Heart of Glass [manxman]

Chapter Four

The room cleared out, leaving Louis and I all alone. Neither of us moved for a moment. He stared at me, as if still trying to come to terms with the fact that I was real, that the entire thing wasn't a lie or a dream or a figment of his imagination. I, on the other hand, was determining what his course of action would be once he snapped back into reality. Would he be pissed off? Gods knew I would be. Would he demand that I remove my mask? I'd refuse. It didn't matter what happened, I would not let him see my face. If he knew I was Alexei Rivain... Our previous relationship wouldn't even matter. He fucking hated me, not that the feeling was exactly unmutual, but I was slowly beginning to see more and more similarities between Louis and 1274, which definitely helped calm the animosity.

But, they weren't the same... They were, but 1274 had warped into the man standing before me. Whereas I once knew him better than the gun in my hand, he had grown, changed, morphed into a new man. I no longer knew 1274. I didn't know the man in front of me.

I used to know him.

And now? Now, we were two strangers, one with too much knowledge and the other grasping at anything he came in contact with, trying to find his way through the darkened room, while I sat in the shadows, my eyes perfectly adjusted, just watching him struggle. It was like watching a butterfly continue to fight to stay alive after having one of its wings ripped off.

No one would ever assume that we were soulmates. Even us—Louis and I—had had no idea for so many years... How could someone love another so, so much, know them better than anyone or anything else in the universe, then just not know them at all?

"It's just so hard to believe it's you," he breathed at last, his voice trembling like a leaf in the wind. "I looked for you, for years, I looked. Where were you?"

Just like I thought, I'd broken him. I shouldn't have just left, but no, I was a fucking coward, and all I could bring myself to do was run. But running was what I did best, right next to killing.

With a sheepish shrug, I glanced around the room, trying to be as honest as possible without saying anything that'd give me away. "Trying to forget," I said hoarsely. For fucks' sake, I couldn't let myself get lost with him. I had to keep my distance.

"Obviously it didn't work," he said.

I shook my head. "It didn't."

"So why did you run? There were still so many survivors. There were counselors everywhere... Why didn't you just stay and handle it?" Another question lurked on his lips. Hell, it practically stole the very air we breathed as it echoed through the room. Why did you leave me?

I shrugged again.

"Where've you been?" he asked again, desperately, quietly, like he wanted to know something, anything.

"Here, there... This is probably the longest I've stayed in one place." It was where I'd decided to stop, put down some roots, and actually allow myself to get somewhat comfortable.

"Why did you leave?" Another repetition, probably hoping that he'd get an answer, just like he had before.

Instead, I just shrugged. I knew exactly why. I knew it was my fucking fault that it'd happened. Without a doubt, it was my fault that our family was dead, that his little sister was slaughtered. It was my negligence and had I stood before him only hours after it had happened and heard him blame me for it too... I didn't think I could've handled it. And now, after all that time, I still didn't think I could.

He sighed, blowing out a long breath, and running his hand through his hair again. "I missed you so, so much," he said, his voice soft. "Honestly, if I'm just being completely, brutally honest, I've been furious with you." Louis shook his head, rolling his eyes and leaning against the table. "Just—just leaving at a time like that, no warning, no nothing but a two sentence note on my desk. It was wrong."