Relief didn't feel the way Juni had imagined. It wasn't light. It wasn't freeing. It was quiet—and heavy in a different way.
Juni stayed for dinner. Not because he was hungry, but because leaving felt harder. The table was warm with conversation that didn't revolve around him. Lorian asked Elian about school. Evelyn commented on the weather. No one looked at Juni like he was fragile.
That unsettled him. He kept waiting for the moment when everything changed.
It didn't.
After dinner, Juni helped clear the table without being asked. Evelyn thanked him once—briefly—and moved on.
No praise. No hovering. Just inclusion.
Juni washed his hands at the sink longer than necessary, grounding himself in the sound of running water. Elian leaned against the counter nearby.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
Juni nodded. "…I think so."
The answer felt unfamiliar.
They stepped outside later, the evening air cool against their skin. The street was calm, lamplight stretching softly across the pavement. Juni walked slowly, hands shoved deep into his pockets.
"…I don't feel different," he said after a while. "I thought I would."
Elian considered that. "Maybe different comes later."
Juni nodded, then laughed softly. "…Is it weird that I feel tired?"
"No," Elian said. "You stopped holding something up."
Juni exhaled. "That makes sense."
That night, back in his own room, Juni lay staring at the ceiling. The words replayed in his mind—not the ones he'd said, but the ones Evelyn had.
I believe you.
They didn't echo loudly. They settled.
Juni pressed his hand against his chest, feeling his own heartbeat—steady, unpanicked. For once, his body wasn't bracing.
Across the city, Elian sat on the edge of his bed, staring at nothing. Relief coursed through him—but beneath it, something colder. What if I waited too long? What if something happens before we can stop it? He remembered Evelyn's calm, the way she hadn't rushed.
Trust the process, he told himself.
Trust Juni.
The next morning at the bus stop, Juni arrived with his sleeves rolled just slightly higher than usual. Not enough to reveal everything. Enough to notice the difference. Elian smiled without commenting. They sat together, quiet and steady.
No tension. No urgency. Just presence.
"…I don't know what happens next," Juni said softly as the bus approached.
Elian nodded. "Me neither."
Juni glanced at him. "But I think," he added, "I don't have to figure it out alone anymore."
Elian met his gaze. "No," he said. "You don't."
As the bus carried them forward, Juni leaned lightly against Elian's shoulder. Not seeking reassurance. Just sharing weight. Being heard hadn't fixed everything. But it had changed the direction of the road.
And for now—That was enough.