Chapter 59
KAI
We sat on a bench at the station watching the trains come and go, hot chocolates warming our hands. It was a small station - one set of tracks, a tiny café tucked beside the ticket office, the kind of place where the world felt quieter simply because there wasn’t enough space for it to be loud.
The morning rush hadn’t started yet. Just the occasional train rolling through, the low hum of engines, the soft hiss of doors opening and closing. Every time one passed, the breeze lifted the steam from our cups, carrying the smell of chocolate into the cool air.
Alex sat close enough that our shoulders brushed now and then, but not close enough that anyone would think twice about it. His fingers curled around the paper cup, knuckles pale from the cold, and he kept blowing on the surface even though it had already cooled.
He looked tired. Not just from the night - from everything.
But here, in this small, quiet station, he looked… softer. Like the world wasn’t pressing down on him quite as hard.
He took a sip, eyes closing for a moment. “God, that’s good.”
I smiled into my own cup. “Told you.”
He nudged me lightly with his shoulder, a tiny, playful push that didn’t match the bruise on his cheek or the heaviness he carried. And I let him, nudging back just enough to make him smile again.
A train rumbled past, sending a gust of wind across the platform. Alex’s hair blew into his eyes, and he brushed it away with the back of his hand, cheeks pink from the cold.
He took another sip, staring out at the tracks. “I used to come here a lot,” he said casually - too casually. “When I was younger.”
I glanced at him. “Yeah?”
He nodded, eyes fixed on a distant point. “It was quiet. No one ever looked for me here.”
The words slipped out so naturally he didn’t even realise what he’d said until they were hanging between us, fragile and heavy. His shoulders tensed a second later, like he wanted to reach out and grab them back.
I didn’t move. Didn’t react. Didn’t make it a big deal.
“Yeah,” I said softly, taking a sip of my drink. “I get that.”
He let out a breath - not quite relief, not quite regret - something in between. His fingers tightened around the cup again, knuckles whitening for a moment before he forced them to relax.
He kept talking, voice quieter now. “It was just… easier to be here.”
He stopped himself, jaw clenching.
There it was - the shutdown. The instinct to retreat.
But he’d already said more than he meant to. And he knew I’d heard it.
I didn’t push. I just nudged his knee gently with mine.
“You don’t have to explain,” I said. “Not unless you want to.”
“It’s not…” he said, staring into the bushes on the other side of the tracks. “It’s just that my house is busy, like all the time.” He breathed out slowly, the kind of breath that sounded like it hurt. “Customers and mum’s… friends.”
He said friends like it tasted rotten. “It can be a lot.”
I didn’t look at him straight away. Sometimes eye contact made him shut down faster than any question could.
So I kept my gaze on the tracks, letting the quiet settle between us.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I can imagine. My house is like the opposite. Sometimes it feels too quiet. When Mum’s at work, it’s just me in that big house. ”
“Sounds lonely,” Alex muttered, and I nodded.
“It can be,” I agreed. “But I’d rather that than strangers coming in and out all day.”
He looked down at his shoes, scuffing the toe against the concrete. “It’s not that bad really. I just stay in my room.”
I nodded my head. He said it like it was normal, like it was nothing, but alarm bells rang in my mind.
Staying in his room.
He tossed the words out so casually, but they stuck to me like burrs.
How long had he been living like that?
How long had hiding been his safest option?
The thought made something cold settle in my stomach.
“How long has your brother been dealing?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
“He started properly after he got kicked out of school. I think he was thirteen or something like that. I must have only been a few years old.” He shrugged like it was nothing - like it wasn’t the kind of thing that shapes your whole childhood.
It was just crazy to me that anyone would let their child grow up in that kind of situation.
“What did he get kicked out of school for?” I raised a brow, even though I already had a guess.
“I don’t know, but knowing him, it was probably something to do with fighting” Alex shrugged, taking another sip. “Someone probably said something he didn’t like or owed him money.”
“Does he get in fights a lot then?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
Alex just shrugged, the movement small, almost defensive. “He has to be tough. You know, to make sure no one takes the piss or anything.” He paused, eyes dropping to the floor, his foot nudging a loose stone on the platform. “And like… growing up, he looked out for Mum and me a lot.”
“How do you mean?” I leaned in.
“Just my mum’s shitty boyfriends. He’s had to put them in their place more than once.
” He took another sip of his hot chocolate, shoulders curling in slightly as if the memory itself made him smaller.
“And his dad was bad. He died before I was born - luckily. But he gave them a hard time.” Alex’s thumb traced the rim of his cup, slow, distracted.
“Connor doesn’t talk about it, but Mum does when she’s drunk. ”
He swallowed, eyes fixed on the tracks like they were safer to look at than me. “I know it messed him up… How he is. Why he thinks violence fixes everything. I guess he learned early that fighting was the only thing that worked.”
His voice faded, leaving the cool morning air feeling heavier.
I let the words settle, slow and heavy.
I didn’t look at him straight away - I kept my eyes on the tracks, letting him talk without feeling watched. But inside, something twisted.
Not at him. Never at him.
At the picture he was painting without even realising it.
A kid learning to fight because the adults in his life were worse than the kids.
A boy stepping between his mum and danger before he was even old enough to understand what danger was.
A teenager kicked out of school for the same thing he’d been taught to do at home.
And Alex… Alex growing up in the fallout of all that.
I breathed out slowly. “That’s rough,” I said finally, my voice low.
Maybe I had got Connor all wrong.
Alex let out a tired sigh. “It is what it is.” There it was again - that phrase he used like armour. As if accepting things was the only way he knew how to survive them.
“Can we talk about something else?” he asked, finally looking over at me. His eyes were a little too bright, a little too guarded.
I nodded. “Yeah. Of course.”
I leaned forward, forcing a smile into my voice. “What’s that bird over there?” I asked, pointing toward a scruffy little thing hopping along the gravel.
Alex followed my gaze, grateful for the shift, and for a moment the tension in his shoulders eased.
“That’s a swallow.” He smiled, that small, earnest one he didn’t give to many people. “Probably one of the last ones we’ll see this year.”
“How comes?” I screwed my eyebrows up, pretending to study the bird - but really, I was studying him.
“They migrate in winter. Fly all the way to Africa.” His voice softened, almost mesmerised as he watched it hop along the gravel. “One of the fastest birds in the world.”
He smiled again, the kind that lit up his whole face without him realising. Then he caught me staring - properly staring - and his smile faltered, confusion flickering across his features.
“You’re a nerd,” I said with a laugh, trying to cover the fact I’d been looking at him like he was the interesting one, not the bird.
Alex rolled his eyes, cheeks tinting pink. “Shut up,” he muttered, but he was smiling into his cup, trying to hide it.
And I couldn’t help it - I smiled too.
“No, it’s cute, remember,” I said, my eyes catching his. Our stares lingered for a beat too long, and something warm flickered in his expression before I smirked. “You didn’t deny it this time.” I teased, pointing at him. “Have you finally accepted your nerdiness?”
He raised his brows, lips twitching. “I’ll accept it when you admit you’re a football nerd.”
“Liking football doesn’t make me a nerd.” I laughed, shaking my head.
Alex tilted his head, giving me that look - the one where he pretends he’s innocent but he’s absolutely about to wind me up. “So you couldn’t name all the teams and all the players within each team?” he said, raising a brow.
I scoffed. “That’s like a totally normal thing to know.” I chuckled, even though I could feel my ears warming.
“Nerd.” Alex teased, the word soft and smug.
He nudged my knee with his, just lightly, like he didn’t even realise he’d done it. His smile was small but real - the kind he didn’t show at school, the kind he only seemed to have around me.
And God, it did something to me.
“I really want to kiss you,” I breathed, my eyes lingering on his, noticing the small freckles that dusted the bridge of his nose.
Alex’s cheeks flushed instantly, a soft pink blooming across them. He glanced around the empty platform, not nervously - just checking, just making sure this moment was ours alone.
There was no one. Just us, the tracks, and the swallow.
“Okay,” he said, smiling into himself, his eyes tracing mine left to right like he was memorising something. His fingers tightened around his cup, but he didn’t look away.
I reached out and tilted his chin up gently, my thumb brushing the edge of his jaw. He leaned into the touch without thinking, and that alone sent a rush through me.
Then I kissed him.
And the tiny fireworks exploded within me again - a hundred of them. No, a thousand. Warm and bright and impossible to ignore. The kind that made my chest feel too full, like something inside me had finally clicked into place.