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𝕋𝕠𝕟𝕪 ℙ𝕖𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕧𝕒

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Something had changed in Reagan. Ever since the events in Kribirsk, he'd begun to distance himself. From the Grisha. From his mother... From me.

I guess it shouldn't have hurt as much as it did when Reagan told me he no longer required me as a bodyguard. He was a saint now after all. But the night he'd told me he didn't need me anymore... stung.

I hadn't had the stomach to attend dinner that night, and I'd even turned away Fin when he'd come to my room to mingle. Even in training the other day, I just couldn't seem to get my head straight.

Occasionally, I'd spot Reagan walking the halls alone, or sitting at a desk in the Little Palace's library. He'd spend hours there. Scouring through books, as if searching for something. An answer. But he never so much as looked at me as I passed by. It continued like this for days. 

"Focus Tony!" I winced as Milana clenched the muscles in my right leg and forced me down to my knees. "What's wrong with you? I haven't seen you like this since... Well, I've never seen you like this."

"I'm fine, Mils. It's nothing," I said, getting back on my feet and circling her around the training arena.

My sister gave no detectable sign of worry in her sharp features. But that was just how Milana worked. Hard as stone on the outside, and cold as ice on the inside. With only a tiny flame of remorse in her heart, reserved only for me. "Are you sure?" She asked, throwing a punch my way, that I barely missed.

"I'm fine," I repeated, blocking her second hit.

"Yeah? Well, your racing heart says otherwise."

I rolled my eyes, huffing and sending a small ball of fire hurling her way. She dodged it with ease. "It's not fair to read me like that, Mils!"

"Well," she charged and jumped. Her legs wrapped around my neck and toppled me to the ground. "I wouldn't have to if you didn't keep lying to me." She thumped her boot down on my hand with the special, fabrikator made glove with its built-in flint and steel. Eventually, I hit my hand on the ground, giving up.

She unwrapped her legs and sat down in the dust beside me. "Now," she panted. "What's wrong?"

I spat at the taste of dirt in my mouth before hesitantly replying. "I... I don't know." Technically, it was true. "It's just..." My eyes flicked up and I could feel my muscles tense as Reagan crossed the distant gardens, book in hands. To my dismay, Mils followed my eyes and I saw her hand twitch to read my pounding heart. "Is it Reagan?" She asked.

I looked down, then nodded. "Something's different in him."

"Well, becoming a saint must change people," she jeered.

"I'm serious. It's not like him to be so... distant." I swallowed, hard. "I miss my friend." Milana went silent. But as she opened her mouth to speak, another voice came from across the field. "Tony." I spun around on the ground, to see Finian standing a few feet behind me. The Durast was fiddling with the hem of his kefta nervously as he beckoned for me to come.

"Gotta go."

"See you at dinner?" Milana asked, but I didn't respond.

As I walked to Fin, I found myself glancing at Reagan's small figure nearby. When I looked back at my secret boyfriend, his gaze was sharp as knives. "Hey Fin," I said, putting my hand on his waist in an attempt to be flattering. But my heart wasn't in it. Finian slapped my hand away. "Woah! What's got you so riled up?"

"Tony, what has been up with you lately?" He said on the top of his lung. Why does everyone keep asking me that?

"I mean, you've been acting so odd lately. I barely see you anymore! What's wrong? Is it me? Are you... Are you seeing someone else?"

My cheeks flushed red. "What? No, I haven't been seeing anyone."

"You're not?" Tears speckled his eyes, but it felt awkward for me to wiped them away. Why was it so awkward? It's never been like this before. "Then... What's been troubling you."

"Nothing," I lied. But then my eyes betrayed me. I hadn't meant to do it. But for half a second, my eyes had refocused on the slim, pale-skinned, dark-haired boy sitting in the shade of a nearby tree. And Fin had caught me.

His tears dried and I scowled pierced his once soft features. "You liar!" He shouted, shoving me backwards as much as he could. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Reagan's head turn towards us. "You filthy liar!" Fin kept on screaming. "So that's why you don't want to see me? Because you decided you'd rather be with a saint than me!"

"No!" I gasped.  "Fin, no! It isn't like that at all!"

"Okay, then tell me!" He ordered, voice cracking. "Tell me it's me you want! Tell me you love me!" I opened my mouth to speak the words I'd told him countless times before. But that time... nothing came out. I choked on my own voice. My own bitter lie.

Finian let out a wounded breath, then turned and ran back to the Little Palace. "Fin wait!" I called out, but he didn't stop. I sank to the ground, wishing it would swallow me whole. My head hung low and my fingers pulled at my hair tightly.

What was wrong with me? Why was I acting like this? What had changed?

"Hey... Are you okay?" The voice caught me off guard. But my sunken heart fluttered back up into my chest at the sound of it. I jumped to my feet, almost tripping a bit. "Reagan!" My mouth went open and shut as I struggled for words.

"Are you okay?" The boy repeated. In his hands, he still held his book 'The Lives of Saints'. But it was the first time I'd seen his colourless eyes in days, and the concerned looked behind them. "What was that about?"

"I... I don't think Finian and I are dating anymore," I mumbled, sitting back down. To my surprise, Reagan did the same, crossing his legs, his one-of-a-kind kefta spilling out behind him. "I don't know what's happened. One minute, we're head over heels for each other and next..."

"I understand," Reagan replied, running a finger through the dirt to make a circle.

"How?"

"My mother," the boy sighed. "Her and Dad, they've rekindled their relationship, so to speak. And... I haven't spoken to her for days now. We left things on a bad note, and I'd just wished she'd see things how I see it. How Dad and I see it."

"How do you see things?"

Reagan squirmed a little bit beside me. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay."

Silence settled upon us. Not that, that was unusual. Reagan had always been a bit silent. A little out of place and shy. He still was in the end. He was still quiet, a bit different, but that timidness, that'd almost been a bit sad, was gone and was replaced by some motivated drive I had yet to figure out. "Reagan, have I done something to make you push me away?"

His quartz gaze flicked up to me, and to my relief, they were confused. 

"I understand why you don't need me anymore. I mean, you took down that serpent all on your own and now you're some kind of... saint." Reagan sniffed at the word. "But you've barely said a word to me all week. You're always busy doing something... I can't help but feel I must've said or done something to make you not want to see me anymore."

"What?" He shooked his head, inky hair swaying a bit. He'd cut it so it no longer hanged over her shoulders. But it was still a bit messy, even though it was shorter. "Tony, you've done nothing wrong I... I've just been dealing with a lot of stuff at the moment. Stuff I need to do alone."

My hand reached out to his before I could stop myself and our gazes locked. "Let me help you." The words hung in the air between us, filling the continuing silence.

Eventually, Reagan looked down at his lap. "There's nothing you can do to help me."

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- DawnTide