Damien
It's 1:03 AM.
I've replayed that conversation seventeen times.
Okay. Twenty-one.
She'd put the sandwich in my hand like it was nothing. Like she hadn't ignored me the entire day before. Like she hadn't looked at me across campus with those glassy eyes and tight-lipped smiles that didn't belong to her.
And then today… she came back.
Still quieter than usual, still slightly off. But there.
And I don't know what possessed me to say it.
"You make me soft."
God. What was I thinking?
I never say stuff like that. Never. But it just… slipped out. Like the words had been there all along, sitting under my tongue, waiting for a moment to fall.
And her face.
Her face when I said it.
She blinked like I'd just told her she won the lottery. Or confessed to murder. Either one, honestly.
She didn't say anything, but I knew. I knew that look. Like she was going to scream into a pillow later.
And for some reason… I liked that.
A little too much.
I stare at the ceiling. The dorm room's quiet, except for Luca's faint snoring and the hum of the mini fridge.
I should sleep. I've got three back-to-back labs tomorrow. But all I can think about is her.
The way she always cuts sandwiches diagonally.
The stupid way she writes notes like "Eat this or perish" and means it.
The fact that she switched to bitter black coffee just to look like she was fine when she clearly wasn't.
And the fact that it made something in my chest ache.
She makes everything louder. My thoughts. My heartbeat. The world. It's like she brings color to everything — and when she pulled away, the whole place dimmed.
I hated it.
I missed her chaos. Her voice. Even the clinginess I always claimed was annoying.
And now that she's back—sort of—I feel like I can breathe again.
Which is dangerous.
Because this is Vivienne Crestwood we're talking about.
My best friend since forever. The girl who's always been a part of my life like air, like background noise, like heartbeat.
But now?
Now she's not background noise anymore.
She's the only sound I hear.
And if that doesn't terrify me, I don't know what does.