"So, about that dream… I didn't mean to scare you with it earlier. Sometimes those things just hit harder when I am already exhausted." Zack glances at her briefly before focusing back on the road. "It has been years since I have had one that bad. Must be the stress of tests catching up to me or something." He parks in one of the parking lots near his favourite café chain. "Hey," Anna said quickly, covering his hand on her thigh with her own. "You didn't scare me. I am glad you are willing to talk to me about things that bother you." Her voice is soft and understanding. "I have always been a little worried about you," she admitted softly. "Being alone so much and having to work through issues about your mom alone…"
Zack's knuckles tense under Anna's touch, the warmth of her palm seeping through his jeans. Her words– direct, honest and devoid of pity– lands more differently than he expects. No platitudes, no false reassurances. Just straightforward acknowledgment. "You have always been worried," he states quietly, not as a question but as a fact he is suddenly aware of. His gaze drops from her face to their joined hands on her thigh. "Even when I pushed you away." His thumb traces the line of her knuckles absently. The familiar tension in his shoulders ease slightly, replaced by something quieter– acceptance. "I shouldn't expect you to carry my shit," he murmurs, though the statement lacks its usual defensive bite. "But… it helps that you do."
"When we were kids and you started acting out and getting into fights. I knew it was related to your mom's death," Anna said softly. "I didn't know how to help back then, what to say or do. I am not completely sure now either, but I want to be there for you, anyway I can." Zack's hand flinches under Anna's touch, her words hitting him harder than any physical blow. The memory of those years– fighting in the playground, tears he had hide in the bathroom stall– comes rushing back. He remembers her small figure watching from the sidelines, always trying to approach him with the same gentle concern she has now. "I remember you trying," he says quietly, his voice losing its usual bravado. "You would bring me extra juice boxes from your lunchbox because you knew I wasn't eating right. Or you would sit next to me during recess even though I told you to leave me alone." His thumb moves restlessly against her skin, a nervous habit he had developed. "God, I was such an asshole to you sometimes. Treated you like some annoying shadow following me around." The car sits idling at the curb as other vehicles pass by.
"Yeah, but I get it. You were grieving," she said softly. Zack's breath catches, the simple acknowledgment hitting him like a physical blow. Grieving. The word feels foreign to him, something he has never allowed himself to fully admit. He has always called it anger, frustration, but grief– grief is something vulnerable. "I didn't know how to do it," he admits quietly, his gaze fixed on their joined hands. "Everyone else got to cry and talk about their feelings. But I just got angry because it felt safer than falling apart." Anna took a deep breath before says, "Everyone griefs differently." Zack's free hand grips the steering wheel tighter, knuckles whitening. "You were the only one who ever tried to see past the asshole I was being. Even when I pushed you away and made excuses not to talk." He turned to face Anna fully now, his expressions stripped bare of its usual defences. "Thank you," he said finally, the words rough with emotion. "For not giving up on me when I was being the worst version of myself."
"It wasn't easy," Anna admitted and squeezed his hand lightly. "Luckily, you are so attractive." Her voice became more playful. A low chuckle escapes Zack's throat, the sound surprising even himself. The shift from heavy emotional honesty to Anna's playful teasing is exactly what he needs right now. "Attractive, huh?" he echoes with a smirk, his thumb tracing circles on her thigh where their hands are still connected. "Is that your fancy way of saying I am hot when I am being vulnerable?" he releases the steering wheel and leans back against the headrest, studying Anna's profile with renewed appreciation. The early morning light catches the curve of her cheekbone and highlights strands of her hair. "You are lucky I am too tired to argue with you about that," he says, his tone regaining some of its familiar confidence. "But for the record, you are the one wearing my clothes like some kind of fan club president." His eyes flicker down to where her hand rests on top of his, noticing how small her fingers look compared to his own.
"Are you saying you want to wear some of my clothes?" Anna asked in a playfully teasing tone. "Because that might be tricky…" Zack's eyebrow raises at the suggestion, a smirk spreading across his face. "Me wearing your clothes? Now there is an image." He shifts in his seat, turning more toward Anna with genuine amusement lighting up his features. The earlier tension from their discussion has completely dissipated, replaced by their familiar dynamic of playful banter. "Tricky indeed," he agrees with a laugh. "I doubt anything of yours would fit me." His free hand moves to brush a strand of hair away from her face, his touch gentle but deliberate. "Though I can't say I would mind seeing you in my stuff again. Might become a regular occurrence if you keep stealing my jerseys." The car remains idling at the curb, other drivers occasionally glancing over at the pair engrossed in conversation.
"Oh," Anna says excited as their both get out of the car and head for the café. "Does that mean I can borrow one of those sexy leather jackets of yours?" Zack's eyebrows shoot up at her request, a surprised laugh escaping him as they walk toward the café's counter.