Nova swallowed, his throat working visibly as he looked at me. His fingers twitched at his sides like he didn't know what to do with them.
"I didn't... I didn't want you to see it like that," he began, voice raw. "I swear, Noah, she's not...she's not who you think she is."
I clutched the pillow tighter, my nails scraping against the rough weave. My chest felt too small for my lungs.
"Then who is she?" My voice was hoarse, barely audible. "Because last night, she looked like someone who...who belonged with you."
Nova closed his eyes briefly, as though the words physically hurt him. When he opened them again, he looked exhausted.
"She's my cousin, Hanna."
I blinked, the world tilting for a second. "What?"
"She just moved here," Nova continued, words tumbling out fast like he was afraid I'd stop listening.
"My aunt asked me to let her work part-time at the café while she looks for another job. She's staying in the apartment upstairs with me for now, because she doesn't have a place to live yet."
I stared at him, my heart hammering so violently I could barely hear. "Your... cousin?"
He nodded, stepping back a little to give me space. "Yeah. I didn't… I didn't get to explain because you ran. And I—I panicked. I didn't know how to run after you without making things worse."
My pulse thundered in my ears. Part of me felt an enormous, shameful relief. Part of me felt stupid for assuming the worst. But the biggest part still hurt, because even if she wasn't someone he was dating, it didn't erase all the nights I'd wondered if I was just temporary.
Henzo shifted behind us, arms crossed tight over his chest. "Damn it—why didn't you just say that right away?"
Nova raked a hand through his hair, frustration flashing in his eyes. "Because I'm an idiot, okay? I didn't think it mattered. And it did. And I'm sorry."
I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut as a tear slipped free. I felt fatigue rushing throughout my body as I sighed.
Nova stood a few feet away from me in the living room, framed by pale sunlight streaming through the half-open door. Henzo hovered protectively nearby, arms crossed, eyes darting between us like he was ready to physically throw Nova out at the first sign of tears on my face.
I stared at Nova. My chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath feeling like it scraped against raw flesh. I wanted to run. I wanted to stay. I wanted him to speak. I wanted him to disappear.
So many contradictions churned in my chest, I thought I might explode.
Then my voice slipped out, fragile as thread.
"I didn't mean to run in high school," I said. My throat felt scraped raw.
"I was scared. I thought you didn't feel the same. You just... stood there. And I—I panicked. I thought I ruined everything. And it hurt too much to stay and see it in your face."
Nova's jaw clenched, a small muscle ticking along his cheek. His eyes were shining, reflecting the soft glow from the living room window. Slowly, carefully, he stepped around the coffee table, as though closing the distance between us wasn't just physical, it was everything else, too.
"Again, I wasn't rejecting you, Noah."
The way he said my name, soft, deliberate, like it was precious, which made something inside me unravel. My vision blurred as my chest tightened painfully around my ribs.
"I just was stunned," Nova continued.
"You were just what they call, my rival, Noah. At first, that's all you were. Someone who made everything feel like a competition just by breathing next to me in class."
His voice trembled faintly, like there was a river running under the surface, all this deep, unstoppable feeling he was barely containing.
"But then you won that damn debate," he said, his lips twitching into the faintest, most bittersweet smile.
"And suddenly, I wasn't annoyed—I was in awe. You stood up there like you owned the room, like your voice was made to be heard. And that night…you stopped being just my rival."
He hesitated, looking away briefly, as if the floor might somehow make this conversation easier. Then he lifted his eyes back to mine, and they were glassy with unshed tears.
"You became my crush." His voice softened. The words fell slower, gentler, like each one was precious cargo he hadn't dared deliver for years.
"And then—without me even realizing it—you became my everything. My every other thought. My quiet reason for showing up, for staying."
He took a shallow breath, hands curling slightly at his sides.
"I was trying to figure out how to say yes. How not to ruin it. How to take something real and not make a mess of it. But the second I opened my mouth to say something..."
He paused. His voice broke just a little.
"You were already gone."
I blinked, tears gathering so thick my eyelashes stuck together. My vision swam. The burn in my chest spread like wildfire.
"I-I thought I was protecting myself," I whispered, voice breaking on the edges. My eyes dropped to the floor, unable to bear the weight of his gaze.
Nova didn't even flinch. His voice was steady, but his eyes glistened. He shifted closer by a tiny step, careful and hesitant.
"You were protecting yourself from me."
A small, sharp sound escaped my throat. The silence that followed was thick, like a fog rolling in. Not angry. Just full of everything we'd left unsaid.
I glanced at Henzo, who was still standing a few feet away, watching us with narrowed eyes, chest rising and falling with restrained fury.
"I'm still scared," I admitted, so quietly I wasn't sure he'd hear me. My voice was small, choked with all the truths I'd kept hidden.
"I know," he replied softly, as though there was no judgment in it at all.
"I don't know how to be anything other than scared."
He nodded, then lifted his hand slowly, as though each movement required permission. He brushed just the edge of my sleeve. Not my wrist, not my hand. Just the fabric.
His fingers skimmed the soft cotton, feather-light, as though asking Is this okay? Can I still touch you?
"You don't have to stop being scared," he murmured, voice so low it barely carried across the space between us.
"After all, I loved you ever since then, and still."
Something inside me crumbled.
The tears came all at once. They rushed down my face before I could even breathe, dragging years' worth of grief and guilt and longing with them. I doubled over slightly, pressing a shaking hand against my chest as if to hold myself together.
I was breaking, right there in front of him.
And before I could turn away, before I could hide my face the way I always did, Nova stepped forward and pulled me into him.
No hesitation. Just a solid, desperate hug.
His arms tightened around me, one hand pressing gently to the back of my head. My cheek rested against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.
And I cried.
Ugly, breathless sobs that wrenched through my chest and shook my whole frame. His scent filled my nose with warmth, coffee, and something faintly sweet that I'd always associated with him.
He didn't pull away. Didn't shush me. Didn't tell me to be strong.
He just held me.
As if I was worth protecting.
As if he could carry me like this for as long as I needed.
Eventually, my sobs slowed. I pulled back, embarrassed at how soaked his shirt was. But Nova didn't care.
I finally pulled back a little, embarrassed at how soaked his shirt was. My cheeks were burning, and I knew my face was blotchy, my eyes red and puffy. But Nova didn't seem to care.
He looked at me like I was still worth holding.
Like he was still here.
Like I was still me.
And even though I was crying so hard I could barely breathe, I became vaguely aware of Henzo shifting beside us.
Henzo shifted beside us, sighed sharply, muttered, "Damn it," and ruffled my hair as he passed.
"Kuya," he said, voice softer now, a faint grin pulling at his mouth despite the shine in his eyes, "I'll leave now—it feels like I'm interrupting something. Just text me if you want this guy arrested, okay?"
He shot Nova a glare, but Nova didn't even look up from where he was holding me. Henzo just sighed and warmly smiled at me, then he turned and quietly slipped out of the room, pulling the door half-shut behind him.
Suddenly, it was just me and Nova.
I sniffled, wiping at my face with the back of my sleeve, messy and awkward. Then, despite myself, I managed a watery, tremulous smile.
"I still love you, Nova," I said. "I've always been in love with you ever since we won the Battle of Brains contest."
Nova blinked, eyes wide. His lips twitched, caught between a smile and disbelief.
"Even if I've run that day," I continued, words tumbling out in a rush now that the floodgates had opened.
"You've been on my mind for 8 years." My voice cracked again, tears gathering fresh in my eyes.
And then the sobs returned, lighter this time, softer, as if my chest didn't have quite so much weight pressing down on it.
Nova's eyes softened, and something inside him seemed to unclench, like he'd been holding his breath for years.
He reached up slowly, as though the moment might shatter if he moved too fast. His fingers hovered above my cheek for a beat, then gently lowered.
His thumb brushed under one eye, wiping away the tear that clung stubbornly to my skin. Then the other.
His touch was warm, soft in a way that felt almost reverent, like he was touching something precious. Like I was.
He didn't rush, nor did he speak.
He simply let his fingertips linger for a second longer than necessary, as though memorizing the shape of my sorrow.
Then he cupped my cheek fully with his palm, his thumb stroking slow, absent patterns across my skin. He leaned forward until I could feel the warmth of his breath, steady and unhurried, grounding me like an anchor in the storm I hadn't realized I'd been weathering for years.
His other hand rose, mirroring the first, gently framing my face, fingers brushing the ends of my hair.
"I hate seeing you cry," he whispered, voice trembling just slightly. "But I'm glad I get to be here...when you finally stop hiding it."
I felt something shift inside me, a loosening, like a knot slowly untangling after years of being pulled too tight.
I leaned into his hands, letting myself rest there, eyes fluttering shut as I tried to absorb the moment.
"I—I just wanted to tell you, a–again and again," I stammered, voice trembling like fragile glass.
"I love you, Nova."
Nova's breath caught, a soft exhale that sounded almost like a sob. His thumb kept stroking my cheek, and when he spoke, his voice was so full of wonder it nearly broke me all over again.
"I love you, too, Noah," he whispered. "Always have. Even when I didn't know how to say it."
And in the quiet that followed, something fragile and precious bloomed between us, delicate but real.
It wasn't perfect. It wasn't simple.
But it was true.
And as he held me there, breathing me in like he couldn't believe I was real, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, we'd finally stopped running together.
"So, no more running?" he asked gently, seriously, like he needed to hear it from my own lips.
I shook my head. "No," I said. "No. I'm done waiting."
Nova exhaled, like something in those words released something in him, too.
But then his grin returned. "Okay," he warned quietly, "But if you don't let go soon, I'll want to kiss you."
I stared at him, the corners of my mouth lifting into a cheeky smile. "Then what are you waiting for?"
His eyebrows lifted, just a flicker of surprise crossing his face, like he hadn't expected me to say it. Like hope had punched the air right out of his lungs.
His lips parted, eyes searching mine, and I could see it. The way his heart was suddenly beating as violently as mine.
And then, acting before I could second-guess myself, I reached up. My fingers curled around the collar of his shirt, slow and careful, feeling the soft cotton and the heat of his skin underneath. It was instinct, muscle memory. Like coming home to something my body never forgot.
I tugged him down toward me, gentle but sure.
And our lips met.
At first, it was soft. Feather-light. A cautious press of mouths, as if we were testing the ground before stepping fully onto it. His lips were warm, plush, and trembling slightly against mine, and the contact sent a shiver down my spine.
It was sweet. Achingly tender. A quiet question: Are we really doing this?
My hand slipped higher, brushing the side of his neck, feeling his pulse hammering wildly under my fingertips. He made a tiny sound, caught between a gasp and a sigh, and it ignited something deep in my chest.
We pulled apart a fraction, breathless and dazed. His forehead rested against mine. My chest heaved, the taste of him lingering on my lips, coffee and sugar and something that was just him.
And in the hush between our ragged breaths, the silence wasn't empty anymore.
It was full.
I swallowed hard, feeling my lips still tingling, my body leaning instinctively closer, craving the warmth of him. My eyes fluttered open to find him staring at me, stunned and hungry all at once.
I laughed. "Got you—you didn't expect that—"
But the words barely formed before Nova surged forward.
He kissed me again, but harder this time.
All the restraint from moments earlier vanished in a heartbeat. His hands came up, cradling my jaw, thumbs brushing over my cheeks like he wanted to memorize the shape of my face. His lips parted mine, deeper, more urgent, and I felt his breath catch as he tilted his head to fit us closer together.
A tiny sound tore from my throat, a soft, surprised whimper, as heat exploded through my chest. My knees felt weak. My fingers tightened in his shirt, knuckles going white as I pulled him closer, needing him like air.
This kiss wasn't gentle. It was years of silence breaking open all at once. It was every late-night ache, every what-if, every memory of stolen glances across classrooms and coffee shops. His tongue brushed tentatively against mine, sending sparks skittering down my spine. I shivered, a low, shuddering moan escaping before I could bite it back.
Nova tasted like the quiet sweetness of something I'd thought I'd lost forever.
I felt his breath stutter, felt the way his fingers trembled where they tangled in my hair. His body pressed closer, chest to chest, heat pouring off him in waves, and the press of his mouth grew almost frantic.
I kissed him back with everything I had. All my fear, all my heartbreak, all the years I'd spent loving him in secret. My hands slid up his shoulders, curling around his neck, desperate to hold him there, to keep him close.
When we finally broke apart, we were both gasping, our foreheads pressed together, lips swollen and red. Nova's eyes were wild and shining, dark with something deeper than lust.
His thumb traced the curve of my bottom lip, lingering over the place where our kiss had left a faint, trembling ache. His voice was low, ragged.
"I've wanted to do that...for so f***ing long."
I stared at him, chest heaving, my whole body buzzing like every nerve had been set ablaze. My fingers were still curled into his shirt, unwilling to let him go.
"Nova..." I whispered, barely able to form the word.
But he just smiled, soft and wrecked, and leaned in to kiss me again.
This time, slower, but no less intense. A kiss that said, We're here now. We're real. We're done hiding.
And as his mouth claimed mine all over again, the taste of him sinking into me like sunlight into cold skin, I finally let myself believe that this wasn't a dream.
And for the first time in years, the world didn't feel like it had fallen apart.
It felt like it had finally come back together.