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âThis isnât funny, Rosine.âÂ
âYou know what wasnât funny? You coming back just to humiliate me, as if you hadnât done enough the first time.âÂ
Dirk is on his feet behind his desk, watching you, backing up when you take a step forward. Your smile is plain, your hands empty of weapons, yet he seems to, correctly, distrust both facts as indicating anything close to diplomacy.Â
â...You--âÂ
âNo. You donât get to talk right now. Itâs my turn.âÂ
He swallows.Â
âYou fed off my desperation, like a parasite, and treat me like the villain for my hesitation to want this again? To trust this? To trust you? How dare you.âÂ
Another step forward from you, another step back from him.Â
âIâd lost everything. I discovered I was a pawn, a mere pitiful punchline in the joke of my own universe, robbed of my childhood, my state of mind broken down from the moment I was born on purpose âfor the good of the many.â I had to watch as my stepbrother, my soulmate, abandoned me, and what did you do?âÂ
Youâve reached his desk now, and your arms throw themselves forward, to shove half its contents to the floor. âYou said you loved me, and then you fought me! Every step of the way! Pushed me away and isolated me all at once as though one on its own wouldnât be cruel enough? You wanted me to love one person, you, no one else, and not so much as breathe near anybody else. And God forbid I made the mistake of doing so. It was never enough for you, no amount of my finite attention, no cornucopia of my sacrifices could ever satisfy your stupid trophy shelf. Like the fact that I tolerated your pathetic Frankenstein complex with that monster of an AI you built wasnât proof enough of my love for you! None of it was enough!âÂ
You round the corner of his desk, so nothing stands between the two of you. His back hits the wall.Â
âAnd you have the audacity... to come back, come back into my life, only to embarrass me in person, and then embarrass me on that platform, and then leave? Do you know how many times you promised me to stay by my side no matter our dynamic when I never even asked you to? You said it then, you said it again this round, and you used the fact that every single person in my life broke down my psyche on purpose, against me.âÂ
âRosine, youâre completely overreacting. Thatâs not what happened. I was scared, for fuckâs sake, and I was trying. Trying, apparently, not hard enough for you--âÂ
âYouâre damn right you werenât trying hard enough, you piece of shit.âÂ
That shuts him up.Â
âWhat?â A laugh comes from dark parted lips, dripping with bitterness. âYou think Iâm sorry, for expecting more from you, after what you put me through? You think I have any sympathy left in my body for you, any drop of mercy for your fear left in my bones? Am I supposed to apologize?âÂ
Youâre close to him now. Too close. Close enough that part of your heart wants to kiss him, feel his arms around you again, feel how he can draw you in and hold you close and feel safe from the crumbling world around you. But you know better now. You know itâs a false sense of safety; you know itâs a trap.
You start to lower to the ground. He watches your hand slip down your boot, your eyes fixed right back on him the whole time, as you stand up again with your switchblade. He flinches when the blade clips out.Â
âWhat the fuck are you doing.âÂ
âYou shouldnâtâve made me beg, Dirk.âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
Your body is against his. âThat night, when you demanded reassurance I was yours, in spite of the fact that I hadnât done a godforsaken thing. You told me to get on my knees, and plead for you to stay.âÂ
â...Rosine...âÂ
âAnd I did it. I did it for you, because I loved you, and I will never, ever, forgive you for it.âÂ
âI told you I was fucking sorry.âÂ
âYou shouldnât have made me beg,â you repeat.
His features are paler than youâve seen them in a long time. He doesnât seem capable of bringing himself to hurt you. You know he canât. You know, in his own, broken way, he meant it when he said he loved you. He does love you, to the extent he can love anything.Â
âDonât come near me again.âÂ
He nods.
âUnderstand?â
He nods again.Â
âAnd if your demon robot amalgam even sets foot in my universe again, Iâll consider you its keeper. If I survive whatever it tries to do to me, in order to get you, you will be the one pay the price. Understand that?âÂ
He nods yet again.Â
âIâm done fucking around with men that want me brought to heel like a dog. That means you. Breathe near me again, Dirk Strider, and Iâll slice your throat open.âÂ
Another nod. Another nervous swallow.
The harshness in your features fades. You step back, he blinks.Â
Youâre smiling as you put the weapon away, sliding it back into your boot, fixing your hair as you look back up at him. Itâs hard to tell if your smile is genuine, or completely empty, but thereâs no in between.Â
âI got you good with that one, didnât I?âÂ
He stares at you for a few moments of silence. âWhat?â he finally forces out.Â
âItâs April Foolsâ Day. You should see the look on your face.âÂ
He chokes out a laugh of confusion, still tainted with nerves. âOh?âÂ
âYes. Seems I gave you quite the fright.âÂ
âY-yeah.â He doesnât know how to respond. âYes, you did do that.âÂ
And then your smile is gone again. You can see how his body tenses.Â
You donât say another thing. You walk to the transportalizer in the corner of his office, enter coordinates back home, and send yourself back out of the room without another word. Heâll spend the rest of his night, rest of his week, wondering if you were serious, robbed of the closure that you just gave yourself in confronting him. Because you know the answer. You know whether you were serious or not. And you could have made your threats in a more direct way, untainted by the possibility of a psychotic joke like this one, but you chose not to. You chose not to because youâve decided itâs high time Dirk be left as confused and distressed as he forced you to be, for years. You want him torturing over those moments, wondering what on Earth you were thinking, what could possibly have possessed you to do that the way you did, whatever your intentions.Â
 Youâre finished trying to make sense to Dirk Strider when itâs clear he never understood you to begin with, and never will.
Your steps are light as you make your way back to your bathroom, tugging the sleeves of your sweater back down to your wrists, and picking up your lipstick to fix it once youâre in front of a mirror. You see the tears in your eyes even though you donât feel them, not until, that is, a few fall and drip down your cheeks. They hit the porcelain below in silence, the last (the beginning?) of your heartbreak over him demanding to be felt.Â
But you ignore them anyway. Demand and command and direct as they will, youâll continue to refuse to give that heartbreak the satisfaction or time of day. Because even if heâll never know it, even if heâll never see it, you refuse to give Dirk the satisfaction of crying over him.Â
Heâs broken you badly enough. He doesnât get to make you cry over him anymore.Â
You stand up straight, tease your hair once more as you brush the tear trails from your cheeks, cap your lipstick, and make your way to Johnâs for the night, just like nothing happened.












