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There had been a change. That much was clear.
It didn’t happen quickly. It didn’t happen suddenly. No, the change came on slowly.
A certain quiet had settled over the Smith-Brookstone apartment. It wasn’t solid. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that came after long missions and gruelling training sessions. It was more… brittle. As if the space itself had inhaled months before and forgone the need to breathe thereafter.
It was subtle at first. The change. Small quips and arguments that stemmed from things that would have once been brushed off as nothing. Avoidant glances and a peculiar shuffling of belongings. An air of despair was accumulating in a place that had once seen so much light.
The apartment was dark now.
It was a Thursday when the string finally snapped.
Kai sat at the kitchen counter, his head held low. His eyes remained locked on his phone as he aimlessly scrolled through nothing in particular.
The light in the apartment was dim, coming solely from a few rays of sun creeping through the window shades.
The apartment had lights. Purposefully or not, none of them were on.
Cole was standing at the stovetop preparing a simple meal. Rice, broccoli, and some leftover chicken from a few nights before.
There would’ve been a time months — perhaps years — ago when that would’ve been done jointly, with Kai preparing the rice and broccoli while Cole reheated the chicken.
“You’re gonna burn the rice, babe.” Cole would’ve said.
Kai would’ve shot something back along the lines of, “Fuck you!” with no real malice in his voice.
Cole would’ve grinned to himself at that. “I smell smoke.”
Kai would’ve turned to glare at him. “That’s just you!” Though they could both clearly smell the rising fumes.
But neither of them said anything. They continued without either Kai or Cole even bothering to look up at the other.
It struck both of them at that moment. A lot had changed.
It was about five minutes into their silent dinner, something that had become routine, when Kai finally spoke.
“Cole-”
The other looked up sharply. Kai couldn’t make heads or tails of exactly what Cole was feeling at that moment. Once, he could have. Maybe.
Kai exhaled sharply, watching Cole’s brown eyes closely. There was a glimmer of something within them. Something that Kai had become all too familiar with in the past few months.
“I… uh…”
The edges of Cole’s eyes seemed permanently red now. As if all the repetitions had created a measurable change. They clearly had, and it wrecked Kai to see.
“You’ve felt it too.” He murmured finally, when no other more fitting words came to him. He felt terrified when the sentence came out as less of a question and more of a statement.
Cole nodded wordlessly in response.
Kai felt his voice strain before it did. “This is… fuck.” He let out a dry laugh. “This isn’t working, Cole.” The name felt so wrong after so many years of wielding pet names like a shield.
And then there was quiet. The same quiet that had now become normal. The quiet that had never really felt normal to Kai. The quiet that had never really felt normal to Cole either. He knew that much.
Finally, in the rawest, most quiet voice Kai had ever heard leave Cole’s mouth, “I know.” And then, as if he hadn’t already been vulnerable enough, “Please don’t.”
And of course he’d known. He’d probably known what Kai was thinking before he’d even uttered a single shaky word. They knew each other inside and out, and that hadn’t simply gone away. How could it have? They were connected, body and soul, in ways that could never be undone. Perhaps, Kai thought to himself, it could be rusted. But it couldn’t ever be broken.
“Cole-”
“Please?” And they were both crying now. Kai felt hot, wet, sticky tears trickling down his cheeks. His eyes were burning in the distinct, horrible way that made sadness feel that much more unbearable.
But this wasn’t sadness. This wasn’t sorrow. No, Kai had already felt those things. This was new. This was understanding.
And somehow, that hurt more.
“Cole, I-”
“Don’t do the fucking noble thing I know you’re trying to do here.” Cole’s voice was trembling dangerously. Kai hated to hear him like that. Like this.
And hearing his words… stung. A lot.
“I’m not trying to-”
“You are, though.” Cole laughed humourlessly, though he broke into a series of small sobs. “You’re trying to save me from this. You’re trying to save yourself from this. It’s always you and your stupid self-sacrificial bullshit.”
It would’ve hurt less if it hadn’t been true.
“I’m sorry,” Kai whispered after a long, drawn-out moment.
Cole sobbed harder. “I’m sorry too.” He managed to say.
It was minutes before either of them spoke again. It was Cole this time, someone who rarely let himself feel in the good and the bad sense of the word. Now, he was feeling in the worst way possible. It was destroying Kai, seeing him like this. Knowing it was his fault.
“I love you. Still.”
“I-“ Kai’s heart felt like it was being ripped to shreds. And in all the ways that mattered, it was. “I know. I still love you too.”
And there it was. The worst part of it all. The one thing that hadn’t been lost in the dark months of fights and conflicts and passive-aggression.
The part that made what was inevitable feel so catastrophic and unreal.
“This sucks.” Kai choked out between sobs.
Cole laughed — really laughed — and Kai realized, horribly, that he hadn’t heard that sound in months. He’d missed it. “You can say that again.”
And they’d reached a stalemate, neither of them wanting to acknowledge what came next. What was going to happen no matter how long they tried to avoid it.
And finally, surprisingly, Cole uttered seven words that felt horrible and terrifying and liberating all in one. “Babe, I think this is the end.”
And Kai wished, not for the first time, that Cole loved him less. That he couldn’t hear the devastatingly fond edge to his dejected tone. That he himself didn’t love the man in front of him to the moon and back.
Kai met Cole’s gaze as well as he possibly could, his vision clouded with tears. Cole looked broken in the purest sense of the word. He assumed, and knew, that he looked the same.
“Yeah.” He murmured. He hated how raw he sounded. He hated how painful it all felt. “Yeah.” He repeated, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “I guess it is.”
And somehow, it was over.
The apartment lights stayed off for a long while afterwards.