the heart i know i’m breakin’ is my own

It’s the final night Xaden will spend in this room in Tirvainne in at least a year. Perhaps forever. The last night he will have Liam as his roommate, his bedmate. It’s something he’s tried to avoid considering before now, throwing himself headfirst into everything else so that he can smother the anxiety, the fear. Xaden has spent his days splitting his attention between the growing spark of revolution with its intricate and careful moves and Liam. Training Liam, fighting with him on the mats, fucking him, loving him, dominating him, holding him. Breathing him in. It’s what he will need to draw strength from in the days to come.

And yet, Liam is also what he can’t spend a second worrying about in the days to come.

Once he leaves Tirvainne in the morning, every waking moment will need to be spent keeping himself alive, keeping any Marked Ones he can alive. Only in dreams – and in his weakest moments – will Xaden be allowed to think of Liam, to worry for Liam.

And that means a clean cut.

It has to be tonight. Xaden has been pushing this conversation, avoiding it. He despises the pain it will cause Liam, the pain it will cause him.

But Liam is already in pain, just as Xaden is. Liam hides it well, hides his anxiety and his fear of the coming years under the mask of sunshine and smiles and quips and flirting. Under a mask of kindness and understanding, which is true, but also not all he feels. Sometimes, Xaden sees it rising in Liam, sees the way he bats it away mentally by asking for a spar, by asking Xaden to put him on his knees and fuck his face, by curling in closer to Xaden until they’re almost the same person. It’s not healthy, but it is what it is.

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

The statement is a fact they both know and dread, but Xaden’s never been good at starting conversations, especially not emotional ones.

“Why are you stating the obvious?” Liam asks, setting down his formal jacket and walking over to where Xaden is standing, staring out the window.

“It will be two years before you join me in the Riders Quadrant. Two years apart.”

“And the sky is blue. I love you. Two years is not going to change that.”

Xaden turns, because Liam deserves for them to have this conversation face-to-face. Liam’s face is devastatingly open, devastatingly sad but determined.

“Liam, I can’t ask you to wait. I will not ask you to wait.”

The words claw their way out of his throat, almost against his will. It’s not that he doesn’t mean them. It’s that he wishes there was not a need to say them.

“Xaden–” Liam starts, but Xaden holds up his hand, silences him. He won’t get through what he needs to say if Liam protests.

If Liam protests, Xaden will crumble.

He’s already strung all too tight, responsibility weighing on him from all directions – the 107 scars on his back, Duke Lindell’s and the Assembly’s expectations, the gazes of the politicians, the Royal Family of Navarre, Melgren, Sorrengail – and it’s about to coalescence into a point where he either bends, breaks, or stands strong.

The day after tomorrow is Conscription Day. Tomorrow will be spent traveling. He needs to keep it together if he’s going to have any chance on the parapet, and he needs to have a chance if he’s going to keep the rest of the Marked Ones alive along with himself.

He can’t carry the added responsibility of Liam’s heart over the stone path with him. The weight will crush him.

Liam will be alright. Liam is strong and steady and everything Xaden wishes he could be in this moment.

Words.

Fuck, he needs to put this into words.

“I love you, Liam. You’ve been everything to me these past few years, and not just romantically. You’ve been my rock, my steady ground, my solace.” It’s not news to Liam, but he still looks as though Xaden has struck him over the face. Like the words cut deeper when he can hear the inevitable but that’s coming. “I would not have gotten through it without you. You deserve the world, Liam Mairi. Gods, you really do.”

“I don’t need the world, Xaden,” Liam says, and he clenches his shaking hands into fists, then folds his arms across his chest. Defensive. Resolute.

“I know,” Xaden assures him, as gently as he can. “I know. But I can’t give you me anymore, either. I can only give you scraps, so much less than you deserve, and even giving you that will put me and others in danger. If I’m thinking about you, Liam– I won’t be thinking about anything else.”

Xaden swallows, looks away.

“And it’s selfish of me, but I can’t stand the thought of having you but not being able to take care of you. Not being able to be there for you.”

“So you’d rather I let someone else love me? Fuck me?” Liam spits. “Let someone else make me happy? I think not, Xaden.”

“Of course not!” Xaden whips his eyes back to Liam, regrets raising his voice, and tries to control himself. When he continues, his voice is softer, lower. “Of course not, Liam. But you deserve to be happy.” He steps closer, trails a hand from Liam’s shoulder down his arm, teases that clenched fist out of its hiding place. “To be fucked, to have your needs taken care of.” Liam loosens the fist, and Xaden entangles their fingers, whispering the last words. “To be loved.”

“I can’t imagine loving someone else,” Liam whispers back. “Not like this.”

“You don’t need to,” Xaden promises. “I’m not asking you to stop loving me, because Loial knows I can’t manage it myself. But I’m telling you, that you’re free to do so if you want to. I’ll be jealous, yes. I’ll curse the gods for putting us in this situation. I’ll listen to you ramble about them in your letters, once I can receive them, and I’ll smile, because you’re sending me letters. I’ll take your friendship over a long distance if that’s what we can have. But I refuse to tie you to me for two years when you can’t have me. You’re free to do as you like, because as of tomorrow morning, we will no longer be in an exclusive relationship.”

Liam is still as a statue, his hand gripping Xaden’s like a lifeline. His eyes are searching, desperate, but Xaden gives him no quarter. This is where he puts down the line, because it’s unfair to ask Liam to wait for him when he has so little to give him.

“Tomorrow morning?” Liam breathes, and his voice shakes. It twists a knife straight into Xaden’s heart, but he can’t show that. It’s not Liam's intention to wound, and even if it was, he’d welcome it. If Liam wants to hurt him, scream at him, hit him, Xaden will take it. Xaden won’t dictate what response Liam is allowed to have to this.

“Yes,” Xaden confirms. “The second I step inside the carriage tomorrow, this between us ends.”

As much as it can ever end, for either of them.

“And in two years time, if…” Liam forces the words out, his voice hoarse, but there’s little hope in his eyes. Xaden shouldn’t feed the spark, but he can’t squash it either.

“In two years time, if we still feel the same, then we will re-evaluate.”

It’s all Xaden can promise.

“But I get to have you tonight?” Liam says, and his voice doesn’t waver.

“Yes.” Xaden’s chest is tight, but his voice is strong and sure. “All of me.”

“Fuck me,” Liam begs. “Hurt me, Xaden, so I’ll feel it when you’re gone.”

No. There will be little pleasure in it for Liam tonight, if Xaden spanks Liam, if he gets rough, if he fucks him too dry. Liam only asks because he wants to feel physical pain instead of mental, emotional pain. Fuck, if Xaden wouldn’t do anything to spare Liam this, but that’s impossible.

Xaden strokes a hand down Liam’s back. It’s his job to set limits, to keep them safe, and this isn’t safe, even if it would allow Liam escape from his feelings, temporary relief.

“No, I won’t hurt you,” Xaden refuses gently, and feels Liam startle in confusion, in rejection. “We’re too upset, I could easily take it too far. I can take you hard, if you want me to, but we’re not playing those kinds of games tonight.”

To his credit, Liam doesn’t beg again. He folds, slumping against Xaden, turning his face up for a kiss. He isn’t crying, but his eyes are watering. Xaden meets him, desperate and hungry and sad and feeling all too many things. He understands Liam’s request. It would be all too easy to slip into that role, to care for Liam’s physical pleasure, to push him to the limits and watch him fall apart for Xaden. He’s so beautiful when he falls apart. But it wouldn’t be fair, because Xaden won’t be here to put him back together tomorrow.

“What do you want, Liam?” He breathes against Liam’s lips. “Hands, mouths? Me in you, or you in me? It’s your call. We have all night, and I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

But not what Liam needs, at least not completely, because that isn’t Xaden’s to give. He can’t promise safety, love, life. Not after tonight.

“Just love me, then,” Liam sighs.

And that Xaden can do. It’s all he seems to be able to do, these days. No matter where he goes, he thinks of Liam.

So Xaden takes Liam’s mouth in a possessive kiss, devours him with tongue and lips but cups his cheeks gently. Liam strains against him, grabs Xaden’s ass to pull him closer. Moans when Xaden lines his throat with kisses, little nips interspersed with whispers of how beautiful Liam is, how precious he is to Xaden. The words spill from Xaden’s tongue, uninhibited, because there’s no point in keeping up any pretense. Xaden stopped guarding his heart against Liam long ago, and baring the depth of his emotion, while always scary, feels natural.

Liam clutches Xaden’s hair as Xaden works the line of buttons down Liam’s shirtfront, unusual clothing a result of the formal farewell dinner with Duke Lindell and the household they sat through earlier. The stiff fabric is a far cry from the soft shirts Liam prefers, but perfect for Xaden to trail kisses down exposed, warm skin, until he has no choice but to kneel down in front of Liam.

Xaden is no stranger to being on his knees – there’s such power in kneeling before someone and making them come undone – but Liam blinks down at him with half-lidded eyes and his mouth open on a gasp, and Xaden feels vulnerable. He focuses on opening Liam’s pants, on wrapping his fingers around Liam’s cock, on the groan that leaves Liam’s mouth as he laves kisses down the trail of coarse blonde hair from his navel to the base of his length.

Then Xaden takes Liam into his mouth, and stops thinking. He does nothing but feel: the warm weight on his tongue and in his throat, the soft skin and Liam’s sharp hip bones under his hands, the salty taste of Liam’s precome, the way Liam’s fingers pull at his hair until Xaden’s scalp is stinging. Listens to the way Liam is getting closer, his moans and gasps rising in volume and frequency. Enjoys the way it makes Xaden feel, enjoys the way Liam lets Xaden set the pace, trusting that it will get him where he wants to be.

“Xaden,” Liam moans above him, and Xaden chances a glance up, meets blue eyes blown wide in desire, and feels his own cock twitch in his pants, feels the want for Liam pulse in his blood. Liam is fucking perfect and he comes on the next groan of Xaden’s name, spilling down Xaden’s throat.

While Liam is still dazed, Xaden presses gentle kisses to a smattering of freckles on Liam’s lower stomach, then rises to lead him to bed.

They strip each other slowly, placing reverent kisses on exposed skin, trailing slow hands over familiar bodies. Liam takes Xaden in hand, and Xaden lets him, because they’re young and it won’t take them long to get hard again. He presses Liam down into the sheets, sits astride him and lets Liam touch him while he kisses the blonde senseless, spilling over Liam’s stomach.

Breathing against each other’s mouths, they pause for a while there, suspended in their own bubble in time and space. There’s nothing here but Liam, and he fills Xaden’s senses so fucking completely. Breathing turns into mouths brushing, which turns into kissing, which turns into them grinding against each other.

Xaden opens Liam up carefully while he praises Liam to the high heavens for how well he takes Xaden’s fingers, how trustingly he spreads out on the bed, how gorgeous he is. Praise shouldn’t ever be limited when it comes to Liam.

“Please, Xaden,” Liam begs, “stop teasing me already!”

Xaden smiles at that, and indulges Liam, dragging himself slowly up Liam’s body to kiss him, slicking himself and sliding into Liam. Not too careful, because Xaden will not deny Liam the soreness he so craves having in the following days. Liam arches his back, his head lolling to the side, mouth slack in pleasure, and Xaden takes in the sight.

The grief that he’s kept at bay slams into him then, like a blow to the head, leaving Xaden gasping for all the wrong reasons, but Liam is moving below him, fucking himself onto Xaden’s cock in small thrusts, and that’s what he needs to focus on. Giving Liam everything he can, here and now.

“I love you,” Xaden breathes, uncaring that his voice breaks, and starts taking Liam with slow, thorough thrusts, changing the angle until he finds the right one, Liam grasping onto his back, nails scraping over skin marred by scars. The words come again, just like they did before, a torrent of sweet nothings, praise and bittersweet goodbyes. Liam takes the words as well as he takes Xaden’s cock, his eyes open as he listens, as he rolls with Xaden’s movements until the precise strokes and Xaden’s right hand bring him over the edge. He’s so fucking beautiful when he comes.

Then it’s Xaden’s turn to listen, to gasp and take.

“Let go, Xaden,” Liam urges, though he must be sensitive. “Take me harder. You’re always so good to me, oh, I love you, I love you–”

Xaden does as asked, and he’s not sure he would be able to control himself any longer either way. His pace quickens, becomes hard and rough, even though he wants to draw this out. He never wants to leave Liam’s body, never wants to hear anything but his voice.

Liam grips his shoulders, fingers digging into skin. Xaden might bruise. Might carry the impression of Liam’s fingerprints with him over the parapet. That thought warms him.

“Come on, come inside me,” Liam begs. “I’m yours, Xaden, make me yours.”

Xaden does.

Then he cleans them up carefully, and wraps himself around Liam, lets Liam hold him together. There’s no point in dressing, so they wash up for the night in silence, constantly touching.

When they sink back into bed, there’s only silence.

Neither of them breaks it.

Xaden lies awake, his breathing slowing down just like Liam’s. He closes his eyes, presses his face into Liam’s hair, cradling the back of his head with one hand and securing him against Xaden’s chest with the other. Liam is curled into himself, back slightly bowed to fit into Xaden’s arms comfortably. At eighteen years old, Liam’s still growing. Not by much, but he might become taller than Xaden while they’re apart, and Xaden mourns that. Mourns that even if they see each other again, even if they rekindle their relationship years from now, Liam’s body will be unfamiliar to him. There will be new muscles, new scars, just as Liam will be a different person with more experiences. Xaden doesn’t doubt he could love Liam in any circumstance, any universe, but they’ll be different.

Liam isn’t asleep either.

The hours pass.

Liam breaks at the darkest part of the night. His body trembles, and he makes a wounded, low, sound when he can no longer keep it in. He bends further, crushing his face into Xaden’s chest as the sobs overtake him, just as they did the first night they spent in this room. And just like the first night, Xaden’s throat closes, as if clogged by ash and smoke and dragonfire, and he wraps his arms even tighter around Liam. They’re different, older and taller, but the pain is the same, all-consuming and brutal. The grief for a life they will no longer get to have, the loss of a person closest to them.

And just like that first night, Xaden stares blankly into the darkness and holds Liam’s shaking form as it clings to him, wracked with sobs. Just like that first night, tears stream down his face silently.

Just like he did for his father the first night, tonight Xaden Riorson promises that these are the last tears he’ll cry over Liam.

The next morning, before the sun has risen, Xaden and Liam stand in the entrance hall of Duke Lindell’s estate. The horses are tethered in the courtyard, and Xaden knows they’ll ride once they get further out, but for the first bit, the Duke will be seen to travel by carriage.

Their shoulders press together as they follow the Duke into the grey of dawn, Xaden’s pack balanced and comparatively light, but still so heavy on his shoulders. It holds more emotional baggage than it does items.

In the courtyard, Xaden turns to face Liam, their boots toe-to-toe on the dusty ground, and presses in close. Liam throws his arms around Xaden, his grip desperate and painfully tight, and Xaden mirrors it. They hold each other for a minute, and then Liam wordlessly pulls away enough to tilt his head up, begging for a kiss. His eyes are bloodshot and dry. His lower lip trembles, but he tries to hide it.

They’re practically alone except for the Duke and a small retinue of guards, because no one else should be observed seeing off Fen Riorson’s son. They’re not exactly a well-kept secret, servants gossip, but Xaden has never claimed Liam publically, like he is about to do.

Xaden kisses Liam, hard and possessive, and then gentles it into love, loses himself for a few seconds in the soft glide of Liam’s mouth.

Then he breaks the kiss, steps back and trails his hand over Liam’s cheekbone. Liam catches it, presses it against his cheek for a moment, and nods.

They make no farewells. They exchange no words of love. All of those they whispered last night, and they’re redundant now.

Xaden turns his back, walks to join the Duke in the carriage. Looks over his shoulder once, before he takes the step in, and holds Liam’s gaze. Basks in being them. Then he enters, pretends he doesn’t hear the sound of Liam’s heart breaking behind him, pretends he isn’t breaking his own.

Settling beside the Duke, Xaden squares his shoulders.

There is only him, now.