Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 29

“You okay, man?”

James straightens a little, stiffens his jaw. “Yeah,” he says, the word clipped, automatic. “Just… needed air.”

There’s a pause, like everyone’s waiting for someone else to fill it.

Then James asks, almost too casually, “Did we win?”

I already know the answer from the way Tim’s lips tighten.

Tim hesitates, then shrugs. “We lost. Final two minutes were messy after the fight. Coach pulled you both.”

James nods once, like he expected it. He looks down at the sidewalk again, and I see it in his eyes, even if no one else does. The flicker. That slow sink into himself. The way his shoulders slope inward like he's shrinking. Like he’s trying to fold himself out of existence. No one boos out here. No one throws cups or calls him names. But that doesn’t matter. He’s already hearing it in his head. Replaying it. Editing the story in real time so that he’s the villain again.

I don’t say anything. I don’t know what to say. How do you lift someone who’s convinced they’re heavy?

Instead, I squeeze his hand. Just a little tighter. Quietly. Steadily. I press my thumb to the inside of his wrist like I’m trying to remind him he’s real. That I’m here. Choosing him. Even when the world tells me not to.

He glances at me, and I nod. That’s all. No speeches. Just presence.

We watch Tim and Inez walk away. They don’t hold hands, but they walk close, like gravity keeps pulling them toward each other no matter how careful they try to be.

“They look good together,” James mutters.

“Yeah,” I say, resting my head on his shoulder again. “They do.”

But I don’t tell him what I’m really thinking, that some people fit without trying, and some people love like wildfire. Messy. Loud. Full of ash and light.

And then there’s us.

Two people trying to be okay. Trying to mean it. Trying not to fall apart at the same time.

“Babe,” James says suddenly, his voice cracking like glass under pressure. “Promise me you’ll stay okay… I--- I know I can be too much sometimes… b-but I’ll do better, okay? Just… don’t leave me.”

I feel my heart lurch, the kind of pain that doesn’t sting--- it sinks. Deep.

His words are shaky, but his eyes are steady. Wide, pleading, terrified.

That same terror I’ve seen in stray cats--- those ones that crouch in alleys, ears flattened, ribs showing, hissing not out of anger but fear. Fear that no matter how loudly they cry, no one will understand. No one will reach out. No one will choose them.

Because no one ever has.

James trembles next to me, and I know--- I know, he’s not just scared of losing me. He’s scared of becoming the version of himself that everyone says he is. The one his father avoids. The one his mother gave up on quietly. The one the world boos when he breaks, even though it was never really taught him how to be whole.

“Babe…” I whisper, turning to face him fully. “Listen to me.”

He doesn’t look at me yet, so I cup his cheek, gentle as I can.

“I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

I pull him into a hug, tighter, warmer, deeper. Like I’m trying to convince the sadness that lives inside him that it doesn’t have to be permanent.