"I see you in everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you're everything that exists, the reality of everything."
Dominic
𓇼𓇼𓇼𓇼

Willa's words linger in the air between us, fragile but unyielding.

"I don't know if we can be fixed."

She sits there, arms wrapped around herself like she's holding her own damn heart together. Her blonde hair catches in the wind, strands lifting and falling over her eyes, but she makes no move to push them away. She just watches me, waiting, like she expects me to say something that will change everything.

But I don't know if I can.

Because how the hell do you respond to something like that?

I shift in my seat, running a hand through up and down my leg, the weight of the moment settling over me like a second skin.

"What can I do?" My voice is quieter than I mean for it to be, like I'm afraid of the answer. "To get you back."

She blinks at me, a flicker of hesitation in her expression before she looks away, scuffing the toe of her shoe against the pavement. I know Willa well enough to recognize the war in her head, the way she chews the inside of her cheek when she's debating whether to let herself believe in something.

In me.

When she finally speaks, her voice is so soft I almost miss it.

"I need you to try."

Try.

It's the simplest word, and yet it feels like it carries the weight of a thousand second chances.

Try.

Like she doesn't expect much. Like she already knows I'll fuck this up again, but she's giving me the option anyway.

Try.

It presses against my ribs, burrowing into my chest, because for so long, I didn't think I had the right to try.

Didn't think I had a way back to her, to us.

My throat tightens. "You think it's that simple?"

"No." She exhales. "But it's a start."

A start.

Not a promise. Not forgiveness. But not the door slamming in my face either.

"What exactly does that mean?" I ask, my voice unsteady, breathless.

Willa's gaze doesn't waver. "No more drugs." Her voice is soft but firm, like she's already made peace with her own boundaries. "I can't be with you if you're insistent on destroying yourself." She presses a hand over her heart, her fingers curling into the fabric of her jacket like she's holding herself together. "It hurts me, Dom. So much. And I can't do it again." Her voice wavers for a fraction of a second before she steadies herself. "I want you to try. Not for me—but for you."

My chest tightens.

"Baby—" The word slips out before I can stop it, instinctual, familiar. But the way she tenses makes my stomach drop. I haven't called her that in a long time.

A beat of silence stretches between us.

Then, quietly, I whisper, "Okay. I'll try.

Her hands tug at the sleeves of her jacket, like she's gripping onto something unseen, like if she lets go, she might slip away completely. "We should go," she says finally, the words careful. Distant.

I nod, but my feet don't move right away.

I don't want to go yet. I don't want this moment to end.

Because once it does, I'll have to accept that she's still a million miles away from me, and I'm not sure how many steps I have left in me before she stops letting me take them at all.

But I turn towards my bike anyway, grabbing my keys and pushing them into the ignition.

She hesitates before flipping her visor down, fingers brushing my back as she does it, and it's the kind of touch that shouldn't make my heart stutter but does.

The ride back is quiet, but not in a bad way. Willa's arms are tight around my waist, her body warm against my back, her breath fanning against the back of my neck in a way that makes me want to close my eyes and just feel.

For the first time in a long time, I don't feel so damn cold.

When we pull up in front of her house, I shut off the bike and sit still for a moment, my hands gripping the handlebars tighter than necessary.

Willa climbs off first, unclipping the helmet, but she doesn't hand it back right away. Her fingers toy with the strap, like she's buying herself time.

I should just let her go.

I should say goodnight and leave it at that.

But I can't.

I step forward, hesitating only for a second before leaning in and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She stills.

I brace myself for her to shove me away or mutter something sarcastic, but she just stays frozen, caught somewhere between surprise and indecision.

I pull back, studying her face, trying to read the things she isn't saying.

"I missed you," I say, the words slipping out before I can think better of it.

Willa looks at me then—really looks at me. And for a second, I think she's going to say something back. But then she exhales and takes a step back.

"Goodnight, Dom."

It's not much.

But it's something.

I watch as she disappears inside her house, waiting until the door closes before I finally turn toward mine.

The second I step inside, I hear it.

Laughter.

Soft and familiar, wrapping around the walls of the house like it belongs here.

I round the corner, and there they are.

My mom and dad, curled up on the couch like they're living in some picture-perfect scene. Mom's head rests against his shoulder, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest while Dad leans in, whispering something into her ear that makes her laugh—the kind of laugh that makes the whole room feel warmer. His hand is in her hair, his lips brushing against her temple.

They look happy.

The kind of happy I used to think was permanent.

The kind of happy that only seemed to exist when I wasn't around.

My stomach twists.

I shouldn't have been born.

If I wasn't here, they'd always be like this. No fights. No stress. No disappointments hanging between them like a dark cloud.

Just them. Just happy.

My chest tightens, something sharp and bitter curling in my throat.

Dad notices me first. His eyes soften slightly, his arm shifting from where it was wrapped around Mom. "Dom."

Tense. Careful. Like he's weighing his words, trying to figure out how to talk to the son he never really figured out how to deal with. But there's also a spark of emotion in there, sadness or something else.

I don't respond right away. I just stand there, gripping the strap of my bag so tightly my knuckles turn white.

Mom turns at the sound of my name, her whole face softening. "Dom, sweetheart." She shifts like she's about to get up, but I shake my head.

"Don't. It's fine."

She stays where she is, but her eyes track me as I move toward the stairs.

"Have you eaten yet?" she asks.

"Yeah," I lie.

She frowns, but I don't give her the chance to push. "Night, Mom."

I don't bother saying it to Dad.

I head upstairs, my footsteps heavier with each step.

The laughter downstairs fades as I shut my bedroom door behind me, leaving me alone with the silence.

I sit on the edge of my bed, my fingers pressing against my temples.

The urge to text Eli and get high crashes into me.

Willa.

Tonight.

My parents.

Everything I shouldn't feel.

I stare at the ceiling, trying to breathe past the weight in my chest.

I don't know if we can be fixed.

Maybe Willa was talking about us.

But maybe she was talking about me, too.

𓇼𓇼𓇼𓇼

They are too cute and they are finally getting somewhereeeeee

Guys I can't this book is literally going to break me, I'm looking at my plot summary and omg. I don't think I can write one chapter it's so heartbreaking, it's going to take me years.

I'm going to bawl my eyes out.