Jayvaughn's fists clenched at his sides. "You think I don't regret not seeing you sooner? You think I haven't kicked myself every day for how I ignored you? You're right—I didn't notice. I was an idiot. But don't twist that into something selfish."
Axel didn't respond. He couldn't. The pain from the remnant was growing sharper, more piercing with every heartbeat. But he stood his ground. He had to. If he gave in—if he admitted that his feelings hadn't disappeared, that he still wanted Jayvaughn—it would undo everything.
Jayvaughn looked like he was on the verge of breaking, but he didn't move. He just stared at Axel, breathing heavily, chest rising and falling.
And Axel, beneath all the cold words and sharp lies, wished that Jayvaughn would give up.
Because if Jayvaughn walked away now, Axel wouldn't have to do this again.
He wouldn't have to keep hurting the only person he'd ever truly wanted.
But Jayvaughn didn't leave.
He stood there, silently.
