LAURA
I rest my head against Jae's shoulder without really deciding to.
He goes still for half a second. Then relaxes, like this is exactly where he expected me to land.
"Thank you," I whisper. "For coming back."
He squeezes my hand once.
"I'm not going anywhere," he says.
The hallway murmurs with distant footsteps and voices. Somewhere down the hall, a cart rattles. A phone rings.
Life keeps happening.
My cheek presses into the fabric of his hoodie. He smells like clean laundry and something warmer underneath.
Familiar already, somehow.
I exhale.
"You should go home," I say quietly.
His shoulder shifts under my head. "I'm fine."
"I'm okay," I add quickly, like I need him to believe it. "You don't have to stay here. You've already done enough."
I feel him look down at me.
"Laura," he says, low.
"I mean it," I insist, lifting my head just enough to meet his eyes. "I don't want you… wearing yourself thin for me."
Something tightens behind his expression.
Controlled. Carefully managed.
"I'm not doing this because I feel obligated," he says.
"I know," I say softly. "That's what worries me."
Silence stretches between us.
He looks past me, down the hallway, jaw set. Like he's choosing which version of himself to let me see.
I hesitate.
Then I say, quietly, "Hospitals aren't… neutral places. They make you remember things."
He stills.
Not freezing. Not recoiling.
Just… going very still.
"My mom died in one," he says after a moment. Flat. Honest.
I nod. I already knew that.
"Slow" he adds. "Complicated. Loud in all the wrong ways."
His breath leaves him slowly through his nose.
"Yeah," he says.
Just that.
I wait.
He doesn't look at me when he continues.
"She hated hospitals," he adds. "Said they smelled like false hope."
My throat tightens.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
He shrugs, small. "You don't have to be."
"I do," I say. "You were young."
Something in his jaw tightens.
I don't look at him when I continue.
"You once said some truths don't set you free," I say. "They just break the ground you're standing on." I swallow. "I was thinking about that."
He exhales through his nose.
"Thinking what?"
"That maybe the ground breaking isn't the worst part," I say.
He tilts his head slightly. "No?"
"No," I whisper. "Maybe it's realizing you were standing on something fragile to begin with."
He swallows. I feel the tension in his shoulder tighten—just a fraction, but enough to notice.
I shift closer again, resting my head back on his shoulder.
"I keep thinking you should go," I murmur. "Being here can't be good for you."
He finally looks down at me.
"Laura," he says quietly. "Do you really think I'd feel better sitting alone with this somewhere else?"
I don't answer.
Because no. I don't.
He continues, softer. "I'm here because I choose to be. Because I know what it's like to sit in a hallway like this and feel like the floor might disappear."
I close my eyes.
"I don't want to drag you back into that," I say.
"You're not dragging me," he says immediately. "You're letting me stand with you."
That does something to my chest.
He shifts, adjusting just enough that my head rests more comfortably against him.
His arm comes around my shoulders, careful, asking without words.
I lean in.
"I'm scared," I admit, so quietly it feels like a secret.
"I know," he says.
"She's strong," I say. "But she's tired. And I don't know how to…" My voice breaks. "I don't know how to imagine a world without her."
His arm tightens slightly.
"You don't have to imagine it tonight," he says. "Tonight, she's here. You're here. That's enough."
I nod against his shoulder and yawn before I can stop myself, exhaustion finally breaking through the adrenaline.
He notices immediately.
"You should rest," he murmurs.
"You too," I counter.
He huffs quietly. "I'm fine."
I tilt my head up, studying his face. The shadows under his eyes. The tension he pretends isn't there.
"Jae."
"Mm?"
"Thank you," I say. "For staying."
His jaw tightens for half a second.
"Yeah," he says. "Of course."