𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 ||

ii. comfort

For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence stretching on as we searched for the right words to break through the barrier that had formed between us.

Finally, I cleared my throat, gathering my thoughts before speaking. "I know things have been rough lately," I began, my voice gentle yet firm. "But you can't keep avoiding everyone like this. We need to talk."

Kyan's gaze flickered, a myriad of emotions passing across his features before settling into a guarded expression. "I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes met mine briefly before darting away, a conflicted look clouding his features. "I know," he repeated, stepping aside to allow me entry into his room.

As I stepped into the dimly lit space, the warm glow of the lamp cast long shadows across the gray walls, lending an air of strange intimacy to the room. I couldn't help but notice the subtle changes since my last visit - the rumpled sheets on his bed, the scattered clothes strewn across the floor. It was evident that Kyan had been neglecting his surroundings as much as he had been neglecting himself.

Facing him, I felt bad for him all of a sudden. Whatever he was going through, it was clear that he was struggling to find his footing.

"And what now?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he finally met my gaze. There was a plea for understanding in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the mess stirring up inside of him.

Taking a deep breath, I walked towards him slowly, my footsteps echoing softly in the quiet room. "Now, we talk," I replied gently, my voice barely above a whisper. "No more running away, no more pretending that everything's okay when it's clearly not. We face whatever it is, right now."

Kyan's shoulders sagged slightly, his expression a mix of resignation and defiance. "Ava, don't," he murmured, his gaze dropping to the floor.

"Don't what?" I asked, my voice soft yet insistent.

"Don't act like you're not hurt," he said, his tone direct, cutting through the tension between us like a sharp knife. I raised my eyebrows, not saying anything, but his gaze bore into mine, and I knew exactly what he was nagging at.

I was hurt, there was no denying it. Hurt by the way he had pushed me away the moment some girl he met at a coffee shop entered his life. Angry that he had seemingly thrown away our friendship, one that had lasted since childhood, for someone new. But at the same time, I couldn't blame him. If she felt uncomfortable with our friendship, I understood, even if it hurt.

"Kyan, let's not make this about us, but about you," I cut him off, brushing off the topic and not wanting to dwell on it any longer. "I came here for you, not for us to argue about what happened months ago."

But he cut me off, sinking down onto the edge of his bed and burying his head in his hands. "Stop, please fucking stop, and be mad at me for fuck's sake," he pleaded, his voice strained with emotion. "Be mad, scream at me, punch me, just don't fucking act."

I couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh at his words. He sounded ridiculous, desperate for my anger as if it would somehow absolve him of his guilt.

"I'm not here to scream at you or punch you," I replied, my voice softer now, laced with a hint of resignation. "I'm here because I care about you, despite everything."

Kyan looked up at me, his eyes clouded with a mixture of emotions. "You shouldn't," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've been a shitty friend, Ava. I've been anything but good to you, I-."

"Maybe I really shouldn't," I admitted, my tone casual yet filled with empathy. "But that's not going to make me abandon you when you're clearly struggling."