𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬 ━━ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥

ᴛᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ

chapter twelve — skylights

Boothill's house was the kind of quiet that settled like a blanket over everything. The kind of quiet that made you whisper even when you didn't need to. Outside, the rain tapped heavily against the windows and roof, like it had decided to spend the night.

Y/N stood awkwardly in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, watching Boothill disappear down the hall and return with a stack of folded blankets, which he dropped onto the couch.

"You can take my bed," he said, straightening and brushing his hands together. "I'll sleep out here."

"No way," Y/N said instantly. "That's your bed. I'm not kicking you out of it."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting resistance, just not so fast. "It's really not a big deal."

"Well, I'm not taking your bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

Boothill gave her a look. "It's lumpy."

"I've slept on worse." She crossed her arms tighter, squaring off. "If you make me take your bed, I'll just sleep in my car."

"You're not sleepin' in your car."

"Then I'll sleep in your truck."

Boothill snorted, like she'd just said something both ridiculous and on-brand. "You're not sleepin' in any damn vehicle."

"I like the rain," she said with a shrug. "It helps me sleep. Drowns out the existential dread."

That gave him pause. A flicker of thought crossed his face.

"Actually..." he said slowly. "I might have a better idea."

She tilted her head. "Better than the world's lumpiest couch?"

Boothill just grinned. "Come with me."

They grabbed extra blankets and a couple of pillows, and Boothill led her through the storm, just a short jog to a barn at the edge of the property. Y/N half-expected spider ambushes and dusty hay bales, but the inside was clean and warm, smelling faintly of cedar and old paint. String lights hung in lazy loops along the rafters, casting a soft golden glow. Up in the loft, tucked beneath a wide skylight, sat a scuffed old mattress.

"We fixed it up when I was a teenager," Boothill said, tossing a blanket onto the bed. "My dads figured I needed a place to be alone that wasn't inside. I used to come here a lot."

Y/N looked around. A stack of worn books leaned against the wall. Posters curled at the corners. A guitar missing two strings rested in the corner like it had stories of its own.

"You don't anymore?" she asked.

 "Not as much. But it's yours if you want it. Just 'til your room at the B&B's fixed."

Y/N glanced up at the skylight. Rain slid across the glass in silver rivulets. "It's kind of perfect," she said. Then, deadpan: "But also giving me 'final girl dies in barn' energy."

Boothill didn't miss a beat. "I'll stay the first night—or until you're comfortable. Make sure no barn demons getcha."

She studied him for a second, trying to find the catch. There wasn't one. Just Boothill—steady as ever. No pressure. No angle. Just a soft place to land.

They laid the blankets out side by side and settled in beneath the skylight. The rain had quieted to a murmur. Thunder rolled in the distance like a half-remembered dream. Moonlight spilled across the floor in pale, drowsy strips.

Boothill rested on his back, arms tucked behind his head. Y/N mirrored him.

"Y'know," she said, her voice low, "I used to be able to picture everything. My whole future. I had a plan. Checklists. Timelines... all that crap."

He didn't speak. Just waited.

"But now?" She exhaled. "It's like the future's just fog. I can't see any of it."

Boothill turned his head toward her. "Maybe that ain't a bad thing."

She glanced over. "Is this the part where you hit me with cowboy wisdom?"

He smiled. "Sometimes not knowin' means anything's possible. You don't have to chase the same picture you started with. You can paint a new one."

Y/N was quiet for a long moment, the rain filling the space between them.

"That's terrifying."

"Yeah," he said. "But sometimes, the best things come after you let go of what you thought you needed."

She didn't know if he was right, but for the first time in a long while, she wanted to believe he was.

Eventually, they drifted to sleep, Boothill's breathing slow and steady beside her. Sometime in the night, Y/N turned toward him. His arm found its way around her waist, anchoring her in place.

She didn't move.

Morning came in gold and silver, pale light filtering through the skylight and painting the loft in warmth. Y/N stirred when her phone buzzed somewhere beside her head. Boothill's arm slipped from her waist as she sat up.

She blinked and reached for the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, Miss L/N? This is Kate from the leasing office in Penacony. Just confirming you'll be in tomorrow for your lease renewal?"

Her stomach dropped. "Yeah. I'll be there."

She hung up and turned to find Boothill awake, blinking sleep from his eyes, hair a soft mess, voice still rough with sleep.

"Everythin' okay?"

Y/N looked at him for a beat too long, her heart fluttering for a reason that had nothing to do with the call. "Yeah. Just lease papers. I've gotta head back to Penacony."

Boothill yawned, stretching. "You want company?"

She blinked. "You'd come with me?"

He shrugged. "Sure. My dads are comin' home today anyway. I wouldn't mind seein' what your world's like."

Y/N hesitated, then smiled. "We can hang out in the city tonight, if you want. My appointment's not until tomorrow."

Boothill nodded, warm-eyed. "Sounds like a plan."

They lay back again, not quite ready to leave the cocoon of quiet just yet. Y/N looked up at the soft sky beyond the glass and let the thought of Penacony drift to the back of her mind.

She didn't know what came next. Not really.

 But something about this—this loft, this sky, this boy beside her—made it okay that the future wasn't clear.

a/n — bit of a shorter chapter this time