— Aara's POV
The ring was still echoing in her bones when she got home.
Her fists were sore, wrapped in dried blood and bandage tape. Her hoodie smelled like sweat and smoke. Her legs ached from the last kick she threw.
But none of it compared to what she felt in her chest.
Empty.
A hollow that no fight could fill.
Not tonight.
The apartment was quiet. Ayin was gone — for now. Probably out ruining something again. Their mother hadn't even stirred when she slammed the door.
Aara stood in the hallway, alone in the dark, unsure whether to go to her room or just collapse on the floor.
And then there was a knock.
Not loud.
Not demanding.
Just there.
She opened the door.
Haru.
No words. No smile.Just him — hair damp from rain, hoodie half-zipped, breathing like he'd run halfway across the city.
He looked like her felt.
Fractured. And still standing.
"Say something," she whispered.
"I didn't want to fix it," he said. "I just didn't want you to bleed alone."
Her throat tightened.
"I'm so tired, Haru."
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
"I know."
They didn't turn on the lights.
He followed her down the hallway like a shadow, wordless, steady.
When she reached her room, she paused in the doorway.
"You shouldn't be here."
"I know."
She looked at him — eyes heavy, voice quiet.
"I'm not okay."
He didn't flinch.
"I don't need you to be."
She stepped inside, and he followed.
She sat on the edge of her bed, arms resting on her thighs.He stood in the doorway like he was trying not to drown in her silence.
"I hate needing people," she said. "It makes me feel weak."
"You don't need me," he said. "You're just letting me stay."
She looked up.
And for the first time in weeks… she didn't argue.
He stepped forward, slowly.
Like he was approaching something fragile.
She didn't move.
Didn't blink.
When his hand reached for hers, she let him take it.
Fingers bruised. Blood under her nails.
And still — he held them like they were clean.
"I saw what you did in the ring," he whispered.
"I needed to hit something."
"I wanted to hit everything."
"I know."
His fingers brushed her jaw, lightly. Tentatively.
"I didn't come here to touch you," he said.
"Then why did you come?"
"To stay."
She closed her eyes, just for a second.
Then stood up.
He was taller. He always had been. But tonight, the space between them felt even. Measured.
She stepped into his space, so close she could feel his breath.
"Just for tonight," she whispered.
He nodded.
And she reached up to touch his face.
The kiss was soft.
Not innocent.
Just quiet.
Slow.
Like neither of them were sure they'd survive it.
Like maybe this was a goodbye they hadn't earned yet.
When he kissed her back, it wasn't with hunger.
It was with ache.
One hand behind her neck, the other at her waist, holding her like she'd disappear if he let go.
She didn't pull away.
Not this time.
Not yet.
They lay down on the bed fully clothed — shoes off, hoodies damp from the outside air.
He held her like she was made of broken glass and he'd spent his life walking on it.
Her head rested on his chest, ear pressed to the thud of his heartbeat — too fast, too loud, and hers.
And when she finally whispered, "Don't save me,"
He said:
"I'm not here to save you. I'm just here to stay."
They didn't sleep.
But they didn't speak either.
Just two ghosts holding each other.
Trying to remember what being human felt like.