A few days later —
The world felt a little less heavy on my shoulders.
Not fixed.Not perfect.
But lighter.Manageable.
I hadn't realized how much space all that anger and guilt had taken up inside me —until suddenly, there was room for other things.Room for breathing.For living.For laughing.
And somehow, without really meaning to,I found myself texting Kane.
[ idiot ][ come outside ][ i'm bored ]
The answer came instantly.
[ die mad about it 😘 ]
I rolled my eyes, smiling at my screen.Same old Kane.
Stupid.Loud.Impossible.
And somehow... exactly who I wanted to see.
I grabbed my jacket and headed out into the chilly evening air.
I found her sitting on the curb outside the convenience store, sipping on a strawberry milk like she owned the whole damn world.
When she spotted me, she grinned that stupid, lopsided grin of hers and waved the carton at me like it was a weapon.
"Took you long enough, slowpoke," she teased.
"You said you were bored," I shot back, plopping down beside her."My boredom is more important than yours," she sniffed dramatically, flipping her hair like some cheap romance drama character.
I bumped my shoulder into hers, smirking."You're an idiot."
"And yet, you still showed up," she said, winking.
I groaned, tossing my head back against the store wall."I must have brain damage."
"From missing me too much?" she asked innocently.
I turned to glare at her — but she was already laughing, the sound bright and wild and free.
God.I missed this.I missed her.
Not the chaos.Not the teasing.But the way being around Kane always made the world seem a little less sharp.A little more bearable.
She reached into a crumpled plastic bag and pulled out a second strawberry milk, shoving it at me without meeting my eyes.
"Here," she muttered. "Before you start crying about how unloved you are."
My chest tightened — but I masked it with a snort, snatching the milk from her.
"Thanks, jackass."
"Anytime, princess."
We sat there, shoulder to shoulder, sipping cheap strawberry milk under the flickering streetlights.Two idiots.Two almost-somethings.
And maybe —
Maybe it wasn't perfect.Maybe we were still messy and stupid and figuring it out.
But for the first time in forever —
I wasn't scared of the future anymore.
Because Kane was here.
And somehow, that was enough.\
Kane leaned back on her hands, tilting her head toward the sky.
The streetlights buzzed softly above us, and somewhere far off, a car honked, but here — right here — it was just us.
"I missed this," she said after a while, voice quieter than usual.Not teasing. Not loud.
Just honest.
I turned to look at her.
Her hair was a mess, her jacket too big, her legs stretched out like she didn't have a care in the world.
And for some reason, it hit me all at once —
I missed her too.
Not just the noise. Not just the distraction.
Her.
"You're still annoying as hell," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.
She laughed, the sound bubbling out like a secret she couldn't hold in.
"And you're still hopelessly in love with me," she said, grinning wide.
I choked on my strawberry milk, coughing violently.
Kane burst out laughing, almost doubling over.
"Y-you—! Shut up!" I wheezed, wiping my mouth.
She only laughed harder, her face lit up in the ugly yellow streetlight glow — and somehow, she was still the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
I wanted to say something then. Something real.
But I was a coward. Still healing. Still scared.
So instead, I shoved her lightly, making her almost spill her drink.
"Idiot," I muttered.
"Hopeless," she shot back, sticking out her tongue.
And just like that, it was easy again.
Stupid and messy and good.
We spent the next hour doing nothing and everything.
Throwing pebbles at street signs. Making up ridiculous bets. Sharing cheap snacks from the store.
At one point, Kane tried to teach me some dumb dance she saw online — and I was so terrible at it that she ended up laughing so hard she fell over onto the cold pavement.
I stared down at her, breathless from laughing too.
And in that moment — seeing her sprawled out on the ground, grinning up at me like I was the whole damn world —
I knew.
I knew it wasn't just almost-something anymore.
It was something.
Real. Alive. Ours.
Not rushed. Not forced.
Just two broken kids, trying to figure out how to love again.
One stupid strawberry milk at a time.