SWORD ACADEMY (censored)
CENSORED 57: LUKE

She’s shooting a lot of sauce, but I can’t digest any of the salt. I’m too focused on her piss-stained eyes. They’re creepy as heck yet simultaneously compelling as heck. There’s no change to the brownish-grey, but those golden rings are twinkling and commanding all my attention.

“Are you even listening to a dang word I’m saying?” she snicks.

I nod my head, then shake it. Best not to lie to her when she’s in full Battle Unicorn mode. There’s nothing I can really say in response to whatever she’s roaring about anyway. I deserve every bit of her rage. I’d been the worst sort of wuss, running away from her like a weeny little wavelet when my spark was put to sleep. But what else could I have done at that point? They’d hauled Ainsley off, and I was left there with the broken guard, two of which are my parents. That hard water stain is never coming out.

My mother is inconsolable. My father hasn’t even tried to console her. In fact, he’s behaved in the exact opposite way as her and offers zero apologies for it. I’ve never seen him this happy, like he isn’t even the same person. It’s nice.

We’ve spent every day for the last three weeks getting to know each other. When I need a shoulder, he lends me a broad one. When I need a cry, he punches me in the junk. When I need a laugh, he intentionally antagonizes my miserable mother so we can bellow at her together.

What happened to me was admittedly terrible, but what I gained from it is a blessing. I never had my dad like this growing up, and if not for Ainsley hibernating his whipped wussy spark, I never would’ve experienced it at all.

When Ainsley put our sparks to sleep, everything went to sleep, including the Synergy bonds. I’m more than a little embarrassed how badly I wanted that for myself. Mom had that tether so tight around Dad’s nads the poor lad was shooting blanks. While their situation is a rarity, the reality anyone can hold that sort of absolute power over anyone else is truly eye-opening.

I’d been questioning stuff for a while, ever since Ainsley came swinging into my life with that beautiful darn wrecking ball. Only, I had no idea the answers would come as they did in the end. Like anything Hurricane Ainsley touches, my preconceived notions were wrecked all to heck, and what was left in her wake is this quiet sort of peace. The calm after a glorious chaos storm where everything is a giant mess, but everyone is so happy to be alive they stall the cleaning for just long enough to appreciate the heck out of life.

The Royals are a hot pile of garbage with half less guards, so the Order kicked them to the curb where they fully transformed into a raging dumpster fire that might never stop burning. There’s a lot more cleaning to do, but for now, the Order is just trying to evaluate the hull damage and see if the ship is salvageable.

I redirect back to my single point of focus. “Your eyes are really, really intense.”

“Right,” she chokes out, obviously uncomfortable. “That’s probably more alarming for you on account of me not being able to really see them unless I want to…and I sure as heck don’t want to. Would you rather I close them?”

“No,” I whisper. “They’re…glorious.”

“I’m won’t bother asking you why you did it because I know why,” she reports.

I was trying to protect her the same way I always do. Or did, rather. I can’t protect her now. As a Regular, I’ll always be holding her back, keeping her from reaching her full potential. I can never support her in the ways she needs me to. I’m literally not strong enough for her anymore.

“You swore you’d always come back.” Her voice is softer than before. “Were you coming back?”

I don’t know how to respond. What I’ve found in this brief reprieve is a father I didn’t even realize how desperately I want. More than that, I’m ashamed of how happy I am without the responsibilities that come with my water spark. I can just be me and free to explore myself in ways not bound by my duty to S.W.O.R.D. Admitting that to her feels like the worst sort of betrayal, not to her, but to the life I’ve fought so hard to have.

“Can you ever forgive me?” She looks up at me, her expression shifting to fear in an instant. I want nothing more than to wrap her in my arms and quell that fear.

“You’re asking me if I forgive you?” How can she possibly think I blame her for any of the crap that’s happened to me? I’m responsible for my own messed up choices. She didn’t do anything wrong.

Her eyes are filling up with tears, and I have to make them stop. I’ll do anything to keep them from spilling over. I have to, or else they’ll drown my heart in a split second. “Give me the speech,” I order her.

“The speech?” she quickfires.

“Give me the speech,” I repeat, “and I’ll forgive you.” If she busts my balls, she’s going to see how this is all my fault and has nothing to do with her. She’ll get pissed again, and those tears will dry up. Better she rages than break because of me.

She clicks her tongue and steps toward me, jamming her beautiful darn finger in my chest. My heart beats wildly as I lean into it.

“I’m sorry for what I did to you, truly, deeply sorry, but I’m not sorry I did what I did,” she starts. “I’d precision sniper horn a hundred Dark Royal Guards again and again because what’s happened as a result of that is bigger than you and me. It’s all of Scintilla.”

There’s a beat of silence while she draws the strength for the next part. “I need you to know I love you, Luke, and I’ve loved you since you straddled my chest in that hospital bed when I first went volatile, maybe even from the very first time I heard you billowing like a controlling scut at those poor wussy charges in the Spark Chamber. And I’m gunna keep on loving you whether you kick me out of here crying from the floor or not, which is where I’ll land here in a minute when I start sobbing uncontrollably.”

She wipes at her eyes to keep the tears from spilling on their own. “I’ll love you as a Regular, or an Orderly, or a Sparkler, or a White Horse, or a weeny little wavelet, or a backdoor blitzer. But you have a choice in this too. You can choose whether you love me back or not, and I’ll accept that choice. I may be a stubborn squib, but I’m sure as heck not a hypocritical one. So, I’ll accept your free pass. I might do it kicking and screaming, but you can decide whether I do that physically or mentally. Just, before I go, please let me fix you.”

“What if I want you to stay?” I reach my hand up, uncurl her fingers, and place her palm over my heart, holding it right there. “Because I love you too.”

“I suppose you should be prepared for me to dock you in a way that isn’t sweet or easy, and that glorious chaos storm is gunna be wrought by Battle Freaking Unicorn. You’ll get horned so hard you won’t be able to sit down for a week without feeling like you’re still being gored.” She skitters her eyesails like a scut after completely bastardizing the promise I made her. “Then after I fix you, we can do some vanilla banging.”

I laugh, open my arms, and she crashes into them. She turns her head when I lean down to kiss her.

“I said after I fix you,” she slamfires.

I sigh. “There’s no fixing this.”

“If you hadn’t been avoiding me like I’ve got a sea of dead fish in my snatch, you might know I’ve hauled the family construction business out of retirement,” she clips.

I lift a brow.

“It’s better I show you,” she accurizes. “If I try to explain it, you’ll probably start crying like a wussy and run away again.”

My eye twitches.

“Do you trust me?” Her scopes magnify hopefully.

“With everything I am,” I swear.

“Then let me freaking show you,” she pushes.

“Okay,” I agree, finally understanding what it means for me to be strong enough for her. I have to swallow my pride and accept she can handle so much more than her own crap. She can handle mine too. “Show me.”

“Sorry for this...” she hangfires, but before I can ask what she’s sorry for, I feel her sparks drilling into me, and I fall to my knees in pain so intense I black out.

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