Then:
NumberEleven: you’re not an emergency. you’re just having a hard night.
My chest tightens hard enough that it hurts. Because that’s the thing no one says out loud. They either panic, or fix, or hover. They don’t just…name it.
Hard night. Not the end of the world.
Just a night.
I swallow and set my phone down like if I keep talking, I’ll start crying, and I refuse.
I take a shower so hot it fogs the mirror, letting the water beat against my shoulders until my muscles unclench. I change into one of Kai’s old T-shirts, because it’s soft and familiar, thenI finally crawl into bed and try to make my brain stop replaying everything.
I fall asleep thinking about choice, which is a cruel thing to fall asleep thinking about, because choice is what my brain likes to punish me for.
The next morning, I wake up with a stiff neck and that post-spiral hangover that feels like you ran a marathon in your sleep. I don’t touch my phone. If I do, the night becomes real again. Instead, I listen.
I hear one of the boys moving around the apartment, and my mind is at war with who it wants it to be.
I get up slowly, pull on a hoodie, and pad down the hall. Kai is at the counter making eggs, movements sharp and clipped. He looks up when I enter, and relief flashes in his eyes so fast it’s almost invisible. Then he masks it with irritation.
“You hungry?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I lie, because I’m tired of being looked at like a fragile thing.
Kai watches me carefully. “Sit. Grayson is already gone, so it’s just us.”
I sit. He slides a plate in front of me.
Eggs, scrambled of course, some toast, and fruit that actually looks delicious.
I pick up my fork and take a couple of bites.
Kai leans against the counter, arms crossed. “We’re talking.”
I swallow. “Okay.”
Kai’s gaze is sharp. “Why didn’t you call me?”
I stare at my plate. “Because you would’ve come.”
“Yes,” he says, like that’s the point.
“And you would’ve looked at me like I was breaking,” I whisper.
Kai’s jaw flexes. “You were not okay.”
“I was not okay,” I agree softly. “But I wasn’t…dying. I just needed quiet.”
Kai stares at me, expression tight with frustration. “Then come here.”
“I didn’t want to come here,” I whisper, and it feels like stepping off a cliff. “Because…”
Hurt flickers across his face.
I inhale shakily. “Kai, I love you, but you watch me like you’re waiting for me to disappear.”
His throat bobs.
