“Oh no.”

Rami’s fingers tightened around the stem of the glass, heart heavy and throat stuck. “Yeah. I don’t know what happened—only that Atticus was the only casualty. His father wasn’t even in the shop that day. So, after a lifetime of fear and abuse, Atticus burned to death. His abuser was left to pick up the pieces, but he wasalive.”

“Shit, Rami,” Julian said, and leaned back into the couch, staring down at his wine.

Rami nodded, remembering the smell of the ash, the soot that fell from the sky. “I didn’t learn my lesson that time. As the years went by, I befriended several humans, actually. I never grew as close to them as I had to Atticus, but the result was the same. They all died. That’s the only future humans have: death. Eventually, I quit trying to befriend them, and moved around plenty so no one would notice I aged. Too many years passed, and here I am,” they said, waving their hand holding the wine glass around slowly, motioning to the bookshelves and television.

“You’re still a therapist—you’re still listening and connecting with humans, though.”

“Yes, I am,” Rami agreed. “After Atticus, I told myself that I wouldn’t be a bystander again. I still can’t interfere, but I can listen,and try to help. Try to empower them however I can. And one day, when they start noticing that I don’t age, I’ll refer them to another therapist, and move on.”

Alone,they added silently.

Julian’s lips were pursed, a bit of icing still dotting the corner of one.

Rami smiled and pointed at his own lip to indicate it to Julian, who made a show of licking the icing away to make them laugh.

“So how do you deal with it?” Julian asked.

Rami cocked their head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“How do you get past it? Move on? Deal with the stress?”

“Oh, I just… carry on, I suppose.”

Julian arched a brow at that. “So you’re repressing it. Doesn’t sound very healthy to me.”

Rami sputtered, turning toward him on the couch. “I do not repress; I dealt with my sorrows and mourning when the time called for it. Now I just do my best not to think about it.”

Julian’s expression didn’t change and Rami replayed their words in their head. “Okay, I see what you mean.”

“It’s gotta be stressful, right? Being up here, dealing with all these humans, hiding what you are. What’s your coping method?”

“Well. I guess we’re doing it right now,” Rami said, lifting a pastry. “Sweets, wine, and books. Hot baths.” Though it had been a while since they’d indulged in that particular luxury.

Julian stood, clapping his hands together and startling Rami in the process.

“Bring your treats. We’re running you one of those fancy baths.”

Rami’s cheeks flushed.

…From the wine, of course, definitely not the implication Julian wasmaking.

“What?” Rami asked, eloquent as ever.

“Come on, let’s go,” Julian said, and motioned for Rami to follow him.

Julian made it all the way to the kitchen to grab the bottle of wine and the box of remaining pastries before he stood by the stairs.

“Well? What are you just sitting there for?”

“I—you.” Rami paused, blinked. They met Julian’s gaze and held it for a moment as their thoughts raced. They were curious enough to see where this would go. “Okay, then,” they finally said.

Rami stood and followed Julian, abandoning their empty plate to the table and making a note to take care of it later.

They were only a little wary as they followed Julian up the stairs.

He headed straight for the bathroom, and sat the box and wine on the counter.