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Part 14: The Name You Gave Me
The knock came in the middle of the day.
Firm. Repeated.
Not the cautious tap of a neighbor. Not the careless thump of a delivery.
Aaron froze.
Eli was in the kitchen, barefoot, shirt half-buttoned, humming softly as he poured tea into two matching cups. His eyes lifted at the sound.
He didn't ask who it was.
He didn't need to.
Aaron was already walking toward the door, every muscle taut.
He opened it.
And Tanya stood there.
---
She looked different.
Older, in a way. Exhausted. Eyes sharp, but sunken. She had the look of someone who'd waited too long for someone to pick up a phone that never rang.
When she saw Aaron, she blinked.
Then her eyes shifted—
To Eli.
Behind him. Standing still. Holding a teacup in both hands like it was keeping him upright.
"Eli," she said, breathless. "You're still here."
He didn't respond.
She took a step forward.
"You didn't answer my messages. What the hell is going on? Mia said you moved in just until you two figured things out. That was months ago."
Still silence.
Tanya's voice cracked. "What did he do to you?"
Aaron's jaw clenched.
But Eli spoke first.
Softly.
Calmly.
"He didn't do anything to me."
Tanya laughed — brittle, disbelieving. "You don't even sound like yourself."
"I don't remember what I used to sound like," Eli said.
Tanya stared at him, searching his face for some trace of the boy who used to sit in her apartment, giggling about Mia's cooking disasters, whispering secrets with wine-stained lips.
But he was gone.
This new version of Eli was quieter. Lighter. Fainter, like a photograph left in sunlight too long.
And Aaron was standing just behind him, close enough to catch him if he slipped.
Close enough to never let go.
---
Tanya stepped forward again. "You need to come with me. Just for an hour. A coffee. Just… get some air."
Eli tilted his head.
Then placed the cup down.
And walked slowly toward her.
For a second — just one — Aaron's body tensed. Ready to act. To stop.
But Eli didn't reach for Tanya.
He stood between them.
Turned around.
And walked back to Aaron.
He pressed himself to the man's chest.
And looked over his shoulder at Tanya.
"I'm home," he said.
And that was it.
---
Tanya left without a word.
She didn't cry.
She didn't scream.
She simply left — as if she had just watched someone be buried and didn't yet know how to mourn.
---
That night, Aaron lit candles.
Eli sat at his feet.
Naked but for a silk band around his throat. A gift from Aaron — not a collar, not quite, but something that whispered, you are mine in every flicker of light.
"Was I cruel?" Eli asked.
Aaron didn't answer right away.
Then: "You told the truth."
Eli rested his head on Aaron's thigh, eyes fluttering closed.
"I don't remember my last name."
Aaron stroked his hair. "Then let me give you a new one."
Eli smiled faintly.
"Yours?"
"No," Aaron said, leaning down to kiss his temple. "Mine."
---
After Tanya left, the house was still.
Eli sat beside Aaron on the couch, legs folded under him, sipping warm tea. He was quiet — not withdrawn, just… thoughtful. The tension of the visit hadn't broken anything. But it had shifted something.
Aaron watched him for a while.
Then, without a word, he stood, walked into the hallway, and grabbed his phone.
Eli blinked. "What are you doing?"
Aaron didn't answer immediately.
He walked out onto the porch.
And called Tanya.
The phone rang twice before she picked up.
She sounded tired. Defensive. "What?"
Aaron took a breath.
"I'm not holding him prisoner."
Tanya was silent.
"He's not brainwashed. He's not trapped. I didn't ruin him. If anything…" He glanced through the window, where Eli was now staring out after him. "He chose all this. We both did."
Tanya scoffed. "He's not the same."
"No," Aaron said. "He's not. But neither am I."
A pause.
"I'm not gonna stop you from checking on him," he added. "You want to call? Text? Ask how he's doing? Go ahead. If he wants to answer, he will. I'm not keeping him from the world."
"…Why are you calling me, then?"
Aaron looked down.
"Because I didn't like the way he flinched when he saw you cry."
Silence.
Then: "You used to be such an asshole, Aaron."
"Still am," he muttered.
She gave a tired little laugh. "He really does like you, huh?"
"I don't know what he calls it," Aaron said. "But I'd burn the fucking world to keep it."
Back inside, Aaron set the phone down.
Eli stood in the doorway.
"You didn't have to do that."
Aaron shrugged. "I wanted to. She was right to worry."
Eli stepped forward, pressed a hand to Aaron's chest.
"I'm not worried," he said quietly. "Not anymore."
Aaron touched his cheek, gentle now — not claiming, not trapping.
Just holding.
And for once, Eli leaned in without giving anything up.
He just was.
And Aaron, for once, didn't try to own it.
[To Be Continued — In Part 15: A quiet balance settles. Eli begins venturing out again. The roleplay still lingers — the dynamic still burns — but it's no longer a cage. Now, it's a ritual. A shared hunger. And something close to love.]