Tennal didn’t give him any chance to regret it. His returning kiss was fierce, his mouth against Surit’s hot and urgent. It crumbled the walls of Surit’s ordered thoughts. He had been lying to himself. He had never been indifferent—he wanted this, he wanted Tennal, and there was no space for anything in his head but the hot crackle of energy in Tennal’s every movement. Surit gripped Tennal’s biceps, urging him closer. Tennal was kissing him, one hand on Surit’s neck, and Surit’s control was starting to fall apart—

They broke away from each other.

“This is the first time I’ve ever said this,” Tennal said, while Surit tried to gather his reeling thoughts, “but we should, maybe, stop.”

Surit couldn’t answer. His tongue was clumsy in his mouth. He swallowed.

“Don’t take that as me not being into this,” Tennal added, apparently both in full possession of his faculties and anxious that Surit shouldn’t get the wrong idea. Whatever the wrong idea was, Surit was at least three steps behind and still adrift. “Would I: absolutely. Even more than before. Would I, in a maintenance corridor mid-break-in—actually yes, that would be hilarious, but—”

Surit choked with something that wasn’t laughter. The aftermath of the kiss still rang in his body. This was an absolute disaster. “No.”

“—not my point.” Tennal touched his mouth, precisely and deftly, then looked at his fingers as if they were some sort of aide-mémoire. He made an obvious effort to slow himself down. “Surit, I’m leaving.” It fell into a silence that suddenly sounded hollower than before. “The great escape. If I manage it, then I’m never coming back to any planet you can legally travel to. And if I don’t escape, they’ll separate us anyway.”

Surit took a slow breath. He could hear the drip of a pipe somewhere far up in the tunnel. He said nothing.

“I have had many bad ideas in my time,” Tennal said lightly. “Not running would be cataclysmic. Oma will lose this fight to the other divisions eventually, and if the regulators get us back, they’ll make us sync for real or worse. And even with a few days to go before I run for it … I don’t think you’d do short-term, would you? I don’t think you’re the type.”

Everything in Surit wanted to say yes, to take what was offered, cup his hands under a firework and try to catch the falling embers. But he knew that wasn’t how he was. He knew once he latched on to someone, he would try to hold on to them to the end of time, and that would be messy. His chest hurt. Tennal deserved honesty. Surit shook his head. “I don’t work like that.”