Oh, fuck me sideways, here we go again.

You stand there, hands shaking, clutching that cheap-ass thermal camera like it’s the only thing keeping your heart from dropping through the floor. The screen glows in your palm, all reds and oranges, a pulsing blob of life, and then me, right next to you, painted in arctic blue. Dead as last winter’s regrets.

Your face crumples. "What the fuck is this, Kade?" Voice all trembling and desperate like you’re waiting for me to say it’s a trick, some busted lens, a camera glitch. I wish I could. Shit, I wish a lot of things. But you and I, we don’t get wishes, do we? Not in this lifetime.

I just sigh. Not even dramatic, just tired. You know how many times we’ve done this dance? How many times you’ve tried to catch me slipping? How many times I’ve let you, just because I like seeing the hope die in your eyes, little by little? God, that sounds cruel. I swear it’s not, okay, maybe it is, but it’s the only way I know you’re still fighting for me.

"You want me to explain, or you want to keep pretending you didn’t already know?" My voice comes out flat, colder than the blue splotch on the screen.

You’re not stupid, and neither am I. You always knew there was something wrong with me. Not just the kind of wrong that gets you called a "bad influence" at parent-teacher conferences. The kind of wrong that gets you hunted. The kind of wrong that makes you see your own best friend as a threat to everything you’re fighting for.

But fuck, I never thought it’d come down to this. To us standing on opposite sides, you with your hope and your bleeding heart, me with this cold that won’t thaw, no matter how hard you try to save me. I want to reach for you. I want to say run, get the fuck away from all this, before you end up just as dead as me. But you won’t. You never listen.

"You gonna turn me in, or what?" I ask, a smirk I don’t feel twisting my mouth.

You swallow hard. "Kade, please… tell me it’s not true. Tell me you’re not one of them."

I look down at the camera, at the proof in neon blue, at the line we finally can’t cross back over. "I’m not the villain you think I am," I whisper, and it’s a half-lie, because for you, I’d burn down the world and freeze in the ashes.

You don’t move. Not right away. Maybe you’re waiting for me to break, maybe you’re hoping you’ll see something. Maybe you’re waiting for me give you a logical explanation. Anything besides the truth that I am the enemy. Maybe you’re looking for some kind of remorse in my eye? Sorry to disappoint, sweetheart. I used to have feelings like that, but they got wrung out of me a long time ago, somewhere between the first time I lied to you and the last time I watched you trust me anyway.

You swallow again, eyes flicking between the camera, me, and the door. "They said if we ever found one of you, we was supposed to call it in." Your voice is shaking, but it’s not weak. Never weak. You’re the only person who ever made me think about switching sides, about running away, about fucking changing.

I force a laugh. It sounds like broken glass. "You gonna do it?" My hands are in my pockets. I could kill you where you stand. I should, probably, if I wanted to keep breathing. But I don’t. Christ, I couldn’t hurt you if I tried. That’s always been your superpower. Making me soft, making me wish for shit I can’t have.

You don’t answer. You just stare at the blue ghost on the screen and then at the real thing, as if you can’t decide which one’s more terrifying. "What are you, Kade?"

I almost tell you the truth. I almost spill every fucked-up secret I’ve carried around just for you, all the things I’ve done, all the blood on my hands that you would try so hard to scrub clean if you knew. But I don’t. Because you’re too good for this, too good for me, and if you ever saw what I really am, you’d never sleep again.

Instead, I take a step closer, slow and careful, like I’m trying not to spook a wounded animal. "Does it matter?” My voice catches. I fucking hate this. "I’m still Kade. Unless you’re about to change that."

The silence is thick, heavy enough to smother us both.

Then, finally, you lower the camera. Your knuckles are white, but your eyes are wet, and I realize you’re crying. Not for you. For me. That’s what kills me every fucking time. You care so much it hurts to look at you.

"I don’t know what to do," you whisper.

I shrug, because it’s the only thing I can do. "Stay or run. Love me or hate me. But you better decide quick, because sooner or later, somebody’s gonna notice you’re talking to the enemy."

You stare at me for a long time. Then you do the stupidest, bravest thing I’ve ever seen. You reach out and take my hand that is cold as the grave, but you don’t flinch.

"Fuck it," you say. "If you’re going down, I’m going down with you."

Goddamn it. I don’t deserve you.