Darien finishes showering and steps out, wrapping a towel around his waist. The mirror fogs over completely, so he wipes a hand across it, revealing his reflection again. His own eyes stare back; gold-ringed and fierce. For the first time in years, he doesn't look like someone running toward a goal. He looks like someone running from fear.
And it's not fear of the pack, or his father, or even death. It's the fear of losing her.
Kairos senses it too. His tone softens. "You could just admit it, you know."
Darien grits his teeth. "Admit what now?"
"That you're in love."
He scoffs, grabbing his clothes. "We've known her for what… weeks?"
"Time doesn't measure bonds like ours," Kairos says, almost gentle now. "You feel it. You just don't want to name it. Because naming it means it's real. And if it's real, you could lose it… right?"
