Hello, my alien lovers!

I became a citizen on April 22nd. Yay, Canada!

When you take the oath, they give you the choice to say "I affirm," rather than "I swear," which I appreciated—although affirming loyalty to King Charles and his bambinos was very meh.

They played a video about First Nations, Inuit and Métis without mentioning colonial violence or genocide, which is quite remarkable when you're supposed to be a country committed to truth & reconciliation.

Welcome to Chapter 25!

I don't want to spoil, but you're welcome in advance.

lunus 🩷

If you're new to the story, start with Chapter 1

If you missed the last chapter, Previously on Perilous Love Stars

The smell of strong coffee brought Maple back to the realm of the living. She fluttered her eyes open to find Salvatore leaning above her, a warm cup in hand. 

“Buen dia, guapa,” he whispered. 

A wave of relief and joy washed over her, her lips drew into a wide grin, and she took all of him in. Salvatore was back, and except for the bags under his eyes, he didn’t wear traces from yesterday’s events. He wore jeans and the hoodie stained by Yellow’s tears, with tracks of dry yellow now crusting the cotton fabric. His hair was tied into a ponytail, and his chin nurtured a dark stubble. 

Maple gratefully took the cup he offered. He opened the curtains, letting the sunshine in. She checked the alarm clock on the bedside table. It was midday already. How long had she slept in?

“Thank you for the coffee.”

After yesterday’s events, that wasn’t the first thing she wanted to tell him, but she decided to start the day with diplomacy.  She also hasn’t sorted through all of her feelings yet. How could she validate her anger and frustration about what he put her through, and still recognize he was dying? 

Salvatore cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

Maple took a long sip of her coffee. The liquid was burning and bitter. “What happened, exactly? Because one moment you’re in the car with me, and the next I’m surrounded by three teenagers with glowing skin.”

She decided to hold back on asking about the actual severity of the sickness for now. She wanted to see how much he was willing to share first.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he said, avoiding her eyes. “I appreciate it. I got you some breakfast. It’s in the car. I’ll let you get ready, and I’ll see you there.”

When she realized he was about to leave the room without giving her the explanation she was owed, she rushed to the door, blocking his way out. She hated how evasive his eyes were and how much she craved their attention. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“We’ve lost enough time. We should get back to our mission.”

She was smaller than he, but stood firm in his path to prevent him from avoiding the conversation. “Why didn’t you tell me about the divide?”

He swallowed, looking straight ahead. “I didn’t think it would happen… well,” he cleared his throat, ashamed. “I hoped it wouldn’t happen. I was wrong.”

“Don’t you think it was a totally reckless move not to warn me about it?”

“I didn’t want to stress you out.”

“Sure, because being taken by surprise by three alien teenagers while our car was broken in the middle of nowhere did not stress me out at all.”

She thought of mentioning Peyter, too, but she wasn’t done interrogating him on the divide, and didn’t want to give Salvatore another chance at shifting the topic.

“I’m sorry about them,” he said. “I know they can be a lot.”

“So, you know them?”

“I feel them inside of me all the time. I don’t remember what they do when they’re out. But they’re part of me.”

“If they are parts of you, why didn’t they look anything like you?”

That made him flinch slightly. “I don’t know. There’s a lot I still don’t know about them—about me, I guess. I didn’t want to worry you. I can still protect you.”

Was he lying to her or himself? She wasn’t sure anymore.  “I don’t care about you protecting me if that means lying, Salvatore.”

For the first time since he’d handed her the coffee, his eyes found hers. “I am not lying about protecting you, Maple. I’m sorry I failed you yesterday—”

“You didn’t ‘fail’ anything.” She disliked hearing him talk like that about himself. “You are sick. That’s different.”

He didn’t respond right away. Maple thought he’d denied it. Instead, he asked, “How are you feeling?

The question took her aback. She searched for an anchor in his eyes to convince him of what she was about to say. “I’m fine.”

He shook his head gently, a faint smile on his lips. “Remember, Maple. I know when you’re lying to me.”

 “So do I,” she said.

She took a step forward, the familiar scent of tobacco and cinnamon tugging at her nostrils. Heat radiated from his body. Salvatore was here, alive and well,  as if yesterday had been nothing but a bad dream. He wanted to move past it, to forget all about it. She wouldn’t let him. 

“Unlike you, though, I don’t have a truth-telling power. I can’t force you to tell me anything.  But if you’re going to stay and protect me, then I need the truth, Salvatore. That’s the one thing I’m asking for.”

“I want to protect you.”

“You can’t protect me if you don’t tell me what’s going on with you. You can’t protect people by lying to them.”

Then, becoming hyper-aware that she was doing to her crew what she reproached Salvatore for, Maple felt the urge to change the topic.

“How sick are you, really?” she asked.

She wanted to hear it from him. Had he known all along and hid it from her even after everything they went through? Talking about his lies convinced Maple that hers were different. She wasn’t being selfish by keeping someone in the dark. She was working towards the greater good. It would all be worth it once she saved the show. 

Salvatore sat down on the bed and sighed. “The glowing crises are getting more frequent. Each time, the pain increases. It’s gradually getting worse.”

She joined him, sitting in silence, afraid that her words would once again turn him away from telling her the truth.

“My powers are diminishing too. I can feel it, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I feel hopeless and weak. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I’m… I’m ashamed of what’s happening to me, Maple.”

“You have nothing to be ashamed of. Being ill is part of every living being’s life. It’s normal.”

She recalled that Blue and Red had scolded Yellow for being “too weak.” She could now see the parts of himself at odds with each other, clearly playing out in Salvatore’s self-judgmental approach to his disease. 

“I’m supposed to be invincible.” 

His voice sounded hollow. Maybe it was the intensity of the past few days or Salvatore’s resilience to see his sickness as an inevitable obstacle, but Maple took his large hand in hers. 

His skin was warm against hers. He looked at her. The weight of his eyes and the skin contact flustered her. She didn’t take her hands away. Neither did he.

“Nobody is invincible, Salvatore.”

“I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you,” he said, his voice low and urgent as if danger was right around the corner. 

“Why?”

She’d asked the question before. Why was protecting her such a big deal? He’d always had an answer ready,  a tangible reason why he was the best person for the job. But she was tired of pretences. Salvatore wasn’t a bodyguard or a mere coworker. He flirted openly with her. It was time for him to own up to his feelings for her.

He opened his mouth to answer. Maple tugged at his hand, cutting him off. “The truth, Salvatore. Please.”

“The truth is that I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first time I met you in that casting room. I can’t bear the idea of anything happening to you, especially at the hands of someone as potentially dangerous as another alien.  I vowed to protect you, and that’s what I will do, alien sickness or not. Te le promeso.”

Maple pulled one of her hands back, placing it on Salvatore’s neck. He leaned in slowly, his eyes searching for consent in hers.

She nodded.

She’d regret it, she was sure of it. But her body was aching for his touch. Her lips were begging for a taste of his.

She kissed him. Rough and uncertain at first. Then, his hand cupped her cheek, leading their kisses into a soft rhythm. He tasted like tobacco and coffee. She wanted him closer. Maple needed him all over her.

“Salvatore,” she said, breathless. 

He kissed her again, voraciously. She let him, and when his hands slid to her hips, she rocked herself into his embrace, entangling her tongue with his, letting him get hold of all of her.

Nothing else mattered when she was in Salvatore’s arms. Not the show, not HR—nothing. If she could stay in his embrace forever, graced by his kisses, she would. The truth had always been a dangerous game to play. Now that Maple allowed it to shine a light on their shared feelings, nothing would ever be the same.