Chapter 12 — Things That Don't Make Noise
Elián didn't tell anyone about the note.
He kept it folded between the pages of the book he hadn't finished, tucked like a secret under his pillow. Kairo's words had been nothing more than ink, but they bled warmth into the cold corners of Elián's chest. And yet, he didn't let himself believe too much.
Kindness once didn't undo cruelty.
But it did plant something small in the dark.
That morning, Elián didn't sit at the far end of the breakfast table like usual. He sat a little closer. Not close enough to brush shoulders, not close enough to call it trust—but enough to be noticed.
Kairo looked up from his tablet when he entered.
"You slept well?" he asked.
Elián gave a small nod, fingers curling around the glass of orange juice already set in his place. "I did."
He didn't say because of you.
And Kairo didn't ask.
Instead, the silence between them carried a different kind of weight. Not heavy. Not bitter. Just quiet. Familiar, almost.
After breakfast, Elián retreated to the rooftop garden. It had been Ayden's favorite spot—or so the staff used to whisper. A place where laughter once echoed and someone else's perfume clung to the cushions. But now, the garden smelled like fresh soil and morning air.
He sat beneath the shade of the climbing vines, sketchbook in hand. Not to draw anything in particular. Just to move his fingers across the page, to give himself shape again.
He was halfway through a charcoal blur of a faceless man in a suit when a shadow passed over him.
Kairo.
Elián didn't look up. He kept drawing.
"Did you know," Kairo said quietly, sitting beside him, "that Ayden hated this place?"
Elián blinked. "He did?"
Kairo gave a half-smile. "Said the sun was bad for his skin. He always complained. But I kept bringing him here, thinking maybe he'd change."
Elián turned a page in his sketchbook. Clean. Blank.
"You brought him here because you wanted him to love something you loved," he murmured.
Kairo's lips parted, surprised.
"I—yes. Exactly."
Elián met his eyes for a second. "That never works."
"No," Kairo admitted, "it doesn't."
Another silence fell, but it wasn't awkward. Just… still.
Kairo watched Elián sketch—a series of soft lines, nothing defined. Just motion. Emotion. Everything Elián couldn't say in words.
"Do you draw often?" Kairo asked.
"Not anymore."
"Why?"
Elián looked away. "Because I didn't think I was allowed to keep beautiful things for myself."
Kairo didn't respond right away. When he did, his voice was quieter than Elián had ever heard it.
"You are. You're allowed to have things that are just yours, Elián."
The use of his name did something to his chest. A gentle ache, a stinging warmth. He wasn't sure if he was angry or comforted. Maybe both.
"I don't know who I am anymore," Elián confessed. "Ever since I stepped into this house, I've felt like glass. Transparent. Fragile. Always watched."
"I know," Kairo said. "I watched you. But I didn't see you."
This time, it was Elián who broke the silence.
"Why are you trying now?"
Kairo didn't look away. "Because I saw what it cost you to stay, and I don't want to be the reason you shatter."
A long moment passed between them. A moment filled with breath and unfinished stories and quiet hope.
Kairo stood. "I have a meeting. But I'll be back before dinner. Would you—" He hesitated. "Would you eat with me tonight?"
Elián didn't answer right away.
But as Kairo turned to go, Elián said softly, "I'll think about it."
---
That evening, the dining table was lit with soft candles, not the usual sterile lights. The chef had prepared something warm and slow-cooked, and for once, the food didn't taste like it had been plated for strangers.
Elián sat across from Kairo, quiet, observant.
Halfway through dinner, Kairo set his utensils down.
"There's an art gallery opening tomorrow," he said. "You don't have to come. But if you wanted to… I'd like to take you."
Elián paused, fork hovering in midair. "Why?"
"Because I want you to feel like you're part of something that breathes."
The words struck deep.
"I'll go," Elián said, almost on instinct.
Kairo blinked. "Really?"
"I said I'd try, didn't I?"
Kairo smiled. Not the cold, CEO smirk he gave his board members. But a real one. Slightly crooked. Unsure.
It made Elián's chest twist in a way he wasn't ready for.
After dinner, they didn't speak much. But when Kairo reached for his wine glass and their fingers brushed, Elián didn't pull away.
He didn't lean in either.
But he didn't run.
And that, tonight, was enough.
---
End of Chapter 12