Noah woke up crying.
That was the first thing Aria noticed.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just silent tears sliding into his hairline as he stared at the ceiling like it might give him answers if he waited long enough.
He didn't move.
Didn't wipe them away.
His body was too tired to pretend.
The Dam Finally Gives
"I thought I was ready," he said hoarsely.
The words came out wrong—too thin, too late.
Aria stood at the side of the bed, arms folded, posture relaxed in the way only people who never truly relaxed could manage.
"Ready for what?" she asked.
"For you being alive," Noah replied.
"For finding you."
"For… whatever this is."
His breath hitched.
"I wasn't ready for this place," he whispered.
"For realizing I never left it."
Memory Is a Cruel Teacher
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Images surfaced uninvited.
White rooms.
Commands spoken softly.
Pain disguised as efficiency.
"I thought it ended when you died," he said.
"I thought… if you were gone, then at least something was over."
Aria didn't interrupt.
Didn't correct him.
She let the silence do the work.
The Guilt Finally Speaks
"I used you," Noah said suddenly.
The words landed hard.
"I told myself I was learning from you. Following you. Surviving because of you."
He laughed weakly.
"But I was hiding behind you. You took the hits. You made the calls."
His eyes found hers.
"And when you didn't come back… I let them close the file."
The Part He Can't Forgive Himself For
"I didn't fight it," he said.
"I signed it."
"I told myself you wouldn't want me to."
His voice cracked fully now.
"But that was just me being tired."
Aria's jaw tightened.
Not in anger.
In recognition.
She Finally Speaks
"You were bleeding," she said calmly.
"You were nineteen."
"You did what you could."
Noah shook his head.
"That's what you always said."
She leaned in slightly.
"And it was true then," she added.
"It's true now."
Why This Hurts Her Too
Because she remembered him like that.
Young.
Overconfident.
Trying so hard not to break.
She had taught him how to stand.
She hadn't taught him how to stop carrying bodies that weren't his.
The Breakdown Peaks
Noah's shoulders shook once.
Twice.
Then he covered his face with his hands.
"I thought finding you would fix it," he said into his palms.
"But it just made it heavier."
Aria reached out.
Stopped halfway.
Lowered her hand.
She didn't touch him.
Not yet.
The Truth She Gives Him
"Nothing fixes this," she said quietly.
"You just learn where to put it."
He looked up.
Eyes red.
"…Where did you put it?"
Aria held his gaze.
"I built a life where it couldn't follow me."
Silence.
"…And now?" he asked.
She didn't answer immediately.
Because she hadn't decided yet.
Closing Beat
The machines continued their steady beeping.
Noah wiped his face with the back of his hand, breathing slowly now.
The breakdown had passed.
What remained was raw honesty.
Aria straightened.
"This is the only time you get to fall apart," she said.
"After this, you listen."
Noah nodded.
Once.
Grateful.
Because for the first time since the explosion—
Someone had finally told him it was allowed to hurt.
And for the first time since she had been found—
Aria allowed herself to stay in the room.