CHAPTER THIRTEEN

"How did I end up in the hospital wing?" Kit asked, breaking the silence that had settled between them. Her voice was soft but laced with curiosity as she finally dared to meet Lysander's gaze.

Lysander, who had been leaning casually on his palm, shifted slightly. "Hmm," he mused, drawing out the word as if to collect his thoughts. "According to your housemates, you've hardly been sleeping."

Kit frowned, confusion clouding her face. "I stay up in the common room one night, and suddenly that's a reason to end up here?" she mumbled, more to herself than to him, her voice dripping with incredulity.

Lysander chuckled, the sound warm and soothing. "I suppose your 'one night' wasn't as subtle as you thought," he teased lightly before his expression softened. "But seriously, Kit...I'm sorry."

She blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. "Sorry? For what?"

"For avoiding you," he admitted, the words heavy but genuine. "I just...I didn't know how to properly act. You're not at fault, though. Trust me on that."

Kit opened her mouth to protest, to take the blame as she always did, but Lysander raised a hand, stopping her. "Don't," he said firmly. "I've already had a long talk with Lorcan, and while I know I can't change overnight, I want to try."

A faint smile tugged at Kit's lips as she turned her gaze back to the ceiling. "No one can change in a single night, you silly boy," she said with a quiet chuckle. "I don't know what you and Lorcan talked about, but I need you to know something. I didn't do everything out of some grand plan or sense of duty. I actually...enjoyed the time I spent with you, Scamander." She glanced at him, her voice growing softer. "It might be too much to say right now, but you've helped me in ways I don't think you even realize."

Lysander's lips quirked up into a small, bashful smile, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. "I've been told that before," he murmured. "And maybe, deep down, I knew it...but it just..."

"Scared you?" Kit finished, turning her head to face him fully. Her gaze was steady, her expression gentle but piercing, as if she could see right through him.

Lysander froze, wide-eyed, before nodding slowly. Kit's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "You know," she continued, "as much as I'd like to deny it, letting someone in? It's terrifying. It still is. But I want to try too. I want to keep letting people in." Her voice faltered, and she closed her eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep breath.

"But before I can do that," she whispered, "I need to learn to love myself again." She opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling as though searching for answers among the cracks and shadows. "I forgot what that feels like, you know? To allow myself to be selfish. To indulge in things I love without feeling guilty."

Lysander didn't interrupt. He didn't offer words of advice or reassurance. He simply listened, the weight of her words settling between them. Kit's voice trembled as she added, "It's going to take a while, but...can I be selfish just this once? Can I ask you to wait for me?"

Lysander's response was immediate, his smile soft but unwavering. "Yeah," he said quietly. "No matter how long it takes, I'll be here. Not behind you, though. That was probably my mistake before."

Kit tilted her head, her brows knitting together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he began, his tone contemplative, "back during the summer, when I said I'd cheer you on? I think I got it wrong. You don't need someone cheering for you from the sidelines. You need someone standing beside you."

Her heart clenched at his words, and she reached out, her hand finding his. She squeezed it gently, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you," she said, her gratitude pouring into those two simple words. "For everything."

Lysander smirked, his humour breaking through the seriousness of the moment. "Now, everything might be a bit of an exaggeration," he teased, one eye closing playfully. "I know I'm amazing, but you're making me sound like some kind of legend."

Kit rolled her eyes, her lips curving into a smile despite herself. "Don't get cocky, Scamander."

"Too late," he quipped, leaning back on his palm with a grin. "It's way too fun seeing your reactions."

"Oh, so you like it when I glare and roll my eyes at you?" she shot back, her tone dripping with mock disdain.

"Absolutely," Lysander replied, placing a hand over his heart in mock sincerity. "I like that you never hold back when I'm being ridiculous. You're brutally honest."

Kit raised an eyebrow, her expression sceptical. "Lysander...are you a masochist, by any chance?"

Her words caught him so off guard that he burst out laughing, clutching his stomach as the laughter racked his body. "Merlin, Kit," he managed between breaths, "you really don't get it, do you?"

"Obviously not," she deadpanned.

He shook his head, still chuckling. "One day you will. For now, just keep being honest with me."

Kit smirked, raising a thumb in mock agreement. "So, basically, be mean and rude. Got it."

"Just keep being you, Kitty," he said, his voice warm and sincere.

She smiled at that, her eyes growing heavy as exhaustion finally began to take hold. "And you keep being you, Sca— Lysander.," she murmured, her voice fading as sleep claimed her.

"You've got yourself a deal," Lysander replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He stayed still, watching as Kit's features softened, her breathing growing steady and deep as sleep claimed her. For a moment, the weight of their conversation lingered in the room, heavy yet comforting, like a blanket that offered both warmth and reflection.

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers lightly brushing against hers where they had remained connected, hesitant to break the fragile moment. The hospital wing was quiet, save for the faint rustle of sheets and the soft hum of the magical wards that lined the space. Lysander's thoughts swirled, his mind replaying her words over and over.

Kit had always been a force of nature—brave, unyielding, and stubborn to a fault. But tonight, he'd seen a vulnerability in her that was rare and precious. She had let him in, if only for a moment, and it felt like a gift he didn't quite know how to handle.

"I want to learn to love myself," she had said. The weight of those words hung in the air, intertwining with his own silent realizations. Lysander had always admired Kit's strength, but now he understood that her journey was far from over. And, if he were honest with himself, neither was his.

His gaze drifted back to her, her face illuminated by the faint glow of moonlight streaming through the hospital wing's windows. The tension she usually carried was gone, replaced by a peaceful stillness he wasn't sure he'd ever seen before. It made him smile, the corners of his mouth curving upward in quiet affection.

"Kitty," he whispered, the nickname slipping from his lips unbidden. It felt right, a small tether to the connection they had forged. "You don't even realize it, do you? How much strength you already have."

He let out a soft sigh, leaning his head against the back of the chair. The silence stretched on, but it was no longer uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes without words—a shared understanding that they were both trying, both healing, and both learning how to navigate a world that didn't come with instructions.

For the first time in a long while, Lysander felt a sense of calm settle over him. He didn't have all the answers, and he knew there would be challenges ahead. But sitting there, holding her hand, he realized he didn't need to have it all figured out. Sometimes, just being there was enough.

"Goodnight, Kit," he murmured, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before resting his head on his arms, his eyes growing heavy. As sleep began to pull him under, he stayed close, a silent promise lingering between them: no matter what, they would face it together.