(Where healing begins, and they learn what it means to hold each other without breaking)
Kade
He thought she wouldn't come back.
After what he said. After the way he snapped. After every wall he'd thrown at her, jagged and loud.
But she did.
And she didn't just come back—
She stayed.
It was Saturday when he heard the knock.
Kade had been sitting on his bed, shirtless, bruised, ribs swollen in purple arcs. His father had passed out drunk in the living room, the stench of beer thick in the air.
He ignored the knock at first.
But it came again.
Three short taps. One pause. Two more.
Tap. Tap. Tap…
…Tap. Tap.
He stood slowly.
His legs felt hollow.
When he opened the door, the hallway light hurt his eyes—
And there she was.
Viera.
In a hoodie three sizes too big. No makeup. Just her and a Tupperware of cookies in hand, like some cosmic joke.
He stared.
She didn't speak.
Just pushed the cookies into his chest gently and said—
"I thought maybe you needed something sweet for once."
They didn't talk much that night.
She didn't ask about the bruises.
He didn't explain them.
They just sat on the floor, backs against the wall, sharing cookies and silence. And somehow, it was the most comfortable silence of his life.
At some point, her hand brushed his.
He didn't move away.
Viera
She didn't want to cry when she saw him shirtless.
But she did.
Not out loud.
Not where he could see.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, tucked it under her tongue, and focused on giving him what he'd never been given before:
Gentleness.
No demands.
No expectations.
Just presence.
She didn't say, "You're not alone."
She showed him.
That night, when they sat on his floor eating barely-warm cookies and whispering about books and horror movies, she realized something:
She wasn't there to fix him.
She was there to be someone who didn't leave.
Later that week, back in their library spot, she tried to make him smile again.
"Do you know how weirdly sensitive you are?"
Kade blinked. "Excuse me?"
She grinned. "You flinch every time I bump into you. It's like you're made of nerves."
"I just don't like being touched."
"That so?" She leaned closer, teasing now. "So if I… say… did this—"
Her fingers poked gently into his side.
He jumped. Violently.
Books nearly fell off the table.
His whole body twisted like someone had zapped him with a taser.
His face went crimson.
"I—hey! No."
"Oh my God," she whispered, eyes wide with delight. "You're still ticklish?"
"Viera—"
"Don't you dare try to lie."
He huffed. "I'm not still ticklish. I've always been ticklish."
"Even better."
She reached again—this time slower, deliberate. Her fingers hovered near his ribs.
Kade froze.
His entire body tensed. Muscles locked, breath hitched.
But he didn't move away.
Not because he wasn't terrified. Not because the panic wasn't crawling up his spine like vines.
But because—
He trusted her.
He wanted to see if he could let someone touch him without expecting pain.
So when her fingers made contact—
It was light.
Feather-light. A gentle graze across the edge of his ribs. Teasing. Playful.
He jerked, let out a sound—half laugh, half gasp—and swatted her hand away, grinning despite himself.
She blinked.
"Was that a laugh?"
"I—no. I—shut up."
"You laughed."
"It was a flinch-laugh."
"It was a giggle."
"I do not giggle."
"Oh yes you do," she whispered, eyes sparkling.
He shook his head, flushed, but he was smiling.
A real smile.
And Viera swore—if time could freeze, she'd stay in this moment forever.
Kade
It didn't hurt.
That's what mattered most.
Someone touched him, and it didn't hurt.
It wasn't control.
It wasn't punishment.
It wasn't fists or rage or drunken wrath.
It was fingers, light and curious.
It was teasing and warmth and connection.
It was her.
He never realized how much he craved that kind of touch—until now.
The kind that didn't take anything.
Just offered something soft and fleeting.
He didn't giggle.
Okay, maybe he did.
But he didn't care.
Not when she was looking at him like that.
Like he was human.
Like he was safe.
Viera
It became a routine after that.
The teasing.
She'd brush against him "accidentally." Tap his arm. Nudge his knee. Rest her head on his shoulder during long reading sessions just to feel the way his breath hitched.
Once, she poked him in the side under the table.
He nearly dropped his phone.
She laughed so hard the librarian glared.
And Kade?
He didn't mind.
He let her in. Bit by bit.
No dramatics.
No declarations.
Just the kind of closeness you earn.
And one afternoon, as she rested against his shoulder while he read aloud, she whispered something she didn't mean to say out loud:
"…I like being near you."
Kade didn't answer.
But she felt his hand curl around hers.
The World Watches
"You see them in the library again?"
"She's always touching him. Like, always."
"He's not even hot. Just tall and… broody."
"Maybe he's got something going on."
"I heard he's messed up. Like, therapy messed up."
"Why's she wasting time on a freak like that?"
The whispers grew teeth.
And behind them, jealousy.
From boys who didn't get her attention.
From girls who clung to her orbit.
The world wanted Kade to stay invisible.
But Viera had already seen him.
And nothing—
Nothing was going to change that now.
End of Chapter 7
Next: Chapter 8 – Glass Houses Burn Too