Sonny exhales slowly, like he’s choosing his next words carefully. “I know Varek… killed him,” he says, not looking directly at me. “That’s what you said when we first met.”
“Yeah.”
“That all of it?”
There’s no pressure in the question, just… space, if I want to use it.
I stare out at the horizon for a long second, weighing it up. Then I let out a quiet breath. “No,” I say.
Sonny doesn’t react outwardly. He doesn’t look surprised. Just… listens.
“It wasn’t always bad,” I repeat. “But when it turned… it turned properly.” I swallow and rub my hand over my nape. “He drank. A lot. Hid it well at first. Then stopped hiding it.” I rub a hand over my chest absently. “Out there, no one cared. No neighbours close enough to hear anything. No one asking questions.”
The words come out steady, but there’s weight behind them.
“And I’d already spent years learning to keep my head down. Not make waves. Not draw attention.”
Sonny’s expression shifts, softer now. “Yeah.”
“So I stayed,” I finish.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. Then Sonny nudges his shoulder lightly against mine. “Hey,” he says, voice quieter now. “That’s not on you.”
I huff a breath. “Yeah, I know that. Doesn’t mean I believe it all the time.”
“Fair,” he says.
We sit with that for a bit. Then he tilts his head slightly, looking at me again. “So this—” He gestures vaguely at me again. “This version of you—it isn’t new?”
“No,” I say. “It’s… old. Or maybe just buried.”
“And now?”
I glance down at my hands, then back out towards the settlement. Towards where I can feel Varek. That steady, constant presence. “I think I’m just… not burying it anymore,” I say.
Sonny studies me for a second, then grins slightly. “Took getting dragged into another dimension to figure that out.”
I snort. “Bit extreme, yeah.”
“Could’ve just gone to therapy,” he adds.
“Don’t ruin it.”
He laughs, then sobers a little. “And him?” Sonny asks carefully. “Varek.”
I don’t hesitate. “Yeah,” I say.
The answer comes easy. Too easy to question.
“I’m… good with him,” I add, a little quieter.
Sonny watches me for a second, then nods. “Good,” he says simply.
I lean back again, letting the quiet settle around us. The air’s warm. The world feels… steady. And inside my chest, that word pulsates again.
Love.
This time, I don’t shove it away. I don’t panic. Instead, I sit with it, knowing without too much effort that it doesn’t feel wrong.
