Afterlight (Fanfiction) ✓

chapter twelve

Chloe

THE scent of fresh pancakes and warm maple syrup pulled me out of sleep, coaxing me into a world that, for once, felt gentle. My body still ached, but it was a dull reminder compared to the chaos of yesterday. I slipped into the shower, the steaming water cascading down like a curtain between me and the memories I desperately wanted to leave behind. For a fleeting moment, I felt renewed.

But that peace shattered when I realized—I'd left my clothes at Justin's house.

The thought of facing him again made my stomach twist. The very idea of stepping back into his space, into his shadow, felt nerve wrecking. But I couldn't avoid it, my belongings were still there.

Wrapping Dean's clothes tighter around me, I hesitated at the bedroom door before walking into the kitchen. Dean was already moving around with a kind of casual confidence, wearing a pair of black pants and a loose shirt. The sight of him, so at ease in his own home, contrasted sharply with the storm brewing inside me.

It felt like a betrayal, wearing his clothes and stepping into his world while still tethered to Justin's.

"Good morning," Dean said, his voice bright and warm as he glanced over his shoulder. A small smile played on his lips as he added, "Didn't see you there. How're you feeling?"

"I feel better, thank you." My voice was soft, but I managed a smile, meeting his eyes briefly before they darted away.

"Your plate's over there," he said, nodding toward the table.

Following his gaze, I saw a plate of pancakes drizzled with syrup and crowned with vibrant strawberry slices. They looked perfect—too perfect for the mess that I was. But I forced myself to sit down, cutting into the pancakes and letting the sweetness distract me.

"It's amazing," I said between bites, the syrup warming me in a way that had nothing to do with the food itself.

"I'm happy to be your chef today," Dean teased, settling into the chair beside me with his own plate.

We ate in companionable silence for a while, the tension in my chest easing with each bite. But it didn't last long. I felt his eyes on me, studying me, his brow furrowing slightly as if weighing a question.

"I just want to know something," he finally said, breaking the quiet.

I set my fork down, bracing myself. "What is it?"

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady. "What were you doing living with Jay?"

The question hit me harder than I expected. I swallowed, forcing myself to keep my face neutral. "I came here with a friend," I began, choosing my words carefully. "We had a fight, and I stormed out. That's when I met him. He offered to let me stay at his place while I figured things out."

Dean's expression darkened. "You can't trust that man with anything," he said flatly. "He's not a good person."

I hesitated, pushing my plate away as guilt and confusion bubbled to the surface. "He can be cold sometimes," I admitted. But there was more to Justin, wasn't there? Or was I just fooling myself?

"That's putting it lightly," Dean muttered, his voice laced with bitterness.

I sighed, lowering my gaze. "One day, he came home angry. He grabbed my face and kissed me—out of nowhere." The memory sent a shiver through me, and I started playing with the edge of my shirt, my fingers trembling slightly.

Dean's jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists. "I'm glad I found you when I did," he said, his tone sharp but protective.

"But..." I hesitated, unsure if I should continue. "He's not all bad. He took me in. He didn't have to, but he did. Maybe he just doesn't know how to handle... things."