MELODY
...

The shards are gone, and so is the tension—for now, at least. After cleaning up, we agree that glasses are officially banned for the night.

Too risky.

So, we settle for TV and snacks, which feels safer and less dramatic. I don’t think either of us has the energy for more chaos tonight.

Steph sits beside me on the couch, her legs tucked up underneath her, munching on a handful of potato chips. She’s quieter than usual, and it’s weird not hearing her sharp comments or annoyed sighs at every point of the movie.

The flickering glow of the TV casts shadows on her face, softening the usual edges of her sharp features. I keep stealing glances at her, trying not to make it obvious, but it’s hard. Especially now, when she looks so relaxed, her eyes half-lidded, fighting sleep.

“Steph,” I whisper, nudging her shoulder. “You’re falling asleep.”

She blinks at me, clearly disoriented. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Go to bed,” I say, laughing softly.

“I’m fine,” she mutters, stifling a yawn that betrays her words.

“You’re literally half-asleep right now. Go.”

Steph huffs like I’ve just asked her to run a marathon. “Fine,” she grumbles, pushing herself up from the couch with all the grace of a drunk cat.

She doesn’t even bother arguing over who takes the couch and who gets the bed. She’s too tired to care, apparently.

As soon as she’s gone, I feel the absence of her warmth beside me. The space she leaves behind is too quiet, too empty.

I manage to stay up for another hour, flipping through channels aimlessly, but my eyes keep drifting toward the hallway. Toward her.

Eventually, I grab a comforter from my room and settle back onto the couch. The bed is big, sure, but it doesn’t feel right taking it tonight.

Steph needs the space—and the rest. After everything that happened earlier, she deserves that much.

Still, it’s hard not to think about her. About what she said.

“I think I like you.”

The words play over and over in my head, bold and beautiful, just like her.

The TV hums softly in the background as I stretch out on the couch, pulling the comforter up to my chin. The couch isn’t exactly comfortable, but it doesn’t take long for sleep to creep up on me. My eyes grow heavy, and I'm knocked out.

***

I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep when I hear an angelic voice call me.

“Mel.”

It’s soft, barely above a whisper, but it pulls me from my sleep. My eyes flutter open, and for a moment, I’m disoriented, unsure of where I am.

“Mel,” the voice says again.

It’s Steph.

She’s standing over me, her hair slightly mussed, her eyes half-closed but focused.

“Let’s go to bed,” she says, her voice gentle but firm.

I open my mouth to protest, but the words don’t come. There’s something about the way she says it, that makes it impossible to argue. Or maybe I just don't want to.

Before I can process what’s happening, she’s taking my hand, pulling me to my feet. I let her lead me down the hall to my own room, too sleepy to resist or care.

She tucks me in, pulling the comforter up around me like I’m a kid who’s been caught staying up too late. It’s oddly tender, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at how careful she’s being.

“Steph,” I mumble as she moves to the other side of the bed.

“Go to sleep, Mel,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument.

She settles onto the far edge of the bed, keeping a steady distance between us. I can feel her presence, though, warm and solid, even as my eyes drift closed again.

***

When I wake up, the sunlight streaming through the curtains is the first thing I notice. The second thing is that the other side of the bed is empty.

I sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. The sheets on her side are cool, which means she’s been up for a while.

Panic flickers in my chest.

Did she leave? Did she freak out?
Did I accidentally cuddle her in the night and she didn't like it?

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my heart pounding as I hurry out into the hallway. The apartment feels too quiet, too still.

“Steph?” I call, my voice echoing in the silence.

No answer.

I check the kitchen first, hoping to find her making coffee or rifling through the cabinets, but it’s empty.

Next, I check the living room. Nothing.

By the time I circle back to the hallway, my mind is running wild with worst-case scenarios. Maybe she couldn’t handle it—couldn’t handle me—and decided to bail. Maybe I scared her off with everything that happened last night. Or maybe she got kidnapped.

But then I hear the faint sound of running water coming from the bathroom.

I let out a breath, relief flooding through me.

When she finally comes out of the shower, her hair is damp and her face freshly scrubbed, she looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

“You okay?” she asks, like she didn’t just give me a mini heart attack by disappearing.

“Yeah,” I say, trying to sound casual. “I thought you left.”

She tilts her head, her expression softening. “I wouldn’t just leave, Mel.”

“Good,” I say, nodding. “Because I made breakfast.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You cooked?”

“Well, I poured cereal into bowls, so... yeah. I cooked.”

She snorts, shaking her head.

We stand still got a moment before I finally walk out to give her room to dress up.

When she is done, she follows me in the kitchen, wearing some cute baby pink shorts and a white tee. I try not to gawk.

We sit at the counter, eating our cereal in comfortable silence. And for the first time in a long time, everything feels... right.

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, the sunlight catching on the damp strands of her blonde hair, and I can’t help but smile.

When she walks back to the sink to rinse the bowls, my fucking thoughts just stumble out of my mouth.

"Nice butt," I mutter.

She turns to look at me, a shocked expression on her face.

I freeze.

But she bursts out laughing, and so I join in.

Agh, what the hell?