𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒 | SPINOFF

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ALESSIO
KINGSTON

"She's not my problem," I muttered under my breath, each word a regret I repeated as I moved down the hallway. "She's not your problem. She's not anyone's problem, Alessio."

But my feet kept moving toward the guest room, my hand clenching and unclenching as I tried to will myself to turn around. I was supposed to be in Jaxon's room—back with everyone else. Yet here I was, standing outside her door, trying to convince myself that I didn't care.

"She has a boyfriend," I reminded myself, as if that fact alone should be enough to keep me away. But logic didn't matter. None of it mattered when I heard the muffled sounds coming from the other side of the door—the sobs that pierced through the walls, loud and raw and unfiltered. My chest tightened, and despite everything, I found myself raising my hand, my knuckles brushing against the wood.

"Don't do this," I whispered to myself, but it was too late. The sound of her crying clawed at me, made every memory we shared rise to the surface, bringing with it a pang of emotions I thought I'd buried. I knew she'd been drinking, saw her and Stella sneaking drinks earlier in the night. Maybe that's why I was bold enough to be here now. Maybe I hoped that, if she didn't remember in the morning, neither would I.

My Avery shouldn't cry.

But I knew the truth.

I didn't want her to remember—that after everything, after she tore my heart out and left, I still cared. I still wanted her, still felt that aching need to be the one who picked up her pieces, even if it broke me all over again. I hated myself for it, for this pathetic need that had me standing here, my heart hammering as I knocked on her door.

I will fix her all over again in secret.

Because the truth was, no matter how hard I tried to lie to myself, she was still my problem. And she always would be.

The door creaked open, and I stepped inside, feeling my pulse hammering in my chest. She was there, curled up on the bed, her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking with each sob. My chest tightened as I took in the sight of her—a mess of tears and tangled hair, drowning in whatever pain she'd been holding onto alone.

"Hey," I murmured, my voice barely a whisper.

She looked up, her eyes red and swollen, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and the rawness of her emotion. For a moment, there was a flicker of surprise, but it quickly melted into a kind of helplessness that tore right through me.

I hated her drunk. I hated drinking in general. I don't want her to become a mess. I watched her change, become disgustedly into drinking and a mess.

She became a mess.

My mess.

Without thinking, I closed the distance between us, sitting beside her on the bed. She looked at me, a small, broken smile pulling at her lips before she dissolved into another round of tears.

I shouldn't be close to her. She broken, remember? I have to fuck her life up. I'll go back to hating her when she's sober.

"I—" she choked out between sobs, gripping the edge of her pillow. "I'm sorry, Alessio. I'm so... sorry." Her words tumbled out, barely proper, laced with the kind of desperation that made it impossible to pull away. "I... I never stopped loving you. I thought I could, but I couldn't. Not for a single day." Her voice cracked, and her hand reached out, as if afraid I might vanish if she didn't hold onto something.

Fuck.

A scowl escaped my throat. "Then why date him?"

"He's not good, he's so touchy—you were better. No one can replace you, Alessio." Avery sobbed.

Fuck.

Every wall I had tried to build came crashing down in that instant. Gently, I took her hand in mine, feeling how small and fragile it was, and without a second thought, I pulled her into my arms.

Her head fell against my chest, and she clung to me, her fingers gripping my shirt like I was the only thing keeping her from falling apart. I held her close, one hand running soothingly over her back, the other cradling her head as she cried against me. Her tears soaked through my shirt, but I didn't care. Nothing else mattered in that moment—just her, just us.

"I'm here, Avery," I whispered, my lips brushing the top of her head. "It's okay. I've got you." She shuddered against me, her breathing uneven as I continued to hold her, each sob breaking down another piece of my resolve.

"You always help me... I wish I could o the same." She pulled back slightly, her tear-streaked face looking up at me, and she whispered, "I was so stupid, Alessio. I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go, but I never stopped wanting you, needing you... loving you."

"You let me go." You fix this, Avery.

"But... I have reasons." Her words were slurred, raw, and unfiltered, and I knew that come morning, she might not remember any of this. But right now, all I could feel was her—the weight of her body against mine, the vulnerability in her gaze, and the feeling of her heart, fractured and exposed, beating against my chest.

Slowly, I brushed a tear from her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I know, Avery. I know." I didn't have the words to tell her how much I'd missed her, how her absence had haunted me. But I could give her this—I could give her the comfort she needed, at least for tonight.

She sighed, nestling closer, her hand gripping my shirt as if afraid I might slip away. And I knew, deep down, that I'd stay right here for as long as she needed me. Because no matter what happened between us, no matter how many times I told myself to walk away, she'd always be my problem. And I was okay with that. "Why Ava...out of all people? She's so bad."

"You're better too."

"Date me then." she blurted. "Take me back, Alessio. Please. I'll be a good girl this time, I'll be only yours and I'll never run away." she whispered.

I cupped her cheeks, kissing her nose. "I'm sorry, I can't."

"But you can..."

I shook my head. "You're with Astor, remember?"

She ignores me. "When we fought in the cafeteria, all the girls started gossiping when I—I said that your dick was good... now everyone can imagine. I hate girls. Why do they all think they can talk about something... something that doesn't belong to them?" she slurred.

I chuckled, playing with her hair. "I don't belong to anyone."

"You belong to me."

"No, I don't." I do. And you belong to me too.

Avery sticks her tongue out. "You'll take me back one day, Kingston. I promise." she whispers, her eyes shutting.

I hope that day arrives soon.