No more

I walk.

I don't know where I'm going or how long I've been gone. But when I finally look up, the streetlights are on and the moon is hanging low, watching me spiral all evening. I feel lighter emptied out in the weirdest way, like screaming at Brian was a purge I didn't know I needed. I have forgiven him completely, something in me just let it all go and God, it feels good not to be dragging that weight around anymore.

My phone buzzes a few times in my pocket, but I ignore it. I'm not ready to talk to anyone, not even Adria.

When I finally get home, the lights are out. Mom and Dad must still be on their date night, thank God. I don't need the third degree right now.

I head straight to my room, kick off my shoes, and peel off my shirt, letting it fall somewhere near the floor. I don't bother turning on the lights. I just want to crash.

But then movement.

A shadow in the corner.

My heart drops into my stomach. I react without thinking, grabbing the closest shoe and hurling it.

"OW damn, Blue, chill!"

I grab the other shoe, already aiming when the figure flinches and shouts, "It's me! Brian!"

I freeze mid-throw. 

He steps into the silver slice of moonlight filtering through my curtains, hoodie half-on, face flushed like a kid caught sneaking cookies at 3 a.m. His hair is a complete mess soft and sticking up in every direction like he's been running his hands through it all night.

"You psycho You broke into my room?!"

"I came through the window," he says he says like it's the most normal thing ever.

"How long have you been sitting in the dark like some serial killer" 

"Not long. Just long enough to see you throw a shoe with deadly accuracy."

"You broke in, Brian. You know that's like actually illegal?"

"I didn't break anything. Your window was open. It was practically an invitation."

"You are certifiably crazy."

He grins faintly and shrugs. "Maybe. But in my defense… you left the window open."

"Oh, so this is my fault now?" I say, arms crossed over my chest. And then I realised. I'm standing in front of him in just a cropped blue singlet and jeans. His eyes flicker. Quickly. But not quick enough.

I grab my shirt from the floor, but his voice stops me.

"Don't."

I glance over, confused. "Why?"

"Because I'm leaving soon. And I just… I wanted to see you. One last time."

Something in my chest cracks open.

I don't respond. I can't. The room goes quiet, holding its breath with us.

He walks over and sits on the edge of my bed, head in his hands. Like the weight of the world is pressing down on him. 

I stay standing, a few feet away, arms still crossed. The moonlight hits my collarbone,

"Blue," he says like a prayer, like a curse. "I messed up. I know. And I should've told you everything from the beginning but I didn't even understand it myself then. I didn't want you to know. I didn't want anyone to know.I didn't want you to look at me like I was breaking."

His breathing turns uneven, shallow. Like he's drowning.

"I've been carrying it for so long, I thought I could handle it. But I can't. Not anymore."

He's breathing hard now, like he's holding something in so tight it's suffocating him.

I move to him before I even know what I'm doing.

"Brian," I whisper, kneeling in front of him. "Look at me."

He shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut, like if he opens them it'll all fall apart. His hands are clenched so tight his knuckles are white. Eyes shut, jaw locked.

"Brian, please."

His eyes finally meet mine.

Red.

Glass-shiny.

I kneel in front of him, placing my hands gently on either side of his face. "Hey. Look at me."

He shakes his head.

"Brian, please."

His eyes open.

Red. Glassy. On the edge.

Then he breaks.

He pulls me into him suddenly, arms tight around my waist, forehead pressed to my chest. I stay standing, holding him like that, running my fingers through his hair while he falls apart in my arms.

"I didn't know where else to go," he says into my side.

"What happened?" I ask, quietly.

"She has cancer," he says.

The words land like bricks. My breath hitches.

"My mom. That's why we left. That's why we came back. I begged her to fight. She did. We thought we beat it. But it came back, and this time… she said no. No more hospitals. No more chemo. She just wants to come home."

He sounds empty and full at the same time. Cracked open.

"Brian," I whisper, "you should've told me."

"I didn't want you to look at me like that," he mumbles. "With pity."

"I don't. I just wish I could've been there. You shouldn't have had to carry this alone."

"I know. I'm sorry," he says, sitting up slowly, eyes still rimmed red. "For everything. For disappearing. For hurting you. For acting like I didn't care when all I did was care."

I don't say anything. I just touch his cheek, softly. He leans into my hand like it's the only solid thing in the room.

"I miss you, Blue. Every version of you. Even the angry one."

I let out a small breath of a laugh, blinking fast. "I miss you too."

We stay there like that me standing in front of him, him sitting low, arms around my waist, forehead to my chest now, like he's trying to memorize the sound of my heartbeat.

Then his phone buzzes on the bed beside him.

"You should go," I say quietly.

He looks at the phone again.

Then back at me.

"No," he says.

"What?"

"I'm not going. Not yet."

My brows draw together. "Brian"

"I'll go," he says, softer now. "But Not until you know everything. No more secrets. No more running. I'm staying. Tonight, I'm staying."

I stare at him.

And for the first time since he came back, he's not hiding.

I sit down slowly beside him on the bed. Our shoulders touch.

"Tell me everything" I say