Greya's POV...

The sharp pain in my neck jolts me awake. The TV still glows faintly in front of me, some old movie murmuring in the background. I rub my eyes, trying to blink away the blur, and that's when I feel the weight against my right shoulder.

It takes me a moment to register the scene: the four of us passed out in the living room. Alec's sprawled on the floor in a nest of blankets. Chase is using Alec's stomach as a pillow. And beside me, Becker is asleep—his head resting on my shoulder.

I don't dare move. He looks peaceful, and God knows he needs it. Slowly, I reach toward the end of the couch, grab a few pillows, and tuck them behind my neck until the ache eases. Everyone else seems comfortable. I close my eyes again.

It feels like seconds later when laughter pulls me from sleep. The TV is off now, the morning light filling the room. I'm stretched out on my side, tucked under a blanket. How I ended up like this without waking up is a mystery. The room's spotless—popcorn gone, blankets folded neatly on the edge of the sofa.

I stand, fold my own blanket, and walk out to the patio. The sight that greets me makes my heart swell.
Alec's on the swing, laughing so hard he's nearly doubled over, while Chase and Becker are near the soccer net.

Becker's wearing a blindfold, trying to juggle the ball. His right arm's still pressed protectively to his ribs as his feet swipe at the air.

My instinct is to tell him to take it easy—but he looks happy. He knows his limits better than anyone.

"Dude, you're supposed to feel for the ball," Chase calls.

"Well, I don't feel anything at all," Becker grunts, earning another round of laughter from Alec.

Then Becker manages to connect—and the ball smacks Chase square in the shoulder.

"Hey! It's not nice to hit a blind kid," Chase shoots back.

"Shit—I mean, crap! Sorry!" Becker blurts, clapping a hand over his mouth.

"I'm only kidding," Chase chuckles, shaking his head.

"I love this kid," Alec calls out. "Becker, I thought you were supposed to be good at soccer!"

"Shut up!" Becker laughs, tugging off the blindfold and walking toward me.

Behind him, Alec starts tossing a soft football with Chase. I'm quietly impressed—Alec's already figured out how to help without making Chase feel helpless.
Becker stops beside me. "I don't know how he does everything without sight," he says quietly. "I wouldn't last an hour."

"It's all he knows," I say. "It's natural for him."

He nods, then winces slightly. His arm is still clutched against his ribs. "You're still holding your side," I say. "Need more ice?"

"Just feels better this way," he says. Then, with a faint grin: "But look—full range of motion." He lifts his arm over his head, slow and careful, then lets it fall again.

I frown. "Becker..."

"I'm fine, love," he murmurs, the corner of his mouth tilting up. "Don't think they're broken."

"Can I see?"

He hesitates, then lifts the hem of his shirt. The bruising is fading—yellow edges where blue and purple once were. Healing, slowly. My gaze lingers a moment too long, tracing the contrast of light and shadow across his skin before meeting his eyes.

Those eyes—dark blue threaded with light—catch mine and hold. For a heartbeat, everything I've been worrying about dissolves. His lips part slightly, and I wonder what it would feel like to close the space between us.

"We need to go back home today."

The words hit like a slap. "What?"

He can't go back. Not yet. Not there. My mind spins through every reason it's too dangerous.

He reaches out, taking both my hands in his. "Alec and I need to go back," he says, voice low but steady. "We can't hide out here forever."

He's right, and yet I hate that he is. I want them to stay—somewhere safe, somewhere I can see him breathe without pain—but life isn't that simple.

"I'm worried about you both," I admit.

"We'll be fine," he says, like it's fact. Like I should believe him.

My fingers twitch in his grasp. I can't meet his eyes. He needs me to be strong, the way he's been strong for everyone else. Before I can summon the mask, he pulls me into his arms.

My first instinct is to hold him tight and never let go. But when I feel him draw in a breath and hold it—bracing—I stop. He's the one comforting me. When was the last time anyone held him at all?

Slowly, I slide my arms around him, barely touching at first. He doesn't flinch. Progress, I think. Maybe I can teach him to feel safe again.

He exhales finally, a warm rush against my hair, and presses a soft kiss to my forehead before stepping back.
"Thanks, love. I'll see you at school tomorrow."

And just like that, the spell breaks. He turns toward the house. "Let's go, Alec!"

Alec jogs over, fist-bumps Chase, then stops in front of me. He looks like he wants a hug but doesn't know how to ask for one.

"Anytime, Alec," I tell him softly. "If you need to come here, or call me, you do it. Okay?"

He nods, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks for...everything."

I watch them leave, the ache in my chest settling somewhere deep, somewhere I don't quite want to name.