The Ending

Emma, Dastan and Theo make a not-so-subtle escape after breakfast. Those three have the finesse of an elephant on a tightrope, I swear it was so obvious that they were trying to give Connor and I some time alone, they might as well have erected flashing neon signs.

Awkwardness permeates the air of my apartment. It's heavy and thick, Connor silently goes into the kitchen and I watch him from my spot on the opposite side of the island. He seems to be making a concerted effort to focus solely on cleaning the dishes. An idea strike me like a bolt of lightning, this might not end well but if things between us are going to remain this tense, maybe it's for the best.

Walking over to him, I lay my hands on the center of his chest. He looks confused but he doesn't make a move to stop me. I take that as permission; cautiously I lean forward pushing up onto my toes until my lips brush his. Its brief, an invitation to more, I'm testing the waters and he seems to realize it. Slowly, his hands settle against my waist pulling me in and he deepens the kiss. His lips warm and pliant; undemanding and unhurried. It's gentle and I sigh against his mouth. The kiss is sweet and soft and nothing like I expected it would be given his mood but I'm not complaining because at least it's something.

Only, I've spoken too soon and just as fast as he kissed me he pulls away. Takes a step back and I feel the distance between us like a chasm. Something's not right. "When you kiss me, do you think of him?" Connor asks his voice rough with emotion, which strikes me as odd because he doesn't look particularly emotional right now. His face is blank, devoid of all expression.

"What do you mean? Think of who?" The fact that I can't tell what's going on in his head only adds to my confusion. A part of me knows that this has to do with why he's been behaving differently the last few weeks but I don't get a second to stop and analyze it all.

"Let's not play this game; we both know you still want to be with him." His voice hardens; anger. It's plain as day written across the tense lines of his angelic face.

"Connor, I-"

"You know what's funny?" He interrupts me, I don't know if he expects an answer so I just stare at him dumbly unsure what he wants me to say. "I really wanted it to be you, from the moment I first saw you I wanted you to be the one. I really thought you were, until I realized that you didn't want it to be me because I'll never be him." His anger quickly turns to resignation and I watch, stunned, as he runs his hand through his fine silvery blond hair huffing an exhausted breath that makes his chest heave.

"Can we just take a breath," I say, attempting to draw on my calmest, most reassuring voice even as my heart races ahead. He can't possibly mean what I think he means. Just last night I was concerned over scaring him off and now he's here telling me he wanted me to be the one. "Where's all this coming from?"

"I see how you look at him, it's how I wished you'd look at me but that's never going to happen because you're still in love with him, aren't you Kiera?"

"This is about Dastan…" It's a stupid thing to say, I'd already noticed Connor's displeasure every time I'm around Dastan, all of this started the moment Dastan and I decided to bury the hatchet. It's pretty obvious this is about him.

When he looks at me then the grey of his eyes are steel, cold and unyielding in a way I've not seen in Connor before. It reminds me that he's been through far more than he should have and that what's happening right now isn't fair to him; he deserves happiness. "Of course, it's about Dastan. Everything in our relationship is about him. I can't turn around without finding you two cozied up in a corner together."

"What are you saying, Connor?" I hear the anger creeping into my voice too, I'm not upset that he's accused me of having feelings for Dastan or that he's insinuating that I've lead him on, I'm upset because he's not wrong. My eyes burn with unshed tears as I look at him, his expression conflicted, his mouth twitches and betrays his own emotional response, he isn't as angry or stoic about this as his demeanor might suggest.

When he speaks, there's a note of finality in his words that rings through the apartment with the air of an ending. "I'm saying I don't want to do this anymore. Whatever's going on here, it's over."

I nod; it's all I can do. I don't trust my voice not to crack and give away how much this actually hurts. Turning to the sink, I lay my hands against the edge and lean my weight into it. With my back to him I'm able to get a grip on my emotions. The tears leak free and I don't try to stop them, I might not be in love with Connor but I'd grown attached. I care about him and now I've ruined whatever this was between us, whatever potential we'd had, it's gone now. "You're wrong, you know… about Dastan and I,"

He doesn't get the chance to respond because the doorbell rings. I ignore it; not in the mood for company right now but Connor seems like he's looking for any excuse to leave because I hear him walk to the door. It's so silent I hear it creak as it swings open, there's a moment of silence followed by Connors gruff voice carrying through the apartment. "Wanna tell me again how I'm wrong?" I turn around and find Dastan in the doorway, wearing a dumbfounded expression; perfect timing. I turn back to the sink before Dastan sees the tears, and I hear Connor scoff.

"I'm out of here." I assume he leaves then because the door slams shut behind him. Dastan's still here, his footsteps are quiet and hesitant as he approaches, I scrub furiously at the plate in my hands as the tears keep flowing down my face and don't bother to look up as he comes to stand beside me. I'm such an idiot. How did I think Connor would be okay with the ridiculous back and forth game I'd been playing between him and Dastan and now the consequences of my actions have finally caught up to me.

He reaches out to grasp my chin in his strong hands and I don't fight it as he turns my face to his. I squeeze my eyes shut not able to watch as his gaze zeroes in on my tear-stained face, watch the suspicion, anger and that need to protect fill is eyes. "What happened?" Rolling my lips together I watch his eyes shoot between mine, cataloging every expression on my face. I try to stifle the sob fighting to break free and it comes out as a strangled gasp.

That gets him moving. "Wait here." Is all he says before turning on his heels and heading out of the front door. The tense lines of his silhouette are the last thing I see before the door slams shut in his wake.