Jay jay's POV:
Now I'm home. Safe. Chaos-free.
Or so I thought.
Because the moment I flop face-first onto my bed, my brain betrays me.
Replay button: his smirk across the table.Replay button: "your life includes me."Replay button: the way my heart decided to sprint a marathon inside my chest.
"STOP," I groan into my pillow. "No more. Delete memory. Delete!"
Ci-n's words echo in my head: he's stealing your fries and your heart.
"NO HE IS NOT," I yell at absolutely nobody.
A knock on my door makes me jolt upright.
"Jay?" Aries' voice "You good?"
I scramble, pulling the blanket over my head like it's armor. "Y-yeah! Totally fine! Super fine!"
There's a pause. I can almost hear his eyebrow raise.
"You were shouting."
"I WAS… motivating myself! Y'know. School spirit. Go Section E!"
Silence. Then a low exhale, like he knows I'm lying but won't press.
His footsteps fade down the hall.
I peek out from under the blanket, face burning. Ugh. Aries always has to sound like some reliable dad figure, catching me in my most embarrassing moments.
I flop back on the bed, groaning. "First Keifer. Now Aries. Someone just bury me."
I lie there for maybe five minutes, staring at the ceiling, willing my brain to stop replaying Keifer's stupid face.
Then—another knock.
Not light this time. Firmer.
"Jay." Aries again.
I yank the blanket over my head. "What now?"
The door creaks open a little, and I see his silhouette against the hallway light. "You're sure you're okay?"
Oh no. The Serious Aries Voice™. The one that makes even Ci-n sit up straight.
"I said I'm fine!" I squeak.
He studies me for a moment, quiet, unreadable. Then: "You've been smiling to yourself since you got home."
I choke. "I HAVE NOT!"
His eyebrow goes up again. "Then why are your ears red?"
EXCUSE ME?!
I dive deeper under the blanket, muffling a scream. "GET OUT, ARIES!"
He sighs, but I hear the tiniest chuckle slip out before the door clicks shut.
And that's it. My life is officially over.
I bury my face into my pillow, kicking my legs. "WHY IS THIS MY LIFE?!"
I finally calm down after what feels like an hour of screaming into my pillow. My brain is mush, my dignity is gone, and Keifer is still living rent-free in my head.
Typical.
I'm about to drag myself up for dinner when—
Another knock.
I groan. "Aries, I swear, if you came back to tease me again—"
But his voice is lower this time. Different. "Jay. Stay inside."
…What?
I sit up, blanket tangled around me. "What do you mean 'stay inside'?!"
No answer. Just the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall, steady but faster than usual.
My stomach drops.
I creep toward the window and peek through the curtains.
A car. Parked across the street. Black. Windows tinted so dark I can't see inside.
And Aries—standing in the yard now, phone in hand, watching it like he already knows it doesn't belong there.
My heart pounds. Suddenly, fries and teasing and everything else feel a million miles away.
Because this… this is the kind of silence that's dangerous.
And the worst part?
I can't shake the feeling that the car isn't here for Aries.
Its here for me.
My palms are sweaty. Knees weak. Arms heavy—no wait, that's a song. Focus, Jay!
I watch from the window as Aries slips his phone back into his pocket. He doesn't move toward the car—just stands there, arms crossed, posture calm. Too calm.
Like he's waiting.
The black car doesn't move either. Just sits there. Engine quiet. Windows black as night.
This is fine. Totally fine. Cars park all the time. Across the street. In the exact same spot. For hours. Watching. Breathing. (Okay maybe not breathing but still.)
I yank the curtain shut and back away, clutching my bag like it can protect me.
Then—BANG.
I jump out of my skin.
…It's just Aries. Closing the gate.
"IDIOT!" I hiss, even though he can't hear me. "My heart nearly flew to heaven!"
I pace the room like a caged hamster, peeking through the curtains every three seconds. Aries hasn't gone inside. He's still out there, leaning casually against the gate now, like he's guarding the whole house.
And maybe he is.
Which is kinda comforting.And also kinda terrifying.
Because if Aries is guarding, that means there's something to guard against.
The car hasn't moved.
Aries hasn't moved either.
It's like some silent staring contest, except one side is a vehicle and the other side is my terrifyingly calm almost-brother who could probably outstare a ghost.
I press my forehead to the glass. "Aries… don't do anything dumb…"
Then he moves.
OH MY GOD HE'S ACTUALLY MOVING.
Slow. Controlled. He pushes off the gate and starts walking across the yard—straight toward the car.
"NOPE. NO. TURN AROUND. ABORT MISSION," I whisper-shout, clawing at the curtain like I can pull him back with sheer willpower. "WHY ARE MEN LIKE THIS?!"
The car engine rumbles to life. My breath catches.
Aries stops at the edge of the street, feet planted. He doesn't flinch. Doesn't even blink. Just stands there like a freaking wall.
The car idles. For a moment, I swear the whole world holds its breath.
And then—without warning—it pulls away. Smooth. Quiet. Vanishing down the road like it was never there.
I sag against the window, heart pounding so hard it might burst.
Aries watches until the taillights disappear, then finally turns back toward the house. His steps are slow, steady. Like nothing happened.
But when he comes inside, his eyes flick up toward my room.
He knows I was watching.
"There is nothing to worry about" He tells me
Excuse me?! Nothing to worry about??
I practically slam my window shut and whirl on him. "NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT? Did you not see the suspicious death-car sitting there like it was waiting to snatch someone?! Like—hello?? I literally almost died last weekend!"
Aries raises a hand, the universal signal for calm down, Jay. "If they wanted to act, they would have. They were watching, nothing more."
"Watching?!" My voice goes up an octave. "That's supposed to make me feel better?!"
He doesn't flinch. Doesn't even blink. "I'm here. They won't touch you."
And… okay. Maybe it's the way he says it. Steady. Unshakable. Like it's a fact written in stone.
My heart is still beating like a drum solo, but… I breathe a little easier.
"Still," I mumble, tugging my blanket tighter around me, "this feels like the part in a horror movie where the girl says she's safe, and then—bam!—ghost."
For the first time, Aries' mouth twitches like he wants to laugh. "You've been watching too many movies."
I glare at him half-heartedly, but I don't argue. Because even though my stomach is still in knots… Aries said I'm safe.
And some stupid part of me believes him.