Chapter 40: The Things We Don’t Say

Riven didn’t try to get out of bed again that day.

That alone told Kael more than anything else.

He noticed it the moment he walked in. Riven was awake, propped slightly against the pillows, one arm resting across his bandaged side. There was tension in his posture, the kind that came from holding still when every instinct told him not to.

But he stayed.

For once, he stayed.

“You’ve been quiet,” Kael said, stepping inside.

Riven didn’t look at him immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the window, where the fading light stretched across the stone wall.

“Thinking,” he replied.

“That’s new.”

A faint breath of amusement escaped him. “Careful. I might take that personally.”

Kael moved closer, pulling the chair into its usual place beside the bed. “You’d have to care first.”

Riven finally looked at him.

There was something different in his expression again. Not guarded exactly. Not open either. Something in between.

“That’s the problem,” he said quietly. “I do.”

The words settled heavily between them.

Kael didn’t respond right away.

Because he understood what that meant.

Because he felt it too.

Instead, he leaned back slightly, studying him. “That explains the mood.”

Riven huffed softly. “You make everything sound simpler than it is.”

“Someone has to.”

“It’s not simple,” Riven said, his voice tightening just a little. “None of this is.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“Then stop acting like it.”

Kael tilted his head slightly. “You want me to make it complicated instead?”

“I want you to understand.”

“Then help me.”

Riven’s gaze dropped for a moment, his fingers shifting slightly against the fabric of the sheets.

“That’s not easy,” he admitted.

“Most things worth understanding aren’t.”

Riven let out a slow breath, like he was weighing something again. That had become a pattern lately. Pauses. Hesitations. Words held back at the last second.

Kael was starting to recognize it.

“You said something earlier,” Riven said after a moment.

“I’ve said a lot of things.”

“You said you’d stand in my way.”

“I meant it.”

“I know.”

Riven’s eyes lifted again, steady this time. “Why?”

Kael didn’t look away. “Because you won’t stop yourself.”

“That’s not your responsibility.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“Then why take it on?”

Kael leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms against his knees.

“Because I don’t like watching you bleed out on a battlefield,” he said simply.

“That happens to a lot of people.”

“I’m not talking about a lot of people.”

Riven went still.

Again, that moment. That shift.

“You keep doing that,” he said quietly.

“Doing what?”

“Making it sound like I matter more than I should.”

Kael frowned slightly. “According to who?”

Riven didn’t answer.

Because there wasn’t a real answer.

“Exactly,” Kael said.

Riven looked away again, his jaw tightening faintly.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered.

“Then explain it.”

Riven shook his head. “You keep asking that like I have a clean answer ready.”

“I’ll take a messy one.”

“That’s all I’ve got.”

“Then start there.”

Another pause.

Longer this time.

Riven shifted slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at his injury. Kael noticed immediately, but didn’t interrupt. Not this time.

“You said I treat my life like it’s disposable,” Riven said slowly.

“Yes.”

“I don’t.”

Kael raised an eyebrow slightly but didn’t speak.

“I just don’t hold onto it the way you do,” Riven continued.

“That sounds like the same thing.”

“It’s not.”

“Then explain the difference.”

Riven exhaled sharply. “You fight to survive. To protect. To keep things intact.”

“And you don’t?”

“I fight to finish things.”

Kael’s expression sharpened slightly. “At any cost?”

Riven met his gaze. “Yes.”

“That includes yourself.”

“If necessary.”

There it was.

Clear.

Unfiltered.

Kael leaned back slightly, absorbing that.

“That’s not strength,” he said after a moment.

Riven’s expression didn’t change. “It works.”

“Until it doesn’t.”

“That’s a risk I accept.”

Kael studied him carefully. “Why?”

Riven didn’t answer immediately.

But this time, he didn’t look away either.

“Because stopping halfway gets people killed,” he said finally.

Kael’s brow furrowed. “And you think pushing yourself past the limit won’t?”

“It hasn’t yet.”

“It almost did.”

Silence.

Riven’s gaze flickered, just for a second.

“That was different,” he said.

“No,” Kael replied. “It wasn’t.”

Riven exhaled slowly, tension building again.

“You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

“No.”

“Even if I tell you to?”

“Yes.”

Riven shook his head faintly. “You’re exhausting.”

“I’ve heard that.”

A brief pause.

Then, quieter—

“You stayed anyway.”

Kael didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Riven watched him for a long moment.

“Why?” he asked again, but this time it sounded different.

Less defensive.

More… uncertain.

Kael leaned forward slightly.

“Because I don’t want to walk away from you,” he said.

Riven’s breath caught faintly.

It was small.

Barely noticeable.

But Kael saw it.

“That’s not a good reason,” Riven said, though his voice lacked strength.

“It’s enough for me.”

“It shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?”

Riven didn’t answer right away.

Because the truth was sitting right there, and neither of them was quite ready to say it out loud.

Instead, he looked away again, his fingers tightening slightly against the sheets.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” he said quietly.

Kael tilted his head. “Or easier than you’re used to.”

That hit something.

Riven’s eyes snapped back to his, sharper now.

“You think this is easy?”

“No,” Kael said calmly. “I think you’re used to things being worse.”

Riven held his gaze.

For a long moment, neither of them moved.

Then, slowly, some of the tension drained out of his expression.

“…Maybe,” he admitted.

It was quiet.

Almost reluctant.

But it was the closest thing to honesty Kael had gotten so far.

“I can work with that,” Kael said.

Riven let out a faint breath, something softer this time.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said.

“No.”

“That’s going to cause problems.”

“Probably.”

“And you’re still staying.”

“Yes.”

Riven looked at him, really looked this time.

Not guarded.

Not distant.

Just… present.

Then, after a long pause, he said—

“Then stay.”

Kael didn’t respond immediately.

Because he didn’t need to.

They both already knew the answer.

And for once, neither of them tried to pretend it didn’t mean something more.