Benni's last fuck to give.
Cadmus had been watching Benni for a while now. Not that watching—the quiet, invasive hum of mind-reading that Benni could sniff out like ozone before a storm. (Too many short games of guess who) No, this was different. Still. Intent. Like a cat parked in a sunbeam, eyes half-lidded but very much awake.
Benni, with their careful calibrations every word weighed, every reaction sanded smooth, every decision run through the tribunal of What keeps the peace? Layered over it all, that persistent guilt, fossilized deep in the marrow, courtesy of a lifetime of being nudged, steered, and outright manipulated by other people's expectations.
Cadmus hated it. Not Benni never Benni. Just the… performance of it. The polite little dance around their own spine.
Now he could feel it. That final, brittle thread. The last shriveled scrap of Fuck in the barrel about to float away.
Across the room, Benni sat curled into the corner, eyes fixed on the window but not really seeing anything beyond it. The candy shop still clung to them—sugar and artificial fruit, a sticky-sweet ghost. Their shoulders sagged under the weight of a thousand tiny concessions.
The customer. Loud. Indignant. Performing outrage like it was community theater and they were gunning for an award.
There’s a tooth in the taffy.
A child, conveniently tearful.
A demand disguised as a complaint.
And Benni had just… folded.
An expensive dark chocolate bar with raspberry filling. A $15 gift card. A bright, obedient smile stapled onto their face like it belonged there.
The words echoed now like a bad joke told too many times.
Then, softly at first, like something testing the air:
“Maybe next time I’ll let you shave me bald for the inconvenience of your kid losing another baby tooth, you fucking bitch.”
Cadmus lit up like someone had struck a match in a dark room.
“THERE IT IS!” he shouted, practically vibrating with delight. “The last fuck gone. We can hold a funeral!"
Benni blinked, slow and heavy, like they’d just surfaced from deep water.
Cadmus was already on his feet, grinning like a man who’d just witnessed a rare celestial event.
“Benni,” he said, reverent and thrilled all at once, “I am so happy for you. Welcome to your ‘no more fucks to give’ era. Population: you. Climate: liberating as hell.”
He spread his arms like he was unveiling a grand stage.
“You’re gonna run. Oh, you are going to run and watch people either fall in line… or fall clean off the map trying to keep up.”
Benni exhaled. Not tired this time. Not resigned.
Something lighter. Sharper.
Like a blade that had finally remembered it was meant to cut.
