Terrence was half-asleep, curled on his bed in the quiet afternoon light. The window was cracked open, letting in a crisp breeze that rustled the papers on his desk. He’d been doing homework—something that still felt foreign to him—but the warmth of the room and the weight of the day had pulled him under.

Then, footsteps.

He didn’t move, but his body went tense. The door creaked open softly, followed by a few thumps and the low hum of voices.

“Augustin,” Genevieve whispered, “he’s asleep.”

“I’m not,” Terrence mumbled into the pillow.

A pause. Then the bed dipped as someone sat beside him. When he cracked his eyes open, Augustin was there, giving him that usual unreadable look—somewhere between skeptical and quietly fond. Genevieve flopped down next to Augustin and tugged playfully at a strand of Terrence’s hair.

“What the hell are you two doing?” he asked, groggy.

“You looked stressed,” she said, grinning. “This helps.”

She continued threading her fingers gently through his hair, parting it like it was something delicate. He should have rolled his eyes or pushed her hand away—but instead, he let her keep going. Let the comfort happen.

Augustin leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. He looked down at Terrence, something softer in his expression. “You ever let anyone just… take care of you?”

Terrence scoffed faintly. “No.”

Genevieve gave him a light nudge. “You should.”

His eyes met theirs again. For a second, Terrence swore the room felt warmer—not from heat, but from something else. Safety, maybe. The kind you don’t recognize until it’s already around you.

And maybe that said more.

“…Why are you guys here?” he asked, voice quieter now.

Genevieve peeked one eye open. “Because you’re leaving tomorrow, dumbass.”

Terrence blinked.

Augustin smiled faintly. “Thought you might want company.”

Without another word, Augustin slid down beside him, pulling both of them into a slow, quiet hug. Terrence didn’t resist. They lay tangled together—limbs in a loose pile, warmth shared in the quiet. He could hear both of their breathing, steady and close.

After a while, Genevieve murmured, “You’re gonna be okay, you know.”

Terrence didn’t answer right away. He didn’t need to.

Departure

The house was full—not loud, not chaotic, but alive. Laughter in the hallway, footsteps upstairs. Bags being zipped. A forgotten charger retrieved. Mrs. Verlice tried not to cry, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve, while Mr. Verlice stood beside her, a steady hand on her back, murmuring something only she could hear.

Terrence stood by the front door, duffel bag at his feet. The quiet inside him didn’t feel like numbness anymore—it felt like peace.

Genevieve and Augustin came down the stairs together. Both had red eyes, but neither said anything about it. They handed him a folded piece of cardstock, doodled all over with inside jokes, dumb quotes, and a chaotic cartoon version of him. The front read:
“Good Luck, You Menace 💥”

Terrence laughed, pressing it to his chest. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” Genevieve sniffed, “but you love us.”

“I didn’t say that,” he said.

“You didn’t have to,” Augustin replied, bumping his shoulder into Terrence’s.

Then, without ceremony, they both hugged him—tightly. One arm around his chest, the other around his back. The kind of hug that told him to stay safe, and also: you better come back.

Terrence buried his face between their shoulders. “Thanks,” he said. “For everything. Even when I was an asshole.”

“You were always an asshole,” Genevieve whispered.

“But now you’re our asshole,” Augustin added with a soft smirk.

They pulled back. Terrence reached into his pocket and held out his phone.

“Here. In case you want to keep in touch. Or bug me. Or send memes.”

Augustin smirked. “You already have our numbers.”

Terrence rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. He opened insta—here are my socials. I’m more active there anyway.”

Genevieve popped up beside them, holding out her hand. “Wait, add mine too—actually, just make a group chat there too. You’re not getting rid of us that easy.”

That made him laugh. Really laugh. Something cracked open in his chest again, but this time, it didn’t hurt.

He started to turn toward the door… then hesitated.

"Hey," he said, glancing back. "Do you think... I could come back? Back here, I mean. To all of you. I don’t know… I just feel like I’m finally in a place where I could actually fit in again. Not that I don’t like my parents, but I don’t want to lose our connection with each other.”

Augustin paused, his expression softening as he absorbed Terrence’s words. Before he could respond, Genevieve, enthusiastically replied.

“Of course you can!” she said, her voice full of warmth. “You’re always welcome back. Always.”

Terrence felt his heart lighten, the weight he didn’t even know he was carrying slipping away. As he stood there, a real smile spread across his face for the first time in a long while—unguarded, open, and full of relief.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

Augustin gave him a small, knowing smile. “Anytime, Terrence.”

Terrence nodded and turned toward the door, his bag slung over his shoulder, the cool wind brushing against his face. For the first time in ages, he didn’t feel like someone running from his past. He felt like someone finally stepping into a future where he was accepted, where he wasn’t alone.

Just before he reached the door, Genevieve’s voice called out, light and full of promise. “Hey, remember the time you came to watch us practice? Me with ballet, and Augustin with fencing? We’d love for you to come watch our real performances, too.”

Terrence stopped, a little surprised but grateful. He turned back to her, nodding with sincerity.

“I’ll be there,” he said, his smile widening.

The weight on his shoulders, once so heavy, now felt like it had completely lifted. He was finally where he needed to be—surrounded by people who cared, who accepted him for who he was, not who he’d been. And for the first time, Terrence knew that he wasn’t just starting a new chapter; he was stepping into a new life.