Standing in the early morning chill in front of our house were two men, explaining our airsoft weaponry, the proper use of road flares, and the art of preparing field rations. Damn it all. What in the seven hells had I gotten myself into? Levi, the smug bastard who already knew how to field-strip and reassemble a firearm blindfolded and possessed years of self-defense training that likely involved disemboweling opponents with a butter knife, was silently observing me. I awkwardly hefted the airsoft pistol. Levi, chose an airsoft revolver, a mere toy compared to the real one – a grim heirloom gifted to him by The Conqueror himself – that likely resided in his study. After what felt like an eternity of detailed instructions on safety protocols and gear operation, we donned our ill-fitting camouflage and the bulky and restrictive bulletproof vests, shouldering our packed bags. Holy shit. This thing weighed a ton.

Levi melted into the dense foliage. The asshole blended into the woods with an almost supernatural ease. Panic clawed at my throat. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. My studied airsoft tournament footage felt utterly useless in the face of this reality. I stumbled deeper and deeper into the woods, the unfamiliar sounds of rustling leaves and snapping twigs amplifying my anxiety. My eyes darted nervously, scanning the dense undergrowth, desperately trying to find some semblance of cover, a place where I could at least attempt to formulate a plan before he inevitably found me.

I stumbled upon a small burrow nestled beneath the roots of an oak. It was likely a fox den, judging by the earthy scent. Desperation overriding my squeamishness, I frantically dug at the entrance with the small shovel from my bag, widening it just enough to squeeze inside. The damp earth enveloped me, offering a sliver of concealment. Hunched and cramped, my heart still pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs, I finally had a moment of relative safety.

Let me think, damn it, think! Levi chose a revolver. What does that tell me? Fewer shots, definitely. More power per shot, probably. And crucially… close range. That cunning asshole is likely circling me right now, using his hunting instincts to track my clumsy progress. My airsoft pistol has a longer effective range and a much larger magazine capacity, which should give me a theoretical advantage in a firefight. But… the crushing reality is that I’ve never actually shot a damn gun in my life, and my aim is probably so atrocious I’d be more likely to hit a squirrel in the next county than Levi’s broad chest.

I need to rely on stealth and surprise, not a direct confrontation.

I unfolded the map with trembling hands. Mostly useless. Utterly useless. I couldn't decipher a damn thing. Then, the walkie-talkie clipped to my vest crackled to life, the sudden noise making me jump. “Pulla, where are you hiding?” Levi’s voice purred through the static, laced with amusement and a hint of triumph. Asshole! I recoiled, my head slamming hard against the roof of the burrow. A sharp pain shot through my skull.

“In the dirt,” I grumbled, rubbing the throbbing knot on my head.

“Hm, so my little rabbit has dug himself into a burrow,” Levi purred, the amusement in his voice palpable. Yes, I had.

“Well, where in the blazes are you hiding, you bastard?” I retorted, trying to inject some bravado into my shaky voice.

A brief pause, then, “Among the trees, my dear.”

Of course. He was lurking in the goddamn trees, like some deranged assassin perched for the kill. Fuck my life.

Raphael, think, damn it, think! Levi’s weaknesses… there had to be some chink in his armor. For one undeniable fact, he wouldn't actually shoot me with any real intent to harm. The sheer inconvenience of having to nurse me back to health, the endless days of my dramatic suffering and demands for attention… it was an illogical proposition for even his warped mind. Physical violence, beyond a playful bruise, wasn't really his style either. What else? He had a distinct aversion to blood. So, no stabbing, no messy incapacitation. That left… fear. Intimidation. The thrill of the chase. I needed to exploit that. Staying in this dirt hole was just prolonging the inevitable. Clutching the utterly useless map in my hand, I cautiously crawled out of the burrow and began to walk, my eyes scanning every tree, every bush, searching for any sign of the predator lurking nearby.

I walked what felt like miles, the dense woods a suffocating blanket of green and shadow. The low cliff I'd spotted earlier seemed like my only viable landmark, a potential vantage point or at least a change in terrain. There was still no sign of Levi, no telltale crackle of a fire, no subtle rustling that betrayed his presence. But then, a sudden, piercing shriek tore through the stillness of the woods. It was high-pitched, inhuman, and it sent a jolt of pure terror through me, overriding any semblance of rational thought. My legs reacted before my brain could process, and I bolted, blindly charging towards the cliff edge. In my panicked haste, I misjudged the drop, my feet skidding on loose soil. I plunged over the side, stumbling hard on the uneven ground below, a loud crack echoing in the woods.

Oh, sweet gods, shit. A yell ripped from my throat. My knee. My knee had just popped out of its joint, the pain a white-hot, searing agony that threatened to blacken my vision.

Lying sprawled at the base of the low cliff, a wave of nausea washing over me from the searing pain in my knee, I saw it. At the very edge of the drop, a fox stood for a fleeting second, its eyes fixed on me. Then, with a flick of its bushy tail, it silently turned and vanished into the undergrowth. Was this some kind of cosmic retribution? Had I angered some ancient woodland spirit by seeking refuge in that burrow?

Agonizing waves of nausea rolled over me as I gingerly attempted to shift my weight, my hands fumbling uselessly at my grotesquely angled knee. Even the slightest movement sent a searing jolts of pain shooting up my leg, and another cry ripped from my throat. Damn it! What in the hell was I doing? Each pathetic whimper was practically broadcasting my exact location to Levi, a wounded animal bleating for its predator. I was making it ridiculously easy for him.

The walkie-talkie crackled to life once more, Levi's voice smooth and laced with a sickeningly sweet concern. “Does it hurt, my dear? I can certainly… fix it for you.”

ASSHOLE!

Fix it? He was the one who indirectly caused this, and now he was going to… what? Pat my head while he aimed an airsoft gun at my face?

Ignoring that smug piece of shit, I gritted my teeth against the throbbing agony in my knee. My gaze landed on a sturdy piece of fallen wood. With a grunt of effort, I managed to grab it, the rough bark digging into my palm. It wasn't much, but it would serve as a makeshift cane. I began to hobble along the base of the cliff, following its winding trail, each step a fresh wave of pain.

...

This was definitely the north side of the woods. The trees here grew even closer together, their branches forming a dense canopy overhead, casting the forest floor in perpetual twilight. Every exposed stone and fallen log was draped in a carpet of moss, damp and cool to the touch. I even spotted a couple of busy squirrels scampering up a tree trunk, their bushy tails twitching, and the intricate architecture of several bird nests nestled high in the branches. To be honest, these small glimpses of the natural world, were the only things that offered a fleeting flicker of serotonin in this otherwise agonizing and terrifying ordeal.

I spotted another potential hiding spot. This was more of a natural cave, formed by two massive boulders leaning against each other, with a fallen tree trunk creating a partial roof. I gratefully limped inside and rummaged through my bag, searching for something to use as a makeshift splint for my throbbing knee. I'd seen Levi expertly reset a dislocated shoulder once. He would probably fix this in a second. But I? I had absolutely no idea what I was doing. Swallowing a strong painkiller, I tried to wrap a bandage around my swollen joint. Bad idea. Agony shot through my leg, the pressure of the bandage only exacerbating the pain. I bit back a scream, tears welling in my eyes. This was a disaster.

Not only did I have absolutely no idea where Levi was lurking, but I had also effectively extinguished any sliver of a chance I might have had at winning this ridiculous game. My only real advantage was now gone, cruelly snatched away by my own fear-induced clumsiness. There was only one option left, a desperate, terrifying gamble. I had to shoot Levi.

I pressed the transmit button on the walkie-talkie. “Levi,” I croaked. “Come and play.”

A beat of silence stretched, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the sound of my ragged breathing.

“No.”

BASTARD! The smug, manipulative fucker knew damn well I was injured. He likely had a crystal-clear picture of my exact location, huddled and helpless in this rocky alcove. He was just going to… wait? Torture me with anticipation?

What do I do now? Do I double down on this idiotic challenge? Make absolutely sure he knows exactly where I am? Should I light a fire, sending a plume of smoke into the sky like some desperate, moronic signal? Or maybe waste one of those signal flares, painting a bullseye above my head? Gods… I am utterly, completely out of my depth. I have no tactical training, no survival instincts, just a throbbing knee and a rapidly dwindling supply of bad ideas.

If that smug bastard refused to confront me on my terms, then by the gods, I would confront him on his. I gritted my teeth, waiting for the painkillers to kick in, to at least grant me the meager ability to limp. I knew how a direct confrontation would likely play out; Levi, the infuriatingly graceful bastard, would probably just sidestep my clumsy attempts at hand-to-hand combat, a condescending smirk on his face. But this wasn't about a fair fight anymore. The games were over. The rules had changed the moment my knee dislocated. I would shoot him. And if my pathetic aim failed me, then by the ancient gods, I would stab him.

The dawn had bled into the full heat of midday. The shadows beneath the dense canopy of trees had deepened, stretching and pooling into pockets of near-blackness, offering me at least a slightly better chance of remaining unseen. I pressed the transmit button on the walkie-talkie. “It’s lunchtime, Levi,” I announced. “Come and play.”

“I do not enjoy rabbit meat, dear.”

The condescending bastard. My resolve hardened further. Fine. I would make sure my "rabbit teeth" were sharp.

I drew the knife from my bag, securing it onto my belt. The airsoft pistol felt heavy in my grip, my finger resting on the trigger. I scanned the dense wall of trees surrounding the small cave. But the woods were a labyrinth of green and shadow; staring at every single trunk would take an eternity. I pressed the walkie-talkie button, my voice tight.

“Tell me your location, Levi.”

“In front of you, my dear.”

My arm snapped up, the pistol aimed at the nearest cluster of trees. Fucker. Obviously, he wasn’t literally standing right in front of me. He meant follow the trail, the path leading away from my hiding spot. Damn you, Raphael, still letting fear cloud your judgment. The last time you succumbed to panic, you’d ended up with a dislocated knee, you idiot!

I forced myself to follow the barely discernible trail, each step sending a jolt of searing pain through my knee. The cane offered minimal support, and the relentless agony was starting to wear down my resolve. I had to stop, just for a moment, to catch my breath and regroup. Thankfully, the dense forest had thinned out slightly here, offering a cluster of particularly thick bushes that provided decent cover. I sank down behind them, my back against the rough bark of a tree, and rummaged in my bag for some sustenance. My fingers closed around a packet of energy jelly, and I tore it open with my teeth.

This sugary goo isn't going to cut it. What I really need is an EpiPen-level jolt of pure adrenaline, a primal surge of fight-or-flight to override this crippling pain and the creeping terror.

What did Levi do, back in his darkest times, when the abyss threatened to swallow him whole? He broke his own fingers. I couldn't replicate that, not with my already mangled knee. But the principle… the principle was the same. I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached, the plastic of the energy jelly packaging digging into my lip. Then, with a strangled cry that was half sob, half roar, I gripped my own leg, just above the dislocated joint, and I twisted it. The feeling was cataclysmic, white-hot explosion of agony that eclipsed everything else. My vision swam, and a primal scream tore from my throat. But… it was working. I could feel the blood surging through my veins again. The pain was immense, yes, so intense that my eyes burned with unshed tears and my throat felt raw. But it had shocked my system, jolted me out of the paralysis of despair.

Yes. Now, in this agony, I understood. Now I knew why Levi had resorted to such brutal self-harm. It wasn't about seeking pain; it was about overriding a deeper, more insidious agony with a physical one, triggering the body's own survival mechanisms. Every single nerve ending screamed in protest, tears blurring my vision and burning tracks down my cheeks. But the body, that incredible, resilient machine, was fighting back.

I was about to push myself up, ready to continue my limping journey with this bizarre and frankly disturbing surge of adrenaline coursing through me. But I saw a family of hedgehogs. Walking in a determined straight line, a stout mommy hedgehog waddled along, followed by two tiny babies whose little legs were working overtime, struggling to keep pace. With every tiny movement, their round bodies wobbled from side to side. So fucking cute it almost made the pain in my knee fade into the background. Slowly, I extended the open packet of energy jelly towards the mother hedgehog, holding it still and low to the ground.

They were understandably hesitant at first, their tiny noses twitching suspiciously. But the lure of strawberry and pure sugar proved too strong to resist. Cautiously, the mother hedgehog approached, followed by her two miniature shadows. With delicate snuffling sounds, they began to lick at the jelly, their long tongues darting in and out. If only I had my phone. A genuine, unguarded smile stretched across my face.

“Stop wasting your resources, my dear,” Levi’s voice, smooth and laced with his usual condescending amusement, crackled from the walkie-talkie. The hedgehogs, didn’t seem to mind the intrusion. But I did. The sudden sound jolted me, and I flinched, my weight shifting awkwardly. A searing lance of agony shot through my already protesting knee, making me gasp.

Damn you, Raphael! Stop succumbing to this paralyzing fear! The image of his smug smile sent a fresh wave of anger surging through the throbbing in my leg. He wouldn't break me. Not yet.

I placed the remainder of the jelly on the ground for the little hedgehog family, offering them a silent farewell wave. Then, gritting my teeth against the renewed surge of pain, I pushed myself back to my feet, my cane firm in one hand. The airsoft pistol felt cold and solid in the other, my finger hovering over the trigger. A desperate plan began to form in my mind. I could throw the cane, an unexpected projectile to momentarily distract him. Then, I could lunge. But the thought died as quickly as it sparked. If I lunged, that agile bastard would likely use my momentum against me, sending me sprawling. No. Shooting was my only real option.

Here I was again, back at the edge of the low cliff, the scene of my spectacular and utterly debilitating fall. Damn it. Looking down now, the drop didn't even seem that high. Maybe two meters, tops. Two measly meters, and I managed to dislocate my knee like some bumbling idiot tripping over a rug. Just how utterly clumsy was I?

As I stood there, a subtle shift in the air, a barely perceptible sound, registered at the edge of my awareness. But before I could even twitch a muscle, before my brain could fully process the warning, a strong hand clamped down on my jaw, the grip like iron. The body pressed against my back, shoving me towards the very edge of the drop.

This towering presence, this faint scent of his soap…

No.

I had made a catastrophic mistake. I hadn't used my supposed advantage. I should have stayed hidden. I should have waited in the dense forest, a shadow amongst shadows. I should have remained concealed within the rocky embrace of that small cave, a silent predator in its lair. I should have waited. Waited for him to come to me, waited for the perfect moment of surprise. Then, and only then, I should have pulled the trigger. Instead… instead, in my pain-addled desperation, I had essentially walked right back to the starting line, practically handing myself over to him.

“My dear…” Levi’s voice purred in my ear. “So… cute. You truly didn’t even stray far from the starting point, did you? All that frantic running, all that desperate hiding, all that… self-inflicted pain.” He chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver of dread down my spine. “While I was simply perched on a sturdy branch, high in a long tree, watching your every adorable little twitch through my binoculars. Ah, my dear rabbit. Look at what your fear has wrought.” His tilted my head so my gaze was fixed on the drop of the cliff.

Binoculars. He just sat there, watching me stumble and writhe like some pathetic insect. He saw me fall. He saw me twist my own leg. And he just… watched. Laughed.

“Do whatever you want,” I choked out, the words raspy and defeated, but inside, a reckless plan was beginning to take root. While his smug pronouncements filled the air, while his attention was focused on savoring his victory, I would move. Subtly my fingers would inch towards the knife sheathed on my belt. Let him talk.

“Of course,” Levi said, his voice dripping with amusement, and instead of launching into a monologue, his hand shot down with lightning speed. I tensed, expecting a taunt, a push, anything but what happened next. His fingers closed not on my thigh, but on the handle of the knife I had just managed to grasp. Asshole! He yanked the knife from my trembling grip, the sudden loss leaving my hand feeling cold and empty. A strangled cry of frustration and renewed despair escaped my lips.

Raphael, think, damn it, think! Levi’s weaknesses… there had to be something, anything I could exploit in this desperate moment. Think! Think! Ah… Yes. Fucking yes! The bastard had sensitive ears. I had one chance, a split second before he regained his composure. I wasn't going to aim for his chest, no.

I swung the muzzle of the pistol upwards, towards the sky, and squeezed the trigger. The recoil, though minimal, was still jarring. The pistol slipped from my numb fingers and clattered to the ground. But Levi… yes… the smug asshole was reeling. A groan escaped his lips, and he stumbled backwards, his hands flying to his ears, his face contorted in a grimace of genuine pain. It had worked. For now.

Ignoring the searing pain in my dislocated knee, I lunged forward, the knife I'd retrieved from my belt clutched in my hand. My clumsy movement, hampered by my injury, only managed to slash through his jacket, but the blade still bit into his flesh. A thin line of crimson bloomed on his forearm. He recoiled with another guttural groan, his hands still clamped over his ringing ears.

Oh, Gods. I made someone bleed. Not just someone. Levi. The man I… the man I love. I made him bleed. With a knife. My knife. What have I done? The ringing in his ears, his pained groan… it was my doing. Blood. Levi's blood.

“Well, Raphael, thank you,” Levi said, his voice low and devoid of any amusement as he stared at the blood welling on his forearm. Then, his gaze lifted, locking onto mine, and a fresh wave of terror washed over me. Gone was the playful mockery, the condescending amusement.

He lunged at me, shoving me backwards with a force that stole my breath. His weight was enough to send me sprawling. And yes, I landed hard on the ground, my head stopping mere inches from the edge of the cliff. Then he crouched down, his face inches from mine, glacial fury burning in his eyes.

He wasn't trying to push me over. Not yet. This was… somehow worse.

His hands reached for my injured leg, his fingers finding the joint. “Does it hurt, my dear?” he murmured, his voice deceptively soft. I couldn't hold back the involuntary cry that ripped from my throat. “Oh, it’s going to hurt a lot more,” he said, his voice now laced with a chillingly clinical detachment. And then, he placed both of his palms firmly on my knee.

A crack reverberated through the small clearing. A primal yell tore from my throat, so loud and filled with pure agony that a flurry of birds erupted from the nearby trees. The bastard… he had done it. He had popped my dislocated knee back into its socket. It hurt. It hurt in a way that the initial dislocation hadn't even approached.

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The crack… it echoed in my skull, a sound of pure violation. My own scream felt ripped from my very soul.

“Ah, Raphael,” Levi sighed, a hint of theatrical exasperation in his voice. “What a wonderfully simplistic creature you are. You managed to dislocate your own knee through sheer clumsiness, then assaulted my delicate auditory senses with that ridiculous toy gun, followed by a rather pathetic attempt to stab me, resulting in a minuscule tear in my perfectly tailored jacket. And then, out of the goodness of my heart, I even went to the trouble of fixing your rather inconveniently dislocated joint. And now… what? Are those wounded whimpers an accusation? Really, Raphael. Please. Give me some credit for my efforts, won’t you?”

“The fuck are you talking about?” I roared, the pain in my knee momentarily overshadowed by a surge of pure, incandescent rage. “A thank you? You want a thank you for torturing me?”

Levi sighed again, a long-suffering sound. “No, my dear. What I desire is for you to finally see the truth of this little… exercise. I did nothing but recline on a comfortable branch and observe you through my rather excellent binoculars. You, Raphael, are the architect of your own suffering. You dislocated your own knee in a fit of panic, you flailed at me with a blunt instrument. All fueled by your own internal chaos – your fear, your anxiety, your predictable desperation. All the while,” he added, a hint of amusement returning to his voice, “I was enjoying a rather delightful pistachio gelato. From a safe distance, of course.”

“You are an insufferable bastard, Levi,” I spat, the words laced with venom.

“Why, Raphael?” he countered, his voice smooth and unperturbed. “You expressed a desire for an airsoft tournament, and here we are, fulfilling that very request. I have, in fact, been remarkably hands-off, wouldn't you agree? Other than that small act of orthopedic assistance, of course.”

“That shit hurt more than anything I’ve ever felt!” I roared, the raw agony still echoing in my ears.

“Naturally,” Levi replied, his voice calm. “Have you never experienced the realignment of a dislocated joint before, my dear? It invariably causes significantly more discomfort than the initial displacement. You see, Raphael? You are so consumed by your desire to cast me as the villain in your drama that you fail to appreciate the simple realities of anatomy. And do try to remember, my sweet rabbit, that while I chose to fix your knee, I am also exceptionally capable of dislocating every single other joint in your rather fragile body.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” I yelled, my voice raw with pain and disbelief. “I’m being dramatic? Is that your takeaway from all of this?”

“When one objectively examines the circumstances, my dear Raphael, yes. I have, thus far, engaged in little more than detached observation from a comfortable perch and a few… strategically applied adjustments. Does that truly equate to your rather enthusiastic attempt to lacerate my arm? I think not.”

This is insane

. He's insane. And the worst part? A tiny, insidious voice in the back of my head is whispering… maybe… maybe he has a point. Maybe I did overreact. Maybe I did bring some of this on myself. Shut up, damn it! Shut up! He's manipulating me. He's trying to make me doubt my own reality.

“Stop fucking gaslighting me!” I roared, the raw agony in my knee fueling my fury. “You had me pinned on the edge of a goddamn cliff! What in the hell was I supposed to do? Just politely ask you to move?”

Levi’s lips curled into a faint, unsettling smile as he took a step towards me. “Ah, yes. The game continues, doesn’t it? Neither of us is riddled with airsoft pellets just yet.” He closed the remaining distance between us, his gaze unwavering. “Always the victim, Raphael, always. Frankly, this simplistic, black-and-white thinking is becoming quite tedious. There is something… else… I desire from this little encounter now, something far more nuanced than simply peppering you with plastic.”

Oh, no. That smile… it's not playful. Victim? Is that what he really thinks of me?

He reached into his jacket, and my breath hitched, expecting the sting of plastic. Instead, he pulled out his revolver. He casually flipped open the cylinder, one by one ejecting each brightly colored pellet until they scattered on the forest floor. What?

“I am so weary, Raphael,” he said, “of you constantly casting me as some captor and yourself as the perpetually helpless damsel in distress.” He tossed the revolver into the nearby undergrowth. “Is this truly the extent of your perception of yourself? And is this truly how little you think of me?”

What the hell? He sounds… tired. Actually tired. Not just pretending. I don't understand. I'm hurt, I was terrified, he had me pinned… what else was I supposed to think? How else was I supposed to feel? I thought… I thought he was enjoying this. The control, the fear, but he looks... Almost… sad?

“Levi…” I began, my voice still trembling slightly. “You… you hurt me. You let me fall. You snapped my knee back into place like it was nothing. And I… I reacted. I lashed out. But please… help me understand what you meant just now.”

“I did not hurt you, Raphael!” Levi’s voice cracked, rising in pitch. In all the time I had known him, he had never raised his voice at me like this.

“Okay…” I said slowly, carefully, trying to navigate this unexpected shift in his demeanor. “Alright, Levi. Just… just tell me what you’re feeling. Help me understand.”

“No,” he said, his voice hard, the raw edge still present. “Not this time, Raphael. I am done trying to explain myself to you. Perhaps the only way for something to finally penetrate that thick skull of yours is for me to actually hurt you.” He bent down swiftly, snatching my airsoft pistol from the forest floor.

No. Here he went again. The familiar pattern. The brief glimpse of something raw, something almost vulnerable, immediately followed by a retreat into anger and a desire to sever the connection. He always did this. Not this time. Not again.

“Levi, you emotionally stunted idiot!” I roared, my voice echoing through the trees. “Instead of acting like some deranged assassin, just fucking talk to me! For once!”

He gestured with the muzzle of the pistol towards my chest. “Why, Raphael? What is the point of more words? You’ve never truly stopped seeing me as some villain, have you? You wanted this ridiculous tournament. You ran headfirst into disaster and got yourself hurt. And somehow, I am the one who ends up being blamed. So, tell me, what possible good could come from more of your accusations and my futile attempts at explanation?”

“You fucking asshole!” I spat, the words laced with bitter resentment. “Who else was I supposed to blame? The cliff for existing? The trees for getting in my way?”

“No, Raphael,” Levi countered. “You could have, perhaps, considered your own lack of coordination. Your panic-induced clumsiness. But instead, you chose to lay the blame squarely at my feet. For… existing. For simply being here, Raphael.”

“You are an idiot, Levi,” I retorted. “I blame you for creating an environment where I was terrified! I blame you because that fear is what made me stumble and fall off that stupid cliff!”

“And?” Levi countered, his voice sharp. “What were my first words after your little tumble? I said, ‘I can fix it.’ Did you even acknowledge me? No. You just stubbornly limped along on your mangled knee for what felt like an eternity, didn’t you?”

“Ah!” I exclaimed. “Of course I didn’t answer you! I was scared you were going to shoot me! You were standing there with a gun!”

Levi sighed, a sound of utter weariness. “Gods, Raphael… what a relentlessly tedious conversation this has become. It seems neither of us is capable of grasping what the other truly desires, doesn’t it?”

What do I desire? For him to stop! To just be honest, just for once! But he's right. He's stuck in his twisted logic, and I'm stuck in my fear and anger. We're talking past each other.

“Then just be fucking honest for once, Levi!” I yelled, my voice raw with frustration. “My desire isn’t some grand, complicated thing for you to decipher. It’s simple! I was scared! That’s it! Terrified!”

“Great,” Levi echoed. “Well, allow me to be equally simplistic. I am resentful, and angry, and deeply disappointed, because you fundamentally believe you are incapable of truly harming me, of actually hurting me.”

He means… emotionally? That I don't think my words or actions can truly affect him? But they do! I see it sometimes, a flicker in his eyes, a tightening of his jaw.

“What? No, wait. Hold on. Explain yourself better, Levi. What are you talking about?” I stammered, my mind reeling, trying to catch up with this sudden, unexpected outpouring.

Levi’s voice, though still laced with anger, now held a tremor of something deeper, something raw and wounded.

“Okay, Raphael. Let me try to make this crystal clear for your supposedly empathetic brain. My resentment over you abandoning me in that hellhole of a rehab? It didn’t magically vanish, you know. Not at all. Two weeks ago, when you finally deigned to acknowledge the depths of my suffering, it eased, yes, by a fraction. But it’s still there, festering. And every single time you act as if I am some unfeeling automaton, incapable of being hurt, of being sad, it boils inside me, Raphael. Every single time you portray yourself as some powerless victim, as if your actions, your words, your choices have no impact on me, it keeps boiling. Just… try to understand something, if you’re capable… Channel that relentless empathy you so readily bestow upon those hedgehogs you found in the woods, and just… just turn it inward, onto me, for once. Why is my husband… why is the man I married… so emotionally divorced from me?” His voice cracked on the last word.

Oh… Levi… It must be excruciatingly difficult to navigate the treacherous waters of your first true attachment, isn't it? For the first time you've allowed yourself to become tethered to someone, and now you're floundering, utterly lost in the territory of expressing vulnerability. He could orchestrate the downfall of monarchies with a flick of his wrist, yet he can't simply look his husband in the eye and say, "Love me better," unless it's buried beneath layers upon layers of convoluted games and veiled accusations.

Gently, I eased the pistol from his unresisting fingers, laying it softly on the damp earth. “You are such an idiot, Levi,” I murmured, my voice thick with unshed tears and a wave of overwhelming tenderness. “You always do this. Every single time you let even a sliver of real feeling break through that fortress of yours, you either run for cover behind a wall of anger or issue some ridiculous, veiled ultimatum. You magnificent, frustrating son of a bitch. I love you, so damn much. And yes, I will try. I will try my absolute best to be better.”

“This resentment… this anger… it doesn’t just vanish, Raphael,” Levi confessed, his voice now softer. “And every careless word, every thoughtless action of yours… it feels like another hammer blow to my skull. Tell me…” His gaze searched mine, a desperate plea in their depths. “Tell me… how do I make this go away?”

“I don’t know, Levi,” I admitted, my voice soft. “I desperately wish I had some magic words, some simple solution to erase all the hurt, the fear, the months of miscommunication between us. But feelings… emotions… they don’t operate on a right or wrong axis. Actions, though… actions have consequences, and there, we can make different choices. So, please, Levi. Stop being a terrifying asshole, lurking in the woods and scaring the absolute shit out of me. And I swear to you, I will try.”

Levi inhaled deeply. “Alright, my dear Raphael. Thank you for your… illuminating words. But,” his tone shifted abruptly, the softness vanishing, replaced by a chillingly familiar edge, “the pity party is officially over.”

He snatched the airsoft pistol from the ground and took several brisk steps back, putting distance between us. ASSHOLE! The plastic pellets stung against my chest as he fired a short burst into my vest. The audacity! The sheer, breathtaking audacity of that man after that brief moment of… of honesty!

“You! Grudge-holding, petty piece of shit!” I roared, clutching at my chest where the plastic pellets had stung. “You actually shot me!”

“But of course, my dear Raphael,” Levi replied, his voice regaining smooth amusement. “It was the airsoft tournament, was it not? And you know perfectly well, that I always play to win. One only needs to observe the fate of the fallen nobles to understand my commitment to victory.”

“Oh my god! OH MY GOD! I hate you! I fucking hate you so much, Levi!” I screamed. “Just when I thought, for one goddamn second, that we were actually connecting, that we were having a real conversation, you just… you just shot me!”

Levi’s lips twitched into a smug smile as he smoothly spun the pistol on his finger. “But we did have our little heart-to-heart, my dear Raphael. Now,” he said, his eyes glinting with a return of his familiar playful menace, “it’s time for a… different kind of conversation, wouldn’t you agree?”

“The fuck are you even talking about now, you infuriating bastard? Ugh!” I grunted, my gaze darting around, desperately searching for a loose stone, anything I could hurl at his smug face.

He sauntered towards me, and tossed the airsoft pistol carelessly onto the ground beside me. I was still sprawled there, aching and furious. Then, the absolute bastard, he crouched low and crawled over my body, his movements slow and insolent. His face, inches from mine, held a smirk that sent a fresh wave of outrage through me.

“You made a promise yesterday, dear,” he purred. “Something about indulging in outdoor activities… has that little memory of yours already faded?”

His sheer audacity is going to give me a coronary.

“There is no fucking way I am having sex with you right now, after you just shot me!” I sputtered, my voice shaking with disbelief and fury.

His breath ghosted against my ear as he leaned closer. “Then shoot me back, dear. Your little gun is right there.”

This is… beyond comprehension. My fingers closed around the pistol. Gods, the urge… a white-hot, visceral need to just point it at that smug, infuriating face and… and finally make him understand…

I shoved him back, and tried to aim at his chest, my knuckles white against the grip. But my vision swam with rage and the lingering ache in my knee threw off my balance. The muzzle wavered, and the shot went wild. The pathetic thwack of the pellet against a tree mocked my impotent fury.

“Ah, my dearest Raphael,” Levi purred, his voice laced with a perverse delight. “What a truly remarkable moment. You finally discharged a firearm for the very first time in your life, and it was aimed squarely at me. What an… honor.”

I almost shot him! I wanted to shoot him! And he's acting like it's some kind of milestone in our messed-up relationship? He's unbelievable. Utterly unbelievable. I hate him so much. And yet… and yet that tiny, traitorous voice in the back of my head is whispering… he didn't flinch. Not even a little. He just stood there. Almost… expectant.

“You…” I stammered. “You were expecting it… weren’t you? You knew I would reach that breaking point, that my anger would boil over into something physical. You knew I would lash out.”

Levi inclined his head. “Indeed, my dear. The pattern is rather… well-established, wouldn’t you agree? When your considerable anger reaches a certain seismic level, your first instinct is often a physical response. For example, the memorable occasion when you rather enthusiastically fractured my ribs while I was, shall we say, indisposed. Or, indeed, this very moment. Another surge of righteous fury, and you attempted to discharge a firearm in my general direction. However,” he added, his gaze softening slightly, though the underlying amusement remained, “being the remarkably merciful husband that I am, I shall grant you the benefit of the doubt. At least you had the presence of mind to aim for the vest.”

Gods… I actually tried to hurt him… And he knew I would. He anticipated it. Fuck. What in the hell have I become? Minutes ago, when I slashed his arm, I could cling to the flimsy excuse of the game, the heightened emotions. But now… now I deliberately grabbed a weapon and aimed it at the man I… the man I love. Shit… I am a fucking monster. A goddamn piece of shit.

“Levi…” My voice cracked. “I am so incredibly sorry… I don’t even know what came over me. I just… I got so angry, so consumed by this twisted sense of wanting to retaliate, as if that could somehow justify anything… Shit, Levi, I am so, so sorry. I was being a complete and utter asshole…” My hand trembled violently as I reached out, then recoiled, not daring to touch him. What if that shot had actually hit him?

No.

Intent matters, doesn’t it? Intent has to count for something, even alongside the action itself. But the truth was undeniable: I deliberately tried to hurt him.

“Well…” Levi said slowly, his gaze still intense but now holding a strange mixture of something akin to… satisfaction? “At least now that little fantasy of yours can finally be put to rest. You realize you are not simply some perpetually helpless damsel, and that you are perfectly capable of resorting to violence when you deem it necessary. As for your apologies, Raphael… they are noted. But as you very well know, they do not resonate in my mind.”

“No, Levi. This isn’t right,” I insisted, my voice still trembling. “No one should resort to violence like that. What if that shot had actually hit you? What if it had hit your eye, blinded you? Gods, Levi… this is so wrong. I am so incredibly sorry. I could have seriously injured you. Fuck… I could have actually hurt you…”

“Hm, Raphael, my dear,” Levi said slowly, his intense gaze softening slightly as he reached out and took my hand in his. “Calm yourself. Nothing happened to me, did it?”

“But it could have happened, Levi,” I insisted, my voice tight with lingering fear and self-reproach. “Intent matters. I deliberately tried to hurt you.”

“My dear,” Levi countered, his grip on my hand firm. “You experienced a surge of anger and reacted in a way you now regret. Nothing came of it. From my rather detached perspective, I would deem this a rather… perfect learning opportunity. A contained experiment with a non-lethal outcome.”

“No… you’re not understanding, Levi,” I whispered, a fresh wave of horror washing over me. “This… this is unacceptable. This is… Oh, shit…”

If that pellet had struck him, especially with the intent behind it… wouldn’t this be… a case of domestic violence? My own husband… I just tried to… Gods.

There is absolutely no justification for this behavior. I hurt him. The first time… the memory flares – the shock of discovering his addiction, the white-hot rage that followed, my fists connecting with his flesh, the sickening crack of his ribs. And gods, the shameful truth… a twisted, vindictive satisfaction had bloomed within me then. Now it’s happened again. Do I feel relieved that the plastic bullet didn’t touch him? No. This is far, far worse. I held a weapon in my hand. And I… I succumbed completely to the fury, to the point where I actually pulled the trigger. This is… utterly unacceptable… This is crossing a line that no human being should ever even approach.

Hurling insults in the heat of the moment is one thing, a clumsy shove in anger another, but this… this is a different beast entirely. No. This is so fundamentally repulsive. He… he has every single right to want to be free of me. He... should. He actually, unequivocally should want to divorce me.

The instant the full realization of what a toxic, monstrous piece of shit I had become crashed down upon me, coupled with the undeniable truth that Levi had every conceivable right to divorce me, my stomach lurched with violent nausea. A bitter flood of saliva filled my mouth. I doubled over, retching onto the dirt floor. Me. Thinking, truly believing, that I was a good person, a morally upright individual… it was all a fucking delusion. One uncontrolled surge of anger, a blinding flash of fury, and I had pulled the trigger on the person I love. My entire body began to tremble, then convulse, wracked with waves of self-disgust. I couldn’t stop the violent heaving, the bile rising in my throat again and again.

“Raphael? Dear, what’s happening? Are you alright?” Levi’s voice cut through the haze of my self-loathing. His hand, warm and familiar, settled on my back, a gesture of comfort that felt like a searing brand on my very soul. Another violent spasm wracked my body, and I retched again, the contents of my stomach emptying onto the dirt. Tears streamed down my face, mingling with snot and drool.

Once the violent heaving finally subsided, leaving me weak and trembling, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, spitting the lingering bile onto the dirt.

“This… this isn’t right, Levi. This is crossing a line, a boundary that should never have been breached. No. You shouldn’t just accept this. No one should have to endure this kind of… of violence from someone who claims to love them. I… I need help, Levi. I desperately need therapy. For this… for this uncontrollable anger that bubbles up and… and makes me do these terrible things. Levi… you… you have every single right to want to end this. To divorce me. And honestly,” my voice wavered, thick with unshed tears, “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

Levi’s face crumpled with confusion, his bewilderment palpable. “Divorce you? No, Raphael. I would never even consider doing that.”

“But Levi…” I insisted, my voice heavy with the weight of my actions. “This is unacceptable. My pathetic apology doesn’t even begin to cover what I did. You… you should want to be rid of me. You should divorce me.”

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose, a raw wave of anger and hurt visibly simmering. “You are… so incredibly cruel, Raphael. How dare you even utter those words to me? After everything we’ve been through? After I still fought for you, still pursued you even after you abandoned me, not once, but twice? Divorce? Never. Don’t you ever suggest that again.”

“Yes, Levi, I know I’m being cruel,” I choked out, tears now streaming down my face, hot and heavy. “That’s precisely why you should… why you should divorce me. You deserve so much better than this.”

But Levi’s resolve remained unbroken. “Cease these self-deprecating words. Do not ever utter them to me again. And as for therapy,” his tone shifted, becoming more pragmatic, though a hint of the earlier hurt still lingered, “yes. We can arrange that.”

It's not about absolution. It's about the truth. The ugly, terrifying truth of what I did. And he's right. It is cruel of me to keep pushing him to leave, to keep making him the one who has to say it's over. He's hurting. I hurt him. And now I'm just… what? Trying to make it easier on myself? By having him end it? He sees right through me. He always does. Therapy… yes. Gods, yes. I need help. We need help.

“Make it double, Levi,” I insisted, my voice firm despite the lingering tremor. “We both desperately need help. We need couple’s therapy.”

Levi considered this, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. “Hm… Let me think… Yes, perhaps we might arrange that. But given my neurodivergence, finding someone suitable for both of us will require time and careful consideration. In the meantime, Raphael,” his gaze softened slightly, though a note of seriousness remained, “you should find a therapist for yourself.”

“Yes… I should. A twenty-five-year-old man with this much unbridled anger… No, I need to find a real, lasting way to dismantle this ticking time bomb inside me, to stop being this volatile cauldron of repressed rage. It’s long past time for me to grow the hell up.”

Levi considered me, a wry amusement playing on his lips despite the gravity of the situation. “Hm, I still find it rather unbelievable that my husband attempted to perforate me with an airsoft gun over a broken promise of alfresco intimacy. But,” he added, his eyes glinting mischievously, “on the other hand, I can neither confirm nor deny my potential role in finally stirring that particular cauldron of yours until it reached its boiling point.”

“Do not joke about this, Levi,” I said, my voice still shaky, the remnants of nausea lingering. “Please. Do not try to normalize this behavior with your… your dark humor.”

“That was not my intention,” Levi replied, his expression softening slightly. “Dark humor, for me at least, is not about condoning a harmful situation.” He then sighed dramatically, glancing around the woods. “Now. I believe we both desperately need to leave this rather… eventful clearing, wouldn’t you agree? Alas,” he added, a wry smile touching his lips, “it seems my hopes for any further indecency today have been rather thoroughly dashed.”

“Yes… let’s please go home, Levi. And I am truly sorry… for shooting you.”

Levi crouched down, his back to me. “Go on, Raphael,” he said simply. Was he actually going to give me a piggyback ride after everything that had just happened?

“W-what?”

“Do you particularly fancy limping back to the house, my dear? If that’s your preference, I can certainly accommodate you.”

Ah… gods, I loved this infuriating man so much. Carefully, I shifted my weight and snaked my arms around his shoulders. His hands immediately grasped my thighs, firm and supportive, and he lifted me with surprising ease. “Make sure you keep that knee as straight as possible,” he instructed.