Courage didn't feel heroic after the café.
It felt quiet. Exhausting. Heavy in a way Elior hadn't anticipated. The kind of heavy that settled into his shoulders and stayed there, a reminder that standing up for yourself often meant carrying the aftermath alone.
Except he wasn't alone.
Mira stayed the night on the couch, curled under a blanket with a book she didn't really read. Elior lay awake in his room, listening to the rhythm of her breathing through the thin wall. The sound grounded him more than sleep ever could.
Morning came softly.
Sunlight crept across the floor, touching the edge of the doorway like it was asking permission. Elior stepped into the living room to find Mira already awake, hair messy, eyes gentle.
"How do you feel?" she asked.
He thought about it. About the ache in his chest that wasn't panic. About the absence of dread where it used to live.
"Different," he said. "Not lighter. Just… steadier."
She smiled. "That sounds like progress."
They shared breakfast in comfortable silence, the kind that didn't demand performance. When Mira left for class, she kissed his cheek without hesitation. Elior stood in the doorway long after she was gone, hand resting where her warmth lingered.
For once, he didn't question whether he deserved it.
---
The consequences began quietly.
A message from his mother arrived that afternoon—short, careful, laden with concern.
He called me, it read. Said he spoke to you. Are you okay?
Elior stared at the screen, old instincts urging him to minimize, to protect others from discomfort. He typed, deleted, typed again.
I'm okay, he finally sent. I set boundaries.
A pause.
I'm proud of you, came the reply.
The words hit him harder than he expected.
He hadn't known he was still waiting for them.
---
At school, things shifted.
Not dramatically. Not with confrontation. But people noticed something different about him—the way he stood a little straighter, the way he met eyes more often, the way he laughed without immediately checking himself.
Mira noticed most of all.
"You're not disappearing today," she said during lunch, smiling as she nudged his shoulder.
"I'm trying something new," he replied. "Existing."
She laughed. "Bold choice."
They shared fries beneath the oak tree, knees brushing. Elior felt the familiar warmth of belonging—and this time, he let it stay.
---
The real test came when Lucas approached them.
"Hey," he said, glancing between them. "Mira, can we talk?"
Elior's chest tightened reflexively. He breathed through it, reminding himself of the café, of boundaries, of choice.
"Sure," Mira said. "What's up?"
Lucas shifted awkwardly. "I just wanted to say… I'm done with the project stuff, but also—sorry if I ever made things weird."
Elior blinked, surprised.
Mira smiled politely. "It's okay."
Lucas nodded, then turned to Elior. "You're good for her, man."
And just like that, he walked away.
Elior stood there, stunned.
Mira raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"
He laughed, a sound half-disbelief, half-relief. "I think the world just didn't end."
She squeezed his hand. "See? Sometimes the fear lies."
---
That evening, Elior received another call from his father.
He let it ring.
Then he silenced it.
Later, he sent a message instead.
I'm not ready for more contact. Please respect that.
The reply came quickly.
I understand. I'm here if you ever want to talk.
Elior set the phone down, heart steady.
He had chosen himself.
---
Weeks passed.
Life didn't become perfect. But it became honest.
Elior and Mira argued sometimes—small disagreements about time, about expectations, about fear resurfacing when neither of them expected it. But the difference now was this: they talked.
They didn't vanish.
One night, sitting on the roof of Mira's building, city lights spread beneath them like scattered stars, Elior spoke the thought that had been growing quietly inside him.
"I think I'm starting to love myself," he said.
Mira turned to him, eyes soft. "That's a big thing to say."
"I know," he replied. "And it scares me. Because if I love myself, I can't pretend I'm disposable anymore."
She smiled. "That's not scary. That's powerful."
He leaned his head against her shoulder. "I didn't know love could look like this."
"Like what?"
"Like choosing each other without trying to disappear."
She kissed his temple. "Then keep choosing."
He closed his eyes, breathing her in.
---
The day he realized he was no longer waiting for loss came unexpectedly.
They were walking home, hands intertwined, when Mira stumbled slightly on the uneven pavement. Elior caught her without thinking, steady and sure.
She laughed. "Guess I needed you."
The word needed didn't scare him.
It grounded him.
"I've got you," he said.
And for the first time, he believed it—not as a promise that nothing would ever go wrong, but as a commitment to stay present when it did.
---
Later that night, Elior stood by his window, city humming softly below. He thought about the boy he had been—the one who believed love was something he had to earn by being invisible.
He wasn't that boy anymore.
Courage had left behind scars, yes—but also roots.
And roots, he was learning, could hold you steady even when the world shook.
---