Tyler thought the daylight would save him. Shadows belonged to the night. Hallucinations, too.
But when he poured coffee into his chipped mug that morning, his reflection in the black surface rippled wrong. The liquid distorted, and for a heartbeat, another face stared back smiling.
He dropped the cup. It shattered, shards skating across the linoleum.
Jackson was at his side in seconds.
"What happened?" His voice was tight, urgent. His hand caught Tyler's wrist before he could cut himself on the broken ceramic.
"I'm—" Tyler's breath stuttered. He wanted to say I'm losing my mind, but the words snagged in his throat. He couldn't let Jackson know the truth. If he told him, if he showed him—Jackson would leave.
"Just… clumsy," Tyler muttered, forcing a shrug, but his voice cracked.
Jackson crouched, gathering pieces carefully, his long fingers delicate against the shards. His eyes flicked up, searching Tyler's face. "You look like you didn't sleep at all."
"I didn't." Tyler's honesty slipped out before he could catch it.
Jackson's brows furrowed. He reached for Tyler's hand again, holding it gently this time. "You don't have to go through this alone. Whatever it is."
The words hit like a blow, warm and terrifying. Something inside Tyler ached to lean into that touch, to rest his head against Jackson's shoulder and admit everything.
But the hiss returned, curling up his spine: If you let him in, you'll lose him. Better to be alone than abandoned.
Tyler pulled back, muttering an excuse, and retreated to his room. He locked the door.
Jackson's knuckles tapped once, tentative. "I'll be out here, okay? Whenever you're ready."
Tyler pressed his forehead against the cool wood and let his eyes close. For a moment, he let himself imagine opening it. Letting Jackson hold him. Letting someone else share the burden.
But when he glanced at the mirror across the room, his reflection shook its head slowly. Disapproving. Possessive.
And the courage died in his chest.