I woke up to the smell of coffee.
Not the instant kind I'd been living on in college, but the rich, warm scent of home ,or what used to be home. The house was quiet, sunlight pooling across the wooden floorboards through the half-open blinds. For a second, I forgot everything. The distance. The silence. The ache that had stretched between Tyler and me like a wound that never healed.
Then I heard the soft creak of the hallway floorboard.
Tyler's footsteps.
My heart jumped , stupid, involuntary. I didn't move. Didn't even breathe until his shadow passed the doorframe. He hesitated there, one hand gripping the edge, as if debating whether to come in.
When he finally did, he didn't say anything at first. He just stood by the window, his hair messy from sleep, the morning light catching on the faint scar above his eyebrow. The same one he got after jumping into a fight for someone who didn't deserve it.
We'd been avoiding this moment for too long.
"Couldn't sleep," he said, voice low. "I kept thinking about… everything."
I sat up slowly, tugging the blanket closer to my chest. "Everything covers a lot of ground."
He gave a weak laugh, then looked down at the floor. "Yeah. Guess it does."
There was a pause ,heavy, loaded, the kind that made air feel too thick to breathe.
When he finally looked at me again, his eyes were red. Not from crying, but from holding it all in.
"Ben," he began, and I knew, from the way his voice cracked on my name, that this wasn't going to be easy.
"I owe you the truth," he said. "About Brayan."
My stomach tightened. Even after all this time, that name still hit like a bruise that never faded.
"I already know," I whispered.
He blinked. "You...what?"
"I met someone," I said softly, trying to keep my voice steady. "Back in my first semester. Some guy who used to go to Brayan's school. He told me what happened. That Brayan didn't just… he didn't just fall apart. He was pushed. Bullied. For who he was."
The air seemed to collapse between us.
Tyler looked like the ground had been ripped out from under him. He swallowed hard, eyes glistening now. "God… I should've told you myself. You deserved to hear it from me, not from some stranger."
"You tried to protect me," I said. "Didn't you?"
He nodded, a tear slipping down before he could stop it. "Yeah. But it wasn't my right to decide what you could handle. I was scared, Ben. Scared that if you knew the whole truth, it would break you the way it did me."
I didn't say anything. My throat burned, words caught somewhere between anger and grief.
"I watched it happen," he whispered. "Brayan was already struggling. But after that night , after they found out about him, his sexuality and all,the way people treated him, it was brutal. He stopped smiling. He stopped talking. And then one day, he just…"
Tyler broke off, his voice dissolving into a sharp breath. "He left a note. Said he couldn't fight anymore. Said he hoped we'd find peace, even if he couldn't."
A sob tore through my chest before I could stop it. I pressed a hand to my mouth, but it didn't matter. The sound broke anyway.
Tyler moved before I could think. He crossed the room and pulled me into his arms, holding me like he'd been waiting years to do it. His chest was warm, solid, trembling. I buried my face against his shoulder, and everything I'd been holding back came crashing down.
All the guilt, the confusion, the pain , the ghosts that had been living in me since Brayan died , they poured out in shuddering breaths and tears.
"I keep wondering if I could've done something," I choked out. "If I'd noticed, if I'd said something, maybe..."
He shook his head fiercely. "No. Don't do that to yourself. You were just a kid. None of us could've saved him once the world decided he didn't belong."
I hated how true that sounded.
His fingers brushed the back of my neck, gentle, grounding. "You remind me of him sometimes," he said quietly. "Not because you're like him , but because you feel so much. You carry everything until it hurts."
"I hate that he's gone," I said, voice breaking. "I hate that they made him feel like he didn't deserve to exist."
Tyler's arms tightened around me. "I hate it too. Every damn day."
We stayed like that for what felt like forever. Just breathing. The kind of silence that didn't demand words ,only presence.
Eventually, my tears slowed, leaving my chest hollow and raw. When I finally pulled back, Tyler didn't let me go completely. His hand stayed on my shoulder, like he was afraid I'd disappear if he stopped touching me.
"I'm sorry," he said again, voice trembling. "I should've trusted you with the truth. I thought hiding it was protecting you, but all it did was keep us both stuck."
"It's not all on you," I said, wiping my eyes. "I could've asked. But I didn't. I was too scared of what the answer might be."
He smiled sadly. "Guess we're both cowards then."
"Yeah," I said softly, meeting his eyes. "But at least now, we're cowards together."
That made him laugh , a small, broken sound that still somehow felt like sunlight after weeks of rain.
We stayed there for a while, sitting side by side on the bed, shoulders touching. There was something sacred about it ,fragile, but real.
After a while, Tyler spoke again. "I miss him. Not just Brayan, but… the way things used to be. Before everything fell apart."
"Me too," I said. "But maybe this is how it starts to get better. Telling the truth."
He nodded, eyes distant. "He'd want that."
The morning light had grown stronger now, spilling golden warmth across the room. Downstairs, I could hear faint movements of the clatter of plates, the hum of conversation. Our parents.
Tyler looked toward the door. "We should go down. They'll wonder why we're hiding up here."
"Yeah," I said, even though part of me wanted to stay in that room forever.
We stood up slowly, the air still thick with everything that had been said , and everything that hadn't. As we reached the door, Tyler hesitated again.
"Ben," he said softly.
"Yeah?"
He reached out, brushing his thumb across my cheek where a tear had dried. The touch was so tender it made my breath hitch. "Thank you. For not hating me."
I managed a small, shaky smile. "You make it hard sometimes."
He laughed quietly. "Fair enough."
We walked downstairs together, side by side. It felt strange, like rewinding time but also stepping into something new.
The voices in the kitchen quieted the moment we entered. Mom looked up from the stove, spatula in hand, eyes widening slightly. Mr. Morgan was at the table, halfway through his coffee. Both of them froze, caught between surprise and something that looked dangerously close to relief.
Tyler's hand brushed against mine , slightly.
Mom blinked first. "Well," she said, voice a little too bright. "Look who decided to come down together."
Mr. Morgan's gaze flicked between us, unreadable. "Everything all right?" he asked carefully.
Tyler nodded. "Yeah. Everything's… fine."
I wasn't sure if they believed it. I wasn't even sure if I did. But for once, the air didn't feel as heavy.
Mom's lips parted, like she wanted to ask more, but she didn't. Instead, she just smiled , small, uncertain, hopeful. Mr. Morgan's expression softened, just barely.
As we sat down at the table, I could feel their eyes on us , curious, confused, maybe even worried.
But underneath all that, there was something else.
Something that looked a lot like quiet acceptance.
And for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe that maybe the ghosts didn't have to win.
Maybe they could stay behind.