CHAPTER SIX
TWELVE YEARS OLD
· · ·
He came over every day.
Which wasn’t new. But before there had been noise to it — the pool, the backyard, arguments about whose turn it was to pick the movie. Now he just showed up and sat down and stayed.
My parents let him.
They always let him.
But this was different. This felt less like having him over and more like he had nowhere else to be.
· · ·
I didn’t push him.
I’d learned early that with Cassian you don’t push. You leave the door open and let him decide what to do with it.
So I left it open. Always open.
We watched movies. Quietly. Side by side on the couch or stretched out on my floor, the sound low enough that neither of us had to talk over it.
Sometimes he reached for my hand.
Casual. Like it was nothing.
It wasn’t nothing.
It was everything.
I’d lie there completely still, hyperaware of every single point of contact, willing myself to breathe at a normal pace like a normal person.
I was twelve. I didn’t have language for it yet.
But my body did.
· · ·
He started staying over more often.
Not officially. Just — falling asleep and not leaving. I’d wake up and he’d be there on top of the covers, still in his clothes, breathing slow.
He always left before my parents got up.
I don’t know if they knew, really.
I think they knew.
Theyalwaysknoweverything,whichisdeeply inconvenient.
· · ·
My mom would ask how he was doing in that careful way she had — not pushing, not prying. Just leaving space for an answer if I had one.
Or if I just wanted to talk about it.
I never really did.
“He’s okay,” I’d say. Which was what Cassian would have said too.
Neither of us meant it.
There was one night my parents had gone to bed early.
Just the two of us on the couch.
Some movie neither of us were watching.
The light was low and the house was quiet and Cassian had gone still beside me in a way that was different from his usual still.
Not asleep. Something else.
I glanced at him.
His jaw was set. Eyes fixed on nothing.
“Hey,” I said.
He blinked.
Where were you?
Come back.
“Hey.”
We looked at each other.
· · ·
I wanted to say something useful. Something that would actually help.
He was lost and I wanted to keep him here with me.
But Cassian was too close, and my mind went blank.
· · ·
So I said,
“You want more popcorn?”
He stared at me.
· · ·
His sadness was my sadness. It was how things always were.
He inspired my mood.
Pulled it down without meaning to, the way heavy air floats to the top.
I realize now the power I gave him over me was unfair to both of us.
He was just as lost as I was.
Regardless. The more he sunk into himself, the more I kept trying to bring him back.
The more he resented me for trying.
But still he was there.
So it was okay.
If that made him feel better, it’d all be worth it.
· · ·
My parents were worried.
They didn’t think our dynamic was healthy — I knew that without them saying it. I could see it in the looks they exchanged over dinner. The way my mom would watch me watch the door.
But they also understood what I couldn’t explain.
He was all alone.
He only had me now.
His dad was working more than ever.
The house next door had gone quiet in a way that made our house feel louder just by comparison.
Cassian was carrying something all by himself over there.
I was the only door he’d left open.
So I stayed open because he needed me.
I didn’t know yet what that would cost me.