I said it. The best way I can.
Liana
The car ride was quiet. Not awkward—just quiet.
The kind where every silence felt full. Weighted. Like a breath that hadn't been released.
Elias's hand rested on the steering wheel, steady as always. But his knuckles were pale.
He didn't speak. Neither did I. Not until he pulled up in front of Alex's apartment.
I didn't move to get out.
My fingers stayed curled around the strap of my bag. Tight.
He glanced at me, then looked away. "You okay?"
I nodded.
Then shook my head. "I don't know."
He turned the engine off. The world fell completely silent.
No car. No radio. Just us.
I stared out the window. Then at my hands.
"I've been… overthinking," I admitted. "Since that night."
I didn't have to say which one.
He knew.
Elias didn't answer.
But his whole body tensed, like his breath had caught in his throat.
I swallowed.
"I don't know what we're doing."
His jaw flexed. "Me neither."
That surprised me.
He always seemed like the one with answers.
The one who had everything under control.
"I don't want to mess this up," I whispered. "I don't want to ruin what we have."
His voice was rough. "You're not ruining anything."
I looked at him. Really looked.
His eyes were darker than usual. Serious. Unreadable.
"I just…" I hesitated. "I need to know you're not doing this just because you feel responsible for me."
That landed hard.
His face shifted. Like something inside him cracked.
He leaned forward, elbows on the steering wheel. Silent.
Then, after a long pause, he asked:
"When I hold you… does it feel like responsibility?"
The question knocked the air out of me.
My chest tightened.
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Then finally, quietly— "I like it when you hold me."
His head turned slowly.
Our eyes locked.
And I saw it. All of it.
The way his breath caught.
The way his fingers gripped the wheel just a little tighter.
The way his entire body stilled, like he was holding back something too big to contain.
"Liana…" he said, voice hoarse.
"I didn't mean to make things confusing," I said quickly. "I'm just—"
"You didn't."
He reached across the console.
Not to pull me in. Just to touch my hand.
His fingers brushed mine. Warm. Grounding.
"I've tried," he said. "God, I've tried to keep my distance. For years."
My heart hammered.
"But you're not a kid anymore. And I'm not just your safe place."
I didn't move. Didn't breathe.
I just waited.
Waited for him to say something more.
But instead, he pulled back. Slowly.
He rested his hands in his lap and said, low—
"You should go in. It's late."
I nodded.
Opened the door.
But before I stepped out, I looked back.
"I like it when you hold me," I said again.
Then closed the door before I could lose my nerve.
Elias
He didn't drive away for a long time.
Just sat there. Hands clenched on the wheel.
Her voice still in his head like a wildfire.
"I like it when you hold me."
He bit down on a curse.
She didn't even know what that did to him.
Didn't see the way his chest had ached just watching her say it.
Didn't feel how badly he wanted to get out of the car, walk up the stairs, and pull her into his arms until she couldn't say anything else but his name.
But he didn't. Because he couldn't.
He wanted to. God, he wanted to.
But if he touched her now, his body would forget what boundaries were.
And he didn't trust himself enough to let go of the last thread of control he had left.
So he sat there.
Alone. Shaking.
And whispered her name into the silence, like a prayer he'd already broken.