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“Why?” He seems just curious.

“Don’t have to explain shit to you.” I’m acting defensively, but I always do when Sari is concerned.

“True.” He nods. “He’s mine as well, then.”

A wave of fury washes through me. My body moves before my brain even processes the words. My switchblade is at his throat, pushing until I see a drop of blood forming on his skin.

“The fuck he is. I’m ready to mutilate you if you try anything.”

“You’ve never been good at sharing. But you’ve also never given a fuck about anyone. He is mine, though,” he repeats, making me curl my lips to show him my teeth. “Just like you are. Like you’ve always been Uriel. Look into my eyes, your eyes.”

Like looking in a mirror. His gaze is slightly darker. It’s unsettling and so…familiar.

“Still denying it?” he challenges me. “If you don’t back off I won’t think twice before stabbing you in the guts.” I feel a sharp point poking my stomach. A knife? How many does he carry?

The grip on my switchblade tightens before I pull back and clean it on my jeans. I pocket the blade as I utter, “Are you denying the fact that you evaded me for years?”

“I had my reasons.” He avoids answering again.

“Will you share those reasons?”

“I’m not good at sharing either,” he teases me.

I never thought I’d be talking to him like this one day. I always imagined finding him on the other side of the line, turned evil. I envisioned killing him. That could still happen.

“It’s odd how you don't get bored of him after all those years together.”

“Who?”

“Sariel.” Why the fuck is he talking about Baby Blue again? I don’t like his name on Ezra’s lips. “Should I go talk to him about it?”

“He’ll be the last thing you’ll ever see,” I hiss the threat, ready to follow it through if I have to.

“Then tell me,” he insists with a nonchalant tone. Why does he want to know when he doesn’t even look interested?

“I’ve seen his face since I was eight and still I’m not tired of it. I keep on wanting more of it. Of his blushes, his smiles, the way hebites the corner of his lower lip and pulls on his braid when he’s nervous. He. Belongs. To me. Don’t really care if your psychotic brain gets it.”

“A person I once knew told me Plato’s theory. Do you know it?”

What the fuck is he talking about now? I shake my head, but he tells me anyway.

“Plato believed that humans originally consisted of four arms and legs and two faces. Zeus, king of the gods, felt threatened by their power and split them all in half, condemning them all to spend their lives trying to complete themselves.”

“I don’t believe all that shit.” I tsk. “I actually think we are born complete and lose part of ourselves because of others. We can give it away, or it is taken from us.” I pause. “Either way, we need that completion, and we find ways to fill that hole.”

“Even if momentarily,” he adds annoyingly.

“Sari will never be momentary,” I snarl.

He hums noncommittally. “The stalker situation, don’t treat it lightly.”

“What do you know about that?” I narrow my eyes at him.

“Not much since Serena keeps me out now.” He scratches his forehead below the red bandana; he has a little scar there. I suddenly remember him tripping on a glass bottle and hitting his head over the table edge as we were running from our drunken father.

“I’ve had my fair share of encounters with obsessed wackos in the past. Keep Sariel safe.”

Is he for real? “Why did you come see me after all these years?”