The weeks pass in fits and starts. Your bruises fade, but the sense of walking on thin ice never does. You make it through most days with Beckett, Dakota, Priya, and Hannah orbiting close, each in their own way determined to keep you safe, to help you feel normal again.
Classes get easier, campus feels less hostile, and even your painting finds its way back onto the canvas. But every evening, just as the sun slips low past the dorm eaves, an old dread settles in your chest.
You know the protective order is temporary, thirty days, a fragile piece of paper between you and the memory of Jasper's rage. You mark each passing day in your planner, counting backwards, pretending not to.
On the day the order expires, you wake up feeling raw, every nerve strung tight. Beckett walks you to class, more watchful than ever. Dakota texts you reminders:
Dakota: If you need to call me, you call. No pride, okay?
Priya leaves a granola bar on your desk. Hannah shows up with colored pencils she claims are "stress magic."
But by midday, you sense a shift, a familiar shape on the quad, a text you don't recognize, a door that swings open just a touch too easily. You try to ignore the way your pulse kicks up, telling yourself you're just paranoid.
You're heading out of the studio, the evening air cool against your skin, when you see him waiting at the edge of the quad. Jasper, carefully put together, hands in his pockets, the same old tilt to his jaw. You freeze for half a heartbeat, remembering that the protective order is no longer there to shield you, but you keep walking, determined not to let him see you rattled.
He intercepts you with practiced ease. "Maren," he says softly, almost apologetic. "I want to explain.."
You hesitate, glancing around, but there is no one close enough. After everything, it feels surreal, him standing here like you could just pick up where you left off.
"I have nothing to say to you, Jasper.." You say softly, shrinking into yourself.
He nods, steps a little closer. "Yeah, I know. I deserved it. I did. I just… I've been working on myself and thinking about everything, every minute. I just want you to see I'm sorry. I miss you, Mare."
His voice is gentle, a shiver of the old affection winding its way between syllables. You remember the warnings, the pain, the ache on your face, but there's a pull, one that makes you ache.
You don't step away, but you don't move closer either. You let silence stretch out. Jasper watches you, searching for an answer.
"I-" You start, but falter. The words knot in your throat. You're not ready to say yes, but you don't know how to say no. Not yet. Not to the boy who split your heart open and left behind bruises you're still trying to heal.
He picks up on it, hope flickering behind careful eyes. "Maybe… we could talk sometime? Even just as friends. I need closure, Mare. You do too. We could start over."
You hug your sketchbook tighter, torn between the urge to run and the need to reclaim your own voice. "I don't know, Jasper. I just… I need time."
He nods, slow and deliberate. "Take all the time you want. I'll be here."
You let his words settle uncertainly, then turn away into the blue dusk. You don't look back, heart hammering, the door to your past cracked open, just enough that the shadows can slip through.
Whether you'll close it for good, you still can't say.
You close the dorm door behind you and drop your sketchbook on the desk.
After a few minutes, Beckett knocks softly before entering. He sets his bag down, watching you intently, but all you see is the ache in your own chest.
He tries to be casual. "Long day?" His voice is gently probing, as if searching for fissures in your composure.
You nod, not trusting yourself. "Yeah. Just… a lot."
He sits heavily on Dakota's bed, elbows on his knees. "Want to talk about it?"
You hesitate, each word snagging in your throat. "The protective order expired today."
His eyes widen, posture tensing. "Did something happen?"
You pause, tracing a frayed thread on your sleeve. "Jasper found me after studio… He said he's changed. He wants another chance. I didn't know what to say so I just..didn't say anything."
Beckett goes silent, fists clenched. He looks away, jaw working. The air thickens.
You bristle at his silence. "You could at least say something."
He stands, pacing from window to door. "Like what, Maren? I'm supposed to say it's fine? That you can go back to the guy who hit you because you wanted to break up?"
You glare back. "You don't get how complicated it is for me! You weren't there. You didn't see how careful he was. He was nice, and all I could do was freeze. I couldn't just shut him out."
He stops in the middle of the room, frustration radiating off him. "Nice? After everything? Nice isn't enough, Maren. Not after what he did to you. I don't understand how you could even talk to him, let alone leave the door open."
You square your shoulders, voice trembling. "You think I don't know that? You think I don't replay what he did every time I see my reflection? I just... I wanted to believe he'd changed. I wanted this to be simple. But it's not."
Beckett shakes his head, voice rising. "You think simple means giving in? Means leaving that door cracked so he can walk through it again?"
You look at him, tears burning behind your eyes. "And what do you want me to do? Just cut off everyone who's ever hurt me? How can I do that?"
He moves closer, face etched with something you can't name. "You let him take pieces of you away, over and over. Do you realize what it does to the people who care about you, who want you whole, when you let him in?"
You snap, voice breaking. "If it's so hard for you, Beck, why are you even here? Why do you keep sticking around when you know I'm a mess?"
He stares, anger and heartbreak contorting his features, and for a moment, he can't speak. When he finally does, the words spill out, raw and trembling:
"Because I'm in love with you, Maren!" His voice cracks, heavy with the weight of everything he's carried. "That's why I stay. That's why I fight. I can't just watch you crack open and pretend it doesn't matter. I want you to be strong, to move on, to say no to people who hurt you. But I... God, I just want you to be treated the way you deserve."
You're breathless, caught off-guard by the force of his confession. Beckett is standing inches away, chest heaving, eyes wet. The silence that follows is brimming with everything you've both held back: hope, longing, and all the pain between you.
He lowers his voice, words trembling. "That's why I stay. Okay?"
You stay silent, your own emotions and thoughts swirling around rapidly like a tornado in your brain.
You and Beckett just stare at each other, wide-eyed and breathing heavy.
Finally, you break the silence. "How long?" Your voice is barely a whisper, and it cracks on each word.
His hair is a mess, and he runs his hand through it, shaking his head and letting out a breath.
"How long have I been sure? Since Sophomore year of high school. How long have I actually been in love with you? Since before I knew what that meant." He says.
Your tears fall freely now, shattering the last wall between you. You take a shaky step forward and let yourself reach for him.
He opens his arms just as you step into them. His arms wrap around you, and he buries his face in your hair. You hold him close, trying to let your brain wrap around the fact that Beckett actually just said those words.
"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Your voice is a whisper against his chest, and you can hear his heart pounding.
He pulls back and looks at you, his hands going to either side of your face and wiping the tears there with his thumbs. "I was afraid." He studies your face for a moment. "Afraid that if you didn't feel the same way, you wouldn't be able to be around me anymore. I was just.. scared it would cause me to lose you. And losing you isn't something I'm willing to do, even if that means watching you love somebody else."
More tears fall down your face. Beckett wipes them with his thumbs again. "Please stop crying." He says with a soft smile, cocking his head to the side.
You shake your head, letting out a breath. "You just told me you're in love with me, Beckett. Let me cry for a minute." You say with a short chuckle.
He lets out a breath and drops his hands, but he doesn't step away. Your mind races with thoughts of what to do or what not to do. Before you can overthink it, you reach up and grab a fistful of the shirt at his chest.
He freezes for a just a second before letting you pull him down to you. Your other hand finds his hair, and your lips connect with his.
And everything inside of you lights on fire.
His hands hold your back, pulling you closer against him. The kiss is urgent, desperate. Beckett lets out a sound that's coated in relief and longing.
You pull back, only enough to catch your breath. His forehead comes down to rest against yours, both of you breathing hard.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that." He says, voice low and rough.
You laugh lightly. "Are you as dizzy as I am?"
He laughs then, pulling you closer to him and connecting your lips again. His hands come down to your thighs, and he lifts you. You let out a small gasp, but wrap your legs around his waist. Your arms hook around his neck. "Where are you taking me?"
He chuckles, lies you down on the bed, crawls on top of you, and kisses you again. "You just kissed me. You're not allowed to leave this bed for the next..." he purses his lips. "At least seven hours."
You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck. "I'm okay with that." You say softly, and he grins.
As he settles beside you, the tension of the past weeks breaks in waves: fear, longing, years of aching hope all melting in each gentle brush of his thumbs, each laugh muffled against your hair. You lie together, tangled in the sheets, legs and hearts entwined, letting the world outside blur and soften for just a while.
Neither of you rushes; there's nothing frantic in the way he holds you now, only a slow certainty, as if he's making up for all the times he waited at the edge and never dared to say it. His hands memorize every inch of your skin with a delicacy you've never felt before. You run your fingers over his jaw, tracing the lines of relief and disbelief on his face.
"This is real?" He asks in a whisper.
You smile and nod, pulling him back down for a short kiss. "Definitely real."
He lets out a breath and shakes his head. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
You look at him, heart swelling at the worry etched in his features. You bring your hand up and trace the worry lines on his forehead with your fingers. "I'm sure. As long as it doesn't change us."
He shakes his head. "It won't. We'll still be best friends, the way we know how to be. Except now we're best friends who kiss." He grins, leaning over to kiss you again.
You lie in the quiet for a while before Dakota comes through the door. You sit up as she turns to face you, shock crossing her features, followed by a smile.
"Well, well, well..." She says, crossing her arms over her chest.
You roll your eyes and lean down, your forehead resting on Beckett's chest. His hand comes to your hair, and you hear him laugh. "Shut up, Dakota." He says. You sit back up to look at her, and she winks at you.
Dakota puts her hands up and throws her bag over her shoulder. "I think I'll stay with Matt tonight." She says, grinning as she sways out the door.
You chuckle and look at Beckett, shaking your head. "She's gonna be so annoyingly cocky about this."
He nods, pulling you down against his chest. You nestle in, your hand gripping his shirt. His hand comes up to yours, and he kisses the top of your head. "I'm not going anywhere." He says softly.
You smile, loosening your grip on his shirt slightly. "Stay tonight?"
He wraps his arms around you and settles into the bed. "Of course."
You close your eyes, letting the warmth and safety of Beckett's arms lull you to sleep.
Morning creeps into your room, soft and golden, a hush settling over the sheets. You blink into the light, slow and warm, and find Beckett lying beside you, arm draped over your stomach, breath steady against your shoulder.
For a moment, you're unsure if any of it was real: the midnight confessions, the desperate laughter, the fire that finally burned through all the shadows. You shift, careful not to break the peace.
Beckett stirs, his eyes finding yours, sleepy and bright.
He smiles, voice rough with sleep. "So it wasn't all just a dream."
You let out a quiet laugh, heart swelling in your chest. "No," you whisper, brushing your thumb over his cheek, "it was real. Every bit of it."
You curl closer as he wraps his arms around you, and together you watch the morning chase away what's left of yesterday's ache. For the first time, it feels like you're waking up to your own life, one stretch and sunlight-filled minute at a time.
Whatever waits outside this room, you know you'll face it together.