𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐆𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 ~| 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘕𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘴

Save Me

~'~

𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝?

𝐃𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭?

𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞?

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞

‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

I've been thinking a lot.

Too much, maybe.

Two days had passed since Evie had let that bomb drop, and I hadn't been able to shake it off. Every time I looked at Lando, I saw the weight of his past, and the pain etched into his smile. He had no idea I knew about her, and I didn't know how to tell him.

That night, I lay in bed next to him, my mind racing. He was a silent presence beside me, his breathing deep and even. I could feel the warmth of his skin against mine, his hand gently stroking my arm, but my mind was elsewhere.

I didn't know what to feel.

I didn't sleep that night. Not because I couldn't, but because it felt wrong to close my eyes.

I kept thinking about what Evie told me. About Sabrina. About him. About what it must've felt like to wait for someone you knew wasn't coming back. To hope for something you'd never hold again. I tried to imagine loving someone that much—that deeply—and then losing them, not just to someone else, but to the universe itself. There's a cruelty in that. A finality that doesn't leave you room to bargain.

I thought about the bridge, the weight in his eyes that night, and how I hadn't understood it until now. Back then, I'd only seen someone lost, dangling on the edge of too many unanswered questions. But now I know it wasn't questions he was dangling from—it was the answer.

That life could end up empty even after you gave it everything you had.

I don't know how long I spent watching him that night, barely lit by the soft glow of a lamp he hadn't bothered to turn off. The world outside could have ended, and it wouldn't have mattered. My entire universe was sitting right there, leaning against the couch, flipping absentmindedly through the pages of a book I knew he wasn't reading. His expression was calm, easy, like he had mastered the art of being okay even when he wasn't.

And that's what broke me.

He's so strong, stronger than anyone I've ever known. Not in the loud, reckless way people usually imagine strength, but in the quiet way. The kind that feels heavier than it should, because it's built from pieces that used to hurt too much to carry.

I see him better now.

I see the cracks in the armor, the way they let a softer, quieter version of him leak through. A boy who lost everything he ever truly loved and somehow stitched himself back together when it should've destroyed him.

How do you survive that?

How do you let yourself try again?

I don't know if I could. That thought comes at me sharper than I expect, and I push it away quickly, not daring to let it take root. But then it sneaks in through the back door, and before I can stop myself, I wonder what if it were him? What if it were me who lost him?