Can I call him lover?

I went downstairs as quickly as lightning, guess | forgot I had hyper speed ability. Well, woe and fear reminded me, after all. I was sprinting in such a way that I slipped twice and cut both my knees. But my! I kept going because the blood boiling in my body was reminding me all along that I had something to lose.

Brian, in the garden, was holding a torch spreading yellowish beams of light all around. Electromagnetic energy in small photons. Maybe yes, distracting myself with that was numbing my pain, blurring my sight, stopping time for some time. But no, I had to stay focused.

I saw a reflection in the lake that made me yank Brian from his collar, take his hand in mine and try to get back to the porch. But the masked, covered silhouette was walking too, synchronized with our motion. A knife sticking out of their hand. I wasn't sure if I wanted my existence to end this poorly, at least not before saving some other people, not before deciding on a career and buying a cottage by a lake. I held him closer but soon enough I felt the cold metal of the weapon, glued to my neck. God damn magnetism ! Brian looked at the stranger. And as my guy was removing the veil from the unrecognized face, the freshly exposed murderer drew a profound - way too profound - line of raw blood on Brian's overzealous arm. Aching, he fell. But I still had the time to kick the still unknown bastard where it hurts and give him a blood line too. Not for revenge, but to recognize his scar in the midst of a crowd if || ever had to.

At the end of the day, we didn't who the stranger was. But I knew now that Brian was my can-I-call him-lover?