Silence didn't shatter. It thinned. It was Evelyn who named it first.
Not as a demand. Not as a warning. As a reality.
They sat at the kitchen table late in the evening, the house quiet except for the soft ticking of the clock. Juni cradled a mug of tea between his hands, warmth seeping into his palms.
"The school contacted me today," Evelyn said gently.
Juni's breath caught.
"They didn't say much," she continued. "Just that they're concerned. That they want to make sure you're safe."
Juni stared into his tea. "…Are they going to make me do something?" he asked.
Evelyn shook her head. "No," she said. "But there are moments when adults are required to act—not because they want to take control, but because safety legally matters."
The word legally settled heavily in the room. "So this isn't… optional anymore," Juni whispered.
Evelyn met his gaze. "Parts of it are," she said honestly. "And parts of it aren't."
Elian watched Juni's shoulders tense, the old fear threatening to pull him inward. "…I don't want everything decided for me," Juni said. "I don't want people talking over me."
"You won't be," Evelyn replied. "But I won't lie to you and pretend nothing will change."
Juni swallowed hard. "…If I say yes," he asked, "do I still get a say?"
Evelyn didn't hesitate. "Yes," she said. "You'll be asked. You'll be heard. And I will be there to make sure of it."
Silence filled the space again. This time, Juni didn't rush to fill it. He thought of the messages. The calls he hadn't answered. The way his body still flinched before his mind caught up.
"…I don't want this to keep happening," he said finally.
Elian's chest tightened.
Juni lifted his head. "…I think I want help," he said. "Even if it's scary."
Evelyn nodded slowly. "That's enough," she said. "That's more than enough."
They talked carefully—about next steps, about who would be contacted, about what could happen and what wouldn't happen.
No timelines were forced. No decisions rushed.
Juni asked questions. Evelyn answered honestly—even when the answers were hard.
Elian stayed quiet, steady, present. Later, Juni stood by the window, watching the city lights blink on.
"…I thought saying something would feel like losing," he murmured.
Elian stepped beside him. "And now?"
Juni considered it. "…It feels like choosing not to disappear."
Elian smiled softly. "That sounds like winning to me."
Juni huffed a small laugh. "…Leave it to you to say something like that."
That night, Juni wrote in his sketchbook again. Not a line this time. A door. Slightly open. Light spilling through.
He wrote beneath it:
I didn't break the silence. I stepped out of it.
The next morning, the bus arrived as always. Juni climbed aboard, heart steady but alert. He sat beside Elian, close enough to feel grounded.
Silence still existed between them. But it was no longer something that trapped him. It was something he could step through.