Page 23

Derek

The water feels different this time. Colder, somehow, even though I know the temperature hasn't changed. I've been swimming laps for the better part of an hour, pushing myself harder than usual, trying to work through the tangle of emotions Kav'eth's revelation left behind.

Once per year . The words echo in my head with every stroke.

I pause at the pool's edge, breathing hard, and lean against the wall. My muscles are starting to burn, but the physical exertion isn't helping the way it usually does. The anger and hurt are still there, sitting heavy in my chest.

Another partner who doesn't get it. Another person who thinks what I do is just vanity, just "posing for pictures." I've been here before, haven't I? Different alien, same dismissive attitude toward my career.

But even as I think it, something feels off about the comparison.

I push off the wall and start another lap, trying to sort through the mess in my head.

Jake used to get that same look when I'd explain why I needed to post at specific times, why the lighting had to be perfect, why I couldn't just "take a quick selfie" and call it content.

Like I was being ridiculous, overly complicated about something simple.

But Kav'eth's expression wasn't like that, was it? He looked... confused. Like he genuinely didn't understand what my work involved, not like he thought it was stupid.

I flip and push off underwater, staying submerged for as long as my lungs will allow. When I surface, gasping, another memory surfaces with me.

This morning. Kav'eth watching me make breakfast, asking questions about macros and nutrition science like he actually wanted to understand. When's the last time Jake did that? When's the last time Jake asked me about anything fitness-related without that glazed-over look in his eyes?

Another lap. Another memory.

Kav'eth tracing my tattoos like they were artwork, calling them "extraordinary." Jake always said they were "cool" but never really looked at them. Never asked about the mathematical principles behind the design, never seemed to see what I saw in the precise angles and flowing geometry.

I'm starting to breathe harder, but I keep pushing. The physical exhaustion feels necessary somehow, like I need to burn through these thoughts to get to whatever's underneath them.

The way Kav'eth lights up when he touches me. The way he looks at me when I'm talking, like everything I say matters. The way he made me comfort food from his childhood because he wanted to take care of me.

Jake never... Jake was never...

I stop swimming abruptly, treading water in the middle of the pool.

That's not fair. Jake wasn't a bad boyfriend.

He made coffee in the mornings, tolerated my meal prep taking over the kitchen, didn't complain when I had to reshoot content multiple times.

He just... he was Jake. Quiet, practical, not particularly interested in fitness or nutrition or the technical aspects of social media.

And I was... what was I like with Jake?

The question hits me harder than I expected. What was I like as a boyfriend?

I think about our Saturday mornings. Me weighing ingredients for my weekly meal prep while Jake made pancakes I didn't want to eat.

Him suggesting we go out for dinner, me checking the lighting in restaurants on Google before agreeing.

Him planning dates, me asking if we could reschedule around my posting schedule.

Him getting dressed up for dinners out while I threw on whatever clean workout clothes I could find because I'd spent an hour getting the perfect pre-workout selfie that morning.

Fuck.

I swim to the edge and haul myself out of the pool, water streaming from my hair as I sit on the edge, feet still dangling in the water. The thought that just hit me is uncomfortable as hell, but I can't shake it.

How much effort did I put into looking good for my followers versus looking good for Jake? How many times did I laugh and smile and be charming for a livestream after giving Jake distracted, half-hearted attention all day?

The empathic bond with Kav'eth is quiet right now - either he's suppressing it or the distance is affecting it - but I can still feel the faint echo of his presence. Even now, even after our fight, there's this warm awareness of him that I never had with Jake.

Is that because of the alien biology, or because I actually care more?

The question makes my stomach clench with something that might be guilt.

I loved Jake. I did. But did I love him the way I'm falling for Kav'eth? With this intense, all-consuming focus that makes everything else feel secondary?

Or did I love Jake the way you love something comfortable and familiar, something that fits into your routine without requiring you to change or grow or question anything about yourself?

I drag my hands through my wet hair, frustrated with myself.

Two hours ago I was ready to write Kav'eth off as another unsupportive partner who didn't understand my career.

Now I'm sitting here wondering if I was actually a shitty boyfriend who prioritized strangers on the internet over the person I was supposed to care about most.

The worst part is, I think I know the answer.

I think about the way Kav'eth looks at me - like I'm the most fascinating thing he's ever encountered. Like my opinions matter, like my choices matter, like I matter beyond what I can provide or perform for him.

When's the last time I looked at someone like that? When's the last time I was fully present with another person instead of thinking about content ideas or engagement rates or whether the lighting was good enough for a spontaneous story post?

Jesus. Maybe the problem was never that my partners didn't support my career. Maybe the problem was that my career was supporting me so well that I forgot how to actually show up for anyone else.

The realization sits heavy in my chest, mixing with the hurt and anger I came in here with. I'm still upset about what Kav'eth said, still frustrated that he doesn't understand what my work means to me. But I'm also starting to wonder if maybe I don't understand what it means either.

Is Instagram really worth losing someone who makes me feel the way Kav'eth does? Someone who lights up when I walk into a room, who wants to share his childhood comfort foods with me, who makes me feel like I could be happy doing nothing but floating in a pool together?

But also... is that what love is supposed to feel like? This overwhelming need to prioritize someone else above everything you've built for yourself?

I've been asking what Kav'eth expects me to sacrifice for him. But what am I willing to sacrifice for love? And how do I tell the difference between healthy compromise and losing myself completely?

I need to talk to someone who knows me. Someone who's been in a relationship with me and can tell me honestly whether I was as selfish as I'm starting to think I was.

I need to talk to Jake.

The thought surprises me. Three days ago, Jake was ancient history. Now he feels like the only person who might help me figure out if I'm making the same mistakes again or if this time is actually different.

I pull my feet out of the water and stand, dripping water onto the pool deck. Time to find out if there's a way to make a phone call from a spaceship. And time to have a conversation I probably should have had months ago.

The empathic bond pulses faintly as I head toward the door, and I wonder if Kav'eth can feel my emotional state shifting. From anger to confusion to something that might be the beginning of understanding.

I still don't know what I'm going to do about his ultimatum. But I think I'm ready to start figuring out who I actually am when I'm not performing for an audience.

Even if that answer scares the hell out of me.

I find Kav'eth in the common area, hunched over his data pad with the kind of intense focus that usually means he's struggling with something.

His bioluminescence is dim, barely visible beneath his blue-tinted skin, and his jaw is tight with concentration.

Or frustration. Hard to tell the difference with him sometimes.

He looks up when I enter, and his golden eyes immediately take in my naked, dripping state. The careful diplomatic mask he's been wearing since our fight wavers for a moment, replaced by something warmer, more familiar.

"Derek." His voice is cautious, like he's not sure what to expect from me. "Are you... feeling better?"

I realize I'm standing there completely naked, leaving puddles on his perfectly clean floor, and I don't even care. The physical vulnerability feels appropriate somehow, given what I'm about to ask.

"Working on your report?" I nod toward the data pad.

Kav'eth's expression tightens slightly. "Attempting to. I am finding it... challenging to maintain appropriate objectivity in my documentation."

The admission surprises me. Even when he's trying to be professional, he can't hide what this is costing him.

"Kav'eth." I take a step closer, not bothering to cover myself. The empathic bond is stronger now that we're in the same room, and I can feel his conflicted emotional state - want and duty and frustration all tangled together. "I need to ask you something."

"Of course."

"Is there a way for me to make a call to Earth? To talk to someone?"

The change in his expression is immediate and painful to watch. Hope dies in his golden eyes, replaced by something that looks like resignation mixed with jealousy.

"You wish to contact your family," he says carefully. "To inform them of your situation."

"No." I shake my head. "I want to call Jake."

The effect is instantaneous. Kav'eth's bioluminescence flickers with what I now recognize as possessive jealousy, and through our bond I feel his emotional state spike into something sharp and uncomfortable.

"Jake," he repeats, his voice completely neutral in that diplomatic way that means he's furious.

"Yeah. My ex. I need to talk to him about... us. About this." I gesture between us, water still dripping from my hair. "I need perspective from someone who actually knows what I'm like in a relationship."

Kav'eth stares at me for a long moment, and I can practically see him fighting his instincts. The territorial part of him that hates the idea of me contacting another man I used to sleep with, and the part that actually cares about me enough to want me to have what I need.

"You believe he will advise you to... prioritize your Earth commitments," Kav'eth says finally.

"I don't know what he'll tell me. That's why I need to talk to him."

Through the empathic bond, I feel Kav'eth's internal struggle. He doesn't want me talking to Jake. But he also wants me to make a decision I can live with, not one based on incomplete information or emotional confusion.

"The communication array can establish contact with Earth," he says eventually, his voice tight with the effort of being supportive when every instinct is telling him to refuse. "Though the signal delay may create... complications in real-time conversation."

"Thank you." I mean it. I can feel how much this is costing him, how every part of his possessive alien brain is screaming at him not to facilitate this call. "I know this isn't easy for you."

"It is not," he admits quietly. "But your emotional well-being is more important than my personal discomfort."

The simple statement hits me harder than it should. When's the last time someone put my emotional well-being before their own comfort? When's the last time I did that for someone else?

"I'll need to establish the connection from the bridge," Kav'eth continues, already standing and gathering his things. "The communication array requires specific authorization protocols."

I follow him through the ship's corridors, still naked and dripping, and neither of us mentions it.

Kav'eth's emotional state is broadcasting clearly through our bond - jealousy, fear, and underneath it all, love.

The kind of love that lets someone do something that hurts them because they think it's what you need.

The bridge is familiar from my earlier tour of the ship, all smooth surfaces and holographic displays that respond to Kav'eth's touch.

He moves through the setup process with practiced efficiency, his diplomatic training helping him maintain composure even while his bioluminescence betrays his emotional turmoil.

"The connection will take several minutes to establish," he says without looking at me. "Earth communications require... significant power allocation." He pauses, glancing at my still-naked state. "I am configuring for audio transmission only. Given your... current attire."

"Kav'eth." I move closer, close enough to touch if I wanted to. "Why are you helping me with this?"

He finally meets my eyes, and his expression is raw with vulnerability. "Because I would rather you make an informed decision that takes you away from me than an uninformed decision that leaves you with regrets."

Fuck. How is that the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me?

The communication array chimes softly, indicating an established connection. Kav'eth makes a few final adjustments, then steps back.

"The link is active," he says formally. "I will... provide you privacy for your conversation."

He starts to leave, but I catch his arm.

"Stay," I say. "Please. I'm not trying to hide anything from you."

Kav'eth looks surprised by the request, but after a moment, he nods and settles into one of the bridge chairs, far enough away to give me space but close enough that I can feel his presence through our bond.

I take a deep breath and activate the communication link.

"Jake? It's Derek. I know this is going to sound insane, but I really need to talk to you."