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"May I kiss you, Yara?"

"Yes."

Midbreath, I stop in the living room doorway. The gauze roll I've brought to bandage Nilam's arm slips from my hand, tumbling to the floor. I don't know if it's shock, or fear--or despair washing over me, but I feel like my heart turns to stone in my chest.

As I see my best friend kiss the girl I love. She said yes?

You're replaceable, Mir, Father's voice says in my head. And if they can replace you, they will.

I can't breathe.

Whirling in place, I storm off. I don't know where--somewhere, anywhere! Away from them two... It hurts.

Laverna bumps into me in the hall, murmuring something, but I brush her away and throw the door of the nearest empty room open, slamming it shut behind me. Silence settles in for a moment. The room is dark, and sheets cover all the furniture here, the drapes closed. When this apartment belonged to my mother's family, I guess, it was a guest room, but now it's just a place to stash a piano I have no idea how to play.

May I kiss you?

Yes.

Pressing my back against the wall, I sag to the floor. Numbness swells up inside me while I try to breathe, but my heart only hammers faster. So fast it seems it has taken up all the space in my chest, leaving nothing for the air. It hurts to breathe.

You're not good enough, Father's voice keeps reminding. You've never been good enough.

Yara chose Nilam.

I squeeze my eyes shut, sucking in the stale air of the room, choking on it. Of course, she did. How could I deceive myself with the idea that Yaroslava could look at me--could like me--if I hate myself? I hate my own reflection every time I look in a mirror and see those ugly scars on my back. I hate my past, I hate my lies, I hate my heart for feeling all this! And Nilam? He has no fears, no problems, no scars. I told him myself that Yaroslava meant nothing to me. Of course, he kissed her.

Fire Girl.

I can't...

Why can't I breathe? I wrap my arms around my knees, dropping my chin low against my chest, taking a breath, but it's not enough. There's not enough air! Don't cry, don't complain... I'm drowning again. A storm I can't weather. They say that's not normal when you lose control over your emotions, and all you want is to hide. To shrink and disappear among the sheets and neglected chairs and dust--

You act selfish, Mir. You don't need anyone.

Only now I realize I haven't felt this kind of panic since Yara was brought back to life. The panic that consumed me when I was a kid, when my father was around, when I never could live up to anyone's expectations, when I felt so lonely.

Next to her, I was never lonely.

Footsteps echo in the hall, and then the door to the room slowly groans open.

"Mir?" Adélard's voice pierces the dark. "Are you there? Did you find the bandage or--" I don't look up, but I hear him stop in front of me. "Are you hiding here?"

My pulse throbs in my temples, I can't answer. It hurts. Not good enough, not good enough...I can't breathe, I'm drowning.

"Are you having a panic attack?"

His words strike like a whip on my back. He's not wrong, is he? But I can't help it. "Ady, leave. Please." My heart keeps pounding against my ribs as though ready to quit. And it's even worse, because I feel my magic stirring hot in my veins, begging to destroy something--to destroy me if I don't let it out. Do it, destroy me. I have nothing to fight for anyway. I can control magic, I can lie and control what people think of me, but I can't control this.

Fear.

Ady doesn't leave. Instead, he crouches beside me. "That's alright, Mir. It'll pass." His soothing tone reaches out to me as though miles separate us, and his big, steady hand clasps my shoulder. "You know Jasna used to have panic attacks when she was five, when my...our parents just adopted her. I don't know about her life before that, but apparently, it wasn't that good."

A stifled laugh escapes from my lips. How pathetic. "And how old were you? Six?" I ask without raising my head. "What can you possibly remember about handling panic attacks?"

"Well, aren't you feeling better already, talking to me? Safer?"

"No." Yes.

Adélard grunts, dropping to sit on the floor. "Fine, I'll just wait here for you to get ready to talk." The genuine kindness in his voice rattles me. Yet his presence does make the darkness feel less hostile.

"Yara kissed Nilam," I admit quietly.

There's a long pause, and alarmed, I glance up. The door is left ajar, and a thin stretch of light leaking from the hall falls over the floor and illuminates the specks of dust in the air behind Ady's back. Yet, it's not the dust that troubles me, it's Ady's face. His smirk. "That's all?" he says. "It's not like you are a virgin yourself. It doesn't mean anything."

"Doesn't mean anything? It's the end of everything, Lishan! She'll never look at me now."

His expression grows serious. "It was never going to work anyway if you weren't going to tell her the truth, Mir."

The truth? Something spikes in my chest, but it's not fear now, it's different. Cold. Piqued. He's right, this conversation is a good way of dealing with panic. Because now I'm annoyed instead.

"You know, Yara and I talked at the morgue," Adélard continues, unperturbed. "Why does she believe Vlad is the demon we're trying to catch, Mir? What did you tell her?"

"Nothing."

"Then go and tell her nothing again. Nothing, including the murder and--"

"Shut up." Scrambling to my feet, I push the door closed. The inky blackness swallows the room once again for a moment, until my eyes adjust, and I make out the whitish silhouettes of covered furniture. It looks like a world of ghosts.

"We killed a girl, Mir." I glare at him from across the room as he pushes to his feet, too, facing me. "I can't shut up and pretend nothing happened. As long as Yara's alive, Polina's dead, and if we bring back Polina...Yara dies. Either way, it's murder, and we did it."

"Not my first."

"But my first!"

"So you've lost your second innocence!" In two strides I cross over to stand before him. Adélard scowls but doesn't step away, despite the fact that I'm too close for him to feel comfortable now. "What do you want from me? My congratulations or condolences?"

What did he expect? That Yara would turn out to be a crazed maniac witch, and he'd feel no remorse putting her back into the grave once she'd done her job? That letting her die wouldn't count? That it would feel righteous?

If he wants the truth, I'll tell him his truth.

"It's not about Yara, is it?" I look him squarely in the eye, but he refuses to flinch. "It's about getting rid of responsibility, Ady. You don't want Polina back after what she's done to Kadri, and you know Yara wants to live a real life, not just a year. If Yara chooses to stay, Polina's death will be on her. And you're blameless, right?"

Emotions shift in Adélard's expression, his confidence fading. He averts his eyes, and I think he's about to back away, to sigh, to admit his defeat. Only Adélard doesn't back away. His jaw flexes for a second, and then he rolls his shoulders, looking down at me. He's a few inches taller than me, and this little motion makes him look authoritative. He knows it.

"I'm not blameless," he says, ever tactful. He still doesn't look angry, even though he has every right to be. It's infuriating. "And everything you just said does make sense, only it's what you think--what you feel. I'm fine with taking responsibility, but I'm not fine with lying to someone who trusts us, Mir. Do you really believe Yara will blame herself for all this? I thought you were done lying. Isn't it why you told me about Vlad?"

"No, I told you about him because--" Why, really? Because Ady happened to be in the right place at the right time when I felt despaired and needed to talk to someone? Because I thought that sharing would make me feel less lonely? Less guilty? We still stand too close to each other, as in the beginning of a fight. Or something else. New despair seeps into my mind. I'll never stand this close to Yara again, will I? "Oh, fuck you, Lishan! I don't have to explain myself to you."

Adélard sighs. "Why don't you want her to remember Vlad?"

"She hates him. She'll hate me."

"Vlad didn't mean to hurt her."

"Yes, he did."

"I thought you were ready to have at least something real in your life, Mir."

I want to scream at him--not because he's wrong, but because he still hasn't shown the slightest hint of anger. His posture is calm, his expression patient, it's like he's willing to tolerate me as long as it takes. Adélard and I aren't friends. Then why is he doing it? Why does he keep trying to help me? I don't want his pity.

"As real as your trepidation every time you sneak out to meet Gyoku?" My words come out crueler than I expected, and I see shock washing over Adélard's face. It seems I'll get that anger of yours tonight. "At least, I'm not lying to myself."

Adélard's lips set in a resentful line. Finally. "I'm nothing like you, Praejis."

"You're right. You're much better at pretending than I am, despite what everyone thinks and says." I step closer. This time, Ady does pull away, but his back hits the closed door, and he can't avoid me. "I'm not the one scared of people's opinion, Ady. What are you going to do? Pretend your whole life? Do you think Gyoku will look away while you marry a girl and have children with her?"

"Stop it."

"Why? Am I wrong?" I lower my voice, drawing forward and forcing Ady to cringe into the door. "Do you think Gyoku will be humbly waiting for you for the rest of his life? Or one day, you will find him gone, moved on with his life, real life?"

"You don't get to say those things," Ady growls. "Your life is no more real than mine. You don't have any idea, any fu--" he cuts himself off, his eyes darting away.

"What was that? Did you want to say one of those foul words you're too honest for?"

Adélard's chest puffs against mine, but he stays silent.

I give him a smile. "Say it. You almost succeeded in the graveyard, remember? Come on, it doesn't hurt when you say it. What hurts is keeping it all inside. I know, believe me."

Adélard grits his teeth but manages to stay mute. I can feel his body tensing as I keep pinning him against the door. Perhaps I shouldn't play with this kind of fire, it won't be the first time we fight. I'm not afraid of bruises and scratches. And neither is Adélard. Besides, Ady and I, we don't always end up fighting.

Looking up at him, tantalizing, I lean forward, so close I'm sure he can feel my breath on his jaw. "Yara won't choose me, Ady, because I'm a liar and a murderer, and evil magic runs through my veins. Because I am all those things I've been accusing her of all this time. Do you see the irony? I can't tell her the truth, I can't ask her to choose me. And you can't be with the person you love, either. So when Gyoku's gone, where would you go?"

Loosening a long, tired breath, Ady puts his hand on my shoulder as though to push me away. But he doesn't push. "Please, stop it, Mir," he says, his expression torn. "It's your emotions."

All I can do is laugh, a cynical sound. "You're right. And you remember what happened last time I got emotional."

Ady's gaze drops to my lips. He swallows hard.

"Yes."

"No."

"Why? Your parents don't like whimsical actors, but how about practical lawyers? We could be a nice match."

A tornado of emotions ripples across Ady's face in brief seconds. Surprise, want, embarrassment, and finally--dark determination. "Fuck you, Praejis."

My lips curl into a triumphant grin. "Look who's talking. It didn't hurt, did it?"

But Ady isn't done. He shoves me away so hard I stagger, barely able to keep my balance. "Fuck you and your lies! I love Gyoku, and if tonight is the last night of our lives, I'm going to spend this time with him, not your issues. Quit your wicked mind games, quit messing with others when it's your mess that needs to be sorted out." He throws the door open and turns to leave, but then glances at me over his shoulder. His eyes are sharp with pure anger. "Tell Yara the truth. Tonight. Or I'll do it myself tomorrow. Keeping it from her, you act like your--"

"Don't."

"Like your father," he says without blinking. "Don't make choices for her. Her choice to stay or to leave. Her choice to forgive."

And with that, he walks out.

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Aaaand let me present to you another beautiful aesthetics by sharmee_m

Just look at this, how could Mir not fall for Yara, right?