Jay and Keifer were alone in the mansion for once.
No parents.
No guests.
No expectations hanging in the air.
They sat far apart on the couch, the kind of distance they always kept—intentional, practiced. A movie played on the screen, something neither of them was really watching. The room glowed blue and soft, shadows stretching across the marble floor.
Jay had her knees pulled to her chest, blanket half-wrapped around her. Keifer leaned back with his arms crossed, eyes on the screen, expression unreadable.
Silence—but not the uncomfortable kind. Just quiet.
Halfway through the movie, the doorbell rang.
Jay frowned. "Were we expecting someone?"
Keifer shook his head. "No."
He stood, checked the security panel briefly, then opened the door. A few boys stood outside—friends of friends, familiar faces from parties their parents hosted sometimes. Loud. Casual. Too comfortable.
"Hey, man," one of them said. "Your dad said we could stop by sometime."
Keifer hesitated, then stepped aside. "Make it quick."
They came in laughing, voices filling the space too easily. Jay stiffened immediately, pulling the blanket tighter around herself.
They noticed her.
She felt it in the way their eyes lingered a second too long.
"Didn't know you had company," one of them said, smirking.
Jay forced a polite smile.
Keifer glanced at her, then at them. "I'll be back. Need to grab some papers."
"Sure," someone replied casually.
Keifer disappeared down the hall.
The air changed the second he was gone.
The boys spread out, taking up space. One dropped onto the armchair too close to her. Another leaned against the wall, eyes roaming freely.
"So," one said, "you live here too?"
Jay nodded. "Yeah."
"That must get lonely," another added. "Big house. Quiet nights."
She didn't like the way he said it.
"I'm fine," she replied, voice even.
One of them laughed. "Relax. We're just talking."
The armchair shifted closer. A knee brushed hers.
Jay's body went rigid.
"Don't," she said quietly, moving back.
"Oh come on," he replied, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "Didn't mean anything."
But he didn't move away.
Another boy chimed in, eyes amused. "She's touchy."
Her heartbeat spiked. The room suddenly felt smaller, the ceiling too high, the exits too far away.
She stood. "I think you should leave."
The laughter stopped—but not in a good way.
"Why?" one asked. "Your boyfriend isn't here."
The word hit wrong.
"I didn't say that," she replied.
The one closest reached out, fingers brushing the edge of her sleeve. Not rough. Not forceful.
Just enough.
Jay's breath caught.
"Don't touch me," she said, louder now.
"Hey," he scoffed, "calm down."
Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Keifer.
He appeared at the end of the corridor, papers in hand—and froze.
He didn't shout.
He didn't rush.
He just looked.
He saw the distance that was too small.
The hand that hadn't fully pulled back.
The way Jay's shoulders were drawn tight, like she was bracing for something.
Something in his face went cold.
"What's going on?" he asked.
The boys straightened instantly.
"Nothing," one said quickly. "We were just joking around."
Keifer didn't look at them.
He walked straight to Jay.
Not between her and them.
Beside her.
Close enough that she could feel him. Solid. Unmoving.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
She nodded. It wasn't a lie—but it wasn't the full truth either.
Keifer turned to them then.
"You're leaving."
"Dude, relax—"
"Now."
There was no anger in his voice.
Just certainty.
They muttered, complained under their breath, but they backed away. Shoes scuffed against the floor. The door closed behind them with a sharp, final sound.
Silence returned.
Jay hadn't realized she was shaking until Keifer spoke again.
"They didn't hurt you?" he asked.
"No," she said.
He nodded, accepting it without pressing.
They stood there for a moment—too close, too quiet.
Jay felt it then.
The fear draining out of her—not because someone had defended her, not because the boys were gone—
But because he was still there.
Because he hadn't left.
Because his presence felt steady in a way she wasn't used to.
Her shoulders dropped slightly. Her breath evened out.
Keifer noticed.
He stepped back just enough to give her space—but didn't move away.
"If you want," he said, awkwardly, "we can lock the doors. Or… I can stay."
Stay.
The word landed softly.
"Yeah," she said. "Stay."
They went back to the couch, sitting closer this time—not touching, not talking.
The movie resumed, forgotten.
Jay stared at the screen, but her mind was elsewhere.
For the first time in a long while, her body wasn't on alert.
For the first time, safety didn't feel like something she had to negotiate or explain.
It was just there.
Quiet.
Unasked.
And Jay realized something that unsettled her more than fear ever had—
She hadn't felt safe because someone fought for her.
She felt safe because Keifer existed in the room.
And that scared her…
almost as much as it comforted her.