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I toss another wrapped candy onto the table and slump back into the couch. “Actually, no, that’s too generous. Leeches eventually fall off when they’re full. This one just keeps coming back.”

Marco folds one leg under himself and studies me. “But you keep opening the door.”

“That sounded accusatory.”

“It wasn’t.”

I look away, because I don’t appreciate being read this cleanly. “It’s not like I invite him,” I mutter.

“You don’t have to invite someone to want them there.”

“You’re very wise, you know that?”

He smiles again, then coughs softly into his hand. The sound is light, but I still tense. He notices, and his expression turns apologetic.

I look away before the concern on my face gets too obvious.

Marco follows the shift in me anyway. “You’re trying very hard not to say the actual problem.”

I groan and drag a hand down my face. “Because the actual problem sounds stupid when spoken aloud.”

“Most real problems do.”

I huff out a laugh before I can stop it. “Let’s say this person is… bad for me.”

I continue, because apparently once I start, I lose control of my own mouth. “Let’s say they’re arrogant, invasive, impossible to get rid of, and deeply committed to making my life worse for fun.”

Marco’s fingers slide from my shoulder and rest loosely in his lap. “Do you feel unsafe with them?”

“No.”

His gaze softens. “Do you feel out of control?”

“Obviously.”

“Do they force you into things you don’t want?”

I hesitate, but then I shake my head. “No. They just… know how to get under my skin.”

Marco nods slowly, like he’s fitting pieces together. “Then maybe the problem isn’t only them.”

I stare at him in betrayal. “Excuse me? Are you saying I am the problem, Mario? You are breaking my heart.”

“No. But maybe the problem is that they wake up something in you that you don’t know what to do with.”

“I liked you better before you started sounding like a healer from a fantasy novel.”

Marco laughs softly. “You’re deflecting again.”

I look at him. He must be tired, but somehow he still finds the energy to be gentle with other people’s chaos when his own body is failing him by inches.

And suddenly I feel guilty for bringing my mess here at all. But he sees that too, and the expression in his eyes says not to retreat now.

“If someone can affect you this much, pretending they don’t matter won’t help. You don’t have to decide everything at once,” he says. “You don’t have to know what it means immediately. But you should be honest with yourself about what you’re feeling. Even if you don’t tell them.”

I pick at a candy wrapper. “Honesty is overrated.”

Marco’s mouth curves. “Not when the lie is exhausting you. And if they really are bad for you, then wanting them doesn’t become less real just because it would be inconvenient.”