Everyone had left. Only fear remained. The classroom emptied slowly. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting fractured reflections on the desks.
The bell shattered the silence—like it was screaming at me: Now, or you'll never know. And I knew. This was the moment.
My heart pounded violently, as if it were trying to escape my chest. Heat surged through me—a primal urge to flee or fight. I waited until the last person left. Then I reached out and took his hand.
"Let's talk. I owe you that," I whispered, forcing my voice to stay steady.
His eyes hesitated, but he nodded. We sat on the edges of two desks—facing each other, waiting for one of us to break the unbearable silence.
"I'll go first," Jace said, lowering his gaze. Then his eyes locked with mine, searching. "I feel it. There's something you're not telling me. I can feel it."
My breath caught.
"Why won't you trust me?"
"Do you think you deserve to know everything about me?"
"Because I'm your friend. And friends don't keep secrets."
I opened my mouth, but he stepped closer.
"Mostly… because I want to know the real you. Not the mask you wear around everyone else."
And maybe… he wasn't wrong. But I couldn't tell him. Not because I didn't want to—but because maybe… I didn't like him the way he hoped. Maybe I just wanted someone—anyone—to see me.
Jace. Did he even feel anything at all? Or was it just in my head?
My heart said one thing. Reason screamed to run. His gaze searched me—too deep, too raw. My breath faltered. And then—he stepped even closer.
His hand trembled as it reached toward mine, hovering, waiting for silent permission. For a second, I froze—caught between wanting and fearing. Do I like this? Or am I just terrified of being alone?
He leaned in—
And kissed me.
The kiss was chaos. My heart screamed, "Stop!" But my body trembled, unmoving. My mind begged to run—but something buried deep inside whispered yes.
Is he kissing me—or the mask I let the world see?
And if I don't even know who I am without it, how could anyone else?
I stayed silent. Then whispered, "Why did you touch me… if you don't even believe me?"
He didn't answer. Not right away. His eyes shook, like he couldn't hold what had just happened. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and then got up and walked out.
I didn't know if I should follow—but my legs moved on their own.
It wasn't until I couldn't hear the engine of his bike anymore that I realized… I was alone.
The pain was sharp. Blurred. Confused.
I ran after him without thinking—and slammed the trunk shut.
He turned to me.
"Just say something. Tell me how you feel."
"I'm tired of always being the last to know, Amilia." His voice trembled, but he didn't back away. "You think I haven't noticed? The way your gaze disappears… the way you go quiet… the people you hang around that I've never met. You're always running."
He gently took my hand.
"What are you so afraid of?"
I pulled away.
"You don't get to know. Even if you want to."
My eyes burned with tears I refused to release. Protect him, even from me. That's all I knew how to do.
"You still didn't answer," I called as he mounted his bike.
He inhaled sharply. Then, finally, muttered, "I kissed you because… I felt like I was losing you. And it was the only way left to feel close."
The tears threatened to spill.
"I feel something deep," I admitted. "But it's not exactly love. It feels like a hand reaching from the past—familiar, safe… but not what my heart needs right now."
I forced a breath. "I'm telling you the truth—at least the parts I can. The rest… It's not all mine to share."
The ride home felt endless. When I reached the driveway, the house was too quiet.
Upstairs, I turned on the music. Opened my paints. Set the canvas by the window.
I wanted to paint a feeling. Instead, a figure emerged.
I didn't choose him. My hand moved before my mind could stop it.
Cold shivers tingled down my arms. Something inside cracked open.
The silhouette was tall. Broad shoulders. Dark wings—like smoke. Still. Defiant. Too familiar.
Oliver.
I wanted to paint over it. Hide it. But my hand wouldn't move. My heart had already chosen—long before my mind caught up.
And what scared me most… was how right it looked.
Something in me missed him.
A hand touched my shoulder—I jumped.
"Holy crap!" My heart leapt. "You scared me!"
It was Dylan.
"Are you okay?" His eyes searched me, suspicious.
"Yeah. Why?"
"Should something have happened?"
"You sure?" he pressed.
No… I gave in.
He sat at the edge of my bed. "Do you want to talk about it?"
I closed the paints—the music. I sat on the carpet, the conversation replaying in my head. Tears clung to my lashes.
"I'm trying," I whispered. "But sometimes I don't even know how to survive this." My voice broke. "It's just… too much."
He didn't say a word. Just look at me. Saw me. And that… was exactly what I needed.
Dylan never asked questions. He just saw. And maybe he always had.
"You think you'll still be friends?" he asked quietly.
"I hope so. I like talking to him. But…" My gaze dropped. "I don't know what he thinks."
He paused. Then asked, "And what if it's not just Jace?"
"Who are you talking about?"
He didn't answer. But I already knew.
Even if I couldn't admit it out loud.
"I just… lose it sometimes."
He said nothing more. Just left.
And I stayed in the silence that screamed louder than any nightmare.
I crawled under the blanket and slept. Because sleep was the only place that didn't demand answers, maybe there, without masks, I could face myself.
But the dreams… had already started speaking.