The Supernova Effect

Chapter 33

Nova

The sun rose too softly, It slipped through the cracked blinds like it didn't know what had happened here. Like it didn't care.

Daisuke was still asleep on the floor beside me. Head resting in my lap. Bandage wrapped tight around his palm. Chest rising and falling with each breath—but each one felt like a coin toss.

I didn't sleep.

I just watched him. The twitch of his brow. The little sound he made in his throat when he dreamed. I watched until my eyes burned and my thoughts got loud.

He told me he killed Amir.That he did it for me.

And now I'm sitting here, legs aching from the tile, heart sore from too many collisions.

How am I supposed to process that?

How am I supposed to hold a truth like that in my chest and not fall apart?

The room still smelled like blood and my stomach flipped every time I glanced at the cracked mirror.

He didn't mean for me to find out. But now I know. And knowing is its own kind of drowning.

Daisuke stirred beside me. His eyes fluttered open, slow and heavy.

"Hey," he rasped sitting up.

"Hey," I whispered, trying to smile but not really managing it.

He blinked at the ceiling for a while before turning his head to look at me. "You stayed."

"Of course I did."

"You didn't have to."

"I know."

"I should've told you earlier," he muttered, throat dry.

I shook my head. "There's no right way to tell someone something like that."

His gaze drifted back to the ceiling, like he was searching for a version of the sky he could believe in.

"Do you hate me?" he asked quietly.

The words landed like lead.

I didn't answer right away. My mouth opened, closed. I looked at him—really looked—and saw the boy underneath all the smoke and static. The boy who had kissed my forehead after nightmares. The boy who memorized the sound of my laugh.

"I don't hate you," I said, finally. "But I hate what this is doing to you."

His throat bobbed. "Me too."

"Go lay down I'll clean this up."

"No you don't have to, this is my mess." He shakes his head.

"No it ours, let me carry my share." I say giving him a look that said my mind was already made up.

"Okay."

He slowly stood up and I watched him shuffle out—barefoot, shoulders hunched, like he was afraid his bones might shatter under their own weight.

When the door clicked shut behind him, I sat there in the wreckage. A tangle of stained towels. The half-open first aid kit. The blood he'd left behind in tiny rust-colored fingerprints on the edge of the sink.glass shards scattered around the counter.

Our mess.
Our secret.

I cleaned it like it would fix something. Warm water, bleach, rag in my trembling hands. Each swipe made my stomach twist tighter—because no matter how hard I scrubbed, I couldn't wash it off me too.

I thought about all the ways I'd imagined saving him. Soft ways. Loud ways. Angry ways. None of them ever included this—knowing he'd traded his soul for mine the moment he killed Amir.