The Space Between Us

She didn't move. She didn't speak.

She just stood there, in my room, in the quiet.

And for some reason, I didn't feel the need to fill the silence.

I sat back down on my bed, watching as she walked over to my desk. Her fingers brushed against my books, my papers—things no one else ever touched.

"You don't let people in." Her voice was soft, but certain.

I swallowed. "They don't want to be here."

She tilted her head. "Are you sure about that?"

I looked away. What kind of question was that?

She sighed and leaned against the desk, crossing her arms. "I used to think like that too."

I frowned. "Like what?"

"That no one cared. That the world would keep spinning whether I existed or not."

The words hit deeper than I wanted them to.

I looked at her again, but she wasn't watching me. She was watching the shadows.

"But you know what I realized?" she continued.

She turned back to me, her eyes unreadable.

"Sometimes, the ones who are lost aren't looking for someone to save them. They're looking for someone to sit with them in the dark."

Something in my chest tightened.

Because for the first time, someone wasn't trying to pull me out.

She was just… here.

And the space between us didn't feel empty anymore.

She didn't move. She didn't speak.

She just stood there, in my room, in the quiet.

And for some reason, I didn't feel the need to fill the silence.

I sat back down on my bed, watching as she walked over to my desk. Her fingers brushed against my books, my papers—things no one else ever touched.

"You don't let people in." Her voice was soft, but certain.

I swallowed. "They don't want to be here."

She tilted her head. "Are you sure about that?"

I looked away. What kind of question was that?

"You say it like it's a fact," she continued. "Like you know what everyone is thinking. But what if you're wrong?"

I scoffed, shaking my head. "I'm not wrong. If they cared, they wouldn't ignore me. If they wanted me around, they would act like it."

She didn't look convinced.

"Maybe they're just afraid," she said. "Maybe they don't know how to reach you."

I let out a short breath. "It's not my job to make them try."

She was quiet for a moment. Then, she walked over and sat beside me on the bed. Not too close. Not too far.

"No," she admitted. "It's not. But shutting them out won't make the loneliness go away, either."

I clenched my jaw. "You think it's that simple?"

She shook her head. "No. I think it's hard. I think it hurts. And I think you've been carrying it alone for too long."

I exhaled, staring at my hands. I didn't know how to answer that.

"You know what I realized?" she continued.

I looked at her.

"Sometimes, the ones who are lost aren't looking for someone to save them." Her voice was quiet, steady. "They're looking for someone to sit with them in the dark."

Something in my chest tightened.

Because for the first time, someone wasn't trying to pull me out.

She was just… here.

And the space between us didn't feel empty anymore.

I didn't know what to say.

The silence between us wasn't heavy, but it wasn't light either. It just… existed.

For the first time, I wasn't drowning in it.

"You're quiet," she said after a while.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "What do you want me to say?"

She shrugged. "Whatever you want."

I scoffed. "That's the problem. I don't know what I want."

She leaned back, resting on her hands. "That's okay."

I turned to her. "Is it?"

She nodded. "Yeah. No one has it all figured out. And anyone who says they do is lying."

I stared at her, searching for something—some kind of crack in her confidence, something that proved she was just saying words to make me feel better.

But she was serious.

"What if I never figure it out?" I asked quietly.

She tilted her head, considering that. "Then you don't."

I frowned. "That's it?"

She smiled a little. "That's it. Life isn't a test. There's no right answer. You just… keep going. And somewhere along the way, things start to make sense."

I let that sink in.

"You make it sound easy," I muttered.

She chuckled. "It's not. But it's possible."

The room felt warmer somehow. The shadows still stretched along the walls, but they didn't feel as suffocating.

She stood up, stretching. "Come on."

I blinked. "Where?"

She grinned. "Outside. You need air."

I hesitated. "It's late."

"So?"

I sighed. I wanted to say no. I wanted to stay here, in the same space I always did.

But something about her made me want to move.

And for the first time in a long time, I did.

The air outside was crisp, the city lights flickering like distant stars. I shoved my hands into my pockets, following her down the empty street.

"You play games?" she asked suddenly.

I raised a brow. "Like what?"

She smirked. "PUBG. Battle Royale. Survival games."

I scoffed. "Yeah. Why?"

She looked ahead, hands in her hoodie pockets. "Ever think about how life is kinda like that?"

I frowned. "Like what?"

"A survival game." She kicked a small rock down the pavement. "You drop into the world with nothing. You don't get to choose where you start, and some people land with better loot than others. Some get weapons. Some get armor. Some get nothing."

I stayed quiet, listening.

"And then, it's all about survival. Some people team up. Some fight alone. Some get knocked down early. Others make it to the end."

I exhaled. "And some never make it at all."

She nodded. "Yeah. But you know what matters?"

I glanced at her.

"The ones who get back up."

I let that sit in the air between us.

"You ever had a match where you had nothing? No weapons, no supplies, just running and hiding, trying not to get killed?" she asked.

I nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"And sometimes, you find a way. You grab a weak gun, you take a chance, and suddenly, you're back in the fight."

She turned to me, her eyes sharp. "That's life. You don't always start strong. You don't always get lucky. But if you keep moving, keep searching, keep fighting—"

"You survive," I finished.

She smiled. "Exactly."

For the first time, I saw things differently.

Life wasn't fair. Some people had better starts, better chances. Some didn't.

But the game wasn't just about what you had. It was about how you played.

And maybe, just maybe, I wasn't out of the fight yet.