The knock came just past 1:00 a.m.
Soft. Barely there.
But I was already awake.
I knew it was her before I even moved.
I opened the door and found Rose standing there in a hoodie that didn't belong to her mine, actually sleeves too long, hood up, eyes rimmed red but dry.
She didn't say anything.
Neither did I.
I just stepped aside.
She walked in. Quietly. Like she didn't want to disturb the night itself.
My room was lit only by the small desk lamp I'd left on like I promised.
"I couldn't sleep," she said.
"Me either."
She stood in the middle of the room for a moment like she wasn't sure if she was allowed to fall apart.
So I walked over.
Wrapped my arms around her.
Held her tight.
And that was all it took.
She buried her face in my shoulder.
Not crying. Not breaking. Just breathing like she hadn't been able to for hours.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"What for?"
"For leaving you outside."
"You didn't."
She pulled back enough to look at me. Her face was flushed, eyes glassy but steady.
"I think I finally said the things I was afraid to say," she whispered. "And it didn't fix everything, but… I don't feel like I'm hiding anymore."
I smiled.
"You were never hiding from me."
We curled up on the floor again, just like before except closer now.
She laid her head on my chest. I ran my fingers slowly through her hair. It smelled like the lavender soap she always used when she needed to calm down.
"I used to imagine this," she said softly. "Us. Like this."
"Me too."
"No more secrets?"
"No more secrets."
A few minutes passed.
Then, from the dark:
"Do you think people will forget the photo?"
"No."
"…Are you scared?"
"Yes."
She looked up at me, just slightly. Her lips brushed my collarbone when she spoke.
"Me too."
"But I'm also tired of pretending you're just a part of my life when you are my life."
I didn't answer.
I just leaned down and kissed her.
Slow. Sure. No fireworks. Just warmth. Home.
And when she whispered I love you into my skin right after,
I didn't say it back.
I didn't need to.
She already knew.