The Unspoken Currents

The Hollow Crown

Becky woke to the soft, dim light of dawn filtering through the curtains. Her head throbbed from the night before, the alcohol still fogging her mind. She rolled over in bed, expecting the cold space beside her to be empty. But Freen was there, lying peacefully under the covers, her breathing deep and steady.

Becky's heart clenched.

The weight of everything hit her all at once—what had happened last night, what they had done. They'd crossed a line they hadn't been prepared for, but now it was too late to undo it. The physical closeness had stripped away every barrier they'd worked so hard to maintain, and Becky wasn't sure she could handle the consequences.

She watched Freen sleep, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, her face soft in the early morning light. Becky's heart raced, not from the warmth of Freen's body beside her, but from the sudden, suffocating fear that came crashing down on her.

She's going to leave.

The thought was like a sharp blade cutting through the haze of her mind. It wasn't even a question—it felt like a certainty. Becky knew what happened when she let people get too close. They always left. And Freen had left once before.

What if this time is no different?

Becky swallowed hard, her throat tightening with emotion. Her chest felt heavy, like the air had been sucked out of the room. She needed to get out. She needed to run, before Freen woke up, before she could say anything, before the inevitable goodbye would come. The thought of seeing Freen's face when she realized what had happened was too much.

I can't do this.

Her mind raced as she gently slid out of bed, careful not to disturb Freen. The sheets rustled softly, and Becky's heart pounded in her chest. She grabbed her clothes from the floor, moving as quietly as possible, her hands trembling.

I won't let her leave me again. I won't.

As Becky hurriedly dressed, her breath came in short bursts, her eyes flicking back to Freen's sleeping form. For a split second, she hesitated. Part of her wanted to stay, to face whatever this was head-on. She remembered the way Freen had looked at her the night before, the vulnerability in her eyes, the way they'd fallen into each other so easily, as if it was inevitable. There was something real there—something more than just alcohol and impulse. But the other part of Becky, the part that had been hurt too many times, screamed at her to go. To protect herself before it was too late.

I have to leave before she does. It's the only way to stay sane.

Becky grabbed her keys, slipping quietly out of the apartment, her heart hammering as she shut the door softly behind her. The hallway was silent, the early morning stillness echoing around her as she rushed down the stairs, her thoughts spiraling out of control.

I can't let her see me like this. Not again.

By the time Becky reached Irin's apartment, her eyes were already brimming with tears. She knocked softly at first, but when there was no response, she pounded harder, her knuckles hitting the wood with increasing urgency.

The door swung open, and Irin appeared, her face etched with concern. "Becky? What the—?"

Before Irin could finish, Becky collapsed into her arms, the sobs she had been holding in finally breaking free. She couldn't speak—couldn't explain the storm of She couldn't speak—couldn't explain the storm of emotions ripping through her. She just cried, her entire body trembling as Irin pulled her close, her friend's comforting presence the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.

Irin guided her inside, shutting the door behind them. "Becky, what happened?" she asked softly, leading her to the couch.

Becky couldn't find the words. She buried her face in Irin's shoulder, her tears soaking through her friend's shirt. The fear, the confusion, the heartbreak—it all came pouring out in a torrent of sobs she couldn't control.