The day was passing by slowly. I was sitting at the table, in my room, constantly thinking about the words we spoke to each other, a three days ago. I knew that, most likely, it wasn’t something that important, but thinking about it, over and over again, was one of the toxic habits I had developed. The difference was, this time it was no longer causing me anxiety, but an odd state of calm, in which I found myself thinking of things from a different perspective. His perspective.

A knock on my door drove me out of my thoughts.

“Mia? It’s me, Andreas. Can I come in?”

“Sure, come in.”

He opened the door slowly and looked at me carefully, a slight smile outlining his tanned face.

“Hi there. How are you?”

“Hi. I’m fine. And bored.” I said shrugging.

“Oh, well that means I came just in time.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise, inviting him to continue.

“I wanted to show you something. A room you haven’t seen yet, which Andrea and I thought you would love.”

“What room?”

“I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. Let’s go and see it, what do you say?”

“Only if it’s a torture room.” I said, deadpan.

His eyes widened and a strange sound slipped out of his throat.

“I was joking.” I said with a serious look.

That only seemed to confused him even more.

“Oh. You’re… something else, did you know that?” He said, shaking his head.

“So I keep getting told.”

We left the room and he closed the door behind me. Voices could be heard from the living room and as we walked, we saw Matt and Brian, laying on the sofa, all exhausted and sweaty.

“Hi guys. How was your training?” Andreas asked.

“Hi Andreas. Mia. We almost had Lauren. But next time, we’ll get her, no matter what.” Matt said, fist-bumping Brian.

“Damn sure!” Brian replied.

“I don’t know what to say, guys. Lauren is a tough one.”

“C’mon! Give us some credit, bro.” Matt said.

“I do give you guys credit. This is why, for all your hard work, I was thinking to have a barbeque, tomorrow evening.”

“Really?! A party? Finally, Alex is coming to his senses!” Matt said excitedly.

“Wait, wait. Don’t get too excited. Not a party, just a normal barbeque. And only if you two can land a hit on Lauren.”

“Deal! That victory is ours man, I swear it!”

Brian rolled his eyes at his friends’ antics, while Andreas laughed.

“Ok, guys. Keep practicing. See you two later.”

They said their goodbyes and we kept on walking in this big house, searching for the mysterious room.

“Does he know about the ‘modest barbeque’?”

“No, but he’ll find out.” Andreas said, letting out a deep breath.

“Good luck with that.”

He looked at me, before rolling his eyes.

“Alex is not the monster you think he is. He’s just…”

“Paranoid, suspicious, stubborn and, probably, emotionally scarred enough to make him be harsher than he should be with himself and others?”

He stopped walking and peered intensely at me. There was a twinkle in his eyes and a sly smile was growing wider and wider on his face.

“Exactly!” He said with a familiar look on his face.

It didn’t take me long to recognized that specific emotion, from his eyes. It was hope.

I really didn’t want to open that can of snakes, so it came as no surprise when I felt my body starting to move automatically, even though I didn’t know where I was going. Fortunately, he caught up to me and was polite enough to not say another word about this. Even so, I could feel his smile and the unspoken words that flew between us.

We were walking down the hallway, opposite the stairs. It was quite a wide hallway, long as well and with a surprisingly well illuminated. We passed by a few doors, before we reached a tall, closed one. I looked at him questioningly and he nodded.

When the door opened, I stared up, stirred and gawking. I saw huge stacks of books, leaning against shelves, stretching ever higher towards the ceiling.

I was amazed.

I scanned the room as quickly as I could, trying to take it all in. The shelves were tall and close together, forming mazes. The leather spines lined up perfectly. An entire room filled with rare editions, that was what my first impression told me.

For a moment, I was staring at the books and the books were staring right back at me. My steps carried me between the shelves and I ran my fingers on their spines. I was dazed by the bliss of childhood memories, when my mother used to bring me to the city bookstore, while she talked to her friend who worked there. The smell of these books was similar to the one of my childhood: dust and wisdom, paper and creativity, stories and happiness.

I closed my eyes while I walked and felt my fingers touch so many written stories. A truer form of both happiness and pain, which was harder to forget than real life, at times. Of sweetness, which was even harder to remember.

Ink and emotion.

Tears and outbursts.

All these emotions, all at once.

It had been a while since I’ve read a book. I grew up reading a lot. There were days when I had read so much, that I could feel my body materialize with the end of each story, living and dying with the characters. Until my life begun to be ordinary, giving me no more satisfaction. And all I did, after that, was to become a ‘robot’, in a modern life of greed and superficiality, telling myself that this is what I like, this is what I was born for. But a book, a story, was pure emotion. Pure life.

Andreas walked slowly behind me, stepping on the solid wooden floor, like a child was sleeping in the room and he didn’t want to wake it up.

“It’s… wonderful!” I said.

My voice sounded like a broken whisper, trembling and wavering.

“We didn’t know if this place would mean so much for you. But we hoped.”

“I didn’t know either…”

I always knew that reading was an important part of me. But so much time had passed, that the memory became hazy, half-forgotten. Yet for a library to make me feel this way again, after so much time… it was incredible.

“This is the place where we come to escape. From our problems, from the world itself. Here, everything is at peace.”

“Because every story calls out, from each shelve, on each wall, of this room. Every book-bound Universe resonates with all the other ones.”

“Mia…”

“Oh, right.” I said, waking up from my reverie. “Sorry, I was thinking of something else.”

“Don’t apologize. You seemed…”

“As usual. Usual Mia. Nothing special happened.”

He looked at me like he was analyzing me, with a trace of sorrow in his eyes. I turned my back to him, preferring to pace slowly between the shelves.

“Which ‘we’?”

“Ah… excuse me?”

“You said ‘this is the place where we come to escape’. Which ‘we’ is that?

“Oh… Alexander and I, mostly. The others prefer to ‘borrow’ the books and read them in their rooms or in the garden.

The room had two windows on each side, flanked by a wooden table and three brown, leather armchairs. Comfortable, as far as I could tell. How could you leave this place, especially with a book in your hand, without trying, at least, to sink into one of those armchairs and forget about yourself?

“What do you like to read?” Andreas asked, suddenly.

I stopped in front of him, my right hand leaning on a book.

“Fantasy, when I want to break away from this world. Philosophy, when I need to take decisions and need direction. Classics, when I’m nostalgic.”

“Impressive.”

“Mm, not really. What do you like to read?”

“Well, I don’t have as many options as you do, but I like to read books about warfare. All types of wars and strife.”

“Wars? Do you like them?”

He laughed sourly and looked away.

“It’s strange to use the word ‘like’ when it refers to such atrocities, but yes, you can say I like wars.”

“Why?”

“Because I was part of one.” He said calmly.

He said it so normally, like he was talking about a new car he bought. But I could see his jaw was tense and his eyes were bitter. It was then that it clicked, for me. That was when I understood why his movements and his style of fighting seemed so familiar to me. He was fighting like a soldier. Because he has been a soldier.

A warrior. Someone to fear, not to hunt.

“What did you like about it, if I can ask?”

“The friendship that is born along the way and the permanent need to protect your team. Perhaps even the fear of making the wrong decision, knowing that the lives of your men depend on it. Soldiers who can leave behind a wife, children, parents. Then, the next day comes along and you find yourself thanking the heavens that you and your team are alive. You’re looking at the sun, thankful to feel its warmth on your skin again. Hoping to feel it again, the next day and again, for as long as fate allows you to.”

His ‘men’. So he had been a commander. I looked down, imagining all of what he described. A shiver ran down my spine, before entering my very being.

I knew what he didn’t want to mention. Or… what he will never mention. The number of people he killed. How can you say it, without causing yourself pain, without it taking your breath away and eating you alive from the inside? I had to carefully choose my words, since he already seemed to be affected. His eyes looked lost and his mind was on the battlefield, most likely. What was he seeing? I tried to figure it out by the look on his face, but it was hard to tell.

“How did you end up in Kowa?”

“Kowa…” He said absently. “When I returned from the army, I put a business on its feet. But I couldn’t live like a normal man. Not after all that happened. I didn’t have closure, so I left for Kowa. Initially, I received a phone call from my lieutenant. He told me that one of the poorer areas in ​​the country became of interest to one of the greatest terrorists that our country and its neighbors have under surveillance. They represented a great danger, for all who lived there. Naturally, with danger involved, I immediately accepted.”

Andreas covered his eyes with his hand for a few seconds, before continuing to tell his story.

“Unfortunately, it was a false alarm. I’ve received this new update on the plane and the lieutenant wanted me to go back, but I refused. I couldn’t go back to my normal life without… closure or, at the very least, something that could let me sleep at least three hours a night. So, I headed to Kowa, with no clue of what was waiting for me there.”

He suddenly looked at me, smiling hopefully, as he just woke up from a bad dream and realized that he was safe and that the nightmare wasn’t real.

“What I found there was the redemption I had been looking for. When I met Andrea and the poor, sick children, I knew that this is what I was needed for. Not another war, not rusty rifles hanging on dirty uniforms. I needed kindness. Both to get and to give. Harmless and honest smiles. And Andrea. Especially Andrea.”

A small, but honest smile appeared on my face. The free and cursive way he recounted a part of his life, the clear eyes he had when he talked about his team and the broken was his voice sounded when he talked about death, made me believe him. I didn’t know why, but I wanted to believe him.

It must not have been easy for him to tell me his story, but he did it anyway. Maybe this was his way of assuring me that I could trust him. Even so, it was still too soon for me to trust anyone, even Andrea. I think he understood that from the look on my face.

He smiled anyway. A smile that told me that he will have as much patience, as I would need.

“You are deeply in love with Andrea, aren’t you?” I asked.

“More than my heart can bear.”

I have never felt that way and I surprised myself wondering what it must feel like. I wasn’t looking for it, I knew that. But there was something curled up in my stomach, making my heart pound just a little bit faster. How odd.

“You should read it.” He suddenly said.

“What?” I asked confused.

“The book.” He pointed to the book I was still leaning my hand on, touching its spine absently. “You would love it.”

I took the book off the shelf and read its title: “The sacrifice of Identity”. It was covered in black leather and the title was written in bright red.

“Thank you. I’ll give it a chance.”

“Great. Then I’ll let you enjoy it. I believe I’m expected at the training session.”

“Ok, good luck.”

He winked at me and left the library. I stood still for a few seconds, enjoying the silence and the rays of the sun, which were invading the room. The book pulsed in my hand, I thought, eager to be read.

I didn't linger a second more.

I sat, impatiently, in one of the armchairs and opened it. The old smell of leather flooded my nostrils and the time-stained pages revealed its antiquity to me.

There was something written in the lower right corner of the first page. So tiny and faded it was, that I almost missed it. The handwriting was curly and beautifully cursive. A careful writing, but small and almost erased, as if its author was in contradiction with himself, wanting to make its feeling heard, but expressing them so poorly, they had almost been erased by the passage of time.

I did think, for a second, that seeing this library made me think more poetically than I should. But I felt it. Somehow, I felt was I was thinking to be true.

The letters said ‘No regrets’. One would believe that this is insignificant, so one would naturally turn the page and move on. But I didn’t. Instead, I stared at the handwriting as if it could have told me who was its owner. What did he or she feel, when this was wrote down? What regrets did the author have? Regrets that he or she could not afford to have?

I eventually turned the page and started to read, not being aware that I was no longer breathing, hearing or feeling anything happening outside my armchair. The first chapter described a person’s daily experiences and the emotions behind them. How people see what they want to see, feel what they want to feel. All so as to not face the very pains they are afraid of.

My eyes moved frantically and thirstily, wanting to grasp the lines as quickly and deeply as possible. Some of the information wasn’t new to me, while some of it made me close my eyes and reflect on what I read.

Someone touched my shoulder.

Letting out a scream, I dropped the book and pounced on the table like a cat. My trembling body was instantly surrounded by my power.

A dark and glassy panel appeared between me and the stranger. That only served to increase my trembling, as I realized instantly who it was that stood on the other side of it. Difference being, the reason of my trembling had switched from shock to anger.

“Wait, don’t ‘shoot’! I come in peace.” A voice was heard.

The panel disappeared, revealing a man of imposing stature, tired and with his hands raised above his head. The left one was bandaged.

I withdrew my powers and we both lingered, looking at one another. His black hair was messy and his strained eyes revealed many sleepless nights. Yet even so, he looked slightly menacing, even when all he did was to stand there harmlessly, keeping a considerable distance between us. I have never intended – allowed - myself to look too closely at his face or body. But in that moment, my human nature defied me and my eyes had already started to watch, analyzing his features, his massive shoulders, descending to his worked abdomen and...

I immediately came to my senses and got my feet off the table. I preferred to sit on it, instead. Still shaking, my body wasn’t capable of ample movement. And I didn't want him to notice that.

Alexander stepped forward and picked up the book, from where it lay on the floor. He opened and flipped through it, until he found the page he was looking for, probably reading a paragraph. When he finished, he closed the book and came closer to me.

Too close.

I carefully looked at his face, trying to detect any emotion, but I didn’t see anything. Emptiness from his forehead to his chin.

“Interesting book you chose to read.” He softly said.

“It just ‘fell’ into my hand.” I cautiously replied.

He looked at me in quiet surprise, his blue eyes carefully examining my face, my mouth and then my eyes.

“Just ‘fell’ into your hand…” he said thoughtfully.

Our eyes still locked on each other, he took another step towards me, making me more and more agitated. It looked like he was absorbing me with his eyes, his body and something else entirely, all at once.

I tried to act calm and indifferent, looking for the mental wall I placed between us before. The one I used so that he couldn’t get to me.

But where is that fucking wall?

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked.

He seemed like he had forgotten what we were talking about for a second, but rallied quickly.

“Nothing. Do you like it?”

“Yes. I find it interesting and… helpful.”

“Why helpful?”

“It helps you see things from another’s’ perspective. Helps you have a clearer picture of manipulative people and the possible reasons for their behavior.” I said, looking at him implicitly.

He smiled complicity. And slightly sadly, gently coming closer… and closer.

But I didn’t stop.

“How they sacrifice their soul, emptying it of feelings, giving up on their conscience and always waking up as a different person, every day.”

“And what do you think about these persons?”

“I used to despise them. But over time, I’ve started to feel sorry for them.”

He frowned when he heard that, but didn’t take his eyes off of mine.

“Why?”

“Because they are cowards. Weak. Because they choose the easy and miserable way of doing things, instead of keeping their integrity. Instead of fighting a fair battle. What satisfaction can you have, when you only reach your goal by hurting others? Others who are better than you, who only lost because they chose to fight fairly? Those others are still better than you. So, in reality, you don’t win. You just gained something you thought you wanted, for who knows what selfish reasons.”

My heart was pounding because of both what was being said and unsaid. Because of the distance between us. Distance which was growing smaller and smaller. And because of the …sheer intensity of his gaze.

He was now so close that I felt his thighs touching my knees.

I froze.

I stopped breathing.

My heart was pounding in my ears.

“What else?” His words vibrated all over my body.

I was still petrified, but my mouth had a mind of its own.

“That you will feel lonely, no matter what you stand to gain, for as long as you will fight all your fights alone. As long as you will move others aside, because you don't trust them. Because you are selfish and you think your path is always the right one, forcing others to follow it.”

“What else?”

I could feel his warm breath tickling my forehead.

I couldn’t stop. Everything was pulsing inside me. My thoughts, my heart, my rage.

“You’ll never let others see your pain or let them heal it. Never have feelings. Never be afraid of them, either. Never…”

“Do you still generalize or are you now pointing to a specific person?” He interrupted me, while I was slowly trying to lean backwards. I pretty much had to, at this point, since he got close enough to me, with his chest and his face, to almost stand over me. All that until our eyes met again and time stopped. His eyes were glassy, full of resentment.

“You’re too close.”

“I’m following your advice.” He said defiantly.

I realized, in that moment, that I had probably opened a door closed off, a long time ago. I didn’t push him back, but to feel him so close to me was insane and overwhelming.

“Playing one of your dirty games?” I asked.

“Dirty game?”

“Intimidating a person, by using any means, is a dirty game.”

“Am I intimidating you?”

“Still playing it.”

“Did you manipulate anyone? Trevor, let’s say. Did you hurt someone because you didn’t give a damn about their intentions, just as long as they didn’t match yours?”

“Shut up! It’s none of your business.”

“I think it kind of became my business.”

“And how the hell did that happen?” I nervously asked.

“It happened, when you switched from talking about them, to talking about me.”

“I didn’t.” I lied.

“And do you think that lying will validate your statements? Statements that were said with such conviction and pathos?” He said, with what seemed to me like mocking.

I was slightly leaning on my back, supported by my hands, with him almost completely over me, feeling the pressure of his thighs. He had his strong and tense arms on each side of me, leaning forward on his hands, as well. I was starting to wonder for how long could I keep this position.

What the hell was happening?!

“How different are you really, from me, Mia?”

Mia. The way it sounded, coming from his mouth… mouth which was so damn close to mine.

“Don’t you dare compare us. Got it?!”

We started to raise our voices to each other.

I was losing control.

I was shaking from the tension.

“Why? Are you afraid of facing the fact that you are not as kind as you thought? Or is it because I’m not as bad as you want me to be?”

I was stuck, unable to say anything else.

“Did you have the patience and strength of mind to look beyond what you knew as facts? To ask yourself at least One. Pertinent. Question about my actions? About my way of doing things, given the world we live in?”

I touched his left shoulder and pushed him back enough to see his face. I wanted to see him without a mask, vulnerable and… maybe even honest.

“Stop…”

I thought I saw a twinkle in his troubled, angry eyes. Most likely not, though.

He stepped aside, suddenly, allowing my body to return to a more normal position.

He opened the book and handed it to me, before turning around and leaving.

I looked at the closing door and then at the open book.

“No regrets.”