The air shifts. His touch stills, and for a moment, it feels like the apartment is holding its breath.
“Noah.” My name leaves him on an exhale.
I keep my eyes shut; if I look at him, I might cry. “Your parents always made me feel like part of the family. But when I moved, I dunno, I felt detached from everyone here. I called Aiden when I could, visited when I managed, but it wasn’t the same. And after they were gone… coming back got even harder. My mom didn’t have time for me. Then Aiden was so busy with Rose. I didn’t want to take up space.”
A soft, wounded sound breaks from him. Both his hands cup my head, trembling faintly. He shifts so I’m in the crook of his lap. His forehead lowers to the crown of mine, his breath shaky in my hair.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice raw. “I didn’t know. I thought you were fine. I should’ve—” He stops himself.
His forehead stays pressed to mine as he sniffles. “I didn’t see you properly before,” he says, whispering the words as though it’s a secret between only us. “But now I do. I see you, Noah.” I hear the emotion in his voice, and I feel it deep in my soul. “You can be whatever you need with me, you don’t have to hide.”
My nose burns, the stinging sensation spreading to my eyes. Slowly, I lift my hand and cover his, anchoring him where he anchors me.
“You see me,” I whisper.
“I do.” His thumb brushes my cheek—so tenderly I almost break. He moves back slightly, and I open my eyes to look into his. They’re lined with tears, making the green of them shimmer like droplets of rain on the forest floor. I should look away, there’s too much showing in my own eyes. Something in the way he holds me there makes it hard to pretend. His eyes pin me, like he’s not afraid of what he might find.
“I see you, Blue,” he says, almost under his breath as color blooms across his cheeks. “I always like your eyes.” His thumb follows my hairline as my heart goes wild. “They’re usually so dark… but they’re clearer when you’re not smiling. Like waterafter the rain.” He pauses, breathing shallow. “Feels more honest, somehow.”
Honest.
People never want that from me. They take the grin, the charm, the jokes I can throw out. That’s the version I’ve always given, because it’s easy.
But Gabe… he’s not looking at that. He’s not even trying to. He’s searching me, holding my gaze hostage as he finds all the deeper parts nobody has ever wanted.
My throat tightens. The air feels heavy. I could laugh, make a joke, turn the moment into something light. That’s what I always did—turn the sharp edges into something easier to swallow, because nobody wants the real me. My mouth even twitches toward a smile, but it dies before it gets there.
He’s still looking into my eyes.
The quiet stretches enough that it hurts, and then I hear myself say, low and full of emotion, “Call me that again.”
His gaze doesn’t falter. “Blue.”
It feels so weighted, important, and my eyes fall shut again. Not my name, but my name all the same.
“You can be yourself with me. You don’t have to always be the one smiling or laughing.”
His forehead touches mine again, and I release a shuddering breath.
We stay like that a long time—my eyes closed, his breath warming my hair, the quiet louder than anything we could say.
Everything inside me feels split open in the best and worst ways.
So, I lie there with his hands in my hair, and my hand over his, letting him hold me.
And for the first time in years, I don’t feel invisible. I feel seen—so deeply it scares me.
But by Gabe, I want to be seen.
“Gabe,” I whisper into the silence.
His response is just as hushed. “Yeah?”
“Will you readThe Wayfarer’s Starto me?”
He starts at the beginning.
16
