"Denis, we've been here for 2 days already. Are we ever going to talk?" Asked as they were both sitting in the living room of the two-bedroom, all-furnished apartment that Ozan rented for them and had not spoken a word in 2 days.
Denis, without turning her head and keeping her eyes on the beautiful city before her. "What do you want to talk about?" She asked in a soft, trembling voice, as the conversation she had avoided for years would finally happen.
He rises from the couch; his steps are heavy with the weight of the unspoken. Denis's face is a canvas of anticipation and apprehension. He strides towards the window, his movements taut with the moment's tension. Leaning against the glass, he crosses his arms, compelling her to meet his gaze.
"I guess I don't have a choice now," She said, annoyed. "Or do I?" She looked at him dead in his eyes.
"You do." He said, annoyed. "I have never pushed you to do anything you don't want to." He was soft. "But, I know something is happening. Your heart is fast, and your feelings are worse than a hurricane-"
"What are you about it?" She said, trying to continue to avoid the conversation.
"I am not going to do anything." His voice was gentle. "Because if you don't want to talk to or explain things to me, there is no point in trying to calm you down." He sounded tired. Tired of the fact that he has never had a chance to talk to her because the very few times they have come across one another are mere seconds, and she has never indicated that she wants to speak nor explain things to him; and now that he does has that chance, she is not allowing it.
"Just know there has to be a moment that you will talk to me. We are here to follow your husband." He said with a broken heart, and she heard those words the way they meant to come out, not the way he meant them to come out., and she felt that pain as well. "So, you will have to talk to me one way or another." He explains. "Now, if you don't ever want to explain things to me, that is fine. I've lived in the dark for 16 years; what's the difference between a couple hundred more." He shrugged.
She just stared at him, not saying anything, not wanting to listen, not allowing her emotions to beat her. Her fear was bigger than anything else, and all she knew was that if Ozan found out the truth, he might want to go after Hulk, and Hulk might kill him. She swallowed and took a soft, deep breath to calm herself.
"But, whenever you are ready to tell me what happened, my room is the one on the left." He pointed at the small hallway towards the bedrooms. "But, know one thing, when you come to me, to talk to me, to explain things to me, please don't separate yourself as how you are right now." She looked at him again.
The real Denis, who is sitting on the edge of her bed, elbows on her knees, wiping her tears as she listened to everything he said, lifted her head and looked at the wall in surprise, making the copy look at Ozan in surprise and making him smirk gently.
She has gotten so good at not allowing Hulk or anyone to know when she's not there that she thought Ozan wouldn't notice. "I know, I am not talking to the real you; I'm talking to the copy." He smiled, and looked at the bedroom door that is in front of his, and smiled, knowing that the real Denis was in there.
"I may not have been with you for the past 16 years, but I can still tell the difference." He said with a soft smile. "Though you have gotten very good at controlling your breathing, heartbeat, even how your blood flows in your veins." He explains, "I'm so proud of how you can make everything
flow simultaneously, and no one can hear two of everything anymore." He said. "Though, you never had to do that with me. I wonder why?" His voice was sad.
No, you don't. She thought as she wiped her tears. I did it to survive, and I will continue to do it to survive. She continued to wipe her tears.
