The alley was quiet except for the hush of rain sliding off old bricks, puddles blooming under every broken pipe. Kai's breath came shallow now, misting in the cool night air. He hadn't eaten all day—not really in days—and the mix of exhaustion, emptiness, and emotions had finally caught up to him.
His steps faltered.
Then stopped.
A reeling wave hit him like an unseen punch. He lurched ahead, grasping the wall, racing heart staggering, vision blurry. He hardly heard the faint echo of his name—was that real?—before the world careened to one side.
And then… arms.
Not icy concrete.
Not the alley's filth.
But heat. A chest. A hand holding the back of his head, supporting it as though it was important.
A voice, trembling and hardly above a whisper:
"Kai…"
Kai blinked open heavy eyes, and saw him.
Noah.
Dripping from the rain, lips parted in a mixture of shock and heartbreak. He looked like he'd seen a ghost—except he was the one holding one.
