"ɪ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ʙᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ."

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

⋆·˚ ༘ *

I change myself.

It's interesting to see it all unfold in front of me. Instead of turning a blind eye, I watch. I watch her discomfort when she looks at her phone, the way she bites her lips as she quickly types a message. Her hands tremble slightly when she takes a picture of her surroundings to send to her mom, and for the first time, I notice how much she worries about getting things just right.

She types away at her laptop, her fingers moving at a speed I can barely follow. And that's saying something because I basically live on my own computer. She's in her element but still carries this weight on her shoulders, like every letter she types has a deadline attached to it.

Then there's her smile. It's there, but it's small, fleeting, like a flicker of light in a storm. It's the kind of smile you'd miss if you weren't paying attention—but I'm paying attention now. I notice the way it lifts her face for just a second before it vanishes, replaced by that focused frown she always wears when she's worried or anxious.

A week ago, I wouldn't have noticed any of this. A week ago, I was too busy being selfish, too wrapped up in my own ego to see what was right in front of me. But now, sitting across from her, I realize how much I've missed.

"Avery," I say quietly, unsure if I'm interrupting her work.

She looks up, her eyes slightly wide like she's surprised I'm even speaking. "Yeah?"

I pause, not wanting to ruin the moment with the wrong words. "You okay?"

She blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"You just seemed a little stressed. Is it your mom again?" I ask, lowering my voice to a whisper.

"Maybe."

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, trying to meet her gaze. "You want to talk about it?"

Avery glances at her laptop, then back at me. Her fingers hover over the keyboard as if she's debating whether to keep typing or close the screen. After a beat, she sighs and shuts the laptop with a soft click, pushing it aside.

"Why do you care?" she asks, her eyes burning into mine with an intensity that almost makes me cower. But, I decide to keep at it.

"You know why."

Her eyes search mine, and I can see the walls she's built flickering. She wants to pretend she doesn't know, to brush it off, but the way her breath hitches for just a second tells me she does know—she's just not sure if she can trust it yet.

"Avery," I say, knowing I'm treading through something fragile, "you've always mattered to me. Even when I was too blind to show it."

She stays quiet, her gaze dropping to the space between us. I can tell she's not used to this—someone seeing her, really seeing her. And for a second, I'm scared she might shut me out like she has before. But instead, she surprises me.

"You don't have to say that," she murmurs. "You don't owe me anything. Stop feeling sorry for me. I'm fine."

"I don't go out of my way to show people that I feel sorry for them."

She narrows her eyes. "Do I need to remind you of Michaela?"

Does she have a bunch of comebacks ready in her head? Does she remember everything and decide to use it at the right time? Because, if that's true, I'm quite impressed. I'm not going to feed her ego, though.

"Michaela is a friend. Well, was," I retort, as I watch a faint hint of a smile reappear on her face. 

"Why past tense?" she asks.

Truth is, it's because I don't like how she treated Avery in the past. In fact, it pissed me off that she felt the need to feel so entitled, especially when she's going through something horrible at home. I thought she would understand that hurting another person's feelings isn't the greatest thing to do but alas, she proved me wrong.

"Well, she has said some things I didn't like," I tell her, trying to keep as much information to myself as possible. 

She bends forward, her posture so horrendous that I feel sorry for her spine. "Let me give you a piece of advice, yeah?"

I hold my breath. I know what she's going to say. She's going to tell me to mind my own business like she has been for the past few days. I wait for her to say it again but she doesn't.

"No offense, but you have some of the worst friends ever."

I blink, taken aback by her bluntness, though I can't help but let out a small laugh. It was so Avery of her—direct, honest, no sugarcoating, just straight to the point.

"Yeah, no offense taken," I say. "I've realized that very recently."

Avery smiles, and it's a smile that looks quite beautiful on her. "Your friends are quite jealous that you're better than them. Or, they see you as a symbol of objectification. Pretty shitty if you ask me."

I shrug. "Yeah, very true. I'm working on it. Don't worry about that. We're here to talk about you."

Her lips twist into a wry smirk. "Oh, really? We're back to that again? Are you my therapist now?"

"Well, I don't know about therapist. I don't charge by the hour, so maybe more like... a concerned friend. Pro bonk work."

She rolls her eyes. "Lucky me. Free therapy with a side of terrible friends."

"Hey, now. I could charge you in food. Or, tutoring. I'm sure you'd be in debt to me forever." I say, calculating with my fingers. "Especially if I start factoring in all the emotional support I'm going to be giving you."

Avery shakes her head. "Emotional support? I think that can be discounted from the way you treated over the past few weeks. Wow, it's looking like I'm going to be going bankrupt, doesn't it?"

I know she's going to keep using that against me for the rest of our lives.

"Alright, fair enough. But seriously, Avery. I mean it. I'm here if you need someone."

She hesitates, her face searching mine for a few seconds. "I'm fine, Kyran. Really."

"No, you're not and you're going to say that because you think that's what I want to hear."

"Once again, I don't like it when people pity me. There's people who have it so much worse," she says, staring at a spot on her desk, zoning out.

"And I'm not giving you pity," I say. "I'm offering...a listening ear. A badly timed joke. And if you're lucky, coffee and food."

She lets out a giggle, shaking her head, but there's no mistaking the way her shoulders loosen slightly. "Why food? You really think food's the answer to everything?"

"Absolutely. Have you seen anyone sad over a good pizza?"

She gives me a look of exasperation. "Maybe you should stick to being a concerned friend instead of a life coach. You're terrible at giving profound advice. I'd go to Max for that."

I'm offended. "Ouch. That hurts. I happen to think pizza is extremely profound. It's a metaphor for life—sometimes things get hot and messy, but there's always something good if you look close enough."

She grimaces. "Please never say that to anyone again."

I nod, looking straight at her, my smile faltering slightly. "I know I've screwed up before, but I'm not going anywhere this time."

For a moment, she studies me, probably deciding whether to trust me or not. Then, she lets out a small sigh, shaking her head. "You're stubborn, you know that?"

"Yeah, it's one of my more charming qualities." I flash her a grin, and this time, she laughs—a real laugh, not the sarcastic kind I usually get from her. 

"Okay, fine," she finally says, "but don't say I didn't warn you. My life is a mess. You might regret offering to stick around."

I grin, leaning in a bit closer. "I doubt it. I like a bit of a mess. Makes things more interesting."

She rolls her eyes again, but there's no hiding that she trusts me again. "You say that now, but when I start ranting about my mom or my work for the hundredth time, you're gonna wish you'd taken a nap instead."

"I like naps. But I think I like this more." I give her a small, genuine smile, and for a second, she just looks at me, not saying anything.

"You're an idiot," she says, but there's no malice in her voice. Just a softness that wasn't there before.

"Yep," I say without missing a beat.

"Don't push your luck with this," she mutters, but the way she's looking at me tells me I might just be on the right track.

I let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine, fine. I grab my laptop, mirroring her earlier movement, pretending to focus back on my screen. "But you know, if you ever feel like venting, I'm still here. No questions asked."

She gives me a sidelong glance, a smile playing on her lips. "We'll see. Maybe if you're lucky, I'll let you be my occasional sounding board. Occasional."

I give her a mock salute. "I'll take what I can get."

Avery shakes her head, returning her gaze to her laptop. The soft click of her keys fills the air again. She may not be fully ready to let me in, but at least she's willing to let me stick around.

And as I sit there, watching her work with that tiny, fleeting smile on her lips, I feel something settle in my chest. 

"Am I interrupting something?" a voice asks behind me and I turn to see Elliot, looking at us with a faint hint of a smile.

"Um, not at all. Hi, Elliot," Avery says with a smile. 

Elliot raises an eyebrow, glancing between the two of us as if he's caught onto something. "So... what's going on here?" His tone is casual, but there's a hint of teasing beneath it. Avery's cheeks flush slightly, and I can't help but make a mental note to bully her about it later.

"Nothing, just working," Avery replies, trying to sound nonchalant as she pushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. I watch the way her fingers fidget with the hem of her sleeve—another one of those small details I've started to notice. It's adorable, really.

Elliot glances at me, his smirk growing. "Sure, working." He drags out the word, clearly not buying it.

I decide to play along. "Yep, just helping with some work and, you know, deep pizza metaphors."

Avery groans, burying her face in her hands. "Oh God, don't tell him about that."

Too late. 

"Pizza metaphors?" he asks.

Avery peeks out from behind her hands, her cheeks still a little red. "Please don't listen to him. He's weird."

"Hey!" I protest. 

I like seeing her like this—relaxed, teasing, smiling. It's something so rare and something she should do more often and I'm determined to make that happen. Preferably, turning her resting face to a smile would be the ultimate goal.

"Uh, Kyran. You're staring," Elliot whispers in my ear and I immediately avert my gaze to the thing that's right next to her—the window. I'm sure Elliot isn't going to believe that I'm obsessive-staring at the fucking window, but I'll attempt the lie.

"Yeah, at the window." I hope I'm talking convincingly.

"Hmm, if you say so."

Avery gives me a confused glance, then follows my gaze to the window. Her brows knit together. "What, is there something out there?"

"Nope, just... appreciating the view." I flash a half-smile, internally cringing at my pathetic attempt to save face. Elliot stifles a laugh behind me, but I can feel his eyes boring into the side of my head.

"Right," Avery says, clearly not convinced. 

Elliot leans closer and whispers, "Smooth, man. Real smooth."

The silence stretches on for a moment, the faint clicking of her keyboard the only sound between us. My mind races. I've always been a little too good at overthinking, especially when it comes to her. Every glance, every word, every subtle shift in her mood—it's all I can focus on now.

I wonder if she realizes how much space she occupies in my thoughts. Maybe it's obvious, or maybe she's still too wrapped up in her own worries to notice. I wonder what she thinks of me. Do I corrupt her thoughts as much as she corrupts mine?

For so long, I've been too self-absorbed to see her for who she really is. Not just the girl who's always got it together, but someone who's carrying way more than she lets on. I wonder how long she's been doing that—pretending like she's fine, that everything is okay when it's clearly not.

I've been there. Hell, I'm still there most days, but watching her now...it hits different. There's this ache in my chest, something like guilt mixed with a strange protectiveness I didn't know I had.

I know I can never just let her go.

⋆·˚ ༘ *

Hi, peeps.

Bye, peeps.

Audrey.exe stopped working.