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There were so many things Seawatt wanted to say.
Like how safe he felt when it was just the two of them. How Aj’s terrible jokes actually made him laugh sometimes.
How, on nights when nightmares tore him out of sleep, Aj held him close and made the world feel okay again. How he sometimes stared at his lips and thought about kissing them.
But the biggest thing—the one that sat in his chest like a storm—was that he never told Aj he loved him.
Not out loud. Not properly.
Aj always said it first. In small ways, in big ones. In confessions whispered like prayers. And Seawatt never gave anything back except silence and a look he hoped said enough.
Now, with Aj about to step into the arena, it didn’t feel like enough.
He wanted to fall to his knees. To beg.
If you love me—if you really love me—don’t go.
Because Seawatt knew. No matter how confident Aj looked, no matter how many times he’d fought before, something was different this time. Something felt final.
But instead, the words stuck. And what came out was: “Good luck.”
He hated the way his voice cracked.
Aj cupped the side of his face, thumb brushing along his cheek like he already knew everything Seawatt couldn’t say. He smiled—so steady, so sure. “I’ll be back in no time. Don’t worry.”
He pulled Seawatt into a hug.
It felt like goodbye.
“I’ll be here. I’ll wait for you,” Seawatt murmured, voice small against his chest.
Aj gived him a kiss before he pulled away. Seawatt wanted to say something, but he was walked toward the arena already.
And Seawatt stood frozen, stomach twisting.
There were so many things left unsaid.