“Are you okay?”

The tears are now flowing uncontrollably. Silas looks away. Wishes he hadn’t invited Aiden. Longer hair in his bangs could hide his eyes. Or simply, not having feelings, like people always accuse him of.

“No.”

“Fuck. How could you be?” Heat rises from his counterpart, and when he dares to look for a moment, an overwhelmingly terrifying rage stands in the otherwise calm face. The eyes pin him down.

“You have way bigger problems than just what Hadrian said to you, don’t you?”

He can’t respond. At this sight of so much anger in those delicate features, he’s simply lost for words.

“You despise yourself.” He can’t look away. The eyes burn into him.

“Why ... why do you let him have so much power over you? You’re not a monster!”

He just shakes his head. About the world. About himself. Doesn’t know.

“Why can he throw you out of your life like that? There are other people who love you!” The tears drop from his face to the floor, mixing with blood and mirror dust.

“What about your parents? Your sister?”

“My parents don’t care about me.” He has finally found his voice again. It belongs to a stranger. One who doesn’t want anything to do with him.

“Dad was angry because I wanted to play football. I was supposed to take over the company after my sister went to Tokyo to study. Now he has no one left. Just like me. Because I ... I’m just the substitute player in my life. For my family. For Hadrian ...”

“You said something different before.”

“Yeah.” The words vibrate between them. They destroy. Summon these feelings. The euphoria has completely faded and now tries to escape the stale, toxic guilt. This guilt is so overpowering. It suffocates him. He can’t breathe.

“Your mother?”

A hoarse laugh escapes his throat. It sounds almost ... hysterical.

“She doesn’t take a step without asking my father for permission. Traditional relationships. The best invention of our society.” Aiden’s gaze softens. Briefly filled with pity. Then his eyes release Silas, and he can finally gasp for air. Half-choked, sobbing, he looks away, not wanting to look at the bathroom.

Only then does the goosebumps make themselves known. They gently move over his back and arms, triggered by the hands that caress his bandaged hand. Aiden looks blankly and presses his injured hand to his chest like something precious. He gently strokes it, rubbing the painful spots with his thumb. He doesn’t seem to notice.

The new tears don’t hurt so much now.

“We need to do something.”

“And ... what?”

“Before we continue with the work you hired me for, we need to thoroughly rebuild your self-esteem.” Hesitantly, he moves his fingers forward and hands Silas back his injured hand. When their eyes meet again, Aiden has regained his composure. Silas rubs his eyes nervously and does the same.

“My self-esteem?”

“Yes. Hadrian and ... everyone else ... you probably the most ... these events have really thrown you off balance. We need to straighten you out before you can go out there and connect with other people.”

“How do we do that?”

“ I think a night out dancing doesn’t sound too bad for a start.”

“Agreed.” Aiden's gaze drifts off thoughtfully for a moment. Then, shaking his head, he dismisses the idea. To Silas’ surprise, the next look is almost angry. Aiden taps his bandage.

“No more lies.”

“Yeah.”

“And no self-harm or ... or self-mutilation, understood?”

He doesn’t even dare to ask.

“If you feel the urge next time, then ... call me. We’ll talk about it.”

“Do you think it will help?”

“Definitely.” If it wasn’t already in his voice, his expression is convincing enough.

“You call me. There are ... better ways to deal with such an emotional outburst!”

“Uhmm.”

“Good. I ... that was a lot.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I ... I’m sorry. I apparently wasn’t trusting enough to tell me about these outbursts.”

“That’s not it! I ... I was ... ashamed.”

“Don’t ever do that again.” Silas shakes his head at himself. He promises.

“I kept you waiting too long when you asked for help.”

“What’s done is done.”

“I’ll do better.” With those words, a whole new feeling blooms inside him. Silas feels himself turning red. Pressing his bandaged hand to his chest ... and searching for words to express his gratitude. Aiden looks at the damage and seems not to notice the change.

“Good. Show me where your vacuum and cleaning supplies are.”

“I ... you ... you can’t do this now ...!”

“We’ll clean it up together.”

“Yeah, but ... that ... it’s embarrassing.”

“I’m not just going to stand by and watch you clean up alone, how pathetic is that?”

“O-okay.”

“No arguing now. I’m your treating, non-doctor psychologist, and you’re the crazy patient. We both don’t fit in our roles, but hey, somehow we’ll manage.” The image of it makes Silas involuntarily smile.

“Well, if you say so.”

“Show me where your stuff is. And gloves.”

“Are you letting the alpha out?” For this comment, he only gets a disapproving frown.

“I’ll be quiet.” He hurriedly walks through the apartment, gathering everything. And tries not to think about how much he likes this new authoritative side of Aiden.