Zayden sat on the chair facing Ren beside the fireplace. The dry wood burned, cracking and slowly turning to ash, keeping the room warm.
Ren wiped his tears; his cheeks were painted a bright red with embarrassment. He had never wanted to show such vulnerable sides to anyone, yet he found himself displaying them in front of the General.
Lately, he had begun to feel at ease around him—enough to reveal almost anything. Had he known Zayden was this kind, he might have told him about his second gender and Eiran much earlier. The years of struggle and hide-and-seek suddenly appeared foolish.
But Ren was foolish like that. He could spot flaws in a war strategy, kill as many people as asked, heal them—but he couldn't interact with many.
He sniffled, his nose running slightly.
Zayden watched him, his gaze soft and gentle. He must have gone crazy, because how could someone look so pretty even in such a messy situation?
