Chương 15: Speciation (End of Arc 2)

Martin watches Shrike nestle in the multi-colored pile of blankets. Judging by her eyes, she's in a great mood. She has a subtle tell for when she's happy: her eyes are largely still, her pupils aren't dilating and contracting nearly as much as they usually do, and she isn't studying every facet of the world around her. She simply is, a person content with where she rests, relaxed and comfortable. She stokes the fire for a moment, before resting a little deeper into the blankets. He can't let this keep eating him.

It's started to affect his work, even, as his mind is occupied more by his own longing than by the monsters they're tracking. It's ridiculous, like he's a heartsick teenager. He has to say something now. The timing is perfect, and there's not going to be a better opportunity. Shrike looks up at him before he can say anything, placidly smiling with wide eyes, and matter-of-factly releases a single short sentence.

"Martin, I love you." Shrike carefully studies his reaction to her statement. She intentionally kept it vague in its simplicity, bordering between romantic and platonic to give him room to maneuver. He loathes being cornered, a byproduct of his work, preferring to have as many options as possible. After carefully considering this approach and reaching a consensus with her various thought processes, this was determined to be the ideal method. She waits patiently for his reaction.

He has frozen in place, likely examining all of his paths forward like a mountain climber seeking his next handhold. She lets her interrogative process take over. Was this too direct? Unlikely, he has long-since adapted to her bluntness. Was this still too much to corner him with? Again, unlikely. Was he considering the most polite way to reject her confession? It seems probable, given the time spent lost in thought. So it is, she thinks.

This was always a potential outcome, and having this out in the open is strictly superior given the alternative of keeping a swelling secret contained within. She awaits his answer with a smile. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Just stay calm, Martin thinks. You're not having a heart attack. You're just in shock. Shrike is sitting there, patiently waiting for his reply. Ironically, he's the one who needs more data this time.

"Shrike, there are two definitions of love." The glow in her eyes briefly flickers, a sign she's changing which of her half-dozen mental pathways she's using.

"I am aware of this. I have read more romance novels in the last six months than I feel comfortable admitting to. This is a common trope in them. I should clarify I feel both types of love for you, to the degree I understand them. I have no one, real or envisioned, I would enjoy having around permanently more than you. That is enough to satisfy my definition of romantic love. Please inform me if I am missing anything."

"No... I think you got it." Martin's heart beats hard enough to be painful, watching her genuinely express herself with such ease. That's that, then. So much for his own confession he had spent days workshopping... She even went straight for the L-word. His words are axiomatic, so the definition of 'love' is settled for now. It's a relief, Shrike thinks, to have someone like him. Reliable, in a world that shifts around her. Even while she herself is changing, there's Martin to remind her of who she is.

She watches his mouth twitch slightly as it opens.

"I... uhh..."

"Do not feel compelled to respond against your own feelings. I will not be insulted nor offended, I merely wished to express my own emotions." He quickly gets up from the couch, sitting on the floor next to her.

"No, I, uhh... It's just surprising. I was going to say the same thing. I love you too, Shrike." That was unexpected. She tries to rationalize it, tearing apart the sentence into every component, before letting her thoughts fade. Maybe, she thinks, not everything needs to be analyzed in full. She's happy. He's happy. Does there need to be more to it than that? She tentatively scooches herself over to him, and rests her head on his shoulder.

Martin cautiously sinks his hand into her hair, gently parting it between his outstretched fingers. Shrike's eyes flutter slightly, as she fends off sleep. She doesn't want to miss a second of this feeling. Martin tries to steady his racing heart. She adapted to this so quickly, and jumped right in without any hesitation. She's already making contact with him only seconds after the confession. Soon, though, his blood starts to calm, replaced by quiet solace and care for the woman he's spent so long with.

She's warm, in a way that radiates out from her like the fire that crackles in front of them. Not uncomfortably hot, though. It's just right to keep out the December chill. It's just like her, he thinks. Ever practical.