I shook my head.
“It doesn’t have to be me,” Alex reassured me. “I could ask someone else.”
I hesitated. I only wanted one person—Marcus. But was it okay to ask that? Did I deserve to ask for anything? The doubt curled in my chest, heavy and suffocating, but the need for him was strong. “Could it be Marcus?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “Sure.”
I swallowed, sitting with the request before letting out a shaky sigh. “C-can you get him back?”Now. I need him now. Please.“I think I need him here.”
“Can you come up?” Alex said into his comms unit.
Seconds later, the door opened. Marcus stepped in as though he’d been standing right outside, as if he’d known I would ask for him. His hair was a familiar burst of color—he’d recently cut its shoulder length short—this time, a soft cottoncandy pink at the front. Wide, expressive brown eyes locked onto mine, filled with unwavering reassurance. The tattoos on his arms peeked out from under his sleeves, inked stories I’d never dared to ask about. Safe. Strong. That was Marcus.
Alex met Marcus’s gaze. “He’s asking for you.”
Marcus sat next to me, taking Alex’s place, cross-legged, his presence grounding. I leaned into him before I could think better of it, and I reminded myself not to need things I didn’t deserve—even if I wanted them more than anything.. But the warmth hit me first. Not only his body heat, but his weight—the steadiness. The opposite of the empty, frozen space my mind kept dragging me into. The cold detachment had numbed me, but Marcus was real. Solid. Here. His warmth pressed against me, pulling me back into my body, into the now.
The heaviness in my chest lightened.
Alex scanned the room, and I knew what he was doing—everything had been explained to me on day one, or two, or ten, or whenever the hell it was I’d first listened. Guardian Hall had protocols. I was a code red, which meant I wouldn’t be left alone. They’d make sure I wouldn’t try to hurt myself again. My family… my family might have to know.
The thought of my sister being told what I’d tried to do made my stomach twist. If she knew how close I’d come to giving up? She’d see me as weak, a failure… so much for the big brother she used to adore.
“I’ll leave you two,” Alex murmured, then left the room.
Marcus shifted, then draped an arm over my shoulder, pulling me close. His warmth seeped into me, grounding and steady. With one hand, he tugged a blanket from the bed, shaking it loose before gathering the pillows, moving with ease. He built a nest around us, arranging everything, then dragged over a bag I hadn’t seen him carrying and took out two bottles of water. He undid the top of one and handed it to me.
“Drink something, Tyler,” he murmured, and I did.
He smelled sharp and fresh, something like the ocean back home. A scent I hadn’t realized I’d missed until now. It reminded me of open spaces, of steady tides, of safety.
His voice was a quiet mantra. “It’s okay. I’m here. It’s okay.” Over and over, the words wove around me, tugging me back, anchoring me. “You’re safe.”
I closed the lid on the water, then shut my eyes and let myself believe him—for just a little while.
I wasn’t alone.
Marcus’s presence soothed my raw edges. We sat in silence for a while, and I focused on my breathing, trying to match its rhythm to his.
“You want to talk about it?” Marcus whispered.
I shook my head, then paused. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t even know where to start.”
He nodded. “That’s okay. We can just sit here if you want.”
The silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—with Marcus, it never was. He had a way of making even quiet moments feel safe.
“I thought I had it under control,” I said, my voice hoarse.
Marcus squeezed my shoulder.
“Healing isn’t linear, Tyler,” he said softly. “There are good days and bad days. This was just a bad day.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “A bad day where I almost…” I couldn’t finish the sentence—the weight of what I’d nearly done pressed down on me again.
Marcus turned to face me. His expression was intense, filled with an emotion I couldn’t quitename. “But you didn’t. You’re still here. That counts for something.”
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to feel like it mattered that I was still breathing, still fighting. But the guilt was overwhelming. “I let them down,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “They died, and I lived…”
