The next morning, I had the pleasure of seeing the tables turned on my delightful lover. He sheepishly asked me to never mention the things he’d done that night.

I had no problem with this, though I wanted to make sure he wasn’t upset by the events. He hadn’t been violent - unless one counted an absolutely delightful level of bestial aggression - but he had been, in his opinion, rather perverse.

Even I hadn’t anticipated him taking such wonderful advantage of my shapeshifting ability. Who knew that seeing me transform into a mirror image of him would have given him such fun ideas?

The most important thing, though, was revealed - even without any sense of restraint, he had been kind, caring, and generous. He wasn’t as happy with the results as he could have been, considering that he’d discovered that he had an inner pervert, but he was still a good person.

And for my part, I had absolutely loved those discoveries.

This resulted in my acceptance of my awkward place in this society. The idea of these virtues was wrong, to me. They were pursuits of the extreme, and in my opinion, balance was far more valuable. With every virtue and aligned sin, both extremes were unappealing. It was a nuanced balance that I would pursue, and out of respect for my new understanding of the values of this society, I would keep each of these virtues as an intentional aspect of my ideal balance.

For chastity, then, neither surrender to impulses nor unyielding resistance were mine. Rather, I would intentionally pursue pleasures. Within that, I would command and control my impulses, to ensure that the heart of chastity - rising above my base instincts - was always mine. I would always strive to ensure that I was never ruled by them.

Which made for a difficult conversation with Alice.

She didn’t understand. Perhaps she couldn’t. The most she could offer me was to refuse to hate me, and to not tell the others. She’d even keep the secret from Slick, since she was certain he would not be able to be in my company, knowing “what I was.”

This, of course, was after persuading her that I had no intention of seducing Slick.

While I missed her friendship, I didn’t mourn it much. It didn’t really appeal to me to be friends with someone who would feel such harshness towards me for something that had absolutely nothing to do with her.

Between Alice’s distance, Slick’s filming, Lou’s work, and Liam’s unending busyness, I found myself unendurably lonely. I occasionally visited Dorothy, but like Alice, I couldn’t talk to her about anything of substance.

I missed Benjamin, sometimes terribly, but even my dreams about him began to change. On a deep level, I was understanding how impossible a truly fulfilling relationship would have been between him and I. What we had was sweet, but ultimately superficial. Those treasured memories gave me both a bittersweet joy and perspective on what it was I needed.

I even thought longingly of contacting Lieutenant Pash from time to time. At least my life wouldn’t be boring.

I worked in the silence of our home, building the enchantments that Liam had requested, living for those few hours of delight I squeezed out of his schedule. I kept intending to teach him magic, but I kept doing other things with him instead.

Shapeshifting into different women and selling jewelry in pawn and similar shops kept my income satisfactory. Knowing that the enchantments I was building would help make the city safer kept my conscience satisfied. When the enchantments irritated me, I’d take a break, often by trying to hone various skills. I tried to imagine what I’d need when I came forward, to be safe, but it was so hard to guess.

It was a melancholy and contemplative time. Between the time to think and Liam’s unyielding pressure to be honest with myself, I learned a great deal about what mattered most to me.

And one thing revealed itself to me as an absolute certainty.

A cool February evening had me sitting on Liam’s sofa, this time enjoying a cup of wine.

“I’ve decided something,” I said, and Liam’s eyebrow raised at my tone. “I want more.”

He looked like he’d frozen solid with those words.

“Aera,” he choked out. “You… we discussed, when things started…”

“Wait, not romantically more,” I said, raising my hands as I realized what he thought.

“Then what do you mean?” he asked, looking exasperated.

“Just this,” I said. “What we have. It’s perfect and wonderful. I just want more of it.”

He expression was both relieved and bemused.

“Aera, really, you’ve got to stop it with starting conversations like that,” he said.

“I… what?” I said, confused.

“Nevermind,” he said with a sigh. “To your point, you understand how busy I am with work.”

“Of course,” I said. “Which is why I’ve thought up a few ideas.”

He looked at his glass of wine and muttered something about strength that I couldn’t quite make out.

“I think I should move in,” I said.

“I don’t know if that would give you as much time as you think,” he said. “Most days, I leave as soon as I get up, and fall asleep as soon as I get home.”

“But I can still kiss you goodbye in the mornings,” I said. “And if I take care of all your household chores, then that frees up more time for other things. Also, what about dinner?”

“I usually eat out,” he said. “It’s faster than cooking for myself. More edible, too.”

“I can’t cook well,” I said. “But I can make fantastic salads! And I’m sure I can learn a few things about cooking. Then you could come home for dinner, and we can eat and talk together.”

“There’s also the problem of…” he hesitated, and rubbed at his face. “I’ve been thinking, Aera, and really, it should have occurred to me before we started all this. But I hadn’t mentioned it, since our relationship was on the down low, anyway.”

“What is it?” I asked, frowning.

“I’m the only one with any official power who knows about your magic,” he said. “When Pash comes back, and it’s certain he will, he’s going to be trying to get leverage over you. If it’s found out that you and I are in any sort of relationship, then there will be questions about my objectivity, which could limit my ability to help you. That’s not a risk we can afford.”

“But these visits have been fine?” I asked.

“You come by once every few weeks, usually,” he said. “Which is possible to notice, but it’s not that much. Beyond that, no one that I know knows that you exist, nor do we go on dates, or go anywhere in public together. If you lived here, though? That’s a lot harder to miss.”

I nodded.

“I can just change my appearance, then,” I said.

“Your accent is very unusual. Could you change that?” he asked.

“Um… no, actually,” I admitted. “I could easily enough, if I knew the language.”

“You don’t…?” he started to ask, and then shook his head. “It’d probably be a good idea to learn that at some point, especially if it lets you hide better.”

“My ex suggested learning it,” I said with a sad smile. “I suppose it was in line with his hopes of a long term future, but since I didn’t plan on staying, I didn’t see the point.”

He nodded.

“It seems like moving in isn’t really an option, then,” he said. “Not until you learn the language and can hide better.”

“That’d take ages,” I said, frowning.

He smiled at that.

“There must be an alternative,” I said.

“I don’t have any issues with the idea of you moving in, on a personal level,” he said. “If you think of a suggestion that addresses the issue, then I’d accept.”

“That’s good,” I said. “I’m still not happy about only having you every few weeks.”

“I know,” he said wryly. “You complain about that almost every time you visit.”

“Hmph. I’m not dropping the matter. I will find a solution,” I said.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” he said dryly.

“There is another matter, related to that,” I said.

“Oh?”

“The enchantments,” I said. “I finished the first one last week. It’s just been sitting around uselessly. I think you should try to work more reasonable hours for a while, so you can learn magic.”

“That sounds reasonable, until you think about what ‘work more reasonable hours’ means,” he said. “We don’t have enough detectives to cover all the cases that come in. Even with all my work, a lot of cases are left unresolved. You’re asking me to leave even more cases open.”

“And how many of those cases could you solve faster with the enchantments?” I asked. “These, and others I’ll make, in time? Take the time now, learn magic, and then you’ll be able to go back and do much more.”

He looked contemplative.

“I have to admit, I’ve gotten more comfortable with the idea of magic,” he said slowly. “But there’s also the concern that every time you come over, you only manage to have a few minutes of conversation before you start dragging me to the bedroom.”

I blushed and gave him a look.

“That’s because it’s so long between visits!” I said. “I’m deprived!”

He laughed.

“That lends to the idea that even if I were to agree to leave off more cases, we might not get much done,” he said, looking amused. “That wouldn’t be acceptable.”

“What if I agreed to stay on topic?” I asked. “I really do think it’s worthwhile to teach you. And besides, you could probably learn some spells that would help directly, too.”

He nodded thoughtfully.

“Back in December, you said that you could get a good sense of my ability, if you examined me, which you hadn’t yet done,” he said. “Have you done so since then?”

“No,” I said. “It’s kind of…”

I considered my words.

“Private, I guess is the best way of putting it,” I said. “It’s examining your very soul.”

“How about you go ahead and do that, and give me a better idea on what to expect?” he asked.

I nodded.

I closed my eyes and extended my mage sense into his spirit. He felt very warm and familiar. The surface was full of curiosity, backed by an unyielding sense of resolve.

I pushed past it.

My heart ached. Pain… there was so much pain, here. Most of it felt empathetic - like he’d witnessed too much pain, rather than directly experiencing it himself. Scars, of a sort, laced his soul in arching patterns, connecting a thousand different moments of experience. Some of these pains, some of the deepest, were quite personal.

I’d gotten distracted. That wasn’t mine to know. I pulled my attention away from that and focused on other aspects - parts of one’s being that had never been given words in the English language. Parts that had been direct focuses of my own training, and so I was able to analyze them with ease.

“You’re a Lum caster,” I said, as I opened my eyes and smiled at him. “Those aren’t all that common.”

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“There are six elements,” I said. “Four primary, and two fundamental. They’re sort of more philosophical approaches to magic, but are basically the six ways of trying to use it. Mine is Aquas - named for water, or liquid, as the balance point between solids and gas. It’s the element of balance, of harmony, of transformation.”

He nodded.

“I assume it’s also good with water?” he asked.

“To an extent. Liquids are easier than solids or gas to manipulate, but it’s named for the concept, more than actual water. Healing, shapeshifting, and directly affecting emotions themselves are the strengths of Aquas,” I said. “It’s one of the four primary elements - Aquas; Flamus, or fire; Grath, or Earth; and Aeros, or air. The two fundamental elements are Lum, or light, and An Lum, or shadow.”

“You said that Aquas is just named for water,” he said, and I nodded in confirmation. “So the other elements, are they the same? Like Flamus - it’s named for fire, but isn’t fire?”

“Excellent again, Liam,” I said with a laugh. “Fire isn’t exactly real - you can’t touch it, hold it, or anything like that. Rather, it’s just a process; one that creates light and heat. Flamus is named for that idea - it is the process of taking action, the will to choose, the pressure behind the need to step up and do something.”

“Interesting,” he said. “I’ve met a number of people who have a lot of drive. Would they be Flamus casters?”

“Possibly, if that’s their strongest affiliation,” I said.

“So what does it mean to be a Lum caster?” he asked. “Does that mean that’s the only magic I’d be able to use?”

“Not at all,” I said, laughing. “It just means that’s the sort of approach that you’d naturally take, so those spells will be much easier for you. It’s not actually about light, any more than Aquas is actually about water itself; rather, it’s the element of existence. That which is. About reality. Not about changing things, but about the creation of and understanding of what is real.”

“With that description, I could have told you that was my element,” he said, chuckling.

“Exactly,” I said. “That’s true for everyone. All people align with some elements more than others, but there’s always one that resonates best.”

“Why is it rare?” he asked.

“Lum and An Lum are both fairly esoteric,” I said. “Lum is about the fundamental nature of reality, of existence. An Lum is about its opposite - hence the naming scheme. It’s about potential, about possibility, about chance.”

“Which is why that was used for your time magic enchantments,” he said.

“Exactly,” I said again, pleased at his understanding. “The four primary elements are about ways of doing things, and the two fundamental elements are more about ways of being. The majority of people align with the primary elements, because the majority of people have a deep focus on how they interact with the world.”

“But the fundamental elements are able to do things, though, aren’t they?” he asked. “They also interact with the world?”

“Yes, but it’s… different,” I said. “Like, if you wanted to make light, you could do it with Lum or Flamus. Doing it with Flamus feels like you’re changing the world, pushing energy into it, to make light happen. With Lum, it’s more that you decide the world must have light in it, at this spot, and so your personal reality is made to supercede actual reality. Sort of.”

“Huh,” he said. “That sounds… fun, actually.”

“It is,” I said, smiling. “Though I’m not all that good with Lum, myself.”

“How good you are with the various elements - that’s a reflection of who you are as a person, then?” he asked, and I nodded again. “So that means what? That you’re not especially rooted in reality?”

“Not exactly,” I said. “It more means that I don’t think in those terms at all. I don’t concern myself much with wondering what is real, what reality ought to be, or in pursuit of the purity of truth.”

He just stared at me for a second.

“When you put it that way, I have a hard time accepting that anyone doesn’t think about those things,” he said. “Even though I know people don’t. So, Aquas - what does that mean, for who you are?”

“I seek to be at peace,” I said. “I desire no enemies, and want no ill will from anyone. Aquas is the gentlest and most emotional of the elements. My heart must be whole and at ease, and that is my deepest priority.”

“Everyone wants that, though,” he said.

“Nearly so,” I agreed, “Just like nearly everyone will tell you they prefer to know truth to lies. But that doesn’t mean that the essence of this idea is central to their nature.”

He nodded and looked thoughtful.

“I have to admit, I haven’t made that a priority for myself at all,” he said quietly.

I bit my lip uneasily, unsure if I should reveal what I’d seen in him…

“Reality, possibility, balance, and will,” he said, musing out loud. “What are the other two, then?”

“Aeros, which I’m reasonably decent at, is named for the chaos of gasses,” I said. “It’s a bit hard to describe - though I suppose they all are, if you go in depth - but it’s about chaos. About gaining control of chaos, about making sense of things, about understanding. It’s the domain of the mind, the patterns that emerge in the wind to produce sound, about the spark of creativity. That sort of thing.”

“Interesting,” he said. “And the Earth one?”

“Logic and order,” I said. “I’m not good with Grath, though that doesn’t mean I’m illogical. Rather, it’s about structure. Routine. Patterns. Deep, structured analysis. Rigid thinking. Lou was an accountant for a time - I couldn’t help but think it was a perfect job for someone Grath affiliated.”

“What does it actually do?” he asked.

“Um,” I said. “The only thing I know how to do with Grath is to create a framework via which I build diamonds, since they’re a simple structure.”

He laughed.

“So maybe engineers, architects, and other sorts of things like that, they’d be likely to be Grath?” he asked.

“If they’re happy with those jobs, they have to have at least a little Grath affiliation,” I said. “All sorts of people who like to make plans and stick to them have a healthy measure of Grath in them.”

“So, if you were to, for instance, tell me your affiliations, from strongest to weakest, would that give me a decent sense of who you are as a person?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “At least, how they approach the world. For mine, I favor Aquas, am pretty good with Flamus and Aeros, reasonably capable with An Lum, and struggle with Lum and Grath.”

“Do you know my list?” he asked.

I nodded, but he continued before I mentioned them.

“You’d mentioned before that you’d get a sense of my ability,” he said. “Was that just the element alignment, or was it more?”

“Much more,” I said, and winced a little. “Um… there’s some issues. You have the ability, but it will be difficult.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

I hesitated and looked at my glass for a minute.

“It’s personal,” I said quietly. “I didn’t look at the details, but you’ve…”

I hesitated again.

“You’ve been hurt a great deal,” I said.

He nodded.

“It will be hard to commit the entirety of yourself to your magic, unless you can accept the entirety of yourself,” I said.

“Ah,” he said. “I have commitment issues. And self acceptance issues.”

I fidgeted a little.

“Well, I already knew that, too,” he said, laughing a little.

“That’s easier,” I said, not meeting his gaze. “I was afraid you’d disagree with me.”

“Can that examination be wrong?” he asked.

“I could do a bad job at examining,” I said. “But the source of the information is the very soul. It’s just what is. It can’t be wrong.”

“With that issue, do you think we should give up on the idea of teaching me magic?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” I said. “As I said before, you’re both intelligent and passionate. You just will have some obstacles to overcome - and honestly, you may find the process healing.”

“Healing?” he asked, his voice low.

“Magic requires commitment and self acceptance,” I said. “You’re stubborn, and if it’s in the pursuit of a goal you’ve accepted, I’m certain you’d be able to make it happen. While it’s just a small thing, in pursuit of an immediate goal, if you get used to forcing yourself into temporary states of mind, of commitment and self acceptance, it’d get easier and easier.”

“Eventually leading me to doing so without forcing it,” he said.

“Possibly,” I said, smiling. “But, I have to be honest with you. Since your innate objection to these things is rooted in pain, the process of making this happen will hurt.”

“I wouldn’t be a good officer if I refused to do something just because it’d hurt,” he said wryly.

I decided not to go into how much more compelling spiritual pains are than physical pains. Besides, he was stubborn. I didn’t think he’d give up.

“That’s fair,” I said.

“Since we’re talking about it, maybe we could give it a shot for a little while. We’ve got the whole evening,” he said.

Uncertainty tried to bubble out of my throat in the form of asking if he was sure, but I froze instead. I didn’t want to give him an out, exactly. I wanted him to learn this. With Slick, it was more of an eager joy in sharing, but with Liam, it was more personal. I wanted him to see through me even more clearly than he already could. I wanted him to understand me. I wanted my past to be more than just fanciful stories that I occasionally talked about as we drifted off to sleep.

“You can stop me if you feel overwhelmed,” I said, as a compromise to myself. “It’s this first part that will probably be hardest for you. I’m going to flood your spirit with magic, highlighting it. It will let you see yourself. Once it stops being something that’s happening to you, and rather becomes something that is yours, that’s when you will be awakened.”

“I understand, I think,” he said, looking curious.

“Just… remember something,” I said, looking down. “I’ve already seen it. You don’t have to hide anything.”

“All right,” he said with an uneasy tone.

Slick hadn’t resisted the pains of his past. He’d sort of mentally added them to his list of Things He Can Use In Songs, and in so doing, embraced them. Liam, on the other hand…

I focused. Having worked out the technique with Slick, it was easy enough. Gentle warmth flowed from my hand, through the air, into Liam’s heart. He took a slow breath, reacting to the sensation. It amplified at a cautious pace, and the instant I noticed him wince, I let it simply hold steady.

“What is that?” he asked, gritting his teeth.

“Who you are,” I said softly.

“I feel like I can remember everything,” he said, sounding dazed. “Only, I can’t. Not the details, anyway. But everything I’ve ever felt… it’s all right there.”

“You’re quite perceptive,” I said with a smile. “That is the raw ‘stuff’ of magic. To use it, you must wield that feeling of your entire being. To accept it, command it, and sacrifice it.”

“Sacrifice it?” he asked.

“The power comes from you, and that power is lost,” I said. “You have to be able to accept it in the height of its intensity, and also to completely let it go.”

My senses were locked on his spirit, and so I saw every emotion that passed through him. I saw doubt flicker into existence, and hid my reaction. He didn’t know if he’d be able to do this.

But to my relief, I saw his iron clad resolution attack that doubt with a vengeance. In a very Lum sort of way, he’d decided that the correct reality was one in which he succeeded, and he’d merely need to make it so.

“Should I be doing anything right now?” he asked.

“You won’t be able to command your spirit as long as this is hurting you,” I said. “Right now, you need to just focus on accepting who and what you are. If it becomes easy, I’ll increase the intensity, up to the point that’s required for actually using magic. Once you can face the truth of your nature without flinching, then we’ll be ready for the next step.”

He took a breath and looked away.

“Will ramping it up make this process go by faster?” he asked.

“Up to you,” I said. “If you get overwhelmed, I’d guess it would backfire. Fear will hurt the effort. That said, the sooner you can face yourself at full strength, the faster we can move on. This is the only unpleasant part.”

“Increase it,” he said.

I nodded and poured more magic into his heart. He closed his eyes and trembled.

“I can see him,” he said, his voice scarcely audible. “My father. He died when I was ten. It’s like I’m back in time, at his deathbed. The way it felt to hold his hand for the last time… it’s one of the strongest things I’ve ever felt, and it’s back, like it was yesterday.”

I could see that moment so clearly in him, and my eyes grew misty. Fear. Anticipation of loss and loneliness. Aimless rage. A desperate desire to reject this moment, to make it not real. A distant, howling scream of inevitability, of mortality. A wretched, tender sorrow. A cruel half wish that his father was already dead, so this moment would be gone. A wish that this moment could last an eternity, to stop the inevitable.

“The past is gone,” I said quietly. “That ten year old boy still lives, in your past, in your memory, but these feelings are his and no longer yours. They helped shape you, but do not define you.”

“My father…” he said, his voice distant. “He was a good man.”

“Then he would have been proud of you,” I said.

That broke something in him. His will crumbled to the amplified intensity of the emotions of his past. I reached out and took his hand, squeezing it soothingly, as tears shone on his cheeks. He turned away, trying to hide from my view.

“Don’t hide it,” I said. “I can see your very soul, and that tells me far more than a few drops of water on your face ever could.”

“Men don’t cry,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Your society is idiotic,” I said, and he chuckled weakly. “Humans cry. Humans feel. Humans mourn. That ten year old boy should feel like he’s allowed to cry, and if he wasn’t permitted, then you should let him cry now.”

“I’m not a child,” he said, still resisting me.

“You wouldn’t be crying if you didn’t need to cry,” I said. “You drink when you’re thirsty, eat when you’re hungry, and sleep when you’re tired. You submit to the needs of your body, to keep it healthy. So, too, should you submit to the needs of your heart, to keep it healthy.”

He looked up at me, then, his eyes red and watery.

“You think this is healthy?” he asked.

“It’s not about ‘thinking’ or ‘guessing,’” I said. “I can see your very soul. You are wounded, Liam, and these wounds have never properly healed. I don’t know what has wounded you so, though it looks like this pain with your father is simply the only one you’re permitting yourself to feel, at all, like it’s the only pain you think a person’s allowed to feel.”

“I’m really going to have to go through every single thing I’ve dealt with in my life,” he said in a monotone.

“How can you expect to wield the power of your soul, if you cannot face the existence of your soul?” I asked. “You are strong enough to overcome this; I know you are. These pains are good, because it means you know how to care, and how to love. It means that you can feel for others who have known pain.”

His spirit recoiled at my words, lost briefly in a myriad of empathetic pains. I felt loss, desperate wishing to fix things, sympathy, blind rage, and so many other feelings flitting through him.

“Will it always be like this?” he asked quietly.

“No,” I said. “The time will come when you can look at the ten year old boy you once were, and simply feel sympathy for the pain he knew, just as you sympathize for the pain of others who lose their loved ones.”

“I remember the look on her face,” he said, captured by a memory that my words had provoked, his voice miles and years away from here. “Anxious and nervous. When she saw my face, she was terrified, but hid it well. She held hope until the last moment, when I told her.”

His face rested in his hands.

“It was the first time I’d told someone that the person they loved was dead,” he said, his voice growing haggard. “I never… no one ever gets good at that, Aera.”

“It hurts ever so much less if it is a stranger,” I said softly.

“Why does that matter?” he asked, staring at me.

“Because if there were no love, then there would be no suffering for love,” I said. “Her pain, and yours, were born of the joy of that man’s life. He had lived, and it was good.”

“You talk like you think you know what you’re talking about,” he said, anger flaring a thousandfold beyond what he’d normally experience. I didn’t take it personally. “You haven’t killed people. You haven’t had to face the widows and children and tell them you failed. You haven’t had anyone you love die!”

“No one knows pain quite like a spellcaster,” I said softly. “To wield our souls is to accept our emotions and experiences, and to perceive it in others in a way you cannot yet understand. I may not have done these things, but your pain is in my heart, and I feel its power. I am Aquas, and I have been made to see many shattered hearts, to grasp their pains. I understand, Liam.”

Anger twisted through him, leaving sorrow and despair in its wake, and an ache for compassion. I leaned forward to hug him. At first, he pulled away, trying to maintain his denial, but his will crumbled under the intensity of his amplified memories.

He rested his face on my shoulder and wept.

We stayed in that position for over an hour. I carefully used Aquas to address his physical needs, such as dehydration from his tears or muscle aches from not moving. I also delicately pushed at his emotions from time to time, to ensure he wouldn’t be overwhelmed, to hopefully assist him in accepting himself.

His pain was gut wrenching. I silently wondered if perhaps I was wrong - if awakening someone to magic who was this wounded was wise. Or if maybe the problem was that this approach wasn’t best… perhaps Aeros to get him in a better state of mind? Or even to forcibly make him use his own soul, and let him figure it out from there?

Reaching for his own magic would be a difficult, limiting process without addressing these pains first, though. But then, he wasn’t an Aquas caster… was emotional balance as important for him as it was for me?

I hated that I didn’t know. That I was possibly making someone I valued suffer more than necessary.

He slumped in my arms, exhausted, and I used a bit of Flamus to support me so I could lift him. I carried him awkwardly to his bed and dressed us both for sleep, cleaning him up so he could rest comfortably.

As I slipped into bed, he reached for me and pulled me close, mumbling something incoherently. I let him hold me and settled in to go to sleep.

Before I managed to fall asleep myself, though, he stirred. A nightmare. I blinked and wondered if I was supposed to withdraw my senses from him - if I kept aware, I would know more personal things, but I could also help him more. I decided utility was more important than privacy, under the circumstances.

“Who…?” he asked, dazed and confused.

“It’s Aera,” I said. “You fell asleep. It’s okay.”

“Aera,” he said, clutching me close.

His spirit was aching. He needed to feel like he was loved. That he was wanted. He needed acceptance and reassurance.

I kissed him tenderly, pushing my own heart into his, pushing him to feel what I felt towards him. He responded by shivering and kissing me back with quiet need.

We made love that night, as he sought from me freedom from his pain and loneliness. I could not give him real love, but I had kindness and caring in plenty. Every moment of anxiety or unease he felt, I whispered it away with touches, kisses, and affection.

It wasn’t pleasure he craved so much as closeness and intimacy, which I shared with him to the limits of my ability. When the moment passed, he didn’t pull away. Nor did I make him. Within me he remained as we both fell asleep.

“Aera.”

I yawned and opened my eyes to see him gazing at me with a strange expression on his face.

“Good morning,” I said to him with a smile.

He continued to stare at me.

“Last night,” he said, as though it were a complete sentence.

I waited for him to continue, and gave up after a minute.

“What of it?” I asked.

He continued to stare for a moment and then pulled me to his chest with a slow sigh.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said, so quietly that I could barely hear him.

Warmth bubbled in my heart as I smiled up at him.

“I don’t know how to respond,” I said, playfully mimicking his structure. “But… it was a joyous thing, Liam, to share with you.”

He hugged me tightly and was loathe to let me go. By the time he left that morning, he was almost late for work.

That evening, he called me and let me know that he’d be able to work on “our project” a few days each week. I was glad he wasn’t frightened away.