Scars of Silence(MxM) のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

The sun rose, pale and unforgiving. I hadn’t slept. I’d spent the night locked in a silent, internal war, my body a battlefield for his pain and my refusal. When the gray light finally crept into the room, the worst of the tidal waves from the bond had receded, leaving behind a deep, grinding exhaustion and a residue of shared agony.I dragged myself into the shower, letting the water scald my skin. The physical pain was a welcome distraction from the emotional wreckage. I dressed mechanically, choosing another perfectly tailored suit, another armor.In the mirror, the man staring back had shadows under his eyes that no amount of cold compresses could hide. But his gaze was steady. Cold. The resolve from the night before had hardened into something brittle and sharp. I wouldn’t break. Not for him.Gabriel was waiting in the hotel lobby, looking fresh and alert. He took one look at me and raised an eyebrow. “Rough night?”“Fine,” I said shortly, walking past him toward the waiting car.

We stayed like that for a long time. Him leaning against me, his forehead a warm, heavy weight on my shoulder. His breathing evened out, the frantic rise and fall of his chest slowing to something deep and steady. The wild, chaotic storm of his scent settled into a quieter, more familiar rhythm—ocean after a tempest, snow settling on quiet pines.The bond hummed between us, a satisfied, low-frequency vibration that felt like coming home after a long, cold journey. The hollow ache that had been my constant companion for three years was gone. In its place was a terrifying, profound peace.I didn’t move. I was afraid to break the spell. Afraid that if I moved, the anger, the hurt, the memory of locked doors and cold pronouncements would come crashing back. Here, in the dark, surrounded by the wreckage he’d made of his own home, with his tears soaking into my shirt, it was easy to forget. Easy to just… be.But reality was a persistent thing. It seeped in through the cracks in the silence.

The silence after I sent the text was heavy. A thick, suffocating quiet that seemed to swallow the whole room. I stared at the phone lying on the bed, willing it to buzz, to light up with a reply. Anger? Pleading? Something.Nothing.The bond, that quiet hum of connection that had felt so peaceful just hours ago, was now a dull, persistent ache. Not the sharp, tearing pain of before, but a deep, hollow throbbing. A ghost limb, still feeling the phantom touch.Good, I told myself, pacing the room. This is good. Clean. A clean break.It didn’t feel clean. It felt like I’d performed surgery on myself without anesthesia.I forced myself through the motions. I ordered dinner I didn’t eat. I tried to read a report on fishery disputes. The words swam on the page. All I could see was his face in the dim morning light. The wonder in his eyes when he saw I was still there. The weary honesty when he said he’d been afraid of my strength.Stop it.I went to bed early, hoping sleep would reset ever

The next day, the charade began.I walked into the conference room, my posture relaxed, my face a polite mask. Lorenzo was already at the head of the table, reviewing a document. He didn’t glance up as I entered. I took my seat beside Gabriel without a word.“Morning,” Gabriel said, his tone light. “Sleep well?”“Well enough,” I replied, opening my folder. My voice was calm, neutral. Inside, my nerves were stretched wire-tight.Lorenzo began the meeting. His voice was all business, cool and authoritative. His gaze swept the room, pausing on each person just long enough to acknowledge them. When his eyes passed over me, there was nothing. No flicker of recognition. No hidden warmth. It was as if I were a stranger. A piece of the furniture.It was exactly what we’d agreed to. It was what we needed to do.So why did it feel like a thousand tiny needles pricking my skin?The discussion today was about intelligence sharing protocols. A dry, technical subject, perfect for maintaining distan

The twilight deepened, painting the sky in bruised purples and deep blues. The gulls had quieted. The distant sounds of the city were a soft hum. In our little grove, the world shrank to the two of us and the vast, darkening sea.The silence wasn't awkward. It was heavy, thick with everything we couldn't say. But it was a comfortable heaviness. The bond, usually a source of ache or tension, hummed with a quiet, steady contentment. It was like a muscle, painfully clenched for years, finally allowed to relax.He was the one who broke the quiet. His voice was low, gravelly from disuse or emotion. "The data sets were thorough. Russo was impressed."A safe topic. Professional. A thread to hold onto in the freefall of this meeting."I aim to be thorough," I replied, my eyes on the last sliver of sun disappearing below the horizon. "Even when the request is for visual context of a non-existent anomaly."A faint, dry chuckle escaped him. The sound was so rare, so unexpected, it sent a shiver