Page 135 of Dark Night of the Soul

We sat like that for a long time. Not talking. Being. One hand firm on my back. Steady. Present. The other resting on my thigh. I focused on the rise and fall of his chest. The warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. The city sounds drifting up from the street below.

My mind wandered to other nights, other cities, other versions of us who didn’t yet know what we were becoming.

Finally, I spoke. Quiet. Testing the words.

“Why did you follow me to Hong Kong?” I asked.

It seemed like a lifetime ago.

He stilled for a long breath, then, “You know why.”

I did. He’d been doing it since the beginning. Inserting himself into my life without permission.

I’d pretended not to know why.

But I’d always known.

“Why did you trade the Spear of Destiny for my soul?” he asked.

Oh. That. I thought back on that. My single-mindedness. My determination. Watching the high lord nearly destroy him before I could get my shit together. Then, I didn’t know what drove me. Now, I did.

I told myself it was the right thing to do. That no life was expendable. That I would do whatever it took. Even trade a Holy Relic for his soul. But it wasn’t about that at all.

Now, I understood I was reaching for something impossible—for him. And he was letting me.

“You know why,” I said at last. And then I remembered him barking in my head. “You were so angry.”

“I didn’t want you anywhere near me then.”

An admission I’d never heard.

“Because I knew what was going to happen,” he said.

“What?” I asked.

“You were going to give up something you had no right to lose—for me.”

“I made the choice,” I said. “And I’d do it all over again.”

“I know. Because you’re impossible.”

I smiled in the darkness. “You love it.”

A long pause. Then, “I do.”

My smile faded. My breath caught. I stilled. I’d said it once to him. Right before I climbed that mountain. I should have told you the second I knew. Those words. That moment.

And here we were, still dancing around that four-letter-word like it was the plague.

He’d never said it back. And I was okay with that because I understood who he was. What he’d lost. What that loss had carved into him.

“Why are you thinking about this now?” he asked.

“Because you’re still here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I wanted to believe him. I chose to believe him.