I didn't remember how long I'd been walking. Just that the street kept tilting to one side, like the whole city was drunk with me.
The bar door slammed behind me, spilling warm light onto the pavement before swallowing itself again. Outside, the world was colder. Harsher. My steps dragged, the alcohol heavy in my blood, my stomach twisting, my head pulsing in uneven waves. But none of that was the real pain.
It was the echo of her voice.
"Just tell me the truth, okay?"
Like honesty had ever done anything but ruin me.
A thin mist of rain hit my face. Not enough to soak, just enough to sting.
Someone brushed past. A group of students, laughing, jackets pulled over their heads as they sprinted across the street. One boy looked at me with the bored annoyance of someone stepping around trash.
I tried to breathe, but the air felt thick. Heavy. Like it didn't even want me anymore. Or maybe I didn't want it.
I steadied myself against the wall, but my fingers slipped. The neon sign above me buzzed into a watery smear, the letters bleeding into each other.
Everything hurt.
Not my body, that pain was easy.
It was the betrayal that burned. The fact she even believed I could do something like that.
Alice. Miss Clarke. Rumors. Lies.
Samuel's smirk.
Lena's eyes...
My chest tightened.
I kept walking, because stopping meant thinking, and thinking meant drowning again. But the ground kept tilting, my steps heavier, messier. The haze refused to clear, clinging to me like smoke.
My knees buckled.
I reached for the wall and missed. The pavement rushed up, cold biting into my palms before everything started to blur. Streetlamps stretched into long golden smears.
My head landed on something soft; maybe someone's jacket, maybe trash… I couldn't tell.
A couple walked by holding hands. The girl glanced at me, pity flickering across her face.
"Should we…?" she whispered.
Her boyfriend shook his head. "Nah, he's fine. Happens every weekend."
Fine.
Sure.
I wasn't a tragedy.
Just another drunk kid outside a bar.
People kept moving around me like I was just another obstacle. Footsteps. Laughter. A car horn. The world continuing without hesitation.
Someone stepped over my arm without even looking down.
I tried to push myself up, but my body refused. My eyelids grew heavy.
The last thing I saw was the washed-out city sky. And a single thought drifting through my mind before darkness swallowed everything:
I guess… this is what happens when you have nowhere left to fall.
Black.
⟡ ✧ ⟡
When I came to, the first thing I felt was the headache. Sharp, pulsing, like someone tapping a metal spoon inside my skull.
The second thing was the smell.
Crisp linen. Expensive cologne. Something citrusy and artificial humming underneath it.
Definitely not my apartment.
Definitely not Alice's place.
Not anywhere I'd ever been in my entire pathetic life.
My eyes snapped open.
The ceiling was too white. The curtains too heavy. The silence too clean. No hum of Alice's fridge, no neighbor's terrible music, no traffic.
A hotel.
A fancy one.
My heart lurched.
I sat up too fast, the room swinging like a pendulum. My stomach twisted.
Where am I? How did I pay for this? I don't have money. Did someone rob me? Did I do something stupid? Did someone—
My breath stuttered.
I swung my legs off the bed. The carpet felt too soft, like the floor wasn't really there.
Only then did I notice someone else in the room.
Sitting on the other bed, legs crossed, hoodie half-zipped, scrolling his phone with the exact brand of irritated focus he used to have every time I interrupted him mid-game.
He looked older. Taller. Sharper.
But that expression?
That hadn't changed.
He looked up.
"Relax. No one kidnapped you. You're not worth that much."
My head snapped toward him.
Josh!
My little brother.
Except he wasn't little anymore.
He leaned back, arms crossed, expression flat and unimpressed.
I blinked at him, my mouth opening and closing, words refusing to form.
"…Josh?"
He rolled his eyes. "Wow. He speaks."
The relief hit me so fast it almost knocked the air out of my lungs.
But right behind it came the panic.
"How are you here? How did you find me? Did you pay for this room?" I asked, voice scratching like gravel. "Josh, I can't afford—"
"Oh my god." He dragged a hand down his face. "Yeah, Ash. I checked you into a luxury hotel because I love burning money for fun."
His tone was mocking, dripping with sarcasm… but underneath it, something tight. Something brittle.
I swallowed hard. My throat felt raw.
"What… what happened?" I asked quietly. "How did I get here?"
Josh snorted. "Gravity. You fainted on the pavement like a dramatic Victorian heroine."
He shifted, the chair creaking under him.
"I was walking out after yelling at Mom's fiancé," he continued. "Thought I'd get some air before I punched him. Thought I'd chill on the street and pretend I live an edgy, rebellious life. But then I saw someone lying on the sidewalk."
A pause.
"I thought it was a trash bag. But then it groaned. And surprise… it was you."
My face flushed with humiliation.
He wasn't done.
"You were pale as hell, shivering, mumbling something about 'not again' and 'I didn't touch her,' which…" he made a face "...really did not reassure me."
He uncrossed his arms, leaning forward a little. "So yeah. I dragged your drunk ass off the pavement before someone stepped on you. Booked a room because you were freezing and I didn't know who I should call this late at night for help."
"You didn't call Mom?" I ask quietly.
Josh scoffs. "Please. She'd just tell me it's your father's fault or my fault or the weather's fault. Also I didn't feel like explaining why her eldest child was unconscious on the pavement."
Fair enough.
"And why not Alice's place?" I ask.
He lifts an eyebrow. "Who the hell is Alice? When I found your phone in your pocket, it was basically having a seizure from all the notifications. I didn't open anything, just saw the name. And, dude, last time I checked, you were head-over-heels for Lena. I honestly thought you two would've gotten married by now."
He gestures vaguely at me, like I've personally inconvenienced his worldview.
"So yeah. Seeing another girl's name blowing up your screen was… confusing. Figured it was safer not to touch it."
I swallow. "So you carried me here?"
"Dragged." He corrects immediately, holding up a finger. "Dragged you. You're heavier than you look and I was not about to die for you."
"Thank you," I whispered.
He stared at me like the words irritated him.
"Don't make it a big deal," he muttered. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't dead in a gutter because that would be a really stupid obituary."
I laughed, even though the lump in my throat made it hard to breathe.
Josh looked at me again. Really looked.
And beneath all the sarcasm, the resentment, the hurt… there was fear.
"You scared me, you know," he said under his breath, almost too soft to hear.
I froze.
He looked away instantly, like he regretted saying it.
"You look… shitty," he added quickly, trying to bury the slip.
"Yeah," I murmured. "I feel shitty."
He shrugged. "Good. Maybe stop drinking like an idiot."
A pause, heavy but not hostile.
For the first time in three years, we were in the same room, breathing the same air, and not pretending the other didn't exist.
And even though his words were sharp, and his eyes were distant, and the gap between us felt like a canyon…
He came for me.
He found me.
He pulled me out of the street.
And that was more than I ever expected.
I shut my eyes for a second, letting the room steady around me, and whispered, "I'm sorry."
It's clear he still thought I abandoned him by choosing to stay with Dad and pushing him to choose Mom three years ago. And I don't know what else I can say to soothe that hurt.
Josh immediately looks away. "Save it. I'm not ready for that conversation."
Another silence. Longer this time.
He nudges a bottle of water toward me with his foot. "Drink before you collapse again. I'm too young to plan funerals."
I take it, my hands shaking.
The room feels too small for everything in my chest.
Josh doesn't look back at me as he mutters, "Don't get used to me saving your ass, okay?"
But the tremor in his voice says he already knows he will.
Every time.