DASHIELL
The drive home was quiet, but not the same kind of heavy silence as this morning.
I sat in the passenger seat with my seatbelt adjusted perfectly, staring out the window. My fingers tapped a slow rhythm on my knee. My left foot rubbed gently against my right ankle and the static in my head was still there, but quieter now, more manageable.
I was glad we had talked and that we weren't fighting anymore.
But something still felt… off.
Like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit.
I turned my head to look at Alexander. His hand was on my thigh again, warm and steady. That helped.
"Thank you for bringing me lunch," I said honestly. "I didn't realize how hungry I was until I started eating. My brain gets loud when I skip meals. It was… nice that you noticed."
Alexander's thumb stroked my thigh once.
"You're welcome."
I nodded and looked back out the window.
We were okay.
I think.
When we pulled into the driveway, the house lights were on. My family was still here. That was good. I liked having them around, even if the change in routine made my brain feel a little full.
We stepped inside and the smell of dinner greeted us, something warm and familiar. Mom must have cooked.
Mom and Dad were in the living room. Selene was sprawled on the couch, scrolling on her phone. They all looked up when we entered.
Mom smiled warmly. "There you two are. Dinner's almost ready. I made that baked chicken you like, Dashiell. With the herbs."
I nodded, rocking once on my toes. "Thank you. That sounds good."
Selene sat up immediately.
"Soooo..." she said, eyes flicking between Alexander and me. "What happened this morning?"
Mom lightly smacked her arm.
"Selene, mind your business."
"What?" Selene protested. She looked at Mom and Dad. "Are you seriously not curious too?"
Dad chuckled.
Mom sighed but looked mildly interested despite herself.
I adjusted the strap of my bag until it sat perfectly level. My fingers tapped lightly against my thigh.
"It wasn't anything important," I said. "Just some safety things Alexander got for the house. We're fine."
Selene narrowed her eyes.
"That sounds suspiciously vague."
"It's an accurate summary."
"It sounds fake."
"It's not."
Mom shook her head.
"Leave your brother alone."
Selene flopped dramatically back against the couch.
"Nobody ever tells me anything."
Dad snorted.
"I wonder why."
Selene pointed at him.
"Rude."
"Go wash up, both of you," Mom said. "Dinner in fifteen minutes."
I nodded and headed upstairs with Alexander.
Behind us, I heard Selene mutter,
"I still think they're hiding something."
"Selene."
"I'm just saying."
As soon as we stepped into his room and the door clicked shut behind us, Alexander moved.
One moment he was beside me.
The next, I was pressed against the door.
His hand settled on my waist, drawing me closer, while the other slid to the back of my neck. His forehead nearly touched mine.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
I could feel the tension in him.
Not anger.
Something softer.
Relief.
His dark eyes searched my face as if reassuring himself that I was really here.
That we were okay.
His gaze dropped to my mouth.
I knew exactly what he wanted.
I placed both hands against his chest.
"Alexander, no."
His brows pulled together slightly.
"Dashiell."
"I need to change my clothes and take a bath first."
His hands remained where they were.
I took a breath.
"That's my routine. You know I don't like skipping steps when my brain is already loud. It makes me feel... wrong."
His thumb brushed lightly against the back of my neck.
I hesitated.
Then I forced myself to say the thing that had been sitting heavily in my chest all day.
"This morning, you pulled away when I tried to kiss you in the shower."
Alexander went very still.
"That hurt."
The words came out quieter than I intended.
I looked down briefly before meeting his eyes again.
"So right now, I need my routine."
My fingers curled lightly into the front of his shirt.
"Please."
For a long moment, Alexander simply looked at me.
Then he exhaled.
His forehead rested briefly against mine.
"Go," he murmured. "I'll wait."
I nodded, relieved, and quickly gathered my things. As I headed to the bathroom, I glanced back at him.
"Thank you."
He didn't reply. Just watched me go with those unreadable black eyes.
I took my bath faster than usual, but I still did every step. When I came out in fresh pajamas, Alexander was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting.
I walked over and stood between his legs.
"I'm sorry about this morning," I said quietly. "I didn't mean to make you feel like I don't trust you. I do. I just… got scared."
Alexander pulled me into his lap and buried his face in my neck, breathing me in.
"I know," he murmured against my skin. "Eat dinner. Then we'll talk properly."
I nodded, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
"Okay."
Dinner was nice.
Mom's baked chicken was exactly how I liked it, herbs, not too salty, perfectly cooked. I ate quietly, listening to Selene talk about school and Dad ask Alexander questions about a recent complex surgery. Alexander answered calmly, intelligently, like he always did.
But my brain was only half here.
The conversation upstairs kept pulling at my attention. My fingers tapped lightly against my fork between bites while my foot rubbed against the leg of the chair.
It wasn't finished yet.
Things still felt slightly out of place, like a puzzle with a missing piece.
I wanted to fix that.
To get my routine back.
And Alexander too.
By the time we finished eating, my foot was bouncing lightly beneath the table.
"Thank you for dinner," I said politely to Mom. "It was very good."
Mom smiled. "You're welcome, sweetheart."
I glanced at Alexander.
"Can we go upstairs now?"
He nodded once and stood.
Selene raised an eyebrow. "Already? You two are so boring."
Mom lightly smacked her arm again. "Leave them alone."
We headed upstairs. The moment his bedroom door closed behind us, I turned to him.
Taking a breath, I organized my thoughts the way I always did when my brain felt messy.
"I've been thinking," I said honestly. "When we have a misunderstanding like this morning, we should have rules. So neither of us has to guess what the other person is thinking."
Alexander leaned against the door, arms crossed, watching me with that dark, patient intensity.
"Rules," he repeated, voice flat but curious.
My fingers tapped against my thigh.
"Yes. First rule: If we're upset, we don't walk away without saying where we're going or when we'll be back. That makes my brain louder because I don't know what's happening."
I rocked once on my toes.
"Second rule: If I try to kiss you or touch you and you don't want it right then, you have to tell me why. Not just turn away. Because I start thinking I did something wrong and my brain spirals."
Alexander's eyes darkened, but he stayed quiet, letting me finish.
"Third rule: If you need space, you tell me how long. Even if it's just 'I need twenty minutes.' I can wait if I know the number."
I swallowed.
"Those are my rules. For now."
Alexander stared at me for a long moment.
Then he stepped forward, cupped the back of my neck, and pulled me against him.
"Agreed," he said. "I won't leave without telling you where I'm going. If I can't come back immediately, I'll tell you when I will. I won't pull away from your touch without explaining why. And if I need space, I'll tell you how long."
A shaky breath escaped me as I leaned into him.
"Good."
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head.
"I'm not good at this," he admitted quietly. "The talking. The feelings. But I'll try. For you."
Resting my cheek against his chest, I listened to the steady beat of his heart.
"I know. You're a psychopath. Your brain doesn't work the same way. But you're my psychopath. So we make rules."
A rare, soft chuckle rumbled through him.
"Fair."
I leaned back just enough to meet his eyes.
"And if you ever reject my kiss again without explaining," I added, blunt and completely serious, "I will lock myself in the bathroom with my weighted blanket and my laptop and not come out until you slide a written apology under the door."
Alexander's lips twitched.
"Noted."
A small smile tugged at my mouth.
"Good."
He leaned down and kissed me properly this time—slow, deep, and careful. No force. No urgency. Just him.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
"I'm sorry about this morning," he said quietly. "I handled it badly."
For a moment, I simply looked at him.
Then I nodded.
"I know."
We stayed like that for a long time.
The static in my head finally went quiet.