They ended up on the steps outside the school, the sky above dimming into night. The streetlamps buzzed to life, throwing pale halos of light across the empty courtyard.
She sat with her bag tucked close, knees drawn in, while Kai leaned against the railing a few feet away, his posture relaxed but his eyes distant.
For a long time, neither spoke. The air between them felt fragile, like even the wrong breath might shatter it.
Finally, she broke the silence. "When you said you didn't want to lose control again… what did you mean?"
Kai's jaw tightened. His hands dug deeper into his pockets. For a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer. But then he let out a sharp breath, his voice low. "Let's just say… I've hurt people before. Not the way you're thinking," he added quickly when he saw her flinch. "But still. I did things I regret. And I promised myself I wouldn't let it happen again."
Her chest ached. He looked so calm on the outside, but the way his voice cracked at the edges, the way his eyes refused to meet hers—it wasn't calm at all. It was guilt. Heavy, crushing guilt.
She wanted to say something, to tell him she understood, but the words tangled in her throat. Instead, she whispered, "I don't think you're dangerous."
His eyes flicked up at her sharply, as if he didn't believe her. "You don't even know me."
"Neither does anyone else," she said, her voice steadier this time. "But I see you, Kai. More than they do."
He blinked at her, his expression shifting, softening in a way that made her stomach twist. Slowly, carefully, he sat down on the step beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched.
For a moment, neither of them looked at each other. They just sat there, breathing in the heavy night air, side by side.
Then, in the quietest voice, almost too soft to hear, she admitted, "I pretend because it's easier. If I don't, people notice. And when they notice, they laugh."
The words slipped out before she could stop them. Her chest squeezed with panic. She never told anyone that.
Kai didn't laugh. He didn't flinch. He just nodded slowly, like he understood. "Yeah. Pretending's easier. But it's also lonelier."
Her throat tightened. She wanted to say something back, but no words came.
So they just sat there, their silence saying more than anything else could.