And then he said I know and stepped back and let me walk out.
Like knowing was supposed to be enough.
Like knowing was supposed to make it better.
• • •
Would it really be that terrible to love me back?
I sit on my bed staring at nothing.
The room feels different since the bathroom.
Like the air itself has changed.
Like something that was always theoretical is now real and solid and taking up even more space.
He kissed me back.
And then he still walked away.
Cassian does something to me.
He always has.
Like he reaches inside me without asking and rearranges everything until nothing feels right unless it’s him.
Being around him is too much.
Being without him is worse.
There’s no good version of this.
There never was.
• • •
There’s a knock at my window.
Soft.
Familiar.
My heart stops.
I should lock it.
Every rational part of me knows I should cross this room and turn the latch and go to sleep and stop letting him do this to me.
I’m at the window before I finish the thought.
Self-preservation: zero. As always.
Because if it’s him —
I’ll always let him in.
God help me.
