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Gods, you hated him.
"Don’t get too attached. It will just hurt you worse in the end,” were the words he had told you once, towards the beginning.
At first, you took it with a grain of salt. Just the heartless words of a non-commital fuckboy with no feelings to give or take, a player with no cards on the table setting it straight before you could get a peek at what he was hiding in his hand.
You shrugged it off, because hey, the sex was good and it was good stress relief. You didn’t need, or want, more than that. You were content to be single.
But the months went by and suddenly you weren’t content with the thought anymore.
You started reaching out to him in your spare time, and he had done the same. Little by little, the rare moments you had away from work weren’t spent alone, and you found you spent most of your free waking hours at home with him. A lot of the time, it didn’t even lead to just sex.
More than a year later and there were nights you spent together on your couch, watching the newest episode of your favourite trashy reality tv show that he insisted he hated (but could never look away from) as he’d tuck you into his side and rest his chin on your head. You’d lean in closer with a soft sigh and he’d gather you to him tighter.
He had memorized your schedule and there were days he’d beat you home to your apartment, already waiting on the fire escape outside your bedroom window, the highest floor of your little apartment building. You’d draw back the curtains and he’d physically perk up from a crouch to his feet, amber eyes shining as you’d unlock the latch and struggle to heave open the old window to let him in. You always huffed a laugh as you watched his massive frame squeeze through the tiny frame and would throw in something like you know, the front door isn’t off limits and he’d bump a shoulder against you with some stupid retort as he’d squeeze past and out into the living room to his spot on your couch.
He never came empty-handed either.
If it wasn’t a bag hiding takeout from your favourite restaurant, it was a cute little trinket he’d bring because he just had it laying around at home and thought you’d appreciate it more.
The last night, however, was different.
He was standing ramrod straight on the fire escape when you arrived home, looking like a wet dog in the pouring rain, and he ignored your latest front door quip as he brushed past you and out into the living room without a word, dropping something into your palm. It was a fuzzy little wolf keychain (wearing glasses made out of a pipe cleaner that you inspecting closer and you swore looked just like the ones you’ve caught him in from time to time) and it quickly made its way onto your carabiner with your apartment keys before tossing it onto your bed as you turned to your dresser. He was pacing a line into your fuzzy carpet by the couch by the time you changed and joined him minutes later.
“Valko? Is everything alright?” You had asked him nervously, and he turned to you with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, of course,” he responded after a beat, but the words were clipped and his posture was tight.
Apprehension rolled off of him in waves and if he had hackles, they would’ve been raised. It brought an uneasy tension into your shoulders and you knew he saw it on your face too as he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Just… work things,” he had offered after watching you start picking the skin around your thumb– your nervous tell. Your fingers paused and you nodded slowly, and you knew he could tell you didn’t believe him. “You know I don’t like discussing my job.”
Your concern was quickly being replaced by annoyance.
“Oh yeah, I know,” you scoffed. “Just one of the many things you don’t like discussing when it comes to us.” He visibly flinched at your accusatory tone before bulking back up to his towering form.
“Love, you know everything I keep from you is to keep you safe, yeah?” His voice was low and gruff as he took a step closer to you and gently placed his hands on your shoulders. You smacked them away and took a step back and he shook his head. “Don’t make this harder for me, please.”
“Why? Because it’s going to hurt me worse in the end? Or hurt you worse?” You had spat the words out with a little more venom than you had intended. But, you had a shitty day at work and had just been looking forward to letting off some steam with him and then relaxing in the afterglow.
Now, though? You just wanted him gone.
You knew it had been a low blow but were a little shocked when the words seemed to have hit him like a slap of realization to his face.
He expertly wiped the emotion off of his face as quickly as it had appeared and barked out a humourless laugh, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. “You want to choose to go back to that conversation now? Can you just maybe let me speak first before you start jumping to conclusions like you always do?”
You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “Yes, sorry. I forgot you’re just an open book I can flip through and not Linkon’s most clandestine bachelor. I’ll sit right down for this one,” you emphasized your words by plopping down to the couch, hands crossed against your chest as you settled into the cushions and raised your chin up, quirking an eyebrow up at him in a silent challenge.
In hindsight, you knew this was getting you both nowhere. It wasn’t the first time, and you argued a lot over the year you’ve known each other, usually over stupid shit. You’d fling insults and trade blows and it would always end in kisses and apologies under your covers.
But this day had been different. Your emotions were running high from the stress at work and you were tired. You were even more tired from skirting around your feelings and from never being able to get a straight answer out of him if it didn’t involve you both naked in your bed.
He had stilled as he registered your words and his eyes narrowed as he stared down at you. “Bachelor, huh?” He started, and you knew you had fucked up with your choice of insult. “Had I known that’s all you considered me all this time, I would have directed my time and interests elsewhere.”
Instead of backing down, you doubled down. “Forgive me, Mr. Secretive Chairman, for mistaking your true interests when you made it very clear from the beginning what I mean to you.” You hadn’t even tried to hide the sarcasm from your voice. “And just so we’re on the same page, I sense I don’t mean anything to you.”
He had made a sound between a sigh and a growl as he shook his head in annoyance. “Again, if you’d just let me speak without fucking interupting-” you cut him off by raising your hand.
“Valko, your actions have spoken enough. Fuck, you’ve said yourself hundreds of times how you feel about this– about us. What can you possibly say to me now to fix this? But you can’t fix the foundation with fucking tape when it’s crumbling away from the inside. I’ve waited for you to open up about anything, your life, your job, your feelings, anything, but you refuse. I’ve waited for you to come to your senses, but again, you refuse. Why are you even here? Because it sounds an awful lot like a goodbye.” What had started off as strong ended in the last words being choked out of you as tears welled in your eyes and the heat of embarrassment settled on your cheeks.
Fuck, you hated crying, especially in front of others. It made it worse when the tears stemmed from pure frustration rather than strictly sadness. Although, you would have been lying if you said you weren’t a little upset with the way this argument was seemingly headed.
His face had softened and he had once again tried taking a step towards you. “No,” you breathed, wiping your cheeks dry with the backs of your hands, and he halted. “I want you to leave. And I want you to stay away. This is it.”
He hadn’t listened. He took the step anyway and dropped to his knees in front of you. “Just let me say what I need to say, and I’ll go. And if you still never want to see me again after what I have to say, then I’ll make sure that you won’t. But please, just listen to me, love.”
You huffed and sniffled but didn’t try to stop him, so he continued.
“My job… jobs… are dangerous. Deadly. There are people and things that want to see me hurt and will go the distance to make sure it happens. I have to be vigilant and keep my guard up at all times, because if I don’t, they will use the opportunity to get to me. And trust me when I say it will end with me dead,” he sucked in a breath to steady himself before he continued. “I’m being watched. All the time. They’re looking to find my weaknesses so it will be easier to take me down. I can’t trust anyone. Behind every smile and every closed door, there’s a snake in the grass waiting for me to falter so it can strike. And what would hurt me the most, do you think?” He paused and looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place. “What could hurt more than finding what makes me happy, the one person I truly trust, and taking her away from me?” He placed a large hand on your thigh and squeezed as another tear slid down your cheek.
“I am not a good man. I can survive a lot, but I’m not sure I could live through the guilt of that,” he confessed, and trailed his hand up to cup your jaw and wipe the escaping tear with his thumb. “So yes, love, this is goodbye. I’m a sinking ship and I refuse to let you drown with me. Not when you mean the world to me.” Your lip quivered and he slid his thumb over it.
“You don’t get to make that choice for me,” you had whispered, pulling his hand away by the wrist. “From the beginning, it’s always been your choice in what happens with us. Stop deciding everything for me. When is it my turn?” You placed his hand over your heart and you hoped he had felt it seizing from within your ribcage.
“I have to be the one to make this choice.” His voice was rough and it welled more tears in your eyes. “Let this last one be mine again. Please. I know I’ve done things so wrong and I’ve fucked it all up, but I can’t lose you like this.”
A whine had fallen from your lips and you shook your head. “But you already have lost me. And you aren’t even trying to fight to get me back.” He winced.
You had shoved him backwards and into the coffee table behind him, scrambling to your feet to get away from him. Your shoulders shook and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You didn't think it was going to hurt like this; to end like this. You had been stupid– truly. He had warned you from the beginning and you were too stubborn to listen, too stubborn to think you could change him. But in the end, you had ended up hurt. Just like he told you.
“Love-” he had been cut off as you launched a throw pillow at his head. “Don’t fucking love me. That’s too big of a word for you to use, considering you’re a heartless bastard. If you’re going, then just fucking go.”
You had turned away from him and started clenching and unclenching your fists to try to ground yourself. Too many thoughts, memories, and feelings were swimming through your head and you were on the verge of detonating like a fucking bomb in the middle of your living room. You heard the ruffle of his clothes as he collected himself and moved to his feet.
“This is a fight I can’t win. I would play every fucking card in my hand to fight for you but it will end with you dead. I can’t let that happen, not to you. These people… they will do anything to see me dead, and they’d start with you if they knew. Please understand that.”
You slowly turned so you faced him again. “I can’t understand something that you wouldn’t explain to me. You’ve hid this from me for months, and now you’re telling me all of this and saying you’re leaving. But you’re still here, and I’m still alive.”
He shook his head. “It’s not that simple. They know I’m hiding something, but they don’t know it’s been you. I need to… let you go, before they do.”
“So, this is really it then?” You had said, deflating. He was in front of you in an instant, arms locked around you and chin on your head. He rubbed his cheek over your hair and snaked his arms up to your shoulders. “Yes, and I’m sorry, love. I really do.”
“You really what?” You breathed into his neck, squeezing your eyes as the tears slid down your skin and onto his own before bleeding into the hem of his shirt. “Love you,” came his response, so quiet you had thought you’d made it up. But your eyes wrenched open and you snapped back to look up at him. He had given you a sad, toothy smile, amber eyes wet. “If I could do it all again differently, I would. But I will just live with the memory knowing I had you while I did, as selfish as that sounds.”
He had bent down to place a kiss on your lips and you returned it with vigor, your tears mixing with his and staining your cheeks. The kiss was filled with emotion, of words that cannot be spoken, but only shown with the heart. And you had sobbed as you clenched your fists into his shirt and he broke away from your lips to drop his forehead to yours. “I love you, too,” your words whispered against his skin with your breath.
“This isn’t a goodbye. It’s a promise that I’ll find you again in the next life,” he had whispered back, brushing his knuckles tenderly along your wet cheek. “I found you in this one, and I’m sure I had you in the last, too. And I won’t let them take you.” He had placed one last kiss to your lips before pulling away and walking back to your bedroom door. He paused in the threshold and turned his head back to you. “Wait for me in the next life, yeah?”
You were rooted in place on your plush carpet, but your soul had felt like it had been snatched and taken millions of miles away from you deep into the cosmos. He had left, but took your heart with you. And the worst part? He was right from the start. This had hurt more than you could bear as you had sunk to your knees to the carpet and collapsed to your chest, the tears coming hot as you silently wept.
You awoke with a splitting migraine and a terrible ache in your ribs and hips from sleeping on the floor. You rolled to your back and stared up at the blank white ceiling above you. You wanted to rip it off and jump through the roof and float away and chase after wherever dark corner your soul had fled to.
You blinked and hoped it had all been a dream, but you hadn’t made it a habit to fall asleep on the floor and the salty stains down your cheeks were a good indicator that something had actually happened last night.
You begrudgingly got to your feet and walked the short distance to your bedroom– the window was closed but the lock was open from the inside. Another piece of proof it had been real. You threw yourself to your bed and grunted in pain, snaking your hand out from under you to fish out the keys you had accidentally laid on. You looked soberly at the little wolf dangling from the keys, tossing them further up the bed, and grabbed your phone. There were a few missed texts and notifications but only one name immediately drew your attention.
2 Unread - Valkooooo 💘😜
3:42am: i’m sorry. i really am, i understand i am leaving you with all this pain and I caused it and i wish i could take it all away but this is the only way i can keep you safe. pls do not come looking for me
3:44am: i wish i could emphasize how much you’ve changed me for the better and i will always remember you, my love. Thank you for always being you and pls do not change who you are for anyone. dont text this number i have to wipe my phone… im sorry
You had clenched your fist against your forehead and thumped it, the pain ricochetting from your knuckles directly into your skull and behind your eyes. You squeezed your eyes shut and breathed deeply as the feeling in your chest squeezed again and left you gasping.
No, no, no. Calm down, you had urged yourself. It’s okay. It’s okay, we’re okay, everything is okay.
You left him on read and opened your favourite doomscrolling app to hopefully help clear your mind. You swiped through a few short videos; a cat curled up in the sun letting a chick take a nap on its side– swipe. A recipe for a one pot lasagna soup– bookmarked for later and swipe. A new dance trend taking Linkon city youth by storm– swipe, before the song could even start playing. The next video made your thumb pause immediately.
The young reporter of the Linkon City newschannel, standing somber outside the EonCore Tech building downtown, the rain from last night continuing through the bleary grey sky. You held your breath as you thumbed the side of your phone and raised the volume.
“Good morning, I’m Valerie Toms. We have breaking news this morning live from EonCore Tech. 26 year old chairman Valko has been found dead inside his office just after 5am today by cleaning staff. At this time, there have been no suspects identified, however police are actively investigating and consider his death to be foul play. The police urge any witnesses to come forward immediately to help aid in the investigation.”
The video cut to a candid photo of Valko, the caption claiming it was taken at EonCore’s last major board meeting a few months ago. Your breath caught in your throat before altogether stopping. The reporter’s voice continued through the ringing in your ears.
“Not much is known about the young chairman, however it has been made public by the CEO he sadly had no immediate family. Once the investigation has been completed, police report he will be interred and laid to rest by the city in Linkon Memorial Cemetery. A memorial will be held in his honour after the burial. If you’ve seen something, say something. The police hotline can be reached via phone or text at-”
Her words muffled against your comforter as you dropped your phone to the mattress and clamped your hands over your mouth. This is not real this is not real this is not real
Valko had entered your life so unexpectedly, uprooted your very existence, and he was now gone forever. Your face dropped into your comforter and you grabbed tightly onto the little wolf as you sobbed in agony, the report’s voice looping to the beginning of the video from the phone long forgotten beside your ear.
It felt like your life had been built and ripped away from you in a single evening. You choked and panted in pain, shaking fingers fumbling to unclip the wolf from the carabiner. You brought it to your chest in your fist and cried anew as your heart split into two. As you gripped the wolf tighter, something scratched the inside of your palm and you sputtered as you brought it to your face to stare at it with bleary eyes. The edge of the pipe cleaner had stabbed a tiny hole into your palm, but it wasn’t that that had caught your eye.
There was a tiny roll of paper stuck to the wolf’s chest; so small and hidden you had missed it on your initial inspection. You carefully removed the paper from the glue and unfurled it. There was writing on the inside, the cursive unmistakeable.
You cried anew when your eyes swept over the words.
See you in the next life? I’ll make it up to you then.