Zyan
Zyan could do no more than stare. His heart sped up, his breath caught in his throat, his muscles froze, and still he couldn't begin to compute any part of this situation.
Part of him wanted to slam the door and hide in his office, but even as much as twitching his finger seemed impossible. Questions piled up in his mind of 'why?' and 'how?', but he couldn't voice them, couldn't even get his jaws to move.
Some distant part of his brain registered Ava and Jessica looking back and forth between him and the one person he'd never be prepared to face. They weren't anywhere near his list of priorities. Not while he was trapped by Carter's presence.
"What the hell are you wearing?" Carter asked. His words brutally shattered the silence.
It tore Zyan out of his stupor. "What the hell happened to your hair?" he shot back.
"Jess messed it up," Carter answered. His eyes never left Zyan, as if he were afraid Zyan would up and disappear if he dared to.
"It looks…strange."
"In a bad way?"
Zyan shook his head. "It suits you. Reminds me of the way you used to wear it."
Carter nodded. His gaze still burned into Zyan's, but his thoughts remained firmly hidden behind an impenetrable mask.
Jessica sneezed.
It was enough for reality to come crashing down on Zyan. He tore his eyes away from Carter and looked at the doorjamb to gather his thoughts. His hands were clammy, his heartbeat irregular. Carter wasn't supposed to still hold so much power over him, yet here they were, and Zyan was no more over him than he'd been after the day of their last divorce.
"Why did you bring him here?" Zyan asked. He still couldn't bring himself to look at any of them, even as he felt their gazes burn into his skin.
"I—"
"No, forget it." Zyan cut Ava off. "I don't want to hear it."
"Zyan, we didn't—" Jessica started.
Zyan shook his head and was about to close the door when Carter's hand shot forward to keep it open. "I think we should talk."
Zyan looked back into Carter's eyes, despite his better judgment. "And I think we should stay away from each other, like we agreed, after the disaster that was our last divorce."
He could see something in Carter's face harden. It was the first sign of how affected he was by Zyan's presence, and of how caught-off-guard he was as well. "Please, Zyan."
Zyan pressed his lips together and let his gaze wander to Jessica and Ava. Their expressions spoke volumes. There was more to this than coincidence or fate. They'd had a hand in this. "Not with them here."
Carter nodded and dropped his hand to face them. "Could you wait at Ava's for a while? I'll come by when I'm done here."
"Yeah, of course," Jessica said. Her voice was gentle, sympathetic.
Ava only gave Zyan a sad look, her eyes wide and apologetic. Zyan shook his head and looked away.
Two sets of footsteps faded down the hallway before a door fell shut.
Alone with Carter, Zyan reeled. He kept his gaze averted as he turned, headed for his couch, and sank into the cushions without as much as an attempt at appearing graceful. Carter would've seen through the façade anyway. There was no point in hiding, in building walls, or in feigning calm.
He kept his eyes on the black screen of his TV as Carter closed the door and moved around the place. But when he didn't immediately sit down, Zyan looked up to find him walking around the room and trailing his gaze over the bookshelves and framed pictures on the wall.
"Did you keep any of our memories?" Carter asked. He sounded afraid of the answer.
Zyan knew he wasn't talking about actual memories. "Of course, you idiot," Zyan answered, no heat behind the insult. "I'll never throw them out."
Carter nodded, a slight movement Zyan almost missed. He seemed relieved but didn't voice it. Minutes of charged silence passed, until Carter finished his tour around the room. Even when he was done, he didn't sit down. His posture was in control, where he stood by the kitchen doorway, feet at shoulder-width, as if he were readying himself for something.
He should look out of place, Zyan thought, but he doesn't. He wasn't sure what to take from that.
"Why are you here?" Zyan asked. "Did you know?"
"That you'd be here?" Carter replied and shook his head. "No. But then again, Jess told me your name, so maybe part of me had hoped."
Zyan allowed his confusion to show. He'd stopped raising his walls around Carter a long time ago, and old habits were known to be hard to break. "Hoped?"
Carter nodded. "Yeah." His shoulders visibly drooped. "I've missed you."
Zyan swallowed thickly, unsure how to respond. I miss you too? Every day without you is physically painful? I see you in everything I do, in every person that passes by? I don't know how to live without you?
Carter's eyes burned into him, piercing through every one of his defenses and all the lies he'd tried to convince himself of. "What about you? Did you miss me at all?"
Zyan stood up. He couldn't sit any longer, couldn't keep himself from moving and containing his nervous energy. He clenched and unclenched his fingers as he approached Carter head-on. They stood at nearly the same height, Zyan only about half an inch taller. He wet his lips and inhaled deeply. "No." It was a lie. Of course it was. And Carter would know, would see through it like he always did, and he'd—
Carter only nodded. The movement was small, slow, and it broke Zyan's heart. How could he believe it, accept it, so readily? And what did it mean for all the time they'd spent apart? Had Carter actually thought Zyan was doing fine without him? That he wasn't hurting? That Zyan didn't miss him, them, everything they'd lost?
"What does that mean for us?" Carter finally asked.
"I don't know," Zyan answered honestly.
Carter nodded again. "Okay. I'll…I'll go get the girls now. They'll be waiting for me."
Zyan clenched his jaw. "Yeah. You go and do that."
There was another nod before Carter slowly started to head for the door. With his hand already on the handle, he paused but didn't turn around. "It was good to see you again."
Zyan didn't breathe until he heard the door fall shut. He closed his eyes and took a moment to collect himself before he headed back to his office.
Two hours passed, filled with nothing but failure at focusing on his work. He went back and forth between typing out an idea, deleting it again, switching back and forth between tabs, all until he snapped and got up to pace.
No matter what he did, he couldn't stop his thoughts from racing. He replayed every moment in his head, imagined what could've happened if he'd been honest, or Carter had called him out on his obvious lie. None of it came to a clear outcome. Too much time had passed, too much could've changed. He could no longer predict Carter's reactions, and that hurt more than he could've ever assumed.
Eventually, he prepared himself a snack for the sake of doing something, but after the first bite, he realized he couldn't stomach anything and left it mostly untouched.
He still stared unseeingly at the blinking cursor on screen when someone banged on his door.
It startled him, but the surprise quickly turned to annoyance. The last thing he wanted was to talk to someone.
The banging went on.
He ignored it.
"Zyan, please! Open up!"
Ava.
He sighed and got up to hear her out. Ava stood with her hand still balled in a fist. Her eyes were wide, the corners of her mouth tugged down, and her shoulders slouched. She looked defeated.
"Zyan, I—" she started but cut herself off when he stepped aside in silent invitation.
Ava ducked her head and brushed past him. She lowered herself to sit on the edge of the sofa. Her gaze was fixed on her feet, her shoulders slouched. "I'm really sorry," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have—"
Zyan sat close to her and stopped her from going on with the raise of a hand. "It's okay. It was inevitable."
Ava nodded but still avoided his gaze. "Still. It wasn't my place to interfere." She was clearly hesitant to look up at him, but when their eyes met, the tension in her shoulders visibly eased. "So…how are you?"
Zyan shook his head and sunk further into the cushions. His mind traveled back to the conversation. He thought about all the what ifs and what could have beens, but in the end, what'd happened was what needed to happen to finally let them move on. They'd both need that last push to get them to accept that this—whatever they had—was over. But why did it have to hurt so bad and feel so wrong? Why did it feel like tearing open old wounds instead of starting to heal? "I'm not mad at you. Surprisingly. I mean…I would have expected to be, but…I'm just…not."
Ava fidgeted, wringing her hands. "I should probably be grateful for that, but right now, I just feel like crap, and I'd prefer you yelling at me over…this."
Zyan huffed a laugh. "Me too." He let out a deep breath and felt all remaining energy drain from his body. There was no more fight left in him. He didn't want to pretend anymore. He didn't want to argue or find someone to blame or cover up his hurt with apathy. For now, he just needed to let himself be. "But I can't seem to find the energy to be angry. I'm just tired. Really tired."
There wasn't a time he could recall where he'd felt the years crash down on him like that. He could remember the grief and mourning, the anger and frustration, but never this soul-crushing heaviness of sheer exhaustion. This was him, collapsing under the weight of his past. And this time, there was no one to share the burden.
"I would have never expected him to still hold so much control over me," Zyan said quietly.
He hadn't planned to let the words slip, didn't feel it was Ava's place to know, but right now, he couldn't help but voice his thoughts. And Ava would listen, he knew that. He trusted her. As his mind got lost in the memories, his vision went blurry and his breathing slowed.
One moment, he was there in the room with her, and the next, the world around him disappeared. He found himself back in another time, long before Ava was even born.
"It was stupid of me to assume that," Zyan continued his last thought. "He was the first person I saw after I came back from the dead. He was the one who saved me. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him." He felt the remnants of past emotions wash over him. "I never quite forgave him for that."
He was glad Ava didn't comment. He didn't know if he would've been able to go on if she had.
"I had to leave my family because of him. My mother kicked us out—not that I blame her for it. In her eyes, I was no longer human, no longer her son. I'd died and left her to take care of my little sister by herself. My father had been killed by Kamehameha's people when I was a toddler, so when I got older, I took on his duties. I wanted to take some of the weight off my mother's shoulders. And then I went and died of a simple disease. My body wasn't strong enough to fight it.
"I wanted to go back so many times, wanted to know what had become of them. But I could never bring up the courage. I couldn't bear the thought of seeing the looks on their faces when they realized I hadn't aged a day. It still kills me inside. Every time I see a family. A brother and a sister. The way they all care for each other, how they grow old together. All I have of my own sister is a faint memory that pales more and more with every passing day.
"I blamed Carter for the longest time. Every time I missed my mother's breathing at night, or my sister's big, dark eyes looking up at me, I felt this, this rage boiling under my skin. Even now, I still have days where I can't help but think 'if it weren't for him…'" He trailed off. "But I know he's not the one to blame. It was the disease. If I hadn't fallen sick, I wouldn't have died, and Carter wouldn't have seen himself confronted with this impossible situation, where the only options are two extremes. I asked him many times over the years why he didn't just let me die. After almost three years of secret meetings and countless discussions about the future, he must've made peace with the thought of watching me age and die someday…Why did he choose to bring me back? Why didn't he let life take its course?"
He fell silent, trapped in that room he'd woken up in. He recalled the feeling of dying, of Carter's hand in his. There'd been a voice in a language he could barely understand at the time. It'd pleaded with him, had begged him to stay, to not leave, not yet, not ever. The exact wording would forever be lost to him, but he knew enough for it to hurt like a knife in his gut.
He sat motionless for almost a full minute as he tried to overcome the turmoil of the memory so brutally dragged back to the forefront of his mind.
"What did he say?"
The soft voice pulled him from his thoughts, but his eyes remained unseeing. The world blurred. "He told me he couldn't take it. He said I didn't deserve to die so young, that he'd been following his instincts, unaware of the consequences. He said he'd thought he was only bringing me back to life, not making me immortal.
"I always told him he was lying, but the truth is, I believe him. What he did was something that had never been done before. The Diwata who brought his mother back to life left traces of magic inside her that were passed on to Carter. But since neither of their powers come even remotely close to what the spirit could do, how was he supposed to know it would have such a large impact on me?
"I told myself that over and over again, but still…knowing that the only reason I'm still here is an accident is not really pleasant. We're talking about the last two-hundred-and-two years of my life…Is all of that just the result of an accident? Nothing more? Not fate or destiny, but the consequence of a decision made by a man with a crush? Am I only sitting here because he couldn't handle the thought of not knowing where the relationship was heading?" Zyan fell silent again as he tried to push his emotions down. He could question his existence later, when he lay alone in the dark and stare up at the ceiling—right now, there was already enough on his plate as it was.
"It doesn't matter why you're here," Ava said quietly. "It only matters what you made of it. It's time to leave the past behind and look into the future. After all, there's a lot of it ahead of you."
Ava's joke fell flat. Zyan didn't feel like laughing. He didn't even spare her a glance.
"I know your immortality must feel like a burden sometimes," Ava said. "I can't imagine going through what you've been through, but…people make rash decisions when they're heartbroken. Three years is a long time for feelings to grow, and even knowing how it'll end won't stop hearts from getting attached—you said that yourself." When Zyan didn't reply right away, Ava went on. "I'm sorry if I went too far. But I don't think holding on to centuries-old hurt is a healthy way to live your life."
Zyan shook his head. "Doesn't matter. This isn't the part I want to talk about right now." He took a deep breath and reorganized his thoughts.
This wasn't a story he usually told anyone. This wasn't even something he and Carter talked about. He glanced over at Ava, to see her big eyes unguarded and curious. "In Wales, back in the sixties," he started. "After Carter and I had gotten divorced for maybe the tenth or eleventh time, Carter settled down with a mortal."
He heard Ava suck in a breath, but he didn't look at her. She could probably already tell where this was going.
"They never got married or anything," Zyan went on. "But Carter cared for him. Back when they first got together, me and Carter were still in frequent contact, so when he went up to me and told me about his blooming relationship, I saw myself faced with two options: tell him I was happy for him or be brutally honest. You should know what I went with." Zyan didn't wait for her to speak. "I told him it was a bad idea to settle down with a mortal, especially for him. He's always been the kind of person who wears their heart on their sleeve, who falls too fast and too hard, and doesn't see reason through the daze of being in love." He paused. "Much like you. So, you can understand why I was worried about him. But no matter what I said, or how much sense I made, he wouldn't listen, and I didn't feel it was my place to interfere any further. So I didn't.
*~*~*
Six years had passed since Carter had left to follow his heart, yet it was still strange to wake up to an empty bed every morning. Zyan had since moved from their home, but Carter's presence lingered. It always did, and it always would.
Leaving his apartment was a painfully difficult process these days. He seemed to have no energy to move, much less get showered and dressed, yet groceries needed to be bought if he didn't want to starve to death. It was one of those instances that Zyan found himself confronted with his past, in the fruit aisle, of all places.
"Hey."
Zyan stared. He couldn't bring himself to reply.
"So…how are you? You look well."
Zyan shook his head and brushed past Carter.
"I told Aaron."
Zyan froze and inclined his head, yet he couldn't bear to turn and look at Carter.
"He didn't take it well. He kicked me out."
Zyan pressed his lips together and took a deep breath. "Are you asking me for a place to stay?"
"No! No. I just…I thought you might want to know. That you were right."
Zyan finally turned around. "Why? Do you think it brings me satisfaction? That I draw joy from your pain? I don't, Carter. I don't like to see you get hurt." He shook his head and turned to leave again.
"Zyan, I didn't—"
"Hwyl fawr, Carter. Until next time." Zyan kept his shoulders hunched until he'd fled the store. There always seems to be a next time.
*~*~*
Fifteen years later, Zyan picked up the phone and was met with silence. He frowned and was about to hang up when a heartbreakingly familiar voice spoke up.
"It's cancer, Zyan." Carter's voice was rough, like he'd been screaming for a long time.
"What?"
"Aaron, he—he was diagnosed with cancer."
Zyan clenched his jaw and swallowed thickly. He wasn't sure what to say.
"They can't operate it. It's outside his stomach. They say it's overgrown his aorta."
The waver in Carter's voice felt like a knife in Zyan's heart. "Carter, I…"
"I can't do it, Zyan, you were right. I can't handle it. I can't watch him die."
Zyan could hear the tears in Carter's voice and felt his own heart clench. "You can't leave. Not now. He needs you." It hurt to say, but he kept his tone gentle, at least for now. He never thought he'd be pushing the love of his life to go be with someone else. "He's never needed you more than he does now."
The words broke Carter. He was sobbing, choking on his pain. It didn't sound like it was the first time that day.
Zyan's throat was tight. Part of him wished he were there with Carter, to hold and comfort him, to wipe his tears and lie about how everything was going to be okay. Another part of him knew he could never say what Carter needed to hear if he saw Carter look as defeated as he sounded. "I know it hurts, Carter, but you'll get through it."
"I can't."
"Yes, you can. And you will. Aaron is out there, probably terrified, and falling apart at the seams, while you're sitting here, more concerned about your own feelings. He's just been told he's going to die! He needs you to be strong for him."
"Zyan—"
"No!" Being so harsh ate at him. He felt cruel, heartless, but it was necessary, he knew that, because he knew Carter better than he knew himself. "If you don't go back and be there for Aaron during the worst and most vulnerable time of his life, then I don't ever want to see your face again. I mean it."
"What am I supposed to do? How can I face him after I already bolted?"
"By being honest. You tell him the truth. And then you stay. No matter what he tells you in his grief, you stay, and you make his final days or weeks or months or even years the best time of his entire goddamn life." Zyan nearly choked on the words. He didn't want this. He didn't want to be part of any of this. Carter's heart would be ripped to shreds, and it would be Zyan's doing, but there was no other option. Carter would never forgive himself if he didn't go back.
Carter was still sniffing, still audibly struggling to breathe. "Okay."
Zyan squeezed his eyes shut. "Good."
"I'm sorry."
"No, Carter, don't tell me that. Tell him."
"Okay."
"And when you need me, come find me. I'll be there."
"Hwyl fawr, Zyan."
Zyan held his breath and waited for the line to go dead before he hung up.
*~*~*
Months passed before the fateful knock carried Zyan to his door, where he found Carter, armed with nothing but a duffel bag. He looked worn out, like he hadn't slept, showered, or eaten in days.
"Carter…"
He wouldn't meet Zyan's eyes, so Zyan stepped aside and gently tugged him inside by his arm. Zyan made him shower, made him eat, but there was still no life in Carter's eyes. It felt like he'd died and left his physical form behind.
After two more months, Carter still wouldn't talk or even acknowledge Zyan's presence beyond brief eye contact when Zyan handed him food or came back from the store. Conversation prompts were ignored, questions left unanswered, and Zyan's fear grew. What if Carter never came back from this? What if this was all there was left of him? Zyan was the one who'd pushed him to go back, and even if it was the right thing to do, this was never what he'd wanted for Carter.
Zyan hit his breaking point at dinner one evening.
"I thought we could go out tomorrow. It looks like it'll be sunny for once. The fresh air might do you some good." Zyan looked up from his emptied plate to find Carter picking at his bread. "You could at least nod or shake your head, you know? If you don't want to talk, that's fine, but don't outright ignore me."
Carter still wouldn't look up.
Zyan clenched his jaw, even as his eyes stung. "If you're blaming me for your pain because I pushed you to go back, say so. Yell at me, punch me, kick me—I don't care, but this has got to stop. You can't keep going like this! You're not even living anymore. You're just existing!"
Carter had stopped picking at his food.
Zyan jumped up and rubbed at his face. He paced along the table, threw Carter frequent glances, but there were no signs of him reacting to Zyan's distress beyond the occasional twitch of a finger. After a minute, Zyan stopped right by Carter. He looked down at him, at the shell of his former husband, and found nothing but pain and frustration in his own heart at the sight.
"I'm done looking out for you!" Zyan's own voice sounded foreign to him. His eyes burned. "And I'm done treating you like you're made of glass! I'm sorry about what happened, I truly am. I never wanted you to get hurt, but I knew you'd always regret it if you bailed. I did what you would've wanted me to do, and I don't regret it. But this has got to stop!"
Carter's shoulders tensed.
Zyan gritted his teeth and wiped a stray tear from his cheek. "Do you think this is what Aaron would have wanted for you? Do you think he would have wanted you to turn into—into this? Because I think he wouldn't even recognize you anymore. God knows I don't! The Carter I know would never treat me like this! He wouldn't allow himself to get lost. He would have talked to me. And he would have dealt with his grief."
When Carter still didn't speak or even look up, Zyan snapped.
"You want to keep going like this? Fine! Be that way!" Zyan wiped the tears from his face. "But do it in your own home, where I don't have to see it every single goddamn day! I'm tired of seeing you walk around the place like a ghost. I'm tired of spending every second worrying and feeling guilty. When I told you to come find me, I meant to help you get back on your feet, not to be your servant."
"You're right."
Zyan froze. His vision was still blurry with tears. He didn't even know whether they were from frustration or sadness.
"I'm sorry."
"I…" Zyan didn't know what to say. When Carter got up and started cleaning up the dishes, Zyan only took a step back and watched, tears still dripping down his face.
Later that night, Zyan already lay curled up in bed, though he couldn't bring himself to sleep.
He stared out the window at the cloudy night sky and wondered how he could keep going when he knew he'd have to see Carter again the next morning. He didn't know what would happen now, how Carter would behave, if he'd continue his silence or start talking. Zyan didn't even know what he wanted himself. Did he want things to go back to the way they used to be? Did he want Carter to leave and move on separately? Did he want to try being friends? None of those options seemed favorable.
When his bedroom door creaked, he was pulled out of his thoughts and turned to find Carter in the glow of the pale moonlight. He looked ruffled, like he'd been trying and failing to sleep as much as Zyan. They looked at each other, but neither said a word. When Carter came closer and slid between the sheets on the empty side of the bed, neither treated it as out of the ordinary.
Zyan watched Carter for a moment, took in how tired and worn-out he still looked, before he turned back around and continued to watch the stars fade in and out of sight as the clouds blew by.
*~*~*
Carter started getting better, though progress was slow.
It started with small talk over breakfast. Short questions of "how did you sleep?" or "what are your plans for today?" but it was a start, and each time Zyan heard his voice, he was startled by it. Part of him had lost hope he'd ever get to hear it again.
When Zyan went out to get groceries, he returned to washed dishes and folded laundry, and when he got out of the shower, dinner was served on a set table. Each small gesture caught him off-guard, but it was always replaced by a warmth in his chest. Carter was getting better. He was coming back to Zyan.
When they hit the one-week mark after Zyan's outburst, Carter's presence in Zyan's bed had become the new norm. He still retired to his own bed each night, as if they didn't both know that wasn't where he'd wake up in the morning. Zyan had come to stay awake until he could hear the telltale creak of the door, followed by the shuffling footsteps and dip of the mattress. They always stuck to their own side. And they never mentioned it in the morning.
*~*~*
Three years passed before Carter could hear the name Aaron without shutting down and freezing in place, and another two before he started to bring Aaron up in conversation.
They'd moved into a small house with a garden and just one bedroom. It was still within the country, but further up north, where the memories couldn't haunt Carter as easily. And after they finished renovations around the house, they both went out and got part-time jobs to keep themselves occupied.
Almost six years had passed since Aaron's death, and Zyan still couldn't quite believe they'd stuck together through it all. It was late at night when Zyan returned from an office party and slipped into bed next to Carter's sprawled-out form.
"Hey." Carter's voice was deep and raspy with sleep.
"Hey. Sorry I woke you."
"'s okay."
Carter was quiet so long, Zyan thought he might have fallen back to sleep and was about to drift off himself.
"It's weird to sleep without you."
Zyan opened his eyes to find Carter looking back at him.
"It's always so easy to fall back in step with you. I've never known anyone like I know you."
"I know what you mean," Zyan said quietly.
"Even with my mother, I never know what to expect and with-with Aaron, I never knew what he was thinking."
Zyan didn't know what to say, so he stayed quiet.
"Did you know he proposed to me?"
Zyan's lips parted in shock, but he still didn't speak.
"It was a year after I told him about my immortality. He and I, we'd moved in together and things were going well. We'd agreed we were in for the long haul, so after our anniversary dinner, we went home and curled up on the balcony to watch the stars. That's when he brought up marriage. He wanted to exchange rings and vows, go on a honeymoon, and I hadn't expected it. In fact, I was so shocked Aaron asked if I'd never thought about it. And I hadn't. Getting married. I never pictured it with anyone but you."
Zyan froze when Carter reached to place a hand on his cheek. The touch was warm and sent sparks flying, but Zyan still couldn't find the right words to express what he was thinking.
"I was there when Aaron died in our bed. I sat right next to him, and you know what his last words were?"
Zyan didn't say anything. He knew Carter didn't expect him to.
"Go out and find happiness." Carter's thumb brushed over Zyan's cheekbone. "It felt cruel when I'd just watched him die in front of me. When I knew I couldn't be there to bury him because his friends and family thought I was his caretaker. That's what he told them I was to him, so they wouldn't get suspicious. His caretaker."
"I'm sorry."
Carter shook his head. "What matters now is that I'm here with you. That I found happiness again, like he wanted me to."
"Carter…" Words escaped Zyan again.
"I want to get married again. If you want to, that is."
Zyan wet his lips when Carter withdrew his hand, only to take one of Zyan's to squeeze his fingers. "Why?" It felt like an inane question in the grand scheme of things. But truth was, they hadn't even kissed since Aaron's passing. They weren't friends, yet they weren't lovers, they were something…different. There was no simple way to describe their relationship.
"Because I love you. And I know you love me too. We belong together. There's no world I want to live in if you're not there. And if you feel the same way, I'd like to make it official again. You're the only one I want to promise my forever to, so…will you marry me?"
Zyan knew Carter was convinced by his own words. He believed what he was saying, and not too long ago, Zyan would've believed him, too, without a second thought. Now, he wasn't sure. His state after Aaron's passing had been terrifying. He'd loved Aaron—deeply—to an extent Zyan could never imagine loving anyone except the man lying in front of him. Had they ever been equally invested? Despite his doubts, and now faced with Carter's hopeful gaze, Zyan couldn't bring himself to voice his thoughts. But even if he could, he wasn't sure he'd ever give another answer but: "Yes."
When Carter tugged at his hand to pull him closer, Zyan went willingly, and tilted his head to meet his kiss halfway.
*~*~*
"Neither of us has ever told anyone this story…at least not that I know of. It probably wasn't my place to tell you this, but it's done now."
"Then why did you?" Ava asked. Her voice was low and gentle, like she was afraid of startling him.
"Because what happened with Aaron…it changed things," Zyan answered. He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath to steel himself. "To me, it's always been obvious that I'm more invested in this relationship than Carter. To me, Carter was my entire world. He's the reason I'm still alive. He's the one constant in my life, while everything around me changes and evolves. Even when I had nothing and understood nothing, I always had Carter to hold my hand and anchor me.
"But I was never that for Carter. He never needed me until he was faced with losing Aaron. I'd never seen him like that, not when he got divorced and not even when we were in a war-ridden country. He was always confident and in control. He enjoyed the pleasures of every decade, every century. He met new people and enjoyed the time he had with them. He never stuck around for them, always made sure he'd keep them in his mind as a pleasant memory, instead of staying with them and watching them fade.
"We were always traveling and experiencing different cultures at different moments in time, but I was always aware that everything I was seeing and feeling would be fleeting compared to what lay ahead. I could never quite enjoy what was happening because the awareness of my own immortality was constantly nagging at the back of my mind. But Carter, he'd made peace with that part of his life when he was still very young.
"And then there's also his mother. She shows up and continues to do so every couple of decades. She's the one person who's known him since the day he was born. She watched him grow up and continues to keep an eye on him. I don't have that. And I never will. All I have is Carter. And I'd never even realized how dependent I was on him until he was with Aaron, and left me to fend for myself for a couple of decades. We'd been apart before that, of course, but it was never for longer than two or three years, and neither of us had ever had an honest relationship during that time.
"Then came Aaron. He was the one that made me realize Carter was capable of loving other people romantically. I'd never been 'the one' for Carter. Carter didn't feel for me what I felt for him. I'm not even sure he's capable of that. Maybe he felt like that for Aaron. I don't know. All I know is I can't spend the rest of eternity with a man who doesn't reciprocate my feelings. I don't deserve that. And I know it might be selfish. I'm aware Carter might be hurting because of me, and I do feel guilty about that, but I need to find a way to live with myself and stand on my own two feet. I need to find a way to live without Carter, and as of now, I haven't found a way to do that."
For almost a full minute, all Zyan could hear was his own breathing.
"I'm not really sure what to say," Ava said finally, if just for the sake of saying something.
"You don't have to say anything," Zyan replied.
He looked at her and found the expression on her face told him everything he needed to know. She was shocked, overwhelmed, as if she'd finally realized who he was. Maybe his immortality hadn't fully sunk in before, or maybe she was simply trying to come to terms with what he'd just told her. Either way, he was done. He didn't want to answer any questions or tell more of his sob story. Part of him already regretted telling her anything at all. His past was his burden to carry, his problem to solve, his pain to come to terms with. She had her own to deal with.
"I'm tired," Zyan said.
Ava took it as the dismissal it was and rose to her feet. She started walking toward the door, but halted with her hand hovering over the doorknob. "For what it's worth…I understand. And I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you what to do, but I honestly don't know."
"I never expected you to. But I'd appreciate it if you'd never make decisions for me again."
Ava nodded. "Yeah…goodbye. And…I love you."
"I love you too."
Zyan could hear her shuddering intake of breath before she disappeared into the hallway. The door fell shut behind her with a soft click.