I Am (Not) Your Hero

14

Despite his halfhearted apology, Misael did not release her. He did however, stop punishing her. In fact, he was scarcely around, when possible. She watched his exploits from the tv in the living room.

He'd been avoiding her for a week. His presence lingering but scarce. She wouldn't have minded so much had he not been her only human contact. If she could call him that.

After a week of absence he walked in, hesitating at the sight of her.

She stood, unsteady, her eyes on his lavender ones. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I hadn't expected you to be up. It's early. Late."

His eyes darted the clock in the stove. 3am. He thought for sure she would've succumbed to sleep by now.

"I was waiting for you...baby."

His brows furrowed. He turned his back, heading into the kitchen. She watched the muscles in his back tick. "Oh? For what?"

He opened the cabinets. Plenty of food and water.

Starlette shrugged. Her eyes focused on the way he was moving. He wasn't in the best mood.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" She asked bluntly.

"I haven't," he snapped, slamming the cab Kent's splintering the wood. She flinched back.

"I just sit here. All day. All night. I can't leave. There's no phone, no friends no interaction except the TV," she edged closer. "Humans can't live like this, Misael."

He narrowed his eyes, his head falling. "So let you go?"

She shifted. "Would it be so bad? You know I could never hurt you. Not physically. I couldn't make a dent in your reputation. You've clearly gotten tired of me—"

"That's not true," he murmured.

Starlette looked away. "Then what?"

She closed her eyes turning away from him. This whole conversation was stupid. It sounded like she was begging him for his attention but it wasn't like that. She was desperate. Not for him—never for him. Just got human interaction. She had never been a social person, but this? This was torture.

"I don't want to feel that," he murmured.

"What?"

He whipped around, his chest heaving, his large arms crossed, nodding to her impatiently. "That. That face on your face. That sickening feeling you keep forcing on me. I don't want it."

She frowned deeply. "Forcing? What are you talking about?"

"It's so strong I can't feel anything else," he spat. "Just that. Just you."

Starlette stood bewildered. "What are you talking about."

"Every time I see you, you're afraid."

She stared at him blankly for a moment before bursting out into gut wrenching laughter, doubling over.

He stared at her evenly, pursing his lips. His muscles were so articulated, they twitched so visibly. She wiped her eyes, her laughter fizzling out.

"So is everyone else," she said simply.

"That's not true," he murmured without much conviction.

"Of course it is," she stood, leaning against the door. His eyes darted down to her leg, the one he'd mangled. He looked away. "Why do you think wars stop at you name. Armies turn back when they mention you. Why do you think people do what you say, so readily?"

"Stop," he whispers. She advanced slowly with a hobble.

"Why criminals give themself up to you. Why they stopped coming to your city?"

"I said fucking stop!" He shouted, his eyes glowing, as he smacked her down to the ground with a swift and brutal backhand.

She smiled softly. He blinked away the heat. He stared at her crumpled from. She held her face.

"I'm sorry I...had a little too much to drink," he said softly.

She shook her head. "Oh no, Misael. That's not the alcohol. That's just the real you, coming out. That's how it works you know?"

His eyes widened. She sat up, her back against the counter, her eyes unseeing, as she looked straight ahead.

"You know, I asked you once why your violence was any different than anyone else's." She trailed, before pursing her lips and heaving a sigh. "What you're looking for is something I can never be. Especially not now."

He sat next to her, and even sitting he dwarfed her.

He glanced at her. "Do you believe in it? The connection we have?"

She didn't bother shaking her head no. Once Misael crossed a line, he stayed there. He was comfortable hitting her now, especially slaps. Breaking bones too. But he had stopped before he assaulted her, a line he had not crossed.

For now.

"It's real. The strongest emotions I feel, Starlette are yours. When I met you, your feelings of disdain were so strong I thought they were mine."

She quirked her brow but said nothing in response. He went quiet. She felt herself heat up, a sudden longing to be in his arms, overwhelming her.

He looked at her, cupping her cheek, his hand cool. "I am sorry, Starlette. Really."

Her eyes fell to his lips, as she leaned forward. And he didn't stop her, their lips colliding, fireworks bursting in the back her mind, her ears warning. Her hands came up, wrapping around his neck.

Smite's hand rested on the small of her back, pulling her in. But he didn't let go any further. He pulled back, tucking her curl behind her ear, his eyes sweeping her face.

He held her close in his arms, and she listened to his heart beat in his chest, a little faster than normal.
She knew from experience she could not drive the knife on the counter into it, so she just held on tighter.