— NOLAN'S POV —
The moment Varek left, my knees gave out and I sank to the floor. the silence of the apartment swallowing me whole.
He had walked away. Again.
I wanted to scream after him, to demand answers, to force him to stay—but all that came was a heavy ache in my chest, a hollow emptiness pressing against my ribs like something trying to break free. The weight wouldn't leave, no matter how deep I tried to breathe.
I was already on the verge of tears when, without warning, the lights flickered and died.
Darkness.
Pitch black.
A power outage.
My body reacted before my mind did—heart pounding, breaths shallow and rapid, my palms damp with sweat. I hated darkness. Always had. It reminded me of the nightmares—the ones that used to shred me apart as a child.
In the dark, I was never alone. It always reminded me of the suffocating feeling that something lurked there, watching, waiting, just out of sight.
I tried to force myself up, fumbling toward drawers, anything—candles, a flashlight, even a single spark of light. But my hands shook too violently to hold onto anything. But every step made it worse.
And then the memories came crashing back.
As vivid as if I had been dropped straight back into the dream. The cries of children. Their screams echoing endlessly. Blood-soaked hands reaching for me, clawing, pulling me into that dimensionless black space with no ground, no ceiling, no end.
I pressed my palms over my ears, trying to block it out, but the voices were already inside me.
And then I saw it—different this time.
The face.
In every nightmare, there had been someone. A presence, a shadow, a comfort I could never name. Until now.
It wasn't faceless anymore.
It was him.
Varek.
The boy from the photograph. The one holding my hand in the dream, trying to shield me from the screaming void.
The realization crushed me with a force so sharp it sent me spiraling. My chest tightened until I couldn't breathe. The urge hit me like a storm—violent, consuming—the need to cut, to bleed, to release the chaos gnawing inside me.
I stumbled into my bedroom, searching for some illusion of safety, but the shadows followed me there too. My eyes landed on the mirror hanging on the wall.
And suddenly, the choice felt simple.
I balled my trembling fist, Varek's voice flickering through my memory: "Don't try to hurt yourself again." For a second, it stopped me. For a second, I almost obeyed.
But the storm won.
My fist crashed into the glass, the shatter echoing like a gunshot in the room. Pain shot up my arm, and crimson drops trickled down my knuckles, sliding onto the floor in slow, glistening trails.
It soothed me. The sting. The sight.
I bent down, picked up one jagged shard, and gripped it so tightly it sliced deeper into my palm, blood dripping steadily now. Hugging my knees, I curled into the corner, the shard digging into my hand like an anchor.
The voices screamed louder. Chaos thundering in my skull. Telling me to end it. To silence it all. To just… do it.
And I almost did.
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—VAREK'S POV—
The sight froze me in place.
Nolan, crumpled in the corner, his fist dripping blood, a shard of mirror clenched in his trembling hand. His head was down, his body shaking, the sound of his uneven breaths filling the silence.
And for the first time in my life, I didn't know what to do.
Panic rooted me where I stood. My lungs burned as if they'd forgotten how to pull air. The only thought screaming through me was—this is my fault.
He was like this because of me. Because I left. Because I walked away when he needed me.
I deserved to die for this.
My eyes locked on the shard of glass in his hand, the way his knuckles whitened around it, and terror gripped me so violently I felt sick. My hands trembled, my chest heaved, but I forced my voice out—gentle, careful, desperate.
"Nolan…"
No response. His head stayed down, shoulders shaking, grip tightening on the shard until more blood welled out.
"Nolan, please…" My voice fractured, trembling against the silence. "Just—listen to me. Don't hurt yourself. If you need to hurt someone—" I swallowed hard, throat burning as the words tore out of me, "then take it out on me instead. Stab me. I won't stop you, I won't fight back. Just—please—give me the glass."
His head lifted, slow and heavy, eyes red and wet, his face twisted with a grief that cut deeper than any blade.
"Why now?" His voice broke apart, raw, uneven. "Why are you here now… when you could've just stayed gone? Like before."
I flinched.
"These voices," he whispered, pressing his fist against his temple, "they're telling me to end all this. It's chaos in here. Tell me, Varek… what should I do?"
My legs moved before I decided. I took a slow step closer.
"Breathe with me," I whispered, leaning closer as if my voice could shield him. "Just once—deep, slow. Only with me." My chest tightened. "Block them out. Every voice but mine… let them vanish." I swallowed hard, my words breaking against the silence. "You're precious to me, Nolan. More than you'll ever understand. Don't—" my voice trembled—"don't think leaving wouldn't matter. It would tear me apart. I can't—" the confession clawed out of me—"I can't imagine this world without you."
I knelt in front of him, close enough to feel the tremors in his body. My hand reached for his.
"Please. Give it to me."
For a long moment, he stared at me, torn between resistance and collapse. And then… his fingers loosened. The shard slid into my palm.
I threw it away immediately, the sound of it clattering across the floor sharp in the silence.
Nolan broke. His sobs tore out of him like his chest couldn't contain them anymore. I reached for him, arms instinctively moving to hold him—
"Don't touch me." His voice shook, barely above a whisper. "You don't have the right. Not if you can't trust me enough to tell me anything. Stay away."
The words sliced through me, but I didn't move.
"Fine. Then don't trust me yet. Don't forgive me yet. We can talk about everything later. Just… right now, don't push me away. Let me stay. Let me be here."
I tried again, arms around him. He struggled weakly, but his strength gave out quickly. Eventually, he let me hold him. His body crumpled against mine, his head burying into my chest as if he'd finally run out of places to hide.
He was trembling under my touch, sobbing so hard he could barely breathe. And every sound ripped me open, shredding me from the inside out.
I pressed my face into his hair, clutching him like if I let go, he'd vanish.
Inside, I was praying. I was on my knees—though no one could see it.
If there's anyone up there listening—God, demon, fate, I don't care—hear me. Take it. Take everything that was ever meant for me. Every moment of joy, every shred of peace, every chance at love—take it all. Pour it into him instead.
And if it demands more, take me too. Let his pain thread itself through my veins, let his tears burn on my skin, let every wound he carries be carved into me. I will bear them, breath after breath, until the end of this life—and after, if that's what it takes.
If I must have a heart, let it beat only for his burdens. If I must belong somewhere, let it be only where his voice still lingers. Nothing else. Nothing less.
My nails cut into my palms, an oath written in blood beneath my skin.
I didn't know if anything out there cared. I didn't know if prayers could bend the world.
But I knew this—
I meant every word.
And I swore, with all that I was:
I would never let him break like this again.