It’s something else, something intangible.
The feeling that this could happen again.
Oliver steps closer, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder, his touch gentle, grounding. “Are you okay?”
I nod, trying to shake off what just overcame me, forcing a smile that probably doesn’t reach my eyes. “Yeah, just… tired, I guess,”
What is even happening?
“You sure about that?” Grey asks. His brow is furrowed, and there’s worry etched across his face.
No.
“Yes.” It comes out weaker than I intended, and it’s obvious they’re not buying it. “I probably just need some sleep.”
Misha steps next to me and flicks my messy bun. “Grab a few things you need and come up to ours. You can shower in the guest room, and then we can pile on the couch and take a nap while we put on some movies.”
Five minutes ago, that would have sounded amazing. But with this strange feeling of distrust in the pit of my stomach, I can’t bring myself to do it.
I’m probably just exhausted and overwhelmed.
Sure, that’s it.
I shake my head. “No, thank you. I’m going to stay here.”
Misha looks a bit taken aback but quickly recovers, his smile dimming only slightly. “All right, then we’ll be back in half an hour. Should I order that dreadful egg pizza for you?”
He’s trying so hard to cheer me up, and I feel a pang of guilt for shutting him down.
“I’m not hungry. I just want to shower and sleep… alone.” The words come out harsh, and I see a flicker of hurt cross Misha’s face.
Grey’s brow furrows even more. “What’s wrong, Princess?”
I take a deep breath, trying to articulate my feelings without hurting them. “I don’t know. I’m just tired and overstimulated from the flight and everything. I just want to be alone, please.” My voice cracks on the last word, and I see the concern in their eyes deepen.
Right, because I’m known for enjoying being alone.
Oliver leans in closer, his green eyes searching mine. “You’re not feeling well?”
I almost want to give in and let them stay.
But it feels wrong.
I nod, feeling the weight of their worry pressing down on me. It’s suffocating, even though I know it comes from a place of care.
“Even more reason to stay here and look after you.” Grey’s tone is decisive, shutting down any chance of protest.
Shit.I do it anyway.
“No, please just leave. It’s fine. I’ll be better tomorrow.” I’m almost pleading now, desperate for some space to breathe and process.
I have to figure out why I have the urge to pull my hair and scratch my skin bloody.
They exchange glances, clearly unsure. I can see the silent communication passing between them, weighing their concernagainst my wishes. But eventually, they nod, and one by one, they kiss me on my forehead, my temple, and my cheek.
“Call us if you need anything,” Oliver says, lingering for a moment as if hoping I’ll change my mind.
“We’ll be back to check on you,” Misha adds, and there’s a hint of reluctance in his steps as he moves toward the door.
