Rhea hits the lawn barefoot.
Hard.
She doesn't care about the cold grass or the stones biting into her feet. Her eyes are locked on Ling, sprawled on the foam, one arm angled wrong, face pale under the arrogance she's forcing to keep upright.
"Don't move," Rhea snaps, dropping to her knees beside her.
Ling exhales slowly, teeth clenched. "You already said that."
Rhea reaches for her instinctively—then stops herself mid-air.
"…Where does it hurt," she asks, voice tight.
Ling's eyes never leave Rhea's face. "Guess."
Rhea swallows. "Your hand."
Ling tilts her head slightly. "Heart."
Rhea shot her glare.
Ling smiled. "Arm. Wrist. Somewhere between pride and stupidity."
Rhea lets out a sharp breath that's almost a sob. "You idiot."
Ling smiles faintly. "You kissed the idiot."
Rhea's hands curl into fists. "Don't joke right now."
Ling watches her carefully now. The teasing softens—not disappears, but restrains itself.
"It's not broken," Ling says. "Just… angry."
Rhea finally looks at the arm.
It's already swelling. The angle wrong enough to make her stomach twist.
Her voice drops. "You can't climb anymore."
Ling shrugs with the shoulder that works. "Wasn't planning to."
Rhea shoots her a glare. "You're not funny."
Ling's gaze sharpens. "You came down."
Rhea snaps back instantly. "Because you're hurt."
"And because you pushed me," Ling says calmly.
Rhea's breath stutters. "I didn't mean to—"
Ling cuts in, quiet but firm. "You meant the kiss."
Silence crashes between them.
Rhea presses her lips together hard. "I panicked."
Ling's mouth curves just slightly. "You chose."
Rhea glares at her. "Don't do that."
"Do what."
"Make it sound like something it's not."
Ling studies her, then nods once. "Okay."
She shifts slightly, pain flashing across her face before she locks it down.
Rhea notices. Immediately.
"Stop moving," she orders.
Ling smirks. "You're bossy tonight."
Rhea leans in, voice shaking with restrained fear. "Ling. If security comes back—"
"They won't," Ling says. "You sent them the other way."
Rhea exhales. "You're bleeding."
Ling glances down. "Minor."
Rhea reaches out before thinking, fingers hovering—then landing gently near Ling's wrist, careful not to touch bone.
Ling stills completely.
Her voice drops. "Careful."
"I know," Rhea snaps, eyes glossy. "I'm not stupid."
Ling watches her like this—furious, scared, kneeling in the grass for her—and something dangerous settles deep in her chest.
"Rhea," Ling says quietly.
"What."
"If I ask you for something," Ling continues, "will you run."
Rhea looks up sharply. "What are you asking."
Ling doesn't hesitate. "Stay. Until the pain fades."
Rhea laughs bitterly. "You don't get to negotiate."
Ling lifts her uninjured hand slightly. "Then don't negotiate. Just don't leave."
Rhea's jaw tightens.
"…I'm not leaving," she says. "I'm not a monster."
Ling's eyes soften—just a fracture. "Never thought you were."
Rhea swallows hard. "You scared me."
Ling nods. "Good."
Rhea's head snaps up. "What?"
Ling meets her gaze, completely serious. "Now you know what it feels like."
Rhea looks away, blinking fast. "I hate you."
Ling breathes out slowly. "No."
Rhea snaps back, "Don't correct me."
Ling's voice is low. Certain. "You don't hate me."
Rhea presses her forehead briefly against Ling's shoulder—then pulls back like she's been burned.
"Don't read me," she warns.
Ling smiles faintly through the pain. "Too late."
Footsteps crunch faintly in the distance.
Rhea stiffens instantly. "Security."
Ling's jaw tightens. "You need to go."
Rhea shakes her head. "I'm not leaving you here."
Ling's tone turns firm. Commanding. "Rhea."
She meets Ling's eyes.
Ling continues, "If they find you here, everything explodes."
Rhea hesitates—then nods sharply. "Don't move."
Ling smirks. "You keep repeating that."
Rhea stands, backing away reluctantly. "I'm getting help."
Ling's eyes darken. "Not medical."
"I know," Rhea says quietly. "I'm not stupid."
She pauses, then adds, voice low and shaking, "Don't you dare disappear."
Ling holds her gaze. "I won't."
Rhea turns and disappears into the shadows.
Ling lies back against the foam, arm screaming now that adrenaline is fading—but her mind is quiet.
Because the last thing Rhea did before leaving—
Was look back.
Footsteps echo faintly inside the mansion.
Rhea straightens her shirt, schools her face into cold irritation just as a security voice calls out.
"Miss Rhea? Everything okay outside?"
She answers without hesitation. "Yes. A cat knocked something over."
Security hesitates. "We thought we saw movement—"
"I'll handle it," Rhea cuts in. "You can go."
A pause.
"Alright, miss."
The footsteps retreat.
Rhea doesn't turn back immediately.
When she finally does, Ling is still there.
Ling's voice softens, just a fraction. "Come here."
Rhea doesn't move. "Don't."
Ling doesn't insist. "Okay."
They look at each other across the dim lawn—too much unspoken, too much already crossed.
Rhea finally says, quieter, "You scared me."
Ling watches her closely. "Because you kissed me?"
Rhea's breath stutters just once. "That doesn't happen again."
Ling accepts that with a nod—but her eyes don't.
"Okay," she says. "Next time, I'll wait for you to choose."
Rhea stiffens. "There is no next time."
Ling smiles slightly. "You're bad at endings."
Rhea took Ling hand, hesitates when she sees the swelling properly.
Her voice drops. "This is bad."
Ling studies her face. "You're scared."
"I'm angry," Rhea says immediately.
Ling hums. "You keep using that word like it hides everything else."
Rhea's voice breaks before she can stop it.
"Why did you come?"
Her words come fast, uneven. "Why would you climb walls, dodge security, hurt yourself—just for a kiss? This—this isn't love. It's Desire. Don't act like a pervert."
The word lands wrong.
Ling freezes.
She steps back once, slowly, like she's recalibrating the space between them.
Her jaw tightens.
"My love," Ling says quietly, "is not desire."
Rhea shakes her head, panicked now. "I didn't mean it like that—"
Ling lifts a hand. Not to silence her. To stop herself.
"I don't chase bodies," Ling continues, voice controlled but strained. "I don't climb walls for urges. I came because I couldn't breathe knowing you were this close and unreachable."
Rhea swallows hard. "That doesn't make it right."
Ling nods once. "No. It makes it honest."
Rhea steps forward. "Ling, listen—"
"I heard you," Ling says, her tone sharper now. "You were clear."
She turns slightly, angling her body away.
Rhea grabs her sleeve. "Don't twist my words."
Ling looks down at her hand on her arm. Then back at her face.
"You called me a pervert," Ling says calmly. "You don't say that to someone you feel safe with."
Rhea's eyes fill. "I was scared."
Ling exhales, long and steady. "So was I. Difference is—I didn't insult you for it."
Rhea tightens her grip. "I'm trying to protect us."
Ling gives a humorless smile. "From me?"
"From what this is becoming," Rhea whispers.
Ling gently removes Rhea's hand from her arm. Not rough. Not soft. Final.
"My feelings don't need permission to exist," she says. "But they do need respect."
Rhea steps in front of her. "Please don't go like this."
Ling stops walking.
For a second, it looks like she might turn back.
Instead, she says, quieter, "I didn't come for a kiss. You kissed me."
Rhea's breath stutters.
"And when you pushed me," Ling adds, not accusing, just factual, "I still didn't blame you."
Rhea shakes her head. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
"I know," Ling says. "And I didn't come for kiss or desires."
She takes another step back, toward the shadows.
Rhea follows. "Ling—don't disappear."
Ling finally looks at her fully.
"I'm not disappearing," she says. "I'm leaving before I become something you fear."
Rhea's voice cracks. "You already are something I fear."
Ling nods slowly. "Then I did the right thing."
She turns.
Rhea rushes forward. "Wait—at least let me explain."
Ling pauses at the wall, back still to her.
"Not tonight," Ling says. "Tonight you spoke from panic. I won't argue with that version of you."
She climbs boundary wall carefully this time, slower, wrist clearly hurting—but she doesn't let it show.
And then she's gone.
Rhea stands frozen, chest tight, staring at the empty wall.
Only then does she whisper, too late:
"I didn't mean you."
The lawn is silent.