Things might’ve been different if it hadn’t been for that awful kiss. After it, Ejiro just couldn’t feel comfortable around her anymore, at least, not enough to see or want her sexually or romantically. Though he couldn’t say he hadn’t tried.
There was also the matter of Obiora. Fuck, Obiora. Ejiro scrubbed his hands over his face.
He was in trouble. So much trouble.
Like his thoughts had summoned him, there Obiora was, stalking down the steps that led to the garden. He must’ve finished filming already. So quickly? Christ, how long had Ejiro been down here?
Obiora didn’t spot Ejiro at first, pacing around the twisting cobblestones, only stopping abruptly when he noticed him.
Then Ejiro properly took in the tortured look on his face. His heart dropped into his stomach.
“Obiora?” he gasped, shoving out of his seat and closing the distance between them. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? What happened?”
“Fucking Sasha Pierce, that’s what,” Obiora growled, and continued pacing. “Telling me I’ve built barriers around myself because of Ada’s death.” Ejiro’s heart cracked into tiny little pieces at the pure anguish in his voice. “I mean, nothing she said was a lie, I knew it already, but fuck her. Fuck her.” He laughed, almost maniacally. “I’m probably going to be eliminated after this. And I don’t even fucking care.”
Panic encompassed Ejiro’s being at the thought of Obiora leaving. They hadn’t even had a chance to figure things out between them—if there were things to figure out.
But that wasn’t important right now. Ejiro’s need to heal whatever hurt Obiora was feeling took precedence.
“Obiora,” he said, soft but firm. “What do you need?”
Anything, Ejiro thought desperately. Absolutely anything, and I’ll give it to you.
“I still celebrate her birthday, did you know that?” Obiora said abruptly. He stalked to the roofed edge of the garden before Ejiro could respond, like he was suddenly in need of cover. “Ada,” he clarified when Ejiro followed after him. This corner of the garden did feel more private, and Ejiro was glad to notice Obiora’s harsh breathing had slowed down. “I do it secretly, and I do it on my own, because I don’t want my family to worry. I don’t want them to see that I’m broken.”
“Obiora,” Ejiro whispered, choked. The admission hurt, like an arrow to Ejiro’s heart, the thought of Obiora mourning his lost love by himself, and because of what?
“I mourn during our anniversaries. I cry for what could have been. The wound hasn’t healed; I just learned to fucking live with it. I miss her every fucking day. And I know that I will never stop loving her. But if I ever want to be with someone new? Then I’ll have to let her go.” He bit back an anguished sob. Ejiro’s own eyes burned. “Trust me, I’ve been there. I met someone new. I thought I was in love. But how could I say, with utmost confidence, that I was in love with him, when I still ached so much for her? How was it fair to my new partner, that I still celebrate my anniversaries with a dead girl”—he spat the words viciously, but they didn’t sound like his own—“that I refuse to overwrite my history with her, because I don’t want to lose even a tiny bit of her? He proposed to me, on the anniversary of her accident.” Ejiro sucked in a sharp, furious breath. He what? “He wanted to overwrite my history with her with something new, something happy and positive. And I went ballistic.” Obiora laughed again. “How dare my new boyfriend want all my love and attention for himself, right?” he said mockingly. “And I thought—God, I thought—” He shook his head violently. “More fool me. I’ve always known he was right, and fucking Sasha Pierce is right; I can’t let her go, which means it’s impossible for me to truly love someone new.”
He stared at Ejiro as he said those last words, like they were a confession. Ejiro’s chest went tight and hot. He was shaking.
“That’s bullshit.”
Obiora blinked in surprise at the vehemence in his tone.
Good.
“Do you hear me? That’s fucking bullshit. You have to let her go? That’s fucking bullshit, Obiora.”
“I—” Obiora was staring at him, eyes wide and wet.
“She was a huge part of your life—she still is a huge part of your life,” Ejiro said harshly, wanting furiously to imprint the words on Obiora’s brain. “Do you think your emotionally manipulative ex—or fucking Sasha Pierce, would say the same thing if it was one of your parents that died? Or your brothers? Or even Esther? If you celebrated their birthdays and their anniversaries, or mourned on the days you lost them, they’d understand, because they know how those people shaped your life. If someone proposed to me on the anniversary of Ajiri’s death, God forbid, I’d stab them in the fucking face. The fucking disrespect, Obiora. It’s the exact same thing with Ada, I promise you. You grew up with her. You fell in love. And before you could start your life together, the world snatched her away from you. Of course you still love her.” Fuck, Ejiro was crying. “Why? Is it because it’s romantic, that it’s suddenly different? Why?”
“Ejiro,” Obiora whispered. Tears glinted on his cheeks, silent and heart wrenching. “Ejiro.”
Ejiro stepped closer, hands clenched into fists to stop their trembling. “Obiora, you are more than capable of loving her while still loving someone else—in fact, you clearly already have loved someone else, though he didn’t deserve it.” Ejiro’s eyes flashed with pure hatred at the thought of Obiora’s ex. The monopolising self-centred bastard. “I don’t care what anyone else says or thinks, but grief is grief, love is love. And you don’t—” He took a shaky breath. “You don’t have to choose.”
“Oh, fuck.” Obiora shook. “Ejiro. Ejiro.” His name fell from Obiora’s lips like a prayer; a plea.
“Yes? Yes?” Ejiro answered just as passionately, stepping even closer. Their eyes were locked. Electricity crackled between them like lightning. “Anything. Anything.”
“Please,” Obiora begged brokenly. “Kiss me.”
Ejiro sucked in a trembling breath. Then he flew forward, crashing into Obiora’s arms, joining their lips desperately. Obiora yanked him closer, pressing their bodies together more fully, making Ejiro shudder with pleasure and desire.
Obiora’s lips were soft and plush, the feel of them seriously short-circuiting Ejiro’s brain. Ejiro hadn’t even realised just how badly he’d wanted Obiora’s kiss until their lips met, and it felt like Ejiro’s entire world came to an abrupt halt, his universe exploding with a multitude of bright stars.
His hands fisted at the back of Obiora’s shirt, and his heart raced like a rabbit’s, his breaths short and frantic. Obiora had one hand at the small of Ejiro’s back with his palm spread wide and flat, like he wanted to touch as much of Ejiro as he could, while his other hand was on Ejiro’s upper back, holding him steady. Ejiro needed to be steadied; it felt like his legs were slowly turning to jelly.
