Kill My Mind || DOLLHOUSE Spin-off

59.Alejandro

It had been a week. One whole week since I opened the door and found Gray on the other side.
One week since I warmed up leftovers and pretended my hands didn't shake when his brushed mine. It's been one week since he sat on my couch, tucked himself into the corner like he used to, and for a few hours, let me pretend we were still us.

I didn't hear from him much after that. Didn't expect to. It had just been a simple text the day after thanking me for letting him stay, and that we should watch a movie again soon. I know he said he wanted to be my friend, but I couldn't be sure if it was just his emotions getting the best of him. But something about the way he'd looked at me that night had stayed. Not just broken. Not just tired. Comfort. Like he remembered, too.

I hadn't texted anything besides "You're welcome" and "Come over anytime". Not because I didn't want to — hell, I'd typed out at least ten and deleted every single one.
But because I didn't want to make it harder. I didn't want him to feel like I expected anything from him. That night, he needed to exist without expectations. If I ever wanted him to come back again, I had to let him do it on his own terms.

Tonight felt different, quiet. The kind of stillness where you either text the person or go crazy thinking about it.

So I gave in.

Me: "You good?"

Three dots blinked. Disappeared. Came back. Then finally:

Gray: "You got snacks?"

I chuckled, the kind that made my shoulders go up and down. I imagined his face typing this out with a smile. I imagined he had been at home waiting for me to text so he could come over and raid my pantry. I smiled as well.

Ale: "Always."

I didn't bother cleaning up the living room. Just grabbed a bag of chips, turned on the Xbox, and left the door unlocked. And when Gray walked in twenty minutes later, hoodie half-zipped and eyes tired but lighter... I didn't say a word. I just handed him a controller and moved over to make room on the couch. While I was looking at the games I owned, I saw Just Dance, which Bella had gotten with Ally a while back.

"Want to play Just Dance?" I said with a straight face as I looked at him.

He rolled his eyes but immediately cracked a smile, which made me smile. "You're an idiot," we chuckled together. I moved past it until I landed on Mario Kart, Matteo's old game. "This is childish."

"You're the most immature person I know. Childish is right up your alley," he dead stared me, but I could see behind his eyes that he wanted to smile. He picked his controller up off his lap

"Let's go, come on."

"You're going to get your ass kicked," I said confidently as I sat up from my spot on the couch. He scoffed.

He scoffed, shaking his head like I was the delusional one. "You always talk shit before losing."

I raised a brow. "Says the guy who cried the last time I beat him on Rainbow Road."

His jaw dropped. "That was once—and my controller was broken."

"Keep telling yourself that."

He nudged me with his knee, and for a second, we were just us again — two idiots on a couch, pretending nothing hurt.

The game loaded. We picked our characters like it was muscle memory. I didn't comment on the way he picked Yoshi like he always used to. He didn't comment on how I still picked Bowser because I liked the weight. Some habits don't die — even after everything.

We played a few rounds, talking trash, laughing, easing into a rhythm that felt like muscle memory, too. No talk about what we were. No big moments. Just Gray leaning back on my couch, a half-eaten bag of chips between us, and the sound of Mario music filling the space.

At some point, he laughed — really laughed. The kind where his eyes crinkled and he had to put the controller down because he was losing focus. I don't even remember what joke set it off. But I remember the sound. God, I missed that sound.

I looked over at him. And I didn't say it, but I thought it.

I missed you.

By some miracle—or maybe just pure spite—Gray won.

He threw his arms up like he just won the lottery, dramatic as hell. "Let's go!" he yelled, nearly knocking the chips off the couch. "That's what I'm talking about!"

I was already looking at him. I couldn't help it.

His hoodie was slipping off one shoulder, hair messy from tugging at it during the last race, and his grin was so unapologetically Gray that it knocked the wind out of me a little.

He turned to gloat, probably with some snark ready on his tongue, but the second our eyes met — he paused.

Just for a second.

And his smile softened, matching mine. Not smug. Not cocky. Just... soft. Familiar. Longing.

The silence stretched, but neither of us seemed in a rush to fill it.

Then, finally, Gray huffed a quiet laugh, tilting his head. "I know you're a few years older than me, but you really do play like a grandpa."

I rolled my eyes, looking away before he could see the smile tugging at my lips. "Shut up."

He laughed again, that full, warm sound that had started to feel like a reward.

And for a moment, everything was simple again.