Without You

12

The car ride feels slower than usual, like the minutes are stretching, giving me just enough time to gather my thoughts or to lose them entirely. Azriel keeps his eyes on the road, but I can feel him glancing at me every so often, as though he's waiting for me to say something, anything. But I don't have the words, not yet. And I'm not sure I ever will.

The café is small, cozy, with mismatched furniture that looks like it's been collected from thrift stores over the years. The scent of fresh coffee and baked goods fills the air as we step inside. It's just the warmth of the café, the low murmur of conversation, and Azriel and me.

Azriel gives the barista a tight smile as we walk up to the counter, his hand resting lightly on my back as if to guide me. I feel a flicker of comfort at his touch.

"I'll have a black coffee," Azriel tells the barista. "And... what do you want?" he turns to me.

I hesitate. "Just... tea. And maybe one of those croissants."

The barista nods. Azriel's hand brushes against mine for a moment as he digs for his wallet.

Once we have our drinks and food, we make our way to a corner table by the window. I can hear the clink of the spoon against the mug, the gentle hum of the people around us, but it feels like it's happening in another reality.

I stare at my tea for a moment, watching the steam swirl up, the heat radiating from the cup. I want to say something, but every time I open my mouth, the words get tangled in my throat.

Azriel doesn't press me at first. He sips his coffee slowly, and I catch him watching me over the rim of his cup, like he's studying me. It's not an uncomfortable kind of gaze it's the kind that makes you feel seen. Like he's trying to understand, but not force the answer out of me.

Eventually, the silence becomes too thick, and he puts his cup down with a soft clink.

"What happened, Amore?" His voice is gentle, like he's afraid that if he speaks too loudly, I'll break into a million pieces. "Why were you crying back there?"

The question is so simple. So normal. But the moment he asks it, everything inside me locks up. I look away quickly, unable to meet his gaze. The lump in my throat grows. The last thing I want to do is relive the mess of everything, to pull all that hurt out into the open, but I can feel it building, pressing at the edges of my chest, begging to be released.

But I can't. 

Not yet.

"I'm fine," I say, my voice quieter than I mean it to be. "It's nothing. I was just... tired."

Azriel leans forward, his brow furrowing as he watches me carefully. "You're never just tired, Amore. You're shutting me out."

Like you did with me

I wanted to say but I know he's just worried.

I swallow hard, the ache in my chest expanding, and I grip my mug tighter, willing the warmth to ground me. He knows me too well. I want to say something, anything, but the words feel too big, too sharp. They don't fit, they don't make sense.

 How could I explain this?

"I don't want to talk about it," I finally say, my voice breaking just enough to betray the lie. I can't look at him. "Not now."

Azriel nods, slowly, like he understands even if he doesn't want to. His eyes linger on me, like he's waiting for me to change my mind, but he doesn't press further. He doesn't push. And in that moment, I feel both grateful and devastated. He's being patient, but I wish I could just tell him everything. I wish I could say the words without the fear of breaking completely.