex?” He started trying to pull Alex’s clothes off, and Alex fought back in panicked alarm.

“Get off me!” Alex shoved him hard, and by a fluke managed to hit him in the chest. Yassen went down wheezing, clutching his wound and Alex skittered away, tears of frustration in his eyes.

Alex didn’t go far, he collapsed miserably to the floor a few feet away, the tears now rolling down his cheeks. He dashed them away, trying to master himself, looking at Yassen who’d now dragged himself, coughing, to a sitting position. They eyed each other warily.

“I’m sorry,” Alex stuttered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Yassen shook his head slightly. “And I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he sighed.

“I’m not,” Alex objected, wiping his eyes and sniffing. Yassen half smiled.

“My mistake,” he said softly.

Alex sighed, and crawled back across to sit next to him beside the wood-burner. “Fine. Search me.”

To his surprise Yassen shook his head resignedly. “It doesn’t matter. What does any of it matter?”

“No! Search me!” Alex insisted. “If that’s what you need to believe me, then do it! But why the hell would I be working for whoever was doing this to you anyway?” He shook his head in bewilderment. “What happened, did they punish you for screwing up, or what? Was it this Widow you mentioned?”

Yassen stared at him. “No – no, Alex, it’s not my people that did this.”

“Then who?”

“Yours. MI6.”

“What?” Alex went cold. “That’s not possible. They wouldn’t torture people.” As he said it he remembered the room he’d been taken to, the chains, the water. And that had just been a test, on a schoolboy. “No, no, you’re wrong, you have to be,” he mumbled.

“I was captured trying to escape the airfield. They shipped me out here, for questioning. They’d come into possession of the Point Blanc facility, after all. Very handy, very remote.” Yassen gave a grim smile. “Out there, no one can hear you scream.”

Alex shuddered, still trying to take it in. “Oh my God. That’s why you thought I was working for them.” He stared at Yassen, stricken, who gave a slight shrug of confirmation. Alex shook his head violently.

“I’m not, I would never do something like that!”

“You would never do undercover work for a government with a hold over you?” Yassen said gently. “Perhaps they even told you it would be a way to make the torture stop, a better solution?”

Alex closed the gap between them and grabbed at Yassen’s shirt, suddenly desperate to make him believe. “I’m not working for them, this isn’t a trick, I swear! You have to believe me!” He could feel there were tears in his eyes again, but was too far gone to care. “Look, do whatever you need to, search me, whatever, don’t tell me anything they want to know, I don’t care anyway, I just wanted it to stop!”

Yassen was watching him with a puzzled expression, and finally lifted a hand to brush a rogue tear away from Alex’s cheek.

“Search me,” Alex insisted brokenly. “Go on.”

“No. There’s no need.”

“Yassen – ”

“I believe you.”

Alex looked up. “You do?”

Yassen nodded, uncertainly at first, then with more conviction. “I do.”

Alex gave a strangled sob of relief and then somehow found he’d flung his arms round Yassen’s neck. Yassen instinctively returned the hug and they clung to each other fiercely.

Eventually Yassen pulled away enough to look at him. “You really came for me?” he said in a wondering tone.

“I guess I did.” Alex gave him a watery smile and a helpless laugh, and Yassen smiled back, still confused but finally willing to believe.

“But – why? And how? How did you get there?”

“School trip nearby. I bunked off.” Alex looked fleetingly guilty. “I should probably let someone know I’m not dead or something.”

“But how did you even know where I was if no-one told you?”

Alex sighed. “I don’t think I can tell you without sounding completely insane.”

Yassen squeezed his hand. “Try me.”

Alex chewed his lip. “I’ve been dreaming about you. No, dreaming I was you. And it just felt like bad things were happening to you, and I know it was just a dream but it was every night. And it was always there, at Point Blanc. I just felt if I could see the place again, satisfy myself that it was empty, that it was all in my head, then maybe I could finally rest. But then – it wasn’t. There were people there. And when I went inside, there were bits of the building I’d never been in before, but I recognised them, I’d been down the corridors in my dreams. I knew where to go. And it lead me to you.” Alex had been looking down at where Yassen was still holding his hand as he mumbled out his story, but now he looked up to find Yassen watching him intently. “Sounds nuts, right?” he laughed sheepishly.

“It sounds incredible,” Yassen agreed, but he didn’t sound as sceptical as Alex had expected.

“Do you believe me?” Alex frowned at him uncertainly.

Yassen hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s just – there is a trick, a method, for when – unpleasant things are happening to you, to try and send your mind elsewhere for a while. When they were doing what they did – well, I would often think about you,” he admitted to Alex’s surprise. “I would try and picture you, where you were, what you were doing. Hoping you were safe, hoping you were living a normal life. And when I finally passed out each time – then I would dream about you, too. It was a comfort, but I never imagined…” he broke off, looking distant.

Alex stared at him. “What are you saying?”

“I don’t know. I’m not saying anything.” Yassen shook himself. “What can be said? The idea of any kind of connection is completely unfeasible.”

“And yet here I am.”

“And yet here you are.” Yassen smiled at him, but he looked tired and pale and Alex had the fleeting urge to hug him again. He settled for squeezing the fingers still resting in his.

“We should get you to a hospital or something. You need proper treatment.”

“There are people I can call. Do you have a phone?”

“No. I didn’t bring it in case they tracked me.”

Yassen looked impressed. “No matter, there used to be a landline connection here, hopefully it still works. I will call my people.” He paused. “You should probably not be here when they come.”

“I thought you wanted me to meet them?”

Yassen nodded slowly. “But on our terms, I think.”

“Does that mean I’ll see you again then?” Alex found he wasn’t as alarmed by that prospect as he should be.

“Do you want to?”

Alex nodded. “Yes. If you promise you’ll answer my questions then. I kind’ve have a lot.”

Yassen smiled. “I’m sure you do. Alright. I promise.”

For a while they just sat there, shoulder to shoulder, drinking dusty-tasting tea and letting the warmth revive them. Eventually Alex sighed, and got to his feet.

“I’ll walk into town. I should be able to get a bus from there.”

“Will you be alright?” Yassen struggled to his feet as well, and Alex reached out to steady him.

“Yes. Although probably in deep shit when I get back.” He frowned. “Also I left my skis at Point Blanc. Oops.” Alex shrugged. “Oh well. Will you be alright?”

Yassen nodded. “Thanks to you. Stay safe Alex.”

“You too.” Alex finally gave into the urge to hug him again, and they held each other tightly for a moment.

“You never told me why,” Yassen said softly. “After everything I did, I wouldn’t have blamed you for leaving me there.”

Alex shrugged awkwardly, then gave him a rueful smile.

“I had to really didn’t I? I mean, you’re literally the man of my dreams.”

–