(Kade starts to notice… something. And he asks her the one question she's terrified to answer: "What did you do for me?")
It starts with whispers again.
Not the cruel kind. Not like before.
Just… confusion.
People looking over their shoulders. Avoiding certain topics. Stepping wide around Viera in the halls.
Teachers flinch when she raises her hand now.
A few students have vanished altogether—transferred, suspended, pulled quietly from the chessboard.
And Kade notices.
Not right away.
But slowly.
Like the way you notice winter slipping into spring—first in the smell of the air, then the tilt of the light.
Tuesday, After School
They're at his place again.
His room.
A half-finished drawing of her lies on his desk. She doesn't know he's been sketching her when she's not looking.
She's humming to herself, perched on his bed, flipping through an old comic book.
He's staring.
Not at her.
At everything.
The way she holds herself tighter now.
The way she glances at her phone too often.
The way people avoid eye contact with her like they're scared of being seen.
"Vi?" he says gently.
She looks up.
"Hm?"
"…Can I ask you something?"
Her eyes flicker—just briefly.
But she nods.
"Of course."
He hesitates.
Then, carefully:
"What did you do for me?"
Silence.
Not dramatic silence.
Not shocked or angry.
Just that soft, knife-thin pause before truth.
Her lips press into a line.
She sets the comic down.
"Kade…"
He waits.
Not pushing. Just… being there.
Present.
And it kills her.
"I made things right," she says at last.
"Right how?"
"Just… they don't bother you anymore, do they?"
"No," he admits.
"Then it's working."
He's quiet again.
Then, softly:
"That's not what I asked."
Her spine stiffens.
And for the first time in a long time—really long—they feel like two people again.
Not two halves.
Not fire and gravity.
Just… two people.
On opposite ends of a dangerous question.
"I don't want to talk about it," she says quietly.
"I think we should."
"Why? So you can get mad at me?"
"I'm not mad."
"Then what, Kade?" Her voice tightens. "What do you want me to say? That I burned everything? That I ruined people? That I'm not the person you thought I was?"
"No," he says simply.
"Then what?"
"I want you to tell me the truth."
She stands up.
Pacing now.
Arms crossed. Barefoot on the carpet.
"Kade, you don't get it."
"Try me."
"They hurt you. Over and over and over. And you—you would've let them. You would've swallowed it and smiled and kept breathing until it killed you."
He flinches.
But doesn't deny it.
"And you think," she continues, voice trembling, "that I was just gonna sit there and watch?"
He stands too.
Carefully.
"I don't blame you."
"Then why are we doing this?"
"Because I'm not scared of them anymore," he says. "I'm scared of what it's doing to you."
She goes still.
Her eyes—fierce, always so sharp—begin to fill.
"You're not—"
"I see you, Viera. The way your jaw clenches now. The way you always have a backup plan. You walk like someone expecting war."
He steps closer.
"Let me fight it with you."
She laughs bitterly. "You're not built for that, Kade."
He smiles. Gently.
"Maybe not. But I'm built for you."
And that's it.
That's the phrase that breaks her.
Her hands cover her face. She sits down hard on the bed, shoulders shaking.
He kneels beside her.
Not touching yet.
Just there.
"I love you," she whispers.
"I know."
"You don't get it."
"I do."
"I had to do those things."
"I know."
"And I'd do them again."
"I know."
"But I'm scared, too," she finally admits. "Because if I keep walking this road…"
"You might not come back," he finishes.
She nods.
And he pulls her into him.
Soft. Safe. Steady.
"You can lean on me too, Vi."
She looks up.
He brushes a tear off her cheek.
"You don't have to carry all the ugly."
She whispers, "But I'm good at it."
He grins. "I'm good at carrying you."
And then—
She lunges.
No warning.
Fingers dive under his arms.
"Wha—NO—Viera—!"
She's grinning now. Smiling. Really smiling.
"Don't think you can get all deep and emotional and not pay for it."
He's cackling. Writhing. Eyes wild.
"Vi—Viera—OH MY GOD STOP—"
"Nope."
"I CAN'T—I'M GONNA—VI!"
"Gonna what?"
He screams as she digs into his ribs, then down to his sides, to his stomach—his weak spot.
She has him on his back, pinned under her thighs, relentless.
"Mercy!" he howls, red-faced, breathless.
"Say it like you mean it."
"YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL AND EVIL—AND I LOVE YOU—AND I'M GONNA DIE—"
"Correct answer."
Eventually, she stops.
He's gasping. Eyes fluttering closed. A sleepy, dazed grin on his face.
"Vi…?"
"Yeah?"
"…You're scary good at everything."
She laughs softly and lies down beside him.
He curls into her without thinking.
And before sleep takes him, he mumbles:
"You're not alone, okay?"
She brushes his hair back.
"Okay."
And kisses his temple as his breathing slows.
End of Chapter 14
Next: Chapter 15 – Everything That Came After