All characters are at least 18 years old.
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I broke away from August, panting hard and staring wide-eyed at him. I collected myself in an instant, turning away from him to go sit at my desk, crossing my arms in front of myself. He stayed where he was. He seemed to have an acute awareness of giving me space when I needed it.
"I hate this," I murmured.
"Doesn't seem like you do," he said dryly.
"No, I mean..." I looked away, opting instead to study my unlit computer monitor. The black uniformity was helping me gather my thoughts, though it was still competing against a maelstrom of emotions.
"You don't like losing control," he guessed. I didn't respond. It probably wasn't a difficult conclusion to draw. He went on, "Losing control plunges you into the unknown. You're too used to being the master of your domain, and now here come two characters disrupting your life. And the unknown terrifies you."
"'Terrifies' is a strong word," I remarked, my indignation causing me to meet his gaze again. "I'm not some timid lamb awaiting slaughter."
"You're the wolf?" he said with a grin.
"I'm the hunter."
He nodded in comprehension. "Artemis indeed."
I gave him a faint smile. "So. You hate beets, huh?"
"Taste like dirt."
I couldn't help laughing, then pulled a leg up so I could rest my head on my knee. "Y'know, admitting your biggest fear to somebody is usually a big deal. Or do you just tell everybody that?"
"Well, I needed something to break the ice. Thing is, you're a glacier, so I had to bring in the big guns," he chuckled.
"Dying unhappy, huh? Care to elaborate?"
He shrugged. "Want me to talk about myself even more?" he asked skeptically.
"Consider it me getting to know you. Jury's still out, after all," I replied with a grin.
He chuckled once, sitting on the ground and leaning on the wall. "Fine. Well... Mom went through ten hours of labor. I was almost stillborn. Weak heart growing up, just about crapped out on me as a teenager. Found a donor, and for once I felt strong. I wanted to do my part, wanted to make my dad proud, wanted to make a difference. So I signed up."
"The Marines?"
He nodded. "And it turns out..." He let out a hollow laugh, one that chilled me to the bone. "... I didn't make any difference at all. Only thing I did was toss my buddy's helmet, my pack, and myself on top of a 'nade. Dunno if it was a shitty one or I just got lucky, but I didn't get put out for too long from it. Didn't even leave a scar. But as for making a difference..." He grew a far-off empty look in his eyes. "What was even the point? All those people we tried to help... They all died anyway."
I watched him as he struggled with his story. This whole time, he had been gentle, thoughtful, witty. But now he looked broken, in a way I probably never could imagine experiencing. He saw the way I was watching him and tried to muster a smile.
"Figured out we weren't there to help anybody. I believe the term is 'disillusioned.' I'd heard the theories. I didn't know what to believe, but all that mattered then was keeping my team safe. Took the 'nade, got shipped back, and I guess whatever strings my benefactor had pulled to get me in weren't enough anymore. They found out about my heart, and I got discharged. Can't say I fought against the decision very much." He sniffed, sucking his teeth. "And could you imagine? If, after going through all that, after fighting to live for so long, I died miserable? Fuck that." He shook his head before turning back to me. His gaze wavered once or twice as fleeting thoughts consumed him, but eventually he pulled himself together for a grin. "Your turn."
"Excuse me?"
"You're not seriously gonna sit there and listen to me pour my heart out, and then not reciprocate," he said with a smirk. "Unless you want me to guess." I gave him a challenging hop of my eyebrows, and he chuckled. "Alright. Hm..."
He made a big show of scrutinizing me, and I sat pretty as a picture while I waited. His exposition made me wonder if that was his motivation in seeing where this engagement went. Did he believe he could be happy with me? He didn't strike me as a proponent for hedonism, so he wasn't in this just to fuck me a few times. He wanted something real, for the same reason he signed up as a Marine in the first place: he wanted to matter. Perhaps his ambitions had become more realistic, going from saving the country to simply being important to one person.
"You're afraid of being alone," he said matter-of-factly.
I scoffed. "That's an interesting conclusion, because I'm dead-set on being alone."
"Eh, I don't think so." He said it with such casual confidence that I clenched my jaw. "You don't invite all your friends, and a dude you're trying to keep at arm's length--" He jabbed both thumbs toward his chest. "--in order to be alone."
"It's more in a spiritual sense. Girl's still gotta party."
"And I don't think you feel alone because you can't find somebody," he went on. I realized I was holding my breath. I knew what he was about to say next. This guy could see right through me. "I think... it's because you lost somebody."
"Yeah, my childhood sweetheart moved to another city in the fourth grade and I never saw him again," I sighed wistfully, and he snorted.