I didn’t mean to flinch.
I didn’t mean to pull away from him and into Tyler’s arms. But I was still trapped in that nightmare, still drowning in memories I can’t silence. For a second, I didn’t know who was touching me.
But it was him. It was Alex.
Tyler has always been there. He’s seen every broken version of me. He knows how to hold me when I break, and when to let go. And getting into his arms in that moment was familiar. But when I saw Alex leaving, saw his back as he walked out of the cinema room, something inside me snapped.
I had to find him.
I pulled away from Tyler, ran out, tried every room in the house, every hallway, but it was like chasing a ghost.
He was already gone.
Tyler found me eventually. He didn’t ask questions. He just brought me to the kitchen, gently sat me down, and pressed a glass of water into my trembling hands. I didn’t drink it. My fingers wouldn’t stop shaking long enough to hold anything steady.
He wanted to ask—I could see it in his eyes. The way his mouth twitched like he was holding something back.
Why now?
Why this nightmare again, after months of being okay?
But then he looked at me. Really looked. And whatever question he had died on his tongue.
And I’m grateful for that.
When he finally had to leave, when the clock edged toward midnight and his early shift loomed, he lingered at the elevator, watching me like he wasn’t sure I’d survive the night.
“You’re staying?” he asked quietly.
I nodded.
I had to.
Because what if Alex comes back and I’m not here? What if he thinks I’m scared of him?
What if he thinks he was the monster in my nightmare?
That thought alone makes something hollow crack inside me.
So I stay.
And now it’s been almost three hours since Tyler left. Three hours since I’ve been sitting here on this cold floor, waiting.
And waiting.
Like some part of me will stop breathing if he doesn’t walk through that door.
I recheck the clock, even though I already know what it says, then I press the heels of my palms into my eyes, trying to push back the guilt, the ache, the fear.
“Alex,” I whisper, voice raw and broken, “come back. I need you.”
It’s the only truth I have left.
Because I do.
I need him more than I’ve ever needed anyone. Not because of who he is, not just because he sees me, but because I love him.
And it terrifies me.
