"You're…" she started again, then let the sentence fade.
Jay stepped forward and let his hand gently close over hers. "Yeah," he murmured. "I'm me again."
Alicia stared into his eyes, as if to confirm for herself.
Jay's usual smug detachment was gone. His gaze held a softness now—a raw kind of honesty that neither sarcasm nor indifference could mask anymore.
"…Was it you all along?" she asked.
He understood the question.
The him she'd fought beside. The him she saw curled up on rooftops, brushing away the world. The him who mocked his own brilliance while still pushing forward, deeper than any other. The boy with pieces missing.
"I was pretending not to notice," Jay said softly. "But yeah. That pain… that version of me… it never really left."
Alicia squeezed his hand once.
