Page 38 of A Gaze So Longing (The Fall of Livenza #1)

No longer was Favian helpless. Conversely, he could no longer tell himself that his choices were merely orders followed, instincts for survival.

The emptiness was back, but Favian had remained in his body this time.

He also remained in his bed, turned away from Nia while she got up.

“It’s almost breakfast,” she said when he had truly exhausted the window for leniency. Their conversations had remained one-sided, Favian only speaking when it was truly impossible to convey what he had to say without words.

His voice was raspy when he replied, “I am not feeling well.” Widely open eyes staring at the white wall only inches away from his face, it was not a lie.

“Are you sick?”

“Yes.” This, however, was. “Please tell Leonardo I am too ill to join you for breakfast.”

Favian knew without looking that Nia was arching an eyebrow, but she did not comment. He wondered what she was thinking, but he hadn’t properly talked to her in days, and he wasn’t going to open that barrel when she was about to head to the dining hall.

So she left, and he stayed. Not in bed, though—he paced.

He paced the little space between the two beds, three small steps one way, three small steps back. He stared at his mattress.

He had been eighteen when Leonardo had been sent away.

No longer small, no longer a child. But he had felt like one.

Never in his life had he felt more helpless than the first time it had happened.

Never had he been more vulnerable . But being reminded of that reality was agonizing, and instead of acknowledging the pain he had buried so deep for years, he had pushed it onto Leonardo.

There was no way around it: he was ashamed.

Favian knew exactly what he had done; he was intricately aware of the words he had used.

I don’t need this.

I don’t need you.

I don’t need this.

I don’t need you.

I don’t need—

A knock.

Before he could react, the door opened, revealing the prince.

“I brought you soup,” Leonardo said, eyeing Favian in the middle of the room, “for your illness.” He took a step into the room and placed a bowl on the small table underneath the window.

He then resumed his position in the door frame, visible to whoever might pass.

The prince looked tired, glassy eyes staring through Favian.

Unable to say a word, Favian only watched him. Dark bags shadowed Leonardo’s eyes. The stubble he so meticulously had shaved every morning grazed his chin. His hair was loose, his shirt rumpled. Had he hosted breakfast like this?

“I want to be direct.” The words were firm despite their shakiness. “Favian, you hurt me last night.”

Nails on chalkboard.

“Your words were cruel.”

Daggers, hundreds of them, everywhere on Favian’s skin.

“Please don’t speak to me like that again.”

Hands around his throat.

“I understand why you said…what you said. At least I think I do — I don’t know if I’ve ever really understood you.

” The prince’s words were slow but measured.

He had concocted them in advance, perhaps ruminated the same way Favian so often did.

Still, Favian got the impression that it was taking Leonardo a distinct effort to voice them, awkward pauses scattered throughout his phrases.

“And I know. . .that I can only imagine the pain you have experienced. I wish—I wish you could talk to me about it. If not me, then Nia. Or your mother. I wish you would allow someone to take care of you.”

Leonardo’s gaze focused, then. Briefly, his chin quivered, but he regained his composure before continuing.

“I have been in love with you for the better part of the last ten years, Favian. Knowing what you’ve experienced doesn’t change any of that.”

A pause.

Still, Favian didn’t, couldn’t speak.

Leonardo continued. “I want to be with you. I want you to want to be with me. And I want to help you through this in any way I can. But I am—I am not willing to be only an outlet for your physical desires when you need it.”

Throat dry, Favian opened his mouth. No words came out.

That wasn’t—

He couldn’t—

“I won’t be taking Azure out today. Please make sure she gets some exercise.” Leonardo’s tone soured. “Unless you’re too ill for that, too.”

And Favian was alone again.

Nia found him standing in the exact spot the prince had left him in. He hadn’t moved an inch, had hardly blinked. Barely breathed.

She regarded him while taking out the braids she now wore more often. Rodrigo was getting more skilled at them and had begun weaving daisies into the strands of hair.

“Favian?” she eventually asked.

He closed his eyes. Breathed in, hard. Then it picked up, the inhales coming faster, the exhales scarce.

It was happening again, and Nia would have to witness it—again. Someone would see him like this—again.

“I’m going to hug you now, alright?” She gave him a second to protest, but he didn’t, and so she slung her arms around him from behind.

Her petite form enfolded him as much as it could, her arms circling his waist. She lay her cheek on his back and said, “Breathe with me.” She demonstrated, loudly, intentionally, so he could feel her chest heaving and depressing on his back and could follow the motion, syncing his breathing to hers.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

It worked.

Gods, it worked.

Within minutes, he was somewhat stable again. When Nia moved to let go, Favian put his hands on her arms in front of him, held on to her. “Thank you,” he mumbled, voice still hoarse. “How did you know that would work?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t know for sure. Rodrigo showed me this technique; we use it sometimes when I get upset. I figured it might help in those. . .those moments you experience, too.

His moments .

Once more, Favian wondered where Rodrigo had gotten all the astounding knowledge he possessed, and how he had ended up in this place, shoveling horseshit, when the world should be wide open to a bright mind like his. Favian was utterly thankful for the boy’s presence in Nia’s life, in their lives.

“I’m glad you have Rodrigo now,” he said.

Nia finally removed herself from him, sat down on her bed, and patted the surface next to her. Favian dutifully followed her request. She didn’t reply right away, searching his eyes instead.

But Favian was tired of the quiet. Nia’s unusual silence unsettled him, and so he continued. He whispered, “I apologize for not being there for you recently.” Still, she only looked at him. “Really, Nia, I’m sorry. I feel really bad about the things that happened to you because of me, and—”

“Bullshit,” Nia interrupted him, then. “Nothing happened to me because of you, and I’m tired of you beating yourself up over it.”

He tried to clarify, “The way I was feeling this past week wasn’t because of you,” but she shook her head.

“I know, that’s not what I mean. Though I’m sorry for that, still.

I’m talking about you holding back with Leonardo because of me.

” Favian’s mouth opened, but Nia shushed him before he could respond.

“You were happy whenever you returned from the tavern. Did you even realize that? Sometimes I heard you giggling to yourself when you came back. Favian, I don’t remember the last time I witnessed you giggling in the years before.

But then you basically stopped going, and you can’t tell me that it wasn’t because of me.

I know you asked Rodrigo to keep an eye on me, to be with me whenever you were gone.

But I’m an adult now, too. I know how to take care of myself. ”

“But I have to protect you,” he said weakly.

Nia groaned, more frustrated than annoyed.

“No, you don’t. You want to, and I appreciate that, I really, really do.

But, Favian, you have been destroying yourself in an attempt to protect me.

And I can’t watch you do that anymore.” She held out her hands, fingers lingering in wait for his. “Can you look at me?”

He did not, but his fingers crawled forward nonetheless, until Nia’s coiled around them.

“I want you to be happy. You have done so much for me, given up so much for me. I don’t want you to do that anymore. And also—” She tapped a finger on the back of his hand. “I want you to take care of yourself. Talk to me. Or to Leonardo, I don’t care.”

She wavered, cocking her head to the side. “Actually, that’s not true. I do care. I would love for you to talk to me; I’m always going to listen, and I want to know what is going on with you. But I’d rather you talk to Leonardo than no one.”

Something must have shown on his face, because Nia’s tone shifted.

“What is it?”

Favian swallowed. “Leonardo said almost the same thing.”

“You’ve talked to him?”

“More or less,” he huffed. “I’m afraid I messed up.”

As he told her what had transpired the night before, Nia’s eyes grew wider. She clasped her hand to her mouth.

“You didn’t really say that, did you?”

Shame was burning on his cheeks again, in his chest, the heat rushing through his body like thunder. If even his sister didn’t support his actions—

What had come over him in that moment? He had been so eager to finally be close to Leonardo, so thrilled to touch him.

It had been exhilarating, kissing him, pressing him to the door.

Gods, it had turned Favian on: the idea of being in control.

Something inside him had desired to push, to dictate, to dominate .

It was so unlike him—it was frightening.

He didn’t share that part with Nia. What he did share was that he had felt rejected and that he had taken offense at Leonardo’s words.

“Why are you always so scared of being vulnerable?” she asked bluntly, almost rhetorically.

Something about those words hurt. Maybe it was the exhaustion in her voice—while usually so accommodating to his every need, it seemed Favian had worn her patience thin with his recent antics.

She knew he didn’t have an answer to her question, and she didn’t expect him to give one.

Instead, she inquired, “What did he say?”

“He told me to leave.”