A Star

A Star
The air tastes different here. But not a bad different.

Quiet, cool, full of things unsaid.

We’ve been moving again. New place. New keys. New locks. But the same old fear lingers like a stain. Leomord barely speaks. I watch him from across the room, shoulders tense, gaze distant. He’s here, but not with me. Not really.

“Want tea?” I ask, already knowing he’ll nod, say thank you, then slip back into silence.

He nods. Says thank you.

Just like I knew.

I prepare the cups slowly, carefully. The kettle whines. My hands tremble slightly. I hide it. I always hide it.

He sits on the couch with his hands folded. I hand him the tea. He sips it like it’s a task. I sit beside him and stare at the window. No birds. Just clouds.

“Leomord,” I say quietly. “What are you not telling me?”

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Just stares at the floor.

I reach for his hand. It’s cold. “You can’t keep shutting me out.”

“I’m not,” he replies.

But he is. And we both know it.

We take a walk around the block. He says it’s to clear his head. I know it’s to watch the shadows. His eyes scan every corner, every passerby.

“I met someone,” he finally admits as we walk past a bakery closed for the night.

I stop walking. “Who?”

He doesn’t look at me. “Someone from before. From… prison.”

The way he says it, it feels like acid in my chest. “Is that why you’ve been distant?”

He nods slowly. “They want something. I said no. They didn’t like that.”

My heart beats faster. “You should’ve told me.”

“I wanted to protect you,” he says.

I laugh bitterly. “That’s not protection. That’s silence. And silence doesn’t save people. It ruins them.”

Maria calls. She’s worried. Says Grandma’s health is declining again. I tell her we’re safe, that Leomord is just tired. But she hears the tightness in my voice and doesn’t push.

After the call, I sit beside Leomord again.

He finally speaks. “They tried to take me. Last week. Beat me until I couldn’t stand.”

I cover my mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He exhales slowly, eyes glossy. “Because I was ashamed. I let them use me once. And now they think they still own me.”

I reach out and press my palm to his heart. “They don’t. You’re free. We’re free.”

He leans into me, like a tired soldier resting after battle. “Not yet. But I want to be.”

That night, sleep doesn’t come.

Leomord lies beside me, but I feel the tension in every breath he takes. He turns to me in the dark, and even though we can’t see each other clearly, I know his eyes are open. Watching. Thinking.

“Do you regret being with me?” he whispers.

The question cuts deep.

“No,” I say, voice firm. “I regret not loving you sooner.”

Silence again. Then his arm moves around me, hesitant. I move closer, letting my cheek rest against his chest. His heart is steady, like thunder in the distance.

“I need to end this,” he murmurs. “Before they come for you again.”

“We’ll face it together,” I whisper.

“I don’t want you near it,” he insists.

I pull away slightly. “I’m already near it, Leomord. I’ve been near it since I chose you.”

His hand finds mine. Fingers intertwine.

“I know,” he says. “That’s what scares me.”

Rain taps gently against the windows. The kind that feels soft, forgiving. I cook breakfast while Leomord stands by the door, checking locks, rechecking them. He doesn’t even touch his food. Just keeps watching the street.

“I think we should leave again,” I say quietly.

He finally looks at me. “Where would we go?”

“Someplace no one remembers us,” I say. “Somewhere peaceful. Maybe near the coast. A small town.”

He considers this. “You’d start over again?”

“If it’s with you, I’d start over a thousand times.”

His eyes soften. “What about your dreams?”

I smile sadly. “My dream is peace. My dream is you. Safety. A place where we aren’t scared to answer the door.”

He walks to me slowly, takes both my hands. “I’ve never deserved you.”

I shake my head. “Stop saying that. You’re trying. That’s all that matters.”

He pulls me into a tight embrace, forehead pressed to mine. “Then let’s disappear.”

~

We sit on the roof of the building, wrapped in a blanket, watching the sunset melt into the skyline.

Leomord finally says it.

“They tried to take me because I know things. I was the one they sent to do their worst jobs. I thought it ended after prison. But they don’t forget. They never do.”

I don’t say anything. I just let him talk.

“I kept thinking I could outrun it. But you can’t outrun memory. You can’t run from what you did.”

I hold his hand tighter. “You’re not the man you were then.”

“I want to believe that.”

“Then believe me.”

He kisses my forehead. “We leave tomorrow.”

I nod. “We’ll find a place. Start over.”

“And this time,” he says, brushing my hair behind my ear, “no more secrets.”

“No more lies,” I whisper.

We sit in silence as the first stars appear. Two hearts, still broken, still scared, but together.

And that’s enough to begin again.

The night stretches longer than usual.

After the stars settle above us, we go back inside. I light a small candle on the table — not for light, but comfort. The kind of soft glow that reminds me we’re still here, still human.

Leomord walks around the room slowly, like he’s saying goodbye to it already. I think he is.

I sit on the couch, pulling the blanket over my legs. “Do you think we’ll be able to stop running someday?”

He kneels in front of me, rests his head on my knees. “I don’t know. But I’ll keep running until we find that place. I won’t stop until you can breathe without fear.”

I brush my fingers through his hair, gentle and slow. “We’ll make it,” I say. “Because you’re not alone anymore. And neither am I.”

He looks up, eyes tired but burning. “I want to give you a life. Not this.”

I smile softly. “Then build it with me. We don’t need perfection. Just each other.”

He leans up and kisses me, soft and sure. It’s not rushed or desperate. It’s a promise.

Tomorrow we’ll leave again.

But tonight, we hold on to this one piece of quiet.