I was just about to take a sip of coffee when Sean went quiet. He fidgeted, glanced down at his cup, then looked up again.
“Hey, um… can I ask you something?”
I tensed. It was just a flicker, but Sean noticed. His shoulders drew in.
“Rafael mentioned your monthly visit to the doctor,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. If it’s personal, you don’t have to say anything. I’ll drop it.”
At first, my gut twisted. You didn’t tell me about the guy asking for you, I almost snapped.
Why should I tell you anything?The words burned at the back of my throat, hot and bitter, like bile.
The old instincts rose fast. Anger, suspicion, that wounded beast in my chest snarling to life.
The part of me that had survived by keeping everyone at arm’s length, by never letting anyone close enough to hurt me again.
I clenched my jaw, fists curling under the table where he couldn’t see.
I’d seen the wariness flicker across his face when I asked him about the stranger. I wanted to demand answers. Push. Tear the truth out of him.
But then I looked at him, really looked. Not just the nervous smile or the way his hands trembled slightly when he sipped his drink.
Not the way he avoided eye contact when the conversation got too close to his past. No, I looked past all that. And I realized something that gutted me.
He hadn’t asked to be trusted. Not yet. Because whatever he was running from… he hadn’t escaped it. Not really.
I had. Or at least, I was trying to. I’d built Bear and Bun from ashes and trauma. I’d carved out a sliver of peace in a world that once only gave me pain.
I had friends now. A family.I had safety. Walls that held. A door I could lock. A life I was slowly, slowly learning to love. Sean was still learning how to breathe.
He was still watching every shadow over his shoulder. Still flinching at the sound of raised voices. Still guarding whatever truth sat like a loaded gun in his chest.
He was still trying to survive. And I was learning how to live again. So I swallowed the anger. Choked it down like glass.
Maybe he wasn’t ready to let me in. That didn’t mean I had to lock him out.
Not if there was even the smallest chance that he’d someday look at me and see a safe place to land. I forced my shoulders to relax, my bear to still, the storm inside me to quiet.
“It’s an old injury,” I said finally, voice rough. “From a fight. One I lost.”
Sean’s brows pinched like he wanted to ask more, but to my relief, he let it go. Just nodded, gently.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I shrugged. “You’re not the one who did it.”
But the way he looked at me then, like he wished he could take the pain anyway, made something stir deep in my chest. The coffee cooled. The light outside turned gold and soft.
And when I offered to walk him back, he didn’t hesitate.
We took the long way. Through the park, down the street lined with fairy lights still strung from spring. He didn’t rush it. Didn’t complain. I stole glances when I thought he wouldn’t notice.
He noticed. He smiled anyway. By the time we reached his building, I didn’t want the night to end. I stood there on the cracked sidewalk, watching him fish for his keys.
“Thanks,” he said softly. “For the coffee. For walking me back.”
I opened my mouth to say something. Didn’t know what.
So I stepped closer instead.
