Sasha fiddled with the controls on the console of the Brain Tumbler. It had been acting up, and Sasha had been attempting to fix it for the past five hours. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling heavily. His other hand strayed to his coat pocket, and he distractedly pulled out a cigarette. He let it hang in the air in front of his mouth as he lit it with a tiny zap of pyrokinesis. He inhaled heavily, and his frustration slowly began to fade.
"I really wish you wouldn't do that, darling," a voice called from across the room. Sasha sighed.
"Hello Milla," he said, not turning to face her. He really didn't want to see the disappointed look his partner always wore when she chastised him about his smoking habit. He could hear her small sigh. He knew how this would go. It had gone the same way every day for the past seven years of their partnership. She would ask him to quit, he would deflect, she would reiterate how bad it was for him, he would say that he's fine, and she would sigh and walk away dejectedly.
"Darling, do you even fully grasp how terrible this addiction of yours is? You'll likely get lung cancer and die before you're sixty. Is that really the price you're prepared to pay?"
Sasha sighed and rubbed his temple. He hated this recurring conversation.
"I'm fine, Milla. You don't need to worry about me," he said, finally turning to face her. He gave her the most comforting look he could, hoping she would drop the subject.
"But I do have to worry about you, Sasha. You're my partner, my best friend, meu amor. How can you expect me to stand idly by while you slowly kill yourself? It's my job to keep you safe, darling."
"Milla, you don't need to protect me! I'm not one of your children!" Sasha said, realising too late what he had unintentionally implied. His eyes widened and he awkwardly stammered an apology. Milla looked down, and Sasha started to turn back to the console, assuming that the conversation had ended due to his ill-placed remark.
"Do you have any idea what your death would do to me?" Milla whispered, barely audible. Sasha froze. This was new. He slowly turned to face Milla again. She was standing with her head turned to the floor and her arms folded across her chest. Sasha wasn't entirely sure how to respond.
"Milla, I-" he began, but Milla cut him off.
"Do you have any idea? Any at all?" she asked, snapping her head up to glare at him and slowly advancing toward him. "We have been partners for seven years, Sasha. Seven years! I know you inside and out. I know your mind just as well as my own, and I know you can say the same for me. You are such an instrumental part of my life, and if you were taken away, it would destroy me! It's bad enough that I lost those children, Sasha. I can't bear to lose you too."
Sasha stared dumbfounded at Milla, who was now standing more than a few inches away from him. He felt like a colossal jerk. He knew that Milla cared about him a lot, but he still tended to push her away when it came to his vices. He had continued to put her in anguish, and he hadn't even had the decency to notice how much he was hurting her. Sasha sighed and dropped his currently levitating cigarette into the ashtray next to the console. He tentatively reached for Milla's hands, and was relieved when she allowed him to grasp them. He gently pressed his forehead against hers, and watched helplessly as tears silently flowed down her face.
"I'm sorry…mein liebe," Sasha said quietly, rubbing small circles on the back of Milla's hands with his thumbs.
"Please let me help you, darling," Milla said softly, her eyes pleading and her mind reaching out to him. Sasha studied her face, memorising each detail for the thousandth time as he pondered his partner's plea. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath before nodding slightly.
"For you, Milla, I will try."