XXIV

It's an accident: being in too much of a hurry after oversleeping, Eleven doesn't knock on Henry's bedroom door—she just opens it with a bang.

"I'm late, have you seen my…?"

Her words get stuck in her throat with a gasp, but this is enough for Henry to hear her: without hesitation, the man reaches out his hand and makes a towel fly directly to him.

So it covers his formerly naked crotch.

"I'm s-sorry!" Eleven mumbles in desperation as she slams the door shut. "I-I just wanted to… ask if you had seen my overall…!"

Henry presses his fingers to his temples and waits a moment before answering.

"It's okay," he says through the door. "It's all right."

It's been uncomfortable, certainly, but, having been a test subject, he can't say he's not used to his nudity being exposed without his consent.

And this? This has been but an accident.

Nothing to worry about or feel humiliated about.

However, although Henry has successfully rationalized the incident, it is Eleven who has trouble meeting his eyes.

Or speaking without stuttering.

Or, in general, remaining in the same room with him.

After Eleven drops a glass before he can even open his mouth to speak to her, Henry stifles a sigh and orders: "Eleven, come with me. We need to talk."

"B-but I'm busy w-with…"

She's doing absolutely nothing—she doesn't even think of getting up from the table to start cleaning up the shards scattered on the floor—and still she's trying to lie to him. Henry is starting to feel particularly irritated.

"Eleven," Henry repeats, already on his way to his office, looking at her over his shoulder.

He decides to ignore the noise of Eleven's feet dragging on the wooden floor.

Now, both of them sitting face to face at the desk in the office, Henry tries to make eye contact…

… in vain.

"Eleven," he calls her.

"Uhu…?" she replies, her gaze fixed on the wooden surface.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"N-nothing… is going on…"

Henry raises his eyebrows, crosses his arms, and leans back against his comfortable chair: "Really? Then, why won't you look at me? You can hardly speak to me and you're avoiding me, as well…"

He notices how Eleven's chest swells; obviously, she is trying to breathe slowly to calm down.

"I…"

But she leaves the word hanging. As if she's hoping for him to drop the matter in consideration of her ill-fated attempt to talk.

"Okay, let's try to approach this another way: Eleven, is this because of what happened earlier? And look at me when you answer."

For a moment he considers not being so ruthless, especially when he sees her tremble at his command. However, Henry truly considers Eleven as his partner, the only person in the whole world who understands him and with whom he wants to spend the rest of his life, and that is why he cannot allow doubts, uncertainties or unsettled issues to exist between the two of them.

Finally, the girl opens her mouth, takes another deep breath and looks at him: "Yes…"

At least she has admitted it, he internally congratulates himself.

"I told you it was all right," Henry reminds her gently. "That nothing happened. So, could you please tell me what the problem is?"

Eleven looks up at the ceiling; since he sees she is struggling to find the words, he lets it go. After what seems like an eternity, the girl explains: "I… You… We are not the same."

Henry cocks his head and purses his lips. Eleven breathes heavily, on the verge of what looks like an anxiety attack.

"We are not the same… How?"

He didn't expect this. Now, months later, after having taken his hand, after having accepted his more… difficult side, so to speak, now, has Eleven decided that they are not the same? That she is different from him, that she doesn't want to stay here, under his care, under his guidance? Henry's mind desperately searches for some argument that will convince her that she's wrong, something she's missed, whatever it could possibly be, because he can't lose her, not her, not now, no…

"Because… You… This… That… I…"

Eleven closes her eyes and seems about to burst into tears before exclaiming: "I don't have that between my legs!"

For the first time in his thirty-two years of life, Henry's brain goes blank.