Zyan
The day after Carter's visit, Zyan still couldn't forget Carter's final words. They kept echoing, no matter what he did, no matter how loud he played his music, or how much he tried to concentrate on his work. It was beyond frustrating.
He hadn't gotten more than two hours of sleep, which had left his entire body aching, but his brain seemed to do just fine, as it kept firing memories of the distant past at him. He remembered the days they'd spent at sea the first time they'd traveled to the States. He remembered their first "wedding," back when same-gender marriage had been unthinkable, when they'd invited a friend over to their place to lead the ceremony.
Since Zyan had already abandoned religion at that point and Carter was a Buddhist—one of the few left in the Philippines—neither of them had cared too much that it wouldn't be a union blessed by God in the eyes of most people.
Then there were the countless times when they hadn't woken up in the same bed, when they'd been between marriages or fighting, and the dozens of times when Zyan had kicked Carter off the mattress in his sleep, just to get woken up seconds later by a grumpy Carter, who'd decided to flop down on top of him as an act of revenge.
He remembered all the lazy, rainy days when they'd decided to stay inside, and the sunny days when they'd gone exploring.
And he remembered the last few months of their last marriage, when they'd barely spoken to each other, when Zyan had felt his humanity fade as he locked away his emotions to distance himself from the person he loved most on this planet simply because he couldn't bear the thought of being with somebody who'd never care for him an equal amount.
He'd been able to see how hurt Carter had been, how confused, because hadn't understood what he'd done wrong. Zyan remembered every one of Carter's attempts to salvage their broken relationship: each push to open communication, all the apologies that meant nothing because he hadn't even known what he was apologizing for.
The guilt had eaten at him every single day. And now it was coming back to him, and doubled, by the way he'd hurt Carter again the day before.
He tried to convince himself that Carter's happiness was no longer his responsibility, that they should both accept the facts and move on, but it did nothing to dampen the ache in his chest.
He needed to learn to be happy by himself, to build up a life, preferably away from the mortals, in a different town, or city, or state, or even country. He couldn't risk getting too comfortable in one place any longer. All it had ever done was lead to attachments ending in death and heartbreak. If he could rediscover his enjoyment of exploring and traveling, maybe he'd also rediscover himself.
Maybe now was the time to start that journey. It was what he usually did when the past caught up to him: he fled. He'd miss Ava, he was sure of that. Just like he was sure she wouldn't understand why they'd have to break off contact, or why he wouldn't want to at least continue meeting up or messaging back and forth. But it'd be for the best.
Maybe he'd change his name again, even though he'd come to quite enjoy this one, as ridiculous as it was.
Maybe he'd go back to Hawai'i, see what had become of his birth place. He did that every couple of decades. Though this time would be a first. This time, he wouldn't have Carter by his side.
Zyan groaned as his brain had come full circle once again.
"I did, you know? Love you…I still do."
He banged his head against the desk.
There was a knock at the door.
To his embarrassment, the first thought that popped into his mind was that Carter had come back, but he quickly shook his head to get rid of it and got up.
"You look like crap," Ava said, in lieu of a greeting. She brushed past him and made herself at home on his couch.
"Yeah, it's always good to see you too," Zyan mumbled. He shut the door and joined her on the sofa, accepting the fact that his work would be left abandoned for at least two hours. "Didn't you and Jessica have plans for today?"
"Yeah," Ava replied. "But she decided to stay with Carter."
Zyan tried to hide how much the mere mention of the name affected him.
"You know you don't have to pretend with me, right? I know you're hurting and it's okay to show it. I won't judge." Ava looked at him. "And not just because it'd be hypocritical of me."
Zyan snorted, even when the smile tugged at his mouth. "I'm okay, Ava, really."
"Are you, though?"
"I will be. It'll take some distance, maybe a bit of sight-seeing and apartment hunting, but I will be." Zyan purposefully looked away while he said it.
"What-what're you saying? Are you moving out?"
Zyan could hear the shock in Ava's voice but refused to make eye contact. "Yes. I've been due for a change, and now feels like a good time for a fresh start. My rental contract is due for renewal next month and—"
"No!" Ava cut him off. "You're not just gonna up and run from this!"
Zyan turned to see her face reflect the pure conviction and anger in her voice. "I'm not running."
"Yes, you are!"
Zyan shook his head and stood up. "I've got a project to finish and packing to get to. Feel free to help if you like. Or leave, if you'd prefer."
Ava jumped up and pushed into his personal space. "I'm not a violent person," she bit out. "But right now, I'd really love to punch your pretty face."
Zyan drew his brows together. "Okay. I'd prefer you didn't do that, but if you feel like you have to, I hope you choose not to aim for the nose."
Ava balled her fists and narrowed her eyes. "You're infuriating!"
"So I've been told."
"I wonder what Carter sees in you sometimes."
"I've been asking myself that question for two-hundred years."
Ava closed her eyes and visibly made an effort to release some of the tension in her muscles. When she opened her eyes again, she seemed a lot calmer. "If you'd like to talk to Carter, you can find him at Jessie's, where he'll be staying for an unforeseeable amount of time." She pulled a folded yellow sticky note from her pocket. "I wrote down the address for you." She carefully set it down on the coffee table before she turned to leave.
"I won't use the note," Zyan told her.
Ava shrugged but kept her back to him. "It's your life. You can run it into the ground as much as you'd like."
The soft click as the front door fell shut sounded deafening in the wake of her departure.
Zyan turned to stare down at the folded paper.