It’s nothing, really.
Well, at least not anything he needs to know about.
My grip tightens on the bottle of antipsychotics… tighter… tighter?—
Crack.
The sound splits the room. Pills scatter across the floor, rolling in every direction, chasing the thin stream of blood trailing from my palm.
My knees hit the ground before I even realize I’ve fallen.
I shake out my hand—becausedamn,it hurts—but the pain doesn’t stop there. It spreads. Slipping through my body like a knife slicing through my skin.
I shake again. Harder. My whole body starts trembling, like it’s trying to shake off the fear, the guilt, theeverythingcrawling its way out of me.
It’s happening again. The sway of the boat. The shift in my head. The voice that’s banging from every corner of my skull. The heaviness hurts. Like my mind is filling with wet sand. Thoughts tilting out of place. They have nowhere to go. Pressure that doesn’t know how to be released. I’m shutting down… tipping…
And then… I’m in Alex’s arms.
His hold is steady, a solid anchor against the storm inside me. The racing thoughts, the pounding heart… it all goes quiet against his touch.
Againsthim.
I breathe against his neck, letting his warmth pull me back to earth. Let my tears drip onto his skin as he rubs his palm over my back, through my hair, until the tremor in my chest fades into his heartbeat.
“Dance with me,” he whispers into my hair. And for a heartbeat, I can’t move—because this was the dream, the one I buried so deep I stopped believing it could ever surface. Yet here it is, his breath at my temple, warm against my skin, real enough to make my lungs forget how to work.
Slowly, I lift my head from his shoulder and look into his eyes as his arms circle around my waist, the world narrowing to the space between us.
I hear music instead of a voice. A soft, shimmering sound, like wind through chimes, wrapping around us and suspending time.
Something in me loosens—quiet, unforced.
The weight of the rain lifts, leaving only the warmth of his hands.
I lean into him as he wipes a tear from my cheek. “I’m not dreaming anymore,” I whisper across his lips, feeling the soft pressure of his warmth, the quiet certainty of where I am. I bring my hands to his face, drag my thumbs across his cheeks, and close my eyes for a moment, letting the ache and relief mingle fully.
“I’ve waited so long for this,” I cry. “To hold you, to feel you next to me, to breathe you in like I should have all those years ago.” I choke on my tears, swallowing hard against the sobs that want to break free. “All I ever wanted was you… my brother.”
My voice breaks, but I press my forehead to his and exhale. “To dance with you—without hesitation, without fear, without the shadow of a dream.”
“Noah…”
“I’m sorry,” I say, softly, letting the words tremble between us. “About what happened to your parents.”
“None of that is your fault, angel.”
“But I killed?—"
“Shh… you’re not a killer.”
His lips brush my temple, slow and tender, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself rest there, in my brother’s arms, allowing all the fear, all the stolen years, all the aching… to slip away.
I’m exactly where I belong.
Awake.
Alive.
