I move toward the door, my steps careful, measured. Controlled. Like if I just keep moving, I can outrun whatever the fuck is happening inside me.
But she follows.
Of course she does.
I make it to my room, the door closing behind me with a soft click. I move deeper into the space, toward the window, staring out at nothing.
You’re fine. You’re back. You’re—
The door opens behind me.
I don’t turn around.
“Gray.”
Her voice is soft. Careful.
I huff out a breath—the only response I can give in this form—and keep staring out the window.
Footsteps. Closer.
“I’m not leaving.”
I lower my head, ears flattening slightly. She should leave. Should rest. Should stop trying to fix what I don’t think can be fixed.
“You don’t have to turn back if you’re not ready,” she says quietly. “But I need you to hear me.”
I turn my head slightly, just enough to see her in my peripheral vision.
She’s standing a few feet away, arms wrapped around herself like she’s holding something fragile together.
“I know you think this is easier,” she says. “Staying like this. Keeping distance. But Gray…” Her voice cracks slightly. “I need you. Not just the wolf. You.”
I close my eyes.
“When I was in the Void,” she continues, and my ears perk forward despite myself. “When everything felt impossible, when I thought I’d never get out—do you know what kept me going?”
I don’t move.
“It was you.” Her voice is steady now, stronger. “The way you never backed down. Not once. Not when I pushed you away, not when I was at my worst, not when everyone else would have given up on me. You just… stayed. You were solid when I couldn’t be. You were steady when everything else was falling apart.”
Something tightens in my chest.
“That’s who you are, Gray. That’s what I need. Not the perfect version of you. Not the human or the wolf. Just… you. The one who doesn’t give up. The one who stays.”
I turn fully to face her now, and she meets my gaze without flinching.
“You being there for me has nothing to do with what shape you’re in,” she says. “It’s who you are. And that doesn’t change whether you’re standing on two legs or four.”
I shake my head, a low whine escaping my throat.
She doesn’t understand.
I can’t.
“So please,” she whispers, stepping closer. “Come back. Not because you have to. But because I’m asking you to.”
I back away slightly, and pain flashes across her face.
