Chapter 26
Kaze
Present
I’ve been solid for so long that I’m dreading the moment I fade again.
It’s been hours now, hours of just being here.
We’ve had burgers (more than one, actually), and between all the teasing and the endless bacon jokes, Khalee somehow managed to order me something I loved.
Something that tasted so familiar it made my chest ache.
Like I’ve had it before. Like it belonged to a memory just out of reach.
We played cards. We laughed. We talked about nothing and everything.
And now, we’re both sitting on the couch, wrapped in comfortable silence.
Comfortable, except for the fact that we’re sitting just far enough apart to make it uncomfortable.
I see what she’s doing.
She’s keeping her distance.
And I don’t know how much longer I can stand it.
Every time I get close, every time I touch her, even just the brush of my fingers against hers, she suddenly has an idea. Some random thing for us to do. Another game. Another distraction.
And don’t get me wrong, I’m having the time of my life. (Or is it death?)
But I’m craving her. So. Damn. Much.
As if she can hear my thoughts, she suddenly looks at me, eyes bright with mischief, and says, for the fifth or sixth time tonight, “I’ve had an idea.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Shocking.”
“You’re gonna love it.”
“Pretty sure I will.”
She smirks. “Trust me, asshole.”
And before I can respond, she’s already rushing off the couch, bolting up the stairs.
I start to stand, instinctively moving to follow, but she shouts, “Stay there!”
The force of it is so ridiculous that even Cosmos lifted his head.
I snort, sinking back into the couch.
Beside me, the furry little traitor stretches lazily, rubbing up against me like we’re best friends now.
Motherfucker learned to like me. How could he not?
Must’ve been our pep talk earlier, because he’s been all over me since. Rubbing against my legs, nudging my hand, demanding pets.
Cute son of a bitch.
Before long, Khalee is back, and with her, her guitar.
She grins, holding it out toward me like an offering. “Here.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Do you really want a lesson now?”
“Who said anything about a lesson? You owe me a song.”
I blink. “I owe you what?”
She smirks, pushing the guitar in my direction. “Take it.”
I hesitate for a couple of seconds, but before I can say anything else, she just puts it on my lap.
“Jesus, woman. Okay, okay.” I grumble, finally taking the guitar, but the second my fingers brush against the wood, a shiver ripples down my spine.
It’s instant, like a switch being flipped in my brain.
The weight of the instrument settles into my lap, familiar in a way that is almost painful. My fingers instinctively find their place on the strings, and before I even register what I’m doing, I’m pressing down, testing the tension, the tuning.
Sensations and memories hit me all at once.
The weight of another guitar, one that belonged to me, and one I recently saw hanging on a wall. The ache in my fingertips from playing too long. The sound of laughter. Music threading through my past, filling spaces I didn’t even realize were empty before.
I suck in a breath, gripping the neck tighter as flashes of something, somewhere, blink through my mind like a broken reel of film.
A dimly lit room.
A black notebook by my side.
My own voice, low and calm, humming a tune.
Someone is talking to me in the background.
Something warm inside my chest.
Her.
The realization slams into me like a freight train, and suddenly, the guitar in my hands feels heavier.
“Kaze?” Khalee’s voice pulls me back to the present, and I open my eyes, the past slipping away like sand through my fingers.
And that’s when I realize her hand is on my leg.
Soothing me. Steadying me.
I look down at it, then back up at her, something raw and unspoken hanging in the air between us.
“I owe you a song, ” I murmur, because somehow, I recall that promise.
Her lips part slightly, her fingers twitching against my jeans, but she doesn’t move away.
“You do, ” she whispers, sadness laced in her voice, quiet but rough.
And if I hadn’t already known we knew each other before, if the memories hadn’t been enough to convince me, I’m sure of it now.
So I swallow hard, my fingers pressing against the frets, and I want to push the melody into reality, the one she’s hoping I give her, the one I know it’s mine as much as it’s hers, but there’s nothing there. The music, the lyrics, the feeling, it’s all just out of reach.
Failure falls on my shoulders, and the discomfort of disappointing her agonizes me.
“I don’t remember it, love. ”
Her grip on my leg tightens for the briefest second before she exhales, a soft, almost wistful sound.
“You don’t need to, ” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just… play for me. Whatever you feel like playing.” She shifts beside me, moving closer, pressing into my side. Her hand slides from my leg to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair, massaging gently.
I exhale, eyes fluttering shut as a shiver runs down my spine.
It feels good, so good it unravels something deep inside me.
I keep my focus on her and on the way she looks at me. Fuck.
She just wants it. Whatever I can give her, she’ll take it, and that’s more than I believe I deserve.
I inhale her scent, soft and familiar, and the touch of her hands, both wrapping around me with such tenderness, such care.
I focus on the way her fingers move through my hair, slow and certain, like she’s done it before.
On the warmth of her body, so close, so real, and for once, I don’t feel like I’m not enough. Because in her eyes, I am.
My eyes search hers, and it hits me that look. Sad and happy at the same time. Sure of something I’m too lost to fully understand, but alive enough to feel. And suddenly, something inside me shifts.
Realization.
Not about what she might feel for me, or what I’m sure I’m feeling for her. But the fact that our feelings for each other aren’t new.
The emptiness I carried, the years I spent lost, searching for my body, for answers, for a way forward. I never found it because… Because I was looking for the wrong things.
It was never about finding me. It was always about finding her.
Because I have always been lost without her.
Before I even realize it, my fingers start moving instinctively, hesitant at first, then steady, and the music just flows.
It feels… right. Familiar in a way that clenches something deep in my chest, in my soul.
Because this melody it’s hers. And as I play, I feel her.
The echo of her laughter, brighter, innocent, but always there.
The silences between us that always spoke louder than words.
The rush of anticipation, of wanting to see her, of feeling like nothing else mattered except the next moment we’d share.
The fear of losing her. Of losing this.
But I don’t stop playing.
I don’t stop singing.
I don’t stop looking at her.
And she doesn’t stop touching me. She doesn’t stop looking back at me.
The lyrics pull us tighter, closer, until there’s nothing left but us and whatever binds us.
Time blurs until the last note fades, and the silence of the moment envelops us.
That’s when I decide I can’t take it anymore—no more distance, no more barriers or ideas.
I let the guitar slip from my hands and finally reach for her.
No hesitation. No second-guessing.
Fuck the boundaries.
Fuck our twisted reality.
Fuck everything that’s kept us from this. From each other.
My hand tangles in her hair while the other grips her waist, and I pull her against me, into me, where she belongs.
And then I kiss her.
Hard. Desperate.
Like I’ve been waiting a lifetime for this moment.
Like I can’t breathe without her. I can’t live without her.
She gasps, but I don’t give her space to think, to pull away, I won’t. And she doesn’t.
Her fingers tighten in my hair, dragging me closer as she kisses me back just as fiercely, just as hungry.
Her lips part beneath mine, and I devour her, lose myself in her, in this feeling that scorches my soul and tears through the veil between life and death, just enough to make the impossible possible.
Because I’ve found my way back.
Back to the only thing that ever mattered.
To her.
So I kiss her, and something inside me breaks.
The weight of it all, of her, of us, of everything I lost and everything I didn’t even realize I was missing.
It all comes crashing down on me all at once, and all I can do is keep kissing her like she’s the only thing keeping me tethered to this world.
Because she is.
I remember the emptiness her voice once filled.
The moment I first heard it, and the choice it saved me from.
The wreckage of the bad decisions I made before her, and how I tried to piece things back together once she came into my life.
I remember the first time I saw her, and the fear that gripped me.
The conversations. The laughter. The daily messages that became my reason to get up. My reason to live.
I remember the faith she had in me, blind, unwavering, even when I deserved nothing from her.
I remember the dreams we spun together, the possibilities we chased in quiet moments.
But more than anything, I remember her.
All of her.
How she once was, and still is, the thread that held me together when I was coming undone.
I don’t know how much time passes before we pull away.
But I know one thing.
I don’t want to stop.
“You…” Her voice is barely a whisper, trembling.
Her lips are swollen, her breath uneven, her gaze searching. And her eyes… full of tears.
But she doesn’t pull back. She doesn’t raise her barriers again. She doesn’t choose distance.
She chooses to be here, right now, with me and for me.
And she doesn’t say that whatever this is is a mistake.
Instead, she looks at me like she’s been waiting for this moment, fearing it while also aching for it.