“Please don’t make me leave.”

Raphael couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye. It was always easier to disconnect when he stared at nothing instead. He was grateful his hero costume included a helmet. Made it easier to hide how vacant his eyes were when he was being interviewed.

But he wasn’t wearing his helmet now; completely exposed to you.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be better, I promise,” he said. Apologize, beg for forgiveness, make himself look non-threatening. It’d always worked on his father whenever he got mad.

There was a time Raphael wanted to be an astronaut. His father hadn’t liked that—not when both of his parents were heroes and expected him to follow in their footsteps—and Raphael ended up with a broken nose. It healed in an hour, all his injuries did. His body could knit itself back together like it was nothing. Raphael could die and come back from that.

He had once. The feeling of his own life leaving him still haunted his dreams. He could hardly sleep anymore, not without you.

You were the only good thing in his life. He’d met you by chance, and when an easy friendship bloomed love soon followed. Raphael couldn’t have you though. The Crusaders—his hero agency—forbid dating. He knew they wanted to set him up with another hero, create generations of them. They’d set his parents up, claiming their marriage would be good for views, that a child would be even better.

His parents didn’t love each other. He still loved them. Raphael loved you, and he loved space and root beer floats and sour candies. He’d loved being a hero once. When people chanting his alias, Phoenix, meant something.

What did any of this mean if he lost you? He knew he’d been more reckless lately. It was better for ratings if he got a little roughed up his manager said. Why were you upset about it? You were safe. Raphael made sure The Crusaders didn’t know about you. As guilty as it made him feel, he liked having a secret. He wasn’t allowed them growing up.