I've barely kicked off my shoes when his voice cuts through my mind like a blade.
"Kairos."
I freeze, one hand still on the doorframe.
Tenebrae. Already?
"I know you just returned," his quiet voice continues, somehow managing to sound both apologetic and absolute. "But there is more you need to understand. More I did not say in the garden."
I close my eyes, exhaustion weighing on every muscle.
"Can it wait? Just until morning?"
"No."
The single word carries finality. When the God of Pain says something cannot wait, you don't argue.
"How long?" I ask, already knowing I won't like the answer.
"A week. Perhaps less, if you are a quick study. But this cannot be rushed, Kairos. If you truly wish to help the one you love, you need more than general advice. You need to understand pain itself—how it moves, how it settles, how it can be addressed without causing more harm."
A week.
Seven days away from Cecil.
Seven days where anything could happen and I wouldn't be there to—
"Nebrys will protect him," Tenebrae says, as if reading my thoughts. Which, given our mental connection, he probably is. "And sometimes, Kairos, the best way to protect someone is to ensure you know how to help them when the moment comes. Not before you are ready."
I lean back against the door, my head tilting toward the ceiling.
He's right. I know he's right.
Going to Cecil now, unprepared, fumbling through a conversation about his trauma with nothing but good intentions—that could do more damage than waiting a week to learn how to do it properly.
But gods, the thought of leaving him...
"I'll come," I say finally. "But I need time to pack. To leave a note. To—"
"You have until dawn," Tenebrae says. "Meet me in the garden when you are ready."
The connection fades, leaving me alone in the dark hallway.
Dawn. That gives me maybe two hours.
I move quietly toward my room, careful not to wake Dylan or Cecil. Inside, I grab my bag from the closet and start throwing things in—clothes, toiletries, my phone charger even though I doubt it'll work in the celestial realm.
My hands move on autopilot while my mind races.
A week.
What do I tell Dylan? What do I tell Cecil?
The truth feels too complicated. Too revealing.
Hey guys, I'm going to spend a week with the God of Pain learning how to talk about trauma because I know Cecil's deepest secret and I'm terrified of destroying him with it.
Yeah, that will definitely ruin everything.
I sink onto the edge of my bed, bag half-packed, and stare at my hands.
I need to write something. A note. An explanation that doesn't explain too much.
I pull out my desk drawer and find a notebook, tearing out a clean page. My pen hovers over the paper.
What do I say?
Dear Cecil and Dylan,
No. Too formal.
Hey guys,
Better.
Something came up and I had to leave for about a week. Family stuff—nothing to worry about, just something I need to take care of.
Is that too vague? Will they worry anyway?
Probably. But it's better than the alternative.
Dylan, I'm counting on you to hold down the fort. Make sure Cecil settles in okay. You know where everything is.
My pen pauses.
What do I say to Cecil?
Cecil—
The name sits there on the page, waiting.
I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye in person. I'll be back before you know it. In the meantime, Dylan's got you covered. He's annoying, but he's reliable.
I smile slightly despite everything.
Don't hesitate to text me if you need anything. I might not respond right away, but I'll get back to you as soon as I can.
Will I be able to text from the celestial realm? Probably not. But I can't tell him that.
Make yourself at home. Seriously. Raid the fridge, watch whatever you want on TV, use my Netflix password (it's still the same one from when we were kids—you remember).
I pause, pen hovering.
What else? What do I say that won't reveal too much but will let him know...
You're safe here, Cecil. With Dylan, with me, in this apartment. I know things have been complicated, but I want you to know that nothing's changed between us. You're still my best friend. You always will be.
My throat tightens.
I'll see you soon. Take care of yourself.
Keith
I stare at the note for a long moment, reading it over.
It's not enough. It doesn't say half of what I want to say.
But it'll have to do.
I fold the paper and write "Dylan & Cecil" on the outside, then prop it up on the kitchen counter where they'll definitely see it in the morning.
My bag is packed. My note is written.
There's nothing left to do except leave.
I move back down the hallway one more time, stopping outside Cecil's door. The silence is absolute—just the faint sound of breathing, steady and peaceful.
He's asleep. Safe.
Please stay that way while I'm gone.
Please don't do anything dangerous.
Please just... be okay.
I rest my palm against the door for a moment, as if I could somehow transfer protection through the wood itself.
I'm doing this for you, I think, even though he can't hear me. I'm learning how to help you. How to be what you need. I promise I'll come back better than I left.
I pull my hand away and head for the front door.
Outside, the pre-dawn air is cold and still. The city sleeps around me, unaware of celestial realms and gods and the weight of secrets that could break someone you love.
I close my eyes and reach for that familiar pull again.
The world shifts.
When I open my eyes, I'm back in the gardens of heaven, the pale flowers glowing softly in the eternal twilight.
Tenebrae is waiting, standing exactly where I left him, as if he hasn't moved at all.
"Kairos," he says quietly.
"I'm ready," I say, even though I'm not sure that's true.
He nods once. "Then we begin."
I don't respond. Can't, really. My throat feels too tight, my mind too full of images of Cecil sleeping peacefully in the apartment I just left.
Tenebrae tilts his head slightly, those blood-red eyes studying me with unnerving precision.
"Tell me everything," he says. Not a question. A command, but delivered so softly it almost sounds like a request. "Everything you know about this person's situation. Leave nothing out."
I hesitate. "Everything?"
"I cannot help you navigate their pain if I do not understand its shape." He gestures to the stone bench. "Sit. And speak."
I sink onto the bench, my bag sliding off my shoulder to rest at my feet. Where do I even start?
"Their mother died giving birth to them," I say finally, the words coming out rough. "Hemorrhaged. Lost too much blood. The doctors couldn't save her."
Tenebrae settles onto the opposite end of the bench, silent and still.
"They blame themselves. Completely. They genuinely believe they killed her." I swallow hard. "They've carried that guilt their entire life—both lives, actually."
"Both lives?"
"They... they died. In their original world. And were brought here—given a second chance by Aethera."
Understanding flickers across Tenebrae's pale features. "Reincarnation with memories intact."
"Yes." I nod. "In their original world, their father fell apart after losing his wife. Started drinking. Gambling. Fell into massive debt—six million dollars."
Tenebrae doesn't react, just continues watching me with those unsettling eyes.
"When the father couldn't pay it back, he disappeared. Just... left. Abandoned them to face the consequences alone."
My hands curl into fists on my knees.
"The debt collectors found them. Cornered them on a rooftop. They were going to kill them."
"But they did not."
"No." The word comes out barely above a whisper. "They jumped first. Chose to die on their own terms rather than let someone else take their life."
The garden is absolutely silent except for my voice.
"Their last thought was a prayer. Hoping that if gods existed, they might give them a second chance. And Aethera answered. She saved them. Brought them here. Gave them a new life with a better father—sober, successful, present."
"But the guilt remained," Tenebrae says quietly.
"Yes. They still believe they're a monster. That they killed their mother. That everything that happened was their fault." My voice cracks. "They carry all of that—the guilt, the trauma, the memory of dying—and they hide it behind smiles and jokes like everything's fine."
"And you know all of this because?"
"Aethera told me. She... she looked into their memories without permission. Which she knows was wrong, but they said something that terrified her. Called themselves a monster. Said she didn't need to protect them from other monsters because they were one of them."
Tenebrae's expression doesn't change, but something shifts in the air around us.
"She violated their trust to understand why they would say such a thing about themselves."
"Yes."
"And now you carry that knowledge. That burden."
"Yes." I look down at my hands. "And I don't know how to tell them I know without destroying what little trust we've rebuilt. Without making them feel exposed and violated. Without..." I take a shaky breath. "Without pushing them to jump again."
"You fear they will attempt to end their life once more."
It's not a question, but I answer anyway.
"They didn't hesitate before. What's to stop them from doing it again if things get too painful? If they feel too cornered? Too exposed?"
Tenebrae is quiet for a long moment, his gaze distant.
"They carry the memory of death," he says finally. "They know what it feels like to fall. To let go. To surrender to the void. That knowledge changes a person fundamentally."
"I know."
"But it also means they know the cost. They understand what they would be giving up." His blood-red eyes focus on me. "The question is whether they believe they have anything worth staying for."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
"I want to be that reason," I say quietly. "I want them to know they're not alone. That they're loved. That they're worth saving. But I don't know how to show them that without revealing how much I know. How much I—" I stop myself.
"How much you love them," Tenebrae finishes.
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.
"This is why you came to me. Why you are willing to spend a week away from them, despite your fear of what might happen in your absence."
"Yes."
Tenebrae stands, moving toward the pale flowers again. He's silent for so long I start to wonder if he's forgotten I'm here.
Then—
"Their pain has layers, Kairos. The death of their mother—the original wound. The abandonment by their father—the betrayal. The debt collectors—the threat. The jump—the surrender. And beneath all of it, the fundamental belief that they are the cause of all suffering. That they are, as they said, a monster."
I watch as his fingers trace the edge of a silver petal.
"To help them, you must understand each layer. How they connect. How they reinforce one another. How addressing one without acknowledging the others can cause the entire structure to collapse."
"That's what you want to teach me? In a week?"
"That is what I will begin to teach you. Pain is not a subject one masters in seven days." He turns to look at me. "But I can give you the foundation. The understanding you need to approach them without causing more harm."
"And if I do it wrong? Even with your help?"
"Then you will have tried. And trying—showing them that you care enough to learn, to understand, to be careful—that itself is a form of love they may not have experienced before."
I let that sink in.
"Where do we start?"
Tenebrae's lips curve into something that might be a smile on anyone else.
"We start with understanding the nature of guilt. Why it persists. How it distorts perception. And why someone can believe, with absolute conviction, that they are a monster when they are anything but."
He extends his hand toward the garden path.
"Come. We have much to discuss."
I stand, shouldering my bag, and follow him deeper into the garden where the flowers grow darker and the shadows lengthen.
A week to learn how to save the person I love.
A week to understand pain well enough to address it without causing more.
A week away from Cecil, hoping desperately that Dylan can keep him safe while I'm gone.
It has to be enough.
It will be enough.
Because when I get back, I'm going to open that door.
And I'm going to show Cecil that he's not a monster.
That he never was.
That he's worth everything I'm about to put myself through to learn how to help him.
Wait for me, Cecil.
I'm coming back.