Dale fumbled through his morning routine, drank a cup of milk, and began tucking the rest of Greg’s clothes into his empty moving boxes. Greg would collect them. He’d take some time to settle into being omega-less, and then he’d move on to the next person. And he’d be happier than he’d ever been with Dale.
When all of Greg’s things had been tucked into boxes, Dale sank into his couch, worn out, his head rolling against the backrest. For a moment, he focused on catching his breath.
Then he slid onto the floor, pulling a paper square from the stack on the coffee table. It was printed with bamboo patterns, gray brushstrokes on a white surface.
The movements came to him from memory. Dale folded the sheet into triangles, then unfolded it. He folded it into rectangles next, scratching creases into paper to form the crane’s base structure. He tucked the sides in, folded the corners up, so it became a condensed diamond shape, with neat folds toward its middle.
When the crane was done, he pulled out a smaller sheet from the stack above: white diamonds on a background of wine-red.
The third sheet was a colorful amalgam of leaves, and the fourth, black lightning on a scarlet backdrop.
That one’s my favorite, Greg had said.
Why? Dale had asked. Because it’s red and black?
Greg had taken the sheet from him, folding his own crane. I just like the colors. They’re vibrant.
Dale swallowed hard, tempted to place the sheet back in the pile. Instead, he made himself work through it. He needed to get over their relationship, needed to forget about Greg. And that would have to start now.
Twenty minutes later, he had four cranes. Dale scooped them up, dropping them into the glass bowl in his study. But the red-and-black crane stared up at him, and he paused, looking at the pile of cranes he had folded together with Greg. They had laughed and joked around, folding those. Greg had tried perching cranes on Dale’s hair, and Dale had tried to keep still, balancing those cranes on his head.
Dale picked up the crane, tucking it into his pocket. At the door, when he was moving the rest of the boxes out onto the front step, Dale opened a cardboard box, dropping the crane inside.
Maybe it was a farewell gift, or maybe he was returning a fraction of the luck and hope Greg had given him. Dale piled more boxes onto the cardboard box, then locked the door, climbing into his car.
Half an hour later, he arrived at the chemistry lab building, looking around. Everything seemed so familiar—the trees planted through the parking lot, the steel doors leading into the building. The empty corridors that led the way to his lab.
June looked up from her computer when he pushed the lab door open, her gaze falling to the flattened cardboard boxes under his arm. “You look terrible,” she said. “What happened?”
Dale met her eyes. He didn’t know what to say, not really. June had warned him about the relationship. She knew the risks, too. And she had been one of his best friends through all this time.
“I’ve been fired,” he said.
She paled. “What?” Then she leaped up from her chair, horror darting through her face. “The dinner?”
He rubbed his face. “It was after. I don’t know how Bernard knew where to find us. We... we went to Greg’s apartment. Bernard had keys to it. I just...”
June squeezed past the cardboard boxes and wrapped her arms around him, her birch scent comforting. It wasn’t anything like Greg’s, though. “Oh, gods, no. Really?”
“I left him,” Dale mumbled, pressing his face into her shoulder. He had no more tears. But he needed a hug, and there wasn’t much time before school started, or before the rest of the lab students came by. “If he asks, tell him I don’t want to see him.”
Her arms tightened around his shoulders. “I can’t believe that bastard would fire you. I’ll start a petition—”
“No, don’t.” He breathed out. “I’ve thought about it. It’s best that Greg doesn’t see me again. I’m... just going to let it go. He’ll do better without me.”
“But—”
“No.”
“He made you really happy, Dale.”
Did he? Dale hadn’t thought about it, but maybe he had indeed been happier. He cradled his belly. Maybe you’ll meet your other dad someday. He’s a great guy. “I’m too old for him, June. I’m just here to pack and submit my resignation letter. That’s all.”
“What about the baby?” Concern glimmered in her eyes. “Greg will have visitation rights.”
Dale sighed, rubbing his face. He hadn’t thought that far yet. “If the pregnancy is successful.”
“Gods, this is just not fair. You’re the nicest person I know.”
He chuckled weakly. “I guess that’s a good thing.”
“It is, and I doubt Greg Hastings will drop you just because you left him.”
Dale bit his lip. June was right; Greg wouldn’t leave that easily, not when Dale had allowed him so close. “He needs to.”
“And you need him.”
The thought of waking up alone every morning made him cringe. And that was telling, wasn’t it? He’d become too dependent on Greg, even without meaning to. And it had gotten him fired.
“Can we stop talking about this?” Dale groaned, looking at his watch. He needed to leave. Needed to get away from the college, before his students somehow saw him. He couldn’t stand the thought of them looking at him right now, when they’d soon discover that he’d been fired.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving.” June pulled him close, squeezing the breath out of him. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
“You’ll find a better professor, I’m sure.”
“No, I won’t. And I think Greg will say the same. You know how he feels about you, right?” She leaned away to stare hard at him. Dale shook his head, his throat tight. “He loves you.”
Greg had said I love you countless times, and Dale wished he’d recorded it, so he could
