“Fine,” JJ says automatically, even though “fine” is probably the last word he would use to describe himself right now. “I just—I thought we were going home? Back to your safe house?”
“In a minute,” Cass says, and he lets go of JJ’s arm, turning to face him directly. His eyebrows are pulled together with concern. “But you’ve been through a lot over the past few days—a lot of loss, a lot of trauma. A lot of pain. So I just…” He hesitates. “Want to make sure you’re okay? And see if you need some time to decompress? Before you see Desi again?”
“I’m—”
I’m fine.JJ’s stock answer. It’s what he’s always said to his friends, to his strike team, to the Council—how he always responds, even when he’s falling apart at the seams.
Deflecting attention. Denying weakness.
Not letting them think any less of him than they already do.
But the words stick in his throat when he looks at Cass. There’s such clear warmth in his eyes, such honestcaring.Cass doesn’t want the stock answer, doesn’t want to brush JJ off, doesn’t want to dismiss JJ’s emotions or experiences.
He really wants to know. He really wants tohelp.
He really, truly cares.
The last fragile chains holding JJ’s composure in place snap into pieces. Suddenly, the endless limbo of the past few days is crashing down around him, torture and sleep deprivation and adrenaline that just won’t quit, and JJ is choking on it,drowningin it?—
“JJ?” Cass’s hands fly up to frame JJ’s face, his eyes sharp and worried. “JJ, breathe.”
“Sorry,” JJ manages to croak. “I’m sorry—I?—”
He feels shaky. Lightheaded. Impulsively, he stumbles forward into Cass’s arms, his legs going weak underneath him. Cass instantly pulls him close, holding him up.
Holding him together.
“My stupid human,” Cass mumbles into his hair, the words fond and affectionate. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Just breathe, okay? Just breathe.”
So JJ does. Or he tries to, at least. Tries to breathe past the latent panic and anxiety and fear, past the grief of losing everything he knew in one fell swoop?—
Past the sickening hollowness of realizing he spent twelve years of his life upholding a cause that fell apart the moment he challenged it.
“Sorry,” he repeats uselessly. His voice comes out smaller and hoarser than he intended. “It’s just—it’s just a lot.”
“I know it’s a lot.” Slowly, Cass starts to sway back and forth, resting his chin on JJ’s shoulder. “But you’re not facing it alone, okay? And you don’t have to face it all right now. One step at a time, Julian.”
That’s the second time Cass has called him “Julian” in the past few minutes. JJ’s heart shivers with it. “Thanks,” he says haltingly, and he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to keep the tears at bay. “That—that helps.”
“Of course.” Cass’s voice is soft. “We’re in this together now, yeah? Just—just tell me what you want, JJ. Tell me what you need.”
“You.” The word tumbles out of JJ immediately, instinctively. In the timeline of his life, there have always been a few points that stand out from the rest: before and after his family was killed, before and after he passed his final exam for the Sanctum?—
Before and after Cassius Chin.
Cass. His cornerstone. The first person he thinks about in the morning and the last person he thinks about when he falls asleep, the one he relies on andtrustsmore than anyone else?—
The one who makes a deal with someone he barely knows to break JJ out of prison. The one who puts his own life at risk to claw his way through armed hunters.
The one who sees JJ breaking into pieces and tries his hardest to hold him together.
Cass’s breath hitches. For a split second, he goes rigid.
And then, just as quickly, his shoulders relax. “Me and Desi, you mean?”
Despite everything, JJ almost smiles.
Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect. Because if Cass is JJ’s cornerstone, the one who holds up his entire foundation, then Desi is the sun shining brightly above them, lighting up every shadowed corner of his life. “Yeah,” he whispers. “You and Desi. Us. The—the three of us.”
