I have been alive for a very long time, and I have met many different kinds of people, but I can honestly say that I have never met anyone who disconcerts me in quite the same way that Taraana does. I am upset by how easily he sweeps away my defenses and leaves me helpless against his direct gaze. I exert a lot of effort to be mysterious, and yet I am transparent to him. It truly annoys me.

I am fully prepared for his anger, you know. I expect him to rage at me. I am prepared to battle that hurricane. When I knock on his door, he doesn’t respond, so I open it. The room is shrouded in shadow; the only light in the room comes from a window on the far wall looking over the back of the house. Taraana is sitting by the window, staring out at the red-streaked sky. He doesn’t turn when I open the door, and he doesn’t respond when I call out to him.

So, here I am, standing like an elephant in heels in the middle of the room, waiting for the ax to fall. He won’t look at me and he won’t talk to me and I have no idea what to do. See, this is why relationships are a bad idea for me.

I take a step in his direction, and he gets up so suddenly that I jump back. He turns to face me, and all the words I have prepared to appease him disappear. He looks at me; his eyes travel my face and my body as if searching for some kind of wound. His hands clench at his sides. He lets out a ragged breath, then wipes his eyes with a fist.

I thought he would be angry, but the emotion I sense from him is something more potent, something darker, something I don’t have the words for.

“Taraana—”

“I am leaving,” he says, cutting me off.

I stare at him, uncomprehending for a second. “Where are you going?”

“It’s better if you don’t know.” He is entirely too calm. His voice isn’t shaking, and apart from the earlier show of emotion, his face is composed. It is as though I don’t know him.

I swallow. All right, this is serious. “Why are you leaving?”

“The answer is obvious, isn’t it?” he replies, turning his back to me. Again.

“No, it really isn’t. Look at me.”

“I don’t want to.”

Oh. Ouch.

“I survived well enough without you protecting me, you know.” He should maybe just hit me. That would hurt less.

“Look.” I step closer to him. After thinking about it, I place a hand carefully on his arm. If he flinches, I may never recover. He stiffens but doesn’t otherwise react. All right. “I am not going to apologize for what I did today.”