“I’ll protect you, too.”

“Is that so? From who?”

“From yourself. From the world. From anyone who tries to harm you.”

“So you’re like my knight now?”

“Uh-huh. Get used to it.”

“Let me see about that.” I pull her to me and lift her leg so I can slide my dick into her cunt.

She’s already so wet. Both of us moan as I’m sheathed deep inside her.

I fuck her as slow as the time that passed while I waited for her those seven years.

I fuck her while staring at her, letting her know that she’s it for me. I don’t have to be thirty-something to know that. I’ve known it since the moment the woman who gave birth to me abandoned me and Kim hugged me, promising never to leave me.

I knew it when she held my hand and cried with me, even when I told her I didn’t like seeing her cry.

I didn’t understand the levitation in my chest back then, but now, I do.

What I feel for Kim isn’t only about our bodies’ connection or our history, it’s also about our pain. It’s about the fact that her presence dulls the emptiness like no alcohol ever will.

The orgasm that hits her shakes both of us to the core. She wraps her arms around me and hides her face in my neck as she whispers, “I love you, Xan. I’ve been in love with you for so long, I don’t know when it started or if it’ll ever end.”

And just like that, I’m a goner.

38

Xander

After tangling herself around me, kissing me, and whispering things in my ear, Kim finally loses the long biological battle with sleep and drifts off.

My chest still aches at remembering the words she said. Like how much she loves me, how much loving me has saved her.

At that moment, I couldn't speak. I still can't, because I have no right to say those words when I'm leaving.

I stand by the bed, fully dressed, and stroke the stray green hair off her cheek. She moans softly, leaning into my touch.

Everything in me shouts at me to stay.

To hold her.

Kiss her.

Never leave her side again.

But Dad is right; I don't deserve her. Not yet.

With one last glance at her, I step out of her room. Before leaving, I have to go to a place and get her a gift, but first, I bring out my phone and type.

Xander: Remember that day you named me your knight? We were in the park and you were wearing that green princess dress with ribbons and lace and shit. Your hair wasn't brushed, and you had this green crown on top that you made Calvin buy you for Halloween. Then you said, 'Hey, Xan. Every princess needs a knight and you're honoured cuz I'm making you mine.' The moment I knelt in front of you while you blessed me with a bamboo sword, mimicking the queen, was my happiest childhood memory. It was the first time you dressed up and smiled after your grandmother’s death and I felt so damn proud to bring joy to your life. That's why I hugged you straight after and nearly squeezed you to death. When you looked at me with those huge eyes, I wasn't only a knight, I was a fucking God. I still feel the same whenever you look at me, and that's why I had to hate you after I overheard Dad and Jeanine.

I knew. I just knew, even at eleven, that I didn't want to be your brother. I fucking hated it and I wanted to shout it out loud. I wanted to grab Dad and ask him why, but I bottled it all inside. For years, I looked at you and knew I couldn't touch you. For years, I ached to talk to you, to tell you it hurt without you, and that I missed you. I missed being your knight, your armour against the world, but most of all, I missed being your closest friend. The more I wanted to do that, the harder I hated myself and I directed that hatred at you. I hurt you because it hurt me. I hated you because the opposite was fucking impossible. I became War because wars are mass destruction to everyone – me included.

I couldn't be your knight anymore and it slowly killed me. Finding out I'm part of the reason you decided to end your life was the last chip in my armour before it was destroyed to pieces. But then it started building again because of someone. You. Since that night you barged into my room, hugged me, and told me we share no DNA, I've been slowly shedding War and building back my armour.

You were right. I was honoured to be your knight. Now, I have to be a worthy of that title and you again.

I'll heal, like I'm sure you will. I won't fix you and you won't fix me. We’ll just hug each other like we used to do in the past. If Samantha stirs any shit up, I'll kiss you in front of the world and shout that you're mine, their judgement be damned. The universe doesn't matter, Green, you do.

Then. Now. Always.

39

Kimberly

Loneliness is a morbid thing. It starts with that small feeling of emptiness and morphs into something completely unavoidable.

That’s how it’s felt since Xan left weeks ago.

Lonely. Empty. Miserable, even.

It’s true that we were practically separated for seven years, but even back then, I saw him every day. In his garden, with Kir, at school. He was always a constant in my life.

Now that he’s gone, I feel like my air supply is slowly diminishing and will one day dim to nothing.

That morning, I cried for so long after reading Xan’s text that Dad thought something was wrong with me.

But Xander didn’t stop there. No. He left me a gift in a green box in front of my room. When I opened it, a small silver kitty came out and climbed into my hand.

With the kitty was a note.

I never told you how sorry I am that Luna died. It’s a few years too late, but it’s time to move on and embrace a new life.

P.S. You’re mine.

Xander

I fell to the ground, hugged the kitty, and cried again. I cried so hard that I thought I wouldn’t stop crying or missing him.

I didn’t. Stop missing him, I mean.

Considering the nature of his rehab, he’s not allowed any contact with the outside world except for a weekly call with a family member, as in Lewis.

I always go to his house on that day, lingering outside as a creep until Ahmed opens the door.

While Lewis talks to him on the loudspeaker, I remain completely shut in the background, just listening to the tenor of his voice and boxing it for later when I’m alone and all I think about is him.

Lewis offered me to talk to him, but I shook my head, because if I did, I’d just cry. I don’t want to cry and disrupt his rehabilitation in any way.

And I’m always on the verge of crying when Xander’s first question is, ‘How is Kim?’ It’s as if he awaits the weekly calls to ask about me, my therapy, if I’m eating, if I’m doing better at school.

Lewis answers all his questions with a smile while I battle with the need to drive to wherever he is and maybe kidnap him or something.

He doesn’t need to worry about me. I’ve been healing, slowly but surely.

I think my actual healing process started the moment Jeanine left the house, and it only thrived after she and Dad signed the divorce papers. None of us went to her exhibition. Even Kir preferred a mac and cheese night with Dad and me than to celebrate Mum’s success.