Chapter Text
I think I'm cursed sometimes. Maybe from a past life. Maybe from all the things I take for granted. Maybe, Castle's right and I've cursed so much that my life is now stitched together by karma.
Maybe I haven't grieved enough. Maybe I should try to hunt down that neighbour who shot my dad first and then my mom. Maybe I should find him and shoot him too. Maybe I should find out where my parents are buried and pay my respects. Maybe I need to stop whining all the time. Maybe I need to become more respectable. Maybe Warner's right and I do eat like an animal starved, but that's because I am.
Maybe maybe maybe.
Another night I'm lying in bed, listing my losses and counting them like sheep before drifting to sleep and forgetting to remind myself of all the reasons I should be grateful.
Hell. I went to war and survived. Why is losing Nazeera what's taking me down? More like tackling. Yeah, that's the word. I'm wrestling and losing against the emptiness she left behind and I only had her for a short while.
***
“Kenji.” She had whispered one night. Fingers still tracing shapes on my sternum. Like she wasn't about to press against the surface, break through bone and claw for my heart. “I have to go.”
“To the bathroom? I'm not holding you hostage, here.” I'd made a dumb joke to break whatever density had begun to swallow our space. Nazeera had even laughed a little. A small exhale of breath skittering across my chest.
“No. I-” she then sat up and I followed, hands still around her waist. “I have to go back to Asia next week. Haider can't go back there and set things straight again. He- I dont-”
I watched her swallow, taking her hands in mine.
“I can't take the risk and leave him alone. He hated our father. I hate our father, but, without him, it's all a mess back there and I'm scared Haider won't be able to take it and what if he- what if he harms himself again. I'd never be able to forgive myself if he-”
I shushed her, then. Pulled her in and felt her chin tuck onto my shoulder and ran my hands up and down her back. “Nazeera. I would never hold this against you. I understand.”
She sniffled and pulled away, just a bit, our noses an inch apart. “I have to leave.”
“I know.” I tucked her hair behind her ear. Kissed her temple. “It's okay. We'll see each other. I'll visit when I can and we'll keep in touch, you don't-”
“No. Kenji. I have to leave you, too. Us- I can't-” the words had this strange effect on me then. The softness of the bed felt like I was sinking, like quick sand, no matter how much I shifted, I was stuck.
“No. Why?” I'd croaked. “We could make it work, Nazeera. We've been through so much it-”
“No, Kenji, it wouldn't.” Again. The words were firmer now. A wall put up between them and no matter how much I banged my fists against it, I knew that this was where it was over.
But still. I tried.
“How- how can you say that? We could try, at least. If that doesn't work out, then we'll deal with it then.”
“Because I know how this ends, Ke-”
“No.” I gripped her arms. “No, you don't. You're the smartest person I've ever met, but you're not psychic, how could you know something like that?” Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic. I should have scattered back and hunched over to lick my wounds, why didn't I?
“Kenji, I'd have to spend all my time there. I can't be distracted. I can't afford to turn my eye away when my country has just gotten a chance to rebuild itself-” She held up a hand to keep me from speaking when I opened my mouth, “-no. Stop. You have your responsibilities too. You have to go back to North America. You're Ella's second in command and I know that you know this. You knew this was coming since the moment Haider went back. Since the moment Nuria told us we'd have to leave her Sector.” And she was pointing at me, accusatory, like I was knowing this on purpose. Like I was the one preparing to leave. Like I was the one who'd packed his bags and deemed us a lost cause.
My gaze fell down, across the rumpled bedsheets and the smell of before. Five minutes before. When we were still in each other's arms. When everything felt better than it had in a while.
“You're a smart man, Kenji. You know it's not feasible for us to-”
“Not feasible?” I snapped my eyes back to hers. Searching. Begging. Pathetic. “Is- are we something to be let go of the moment it gets difficult?” My jaw twitched at how tight I'd ground it.
“You know what I mean.”
“Like hell I do?” I raised my voice, just slightly and watched her face go devoid of any possible emotion. Watched her slink back into Nazeera, the daughter of a Supreme Commander.
“Sorry,” I dragged a hand down my face. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell.”
“Yeah. Okay.” She nodded. Face softening again as she dressed herself. I watched, dumbfounded.
Then she put her boots on.
“Where are you going?” I'd asked. Voice pitchy like a child's.
“Just cooling off. I need to call Haider and check in. He'd mentioned some left over politicians who directly benefitted from my dad and the Reestablishment were throwing a fit, already.”
“Oh.” I leaned back onto the headboard.
“I'll see you later.”
“Okay.”
Nazeera had eyed me before she left. Head tilting subtly. Maybe she wondered why I was sulking. Why I was throwing a fit before. Why this was something to feel for.
I know I'm wrong but I can't stop the thought from worming around my stupid brain. It's hard to believe she actually loved me when she's not here to say it anymore.
The week after went by syrupy slow but runny all the same. I savored every last moment with her. Coated it in resin and left it to dry and framed it onto the grimy walls in my head.
But when the time came to say goodbye. When we stood at the airport, together for the final moment, every day before that didn't feel enough. Too small in proportion to the life I still had yet to live away from her.
We had decided not to make a big deal out of our last goodbye. Saved us both the humiliation that comes with vulnerability. But it's then when I wanted to kiss her the most. Press my teeth against hers and let her feel the echo of the words caged behind them. I wanted to lick into her throat and feel what emotion, if any, bubbled and fizzled and died before it reached her tongue.
***
But I survived. Yay, Kenji. Sound the applause and bring out the marching band.
I sigh and smother myself with my pillow. It's hot and suffocating and my skin is already becoming sticky. Fuck, I hate this so much.
I throw the pillow away, kick off the covers and make my way into the living room. It is extremely unnerving to have my own living room, my own house, my own room.
I've spent almost all my life sharing rooms and dorms. From sleeping in the same room as my parents, to bunk beds in an overly crowded orphanage, to being roommates in Omega Point.
Then living in Warner's basement.
I've never had a place of my own until now and I'm not sure I like it. But at least I'm still neighbours with all my previous roommates. And my previous landlord. Who I did once try to kill. I shrug at the thought, staring at the wall as I down a glass of water in the dim moonlight slipping through the window.
I was worried about how we were all going to accommodate ourselves back into the slightly homeless situation now that hiding from the government wasn't a priority anymore. But turns out there were many more abandoned neighborhoods than we thought.
And while they were renovated we were able to use the Reestablishment's previous building like our own apartment complex.
But, now the basement feels preferable. There's too much space to accommodate the emptiness. Privacy invites me to feel my feelings and all that bullshit Juliette encourages. It's probably a good thing, but not for me.
Still, the silence provides a space I was always expected to fill. Now there's no one to fill it for. It feels like wearing shoes 3 sizes too big. Like choking your feet with the laces and hoping it's enough. It feels like I've once again lost the important people of my life. A dry laugh dusts my throat. It's just funny to me how I keep forgetting this constant pattern of loss in my life. Every time I let my guard down, I'm shot. Literally and figuratively.
I sift through the leftovers of lunch I missed and eat them. Then sigh when it does nothing to solve the hollowness settling like breath in my lungs. I grind my teeth and head back to bed and try to sleep.
Somehow I do end up drifting off. And when I dream of the usual warm brown skin and gold and laughter, I laugh back.
When I wake up, I forget it. Pour bleach on the memory and scrub it off like a bloodstain.
She's not mine anymore and my brain should let go of any rights to her smile.