POV: AstraeaLocation: Ren's House – Late Evening
The hallway was quiet now.
The lights were dim. The television murmured faintly from the living room where their "parents" had dozed off in the glow of a drama they wouldn't remember. The scent of curry still lingered in the air, warm and human.
But none of it mattered.
I stood outside his door.
Barefoot. My hair still damp from the shower. His shirt draped over my frame—one of his older ones, too big, too worn, still carrying the faintest hint of him.
My hand hovered just above the handle.
I didn't knock.
I didn't need to.
He knew I was there.
Just like I'd always known when he used to watch me—back then, in the garden beneath the artificial moon, when the stars bent for him and my name still meant something.
I pressed my forehead against the wood and whispered, "Are you going to pretend again?"
Silence.
Of course.
He was always silent when it mattered most.
I slid down to sit against the door, hugging my knees to my chest. My fingers dug slightly into the cotton of his shirt. The warmth of the hallway didn't reach my skin.
"I don't want your empire," I said quietly. "I don't want your control, your systems, or your goddesses."
I closed my eyes, voice low. "I just want… pieces of what we had. Even if they weren't real."
A pause.
A quiet static buzz from within his room, as if he'd turned on the monitor. Watching me again, probably. Recording every movement. Processing every emotion.
But he wouldn't come out.
And I wouldn't leave.
I let my voice soften, breaking.
"Do you remember the field with the blue grass? The one that bloomed only when I smiled?"
Still no reply.
I smiled bitterly to myself.
"Of course not. You deleted that timeline, didn't you?"
My fingers curled against the floor. "I was a fool. I thought when I found you again, I could pull you back. Even just a little."
A tear slipped down, quietly soaking into the fabric stretched over my thigh.
"You said you had no motive," I whispered. "But back then… you were the reason I kept breathing."
The silence was heavy now. Crushing.
He wouldn't open the door.
Because he couldn't.
Because if he did, it would mean something.
And Ren didn't let things mean anything anymore.
I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and stood slowly, swaying slightly from the weight in my chest.
My voice, when it came again, was soft. Tender. Dangerous.
"I'm going to open it one day, you know. This door. And the one behind your ribs."
I placed my hand against the wood, palm flat.
"I'm not asking for your love anymore, Ren."
A pause.
"I'll take whatever's left instead."
POV: RenLocation: My Room – Minutes After
She's gone.
I knew the second her footsteps faded down the hallway. She never slammed doors. Never raised her voice. Not even now.
That was the danger in Astraea.She could break you without sound.
I didn't move.
Just sat there—still in the chair, hand resting on the mouse I hadn't clicked in over ten minutes, screen dimmed to black. The monitors displayed dozens of feeds. Surveillance. School. Empire. The base. Elira. Airi. The goddesses.
But right now, every feed was meaningless.
Only the one outside my door played on loop.
Astraea, in my shirt, barefoot and whispering things I never asked to hear.
"Do you remember the field with the blue grass?"
Yes.
"You deleted that timeline, didn't you?"
Yes.
I killed it.
Because it mattered.Because it hurt.
Because it made me feel.
And I couldn't allow that.
She thought I'd forgotten.
But I didn't forget.I archived.I buried.
There's a difference.
Her smile on that hill beneath the sky I crafted for her.The way she looked at me then—like I was still someone worth saving.
That was dangerous.
That's what love does.It teaches you to bleed.
And I…I've built a kingdom on not bleeding.
The system pinged softly in the corner.
:: Astraea – Emotional Output Spike Detected. Response Recommended. ::
I disabled the prompt.
Not because I didn't care.
But because I cared just enough to know I shouldn't.
Across the room, my bed was still made. I hadn't touched it in three days.
Sleep was unnecessary now. I'd gone beyond it.
But tonight… I found myself walking toward it anyway.
I sat on the edge.Stared at the door she had leaned against.
Her warmth still lingered in the wood. Her voice echoed between the cracks of my ribs.
"I'll take whatever's left instead."
She shouldn't want that.
She shouldn't want me.
But here we are.
I leaned forward, hands clasped loosely between my knees, head lowered.
I could end this.Erase her.Seal her memories.Send her to another world, like I've done before.
But I won't.
Because a part of me—
a very dangerous part—wants her to stay.
Wants someone who remembers the blue grass.
I whispered, just once, into the dark:
"You were the only one I ever let see it bloom."
Then silence again.
The throne may be mine. The empire, eternal.
But tonight—
I remembered the sky.