The next morning, Nine was sitting on the edge of the bed again, staring at the vase I had carelessly knocked over the night before. It lay there on the floor, petals scattered, water pooling across the dark wood.
I stood in the doorway, watching him. I didn't interrupt his silence this time. There was something almost peaceful in the way he was studying the mess, as if it had finally clicked that he didn't need to fix it. Not everything had to be perfect.
For a moment, the old Nine—the obedient, primed creature—flickered in his eyes. But it was fleeting. It vanished in the same instant his gaze turned to me.
"I'm not going to fix it, Alpha," he said softly, almost as if testing the words.
I smiled. "Good."
Nine's fingers curled a little tighter around the blanket. The tiny motion caught my attention.
"You're doing well, Nine," I said, crossing the room to him. "It's okay to let go. The mess isn't your fault. It's part of the world, not something you need to clean up all the time."
He nodded, then shifted on the bed, staring down at his hands. I watched him, waiting, giving him the space to speak—if he chose to. He didn't rush. He wasn't trained to. In this small moment, it was his choice.
"I've never been allowed to just exist," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know if I know how."
I sat beside him. My knee brushed his, and for a moment, he stiffened. But when I didn't pull away, he slowly, cautiously relaxed.
"Let's start with something small," I said. "Think of it like... a step. No pressure. If you want to exist, I'll be right here. You don't have to do anything."
"I just want to know... how to be," he replied. "How do I do that?"
I thought about it for a moment, then reached out and ran my fingers through his hair—feeling the soft texture of it, the way it had grown longer, unrestrained, just like him.
"You do it by not thinking. Not overthinking," I said. "You just live. You feel what's around you. Look at the broken vase. Listen to your heart. Feel the air on your skin. Focus on what makes you feel... you."
He tilted his head toward me, his breath quickening just slightly. I could feel the tension in him. Old habits clung like cobwebs.
I smiled softly. "How does it feel to not fix the vase?"
"I... don't feel bad," he admitted, almost like he was surprised by it. "It's strange. But it doesn't feel wrong."
"That's progress," I said, lifting his chin gently so he could meet my gaze. "You're doing it right."
He nodded, his eyes shining with something I hadn't seen before: hope. Maybe even peace.
"Can we do it more?" he asked, his voice so quiet it could've been a breeze.
I laughed softly, reaching out to pull him closer, wrapping my arm around his shoulders. "Of course we can. Every day, if you want."
There was a pause, and then, as if compelled by some instinct, Nine kissed my cheek. It wasn't a deep, passionate kiss—just a simple touch of his lips, soft and tentative, but it held a weight that made my chest ache in the best way.
His face flushed slightly, but he didn't pull away, and neither did I.
"Thank you, Alpha," he murmured.
"Don't thank me for this," I said, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. "You're the one doing it. You're learning to breathe without them telling you how."
He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against mine, and for a long while, neither of us spoke. We didn't need to. The quiet was ours, a space we had carved out together, free from the rules and conditioning that had once bound him.
It was a new beginning for both of us.
After a long pause, Nine shifted slightly, looking down at the messy blanket and the scattered petals on the floor.
"I want to make more messes," he said, almost proudly. "I want to make a lot of them."
I laughed, the sound light and free.
"Well, if you're going to make a mess, you'd better start with something good," I said with a teasing grin. "What do you say we turn this place upside down?"
He grinned in return, the most genuine smile I'd seen from him yet. "We can do that. I want to."
We spent the next hour doing just that—messing things up on purpose, laughing, tossing pillows into corners, spilling water, tearing up a piece of paper just to watch it drift. I had never thought I'd find peace in destruction, but there was something about it in that moment. Something about watching Nine slowly, carefully, take the reins of his own life.
"I think I'm starting to understand," he said, watching the water splatter across the floor.
"Good," I replied, watching him with admiration. "Take your time. There's no rush. You can make whatever kind of mess you want. Just don't forget to enjoy it."
He looked up at me with a smile that made my heart flip in my chest. "I'm going to enjoy every single one."