Chapter 2 The Date
The Date
Kaze
Twilight stains Stormhaven’s small public garden in warm amber, while the sky above deepens into soft violet. It’s the kind of light that feels like it belongs in memories, not reality. I stand by the tree line, watching her from a distance, unsure if I should move closer.
She is there, sitting on the cold bench, hugging herself as if to keep the chills she feels in her skin, at bay. The sight of her stirs something deep in me, something I can’t name but can’t ignore either.
I told her I’d meet her here.
I promised. And yet, I hesitate.
In the past year, she has become something I never thought I needed: silence.
Not the heavy, suffocating silence of grief or loss, but a silence that steadies me, that calms the chaos in my mind.
The kind of silence I used to drown out with alcohol, drugs, and noise. And she doesn’t even know she’s done it.
How her voice, her care, her attention, her love, have anchored me in ways nothing else ever has.
That first message she sent me, on the day I decided to end everything, was a hand pulling me back from the edge of that damn bridge.
It wasn’t the first time I thought about ending my life.
But it was the first time that reality became too much, and I actually tried.
The thing about depression is that people expect it to look a certain way.
They expect emptiness.
They don’t expect the party. The laughter. The pills passed between fingers like candy. The bottles clinking together in a toast to nothing at all.
They don’t expect it to look like me.
Because that’s the thing about depression, sometimes it doesn’t feel like sadness. It feels like nothing. And nothing is unbearable.
I was diagnosed years ago, when I was barely a teenager, already drained by the simple act of existing.
They told me I had Major Depressive Disorder, as if naming it gave it less power.
As if understanding the chemical imbalance in my brain could fix the fact that I felt like I was drowning every single day.
Therapy was a joke. Pills? I tried them. They dulled the edges, but they didn’t fill the void.
And so I found my own medicine. Alcohol to warm the cold places inside me and drugs to give me the energy I didn’t have, to make me feel something, anything, when the emptiness became too much.
I became the life of the party because the party was the only thing keeping me alive.
Because when you drink enough, when you get high enough, the thoughts slow down. The weight in your chest lightens slightly. And for a few hours, you can pretend you’re normal.
Until the crash comes, and it always comes.
Until you wake up in someone else’s bed, in someone else’s house, and you don’t remember how you got there.
Until you look in the mirror and don’t recognize the person staring back at you.
Until the hangover fades, and all that’s left is you. And you are the problem.
You are always the problem.
Not that she knows this. I never told her.
At first, the message itself distracted me from killing myself. With time, she distracted me from the urge for self-destruction.
She saves me every day without ever realizing it.
But this meeting, this moment, I only agreed to it because, after all this time, I finally feel ready.
I’m not just a ghost of a man anymore. I’ve rebuilt some pieces of myself, enough to stand before her and try to be someone she might deserve.
I started playing the guitar again for her.
I’ve started writing music, something I never thought I’d do again.
I stopped partying, stopped numbing myself, stopped consuming, because I want to be fully conscious when I talk to her. When I hear her voice, I don’t want to be clouded by anything but her.
I started going to classes again. I’ve lost a big part of this year, but for the first time in a long time, it feels right. Like maybe, just maybe, I still have a future ahead of me.
And yeah, there are still things in my life I need to fix as soon as possible, but I couldn’t wait any longer to see her in person, so…
Here I am.
She keeps checking her phone, her brows furrowed in a way I know I’ll grow to recognize. Her short brown hair frames her face, her beautiful, round eyes darting between her phone and the fading light.
She is a vision, and she is gorgeous.
That restless tapping of her fingers against her thigh is probably a habit, one I want to know intimately too, memorize, make it mine.
Since the first exchange of texts and then the calls, it’s as if my very existence is tied to hers.
The garden is quiet, save for the faint murmur of voices from across the path. She shifts uncomfortably on the bench, her gaze still darting between her phone and the fading light.
I want to move, to walk up to her, but my legs refuse to cooperate.
The last message I sent her echoes in my mind: “I’ll be there. xx”.
What if she’s been waiting too long?
What if this is a mistake?
What if I’m a disappointment and she’s expecting someone completely different?
I check my breath and try to tame my unruly blond hair that keeps falling over my forehead. I didn’t even smoke today.
I wanted to make sure she wouldn’t be able to feel it in me because I think she needs more from me.
She deserves me whole.
I take a step forward, my heart pounding harder than it has any right to. But before I can say anything, she stands, shoving her phone into her pocket.
The tension in her shoulders is unmistakable.
She’s about to leave.
Panic rises in me. I can’t let her go, not without seeing her, speaking to her.
So, I move. Fast.
My hands find her eyes before I even think about what I’m doing.
She freezes, her body going completely still beneath my touch.
For a moment, I wonder if I’ve gone too far, if I’ve scared her.
But then I feel it: her sharp inhale, the subtle shift in her stance as she registers me.
“Hi,” I whisper, my voice low, trembling with more emotion than I’d like to admit.
Being this close to her feels like … home.
“K?” she breathes, her voice so soft it nearly breaks me. She tries to turn, to look at me, but I keep my hands steady over her eyes.
“Wait,” I murmur, the word barely audible.
“Wait?” she echoes, her tone caught somewhere between confusion and irritation. “You get to see me, but I don’t get to see you? How is that fair?”
“I know,” I say softly. “But I’m… afraid.” Always honest. It’s like I can’t be any different with her.
Her head tilts slightly beneath my hands as if she’s trying to process my words. “Afraid of what?”
I hesitate.
The answer is tangled in the mess of my thoughts, too heavy to voice, but impossible to keep.
“That the moment you see me… We’ll both wake up. And this, we, will become nothing more than a dream.”
Her breath catches, and the silence that follows is thick, heavy with something unspoken. Slowly, she lifts her hands, placing them over mine. Her touch is grounding, steadying me in a way that feels both familiar and devastatingly new.
“That’s okay,” she murmurs, her voice a quiet reassurance. “When you’re ready…”
She doesn’t need to say more. The silence that follows carries more weight than words ever could. It’s the kind of silence that speaks of understanding, of patience. And yet, I can feel her restlessness beneath it all, the ache in her chest mirroring my own.
She wants to see me, to know me. And I want the same, desperately.
With a deep breath, I slip my hands away from hers and step back. Her eyes remain closed, and I watch as she hesitates, listening to my movements. The way she trusts me, even in her uncertainty, stirs something deep in my chest.
“You can open your eyes now,” I say, my voice softer than I intend.
She turns around and does. Slowly. And when her gaze meets mine, the world seems to hold its breath.
Her eyes widen, her lips part slightly when she sees me.
I feel exposed, vulnerable in a way I hadn’t expected but had secretly feared.
Then she smiles—a brief, hesitant smile—that sparks something bright inside me, something that awakens me to this new reality.
A place where we can no longer hide, only be.
“You’re real,” she whispers, her voice trembling with relief.
“I am,” I reply, my lips curving into a smile of my own.
For a moment, the weight of everything fades, replaced by the warmth of her dark brown and hopeful gaze.
So, we both just stand there, caught in the stillness of that moment.
Her eyes search mine, and I can tell she’s memorizing every detail, just as I am.
It feels fragile, like a bubble that could burst at any second. But for now, it’s enough.
“So,” I finally speak, breaking the silence, still wearing a smile that shows no intention of fading anytime soon. “You wanna grab something to eat?”
Her laugh is unexpected, a bright sound that sends a rush of warmth through me. “Food? That’s your first move? What happened to romance?” she teases, raising an eyebrow.
“Hey, a big burger is the way to a girl’s heart, right?” I shoot back, quoting something she told me in one of our endless conversations.
She blinks in surprise, then laughs again, shaking her head. “Wow. Bold strategy, K.”
“Did it work?” I ask, leaning in slightly, my grin widening.
She pretends to think about it, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Maybe. But it depends on the burger.”
“Good. I know just the place,” I say, offering her my hand. “And trust me, you’re going to love it.” Maybe she already does, but for me, it’s not the food of the place that matters. It’s her. Always her.
She hesitates for a moment before taking my hand, her smile softening. But eventually, her fingers cross with mine, soft and warm, and it sends a jolt through me that I’m not prepared for.
With her, I feel grounded and happy. Tethered to something real, so my hand tightens slightly around hers, instinctively, but I end up forcing myself to loosen my grip.
I want to pull her closer, to feel her against me, to lean in and press my lips to hers. The thought is intoxicating, overwhelming, and dangerous all at once, but I clench my jaw, reigning in the impulse with everything I have.
She deserves better than a rush of emotions I can’t even articulate.
“Alright, burger boy. Lead the way,” she says, her voice breaking through the haze of my thoughts, and her teasing smile igniting something warm in my chest once again.
And just like that, the tension I’ve felt before melts away, replaced by something lighter and addictive.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel alive, and that’s definitely something I want to keep.