Chris’s heart was still thudding against his ribs by the time they reached the door.

 He opened it with a shaky hand, voice barely steady as he called out, “Mom, I’m back.”

 From somewhere near the back of the house, over the muffled hum of the washing machine, his mom’s voice rang out.

 “Hey, sweetheart!. Dinner’s in the fridge if you’re hungry!”

 Chris could hear the quiet chatter of his little sister, Lila, nearby — probably folding towels with their mom like  she sometimes did. He hoped they were too busy to come out and ask questions. Because one look at him and Ash right now? Yeah, he wasn’t ready to explain any of this.

 Chris shot a glance at Ash, who offered a small, grateful smile, and followed him upstairs quietly. The stairs creaked like they always did, but somehow the sound felt different — like it was trying to ground him, remind him that this moment was real.

 Once inside his room, Chris closed the door behind them. He stood there awkwardly for a second, still not fully recovered from being pulled into a hug out of nowhere.

Ash was already sitting on the edge of his bed, head slightly bowed, like the weight of his thoughts hadn’t quite lifted. Chris leaned against the door for a second, then slowly crossed the room and sat beside him, still leaving a little space between them.

 “So,” Chris said, cautiously, “what… are you doing here?”

 Ash didn’t look at him. He rubbed his palms together slowly. “I needed to be with you.”

 Chris blinked. His breath caught in his throat.

 Ash turned slightly, eyes softer now, like he’d peeled a layer back just for him. “I don’t know how else to explain it. I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About everything. That call. The silence after. I couldn’t stay away anymore.”

 Chris stared, unsure whether to smile or cry. He ended up doing neither, just sitting there — trying not to melt from the warmth crawling up his neck.

 For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

 Then Ash broke the silence.

 “Aren’t you going to ask me about my sister?”

 Chris turned, startled. “I… I didn’t think you’d want to talk about something like that.”

 Ash let out a quiet laugh. “Normally I don’t. Not with anyone. Not even Sienna. But with you…” He trailed off and glanced down at his hands again. “I don’t know. The past few days, all I could think about was telling you. It’s like... maybe if I told you, it wouldn’t hurt the same.”

 Chris inched closer, his voice gentle. “You don’t have to—”

 “I want to,” Ash said. “I need to.”

 Chris waited.

 Ash exhaled, long and slow, like he was releasing something he'd carried for years.

“She was fifteen,” Ash said softly. “Her name was Chloe.”

 Chris sat quietly, not wanting to interrupt.

 “I was seven. Sienna was still a toddler. Chloe was like… this wild, golden force in the house. She used to sneak me candy when Mom said no. Braided Sienna’s hair like it was an art form. She made everything feel fun, even when it wasn’t.”

 Ash’s voice grew more distant. “One day she stayed home from school. Said her head hurt. I didn’t think anything of it. I was playing with Legos or something. But later that evening she got really dizzy. Then she collapsed.”

 Chris’s eyes widened.

 “They said it was a brain aneurysm. Some kind of undetected defect. Something that could’ve been treated if they’d known earlier. But no one knew.”

 He paused, then looked down at his hands. “I know I was just a kid, but… I keep thinking if I’d told Mom faster. Or if I’d gone to get help sooner. Something. Anything. Maybe…”

 Chris’s voice broke through gently. “Ash. You were seven.”

 Ash looked at him, eyes wet. “But she was my sister. And I watched her go. I didn’t even understand what death was. I just remember her eyes closing, and everything being too quiet.”

 Chris reached for his hand. “You were a child. It was never your fault.”

 Ash shook his head, but Chris held on tighter.

 “She wouldn't want you to carry this,” Chris whispered. “Not alone.”

 Ash clenched his jaw. “I still see her sometimes. Not like… in a ghost way or anything. But in dreams. And I always tell her I’m sorry. And she just laughs, like she’s not even mad at me.”

 Chris leaned in, forehead resting against Ash’s. “She’s not. She never was.”

 Ash didn’t pull away.

 The air between them grew still. Slow. Heavy, but in the kind of way that settles — not suffocates.

 Chris whispered, “It’s not your fault.”

 Ash closed his eyes.

 Chris kissed him.

 It wasn’t rushed or intense. It was soft. Careful. Full of every unspoken word between them.

 When they parted, Ash didn’t speak for a long time. He just held Chris’s hand and let the silence wrap around them like a blanket.

 Finally, he whispered, “I’m staying here tonight.”

 Chris blinked. “Oh—okay.”

 “Till Sunday evening.”

 Chris blinked again.

 Ash turned toward him fully. “Don’t tell anyone. Not Sienna. Nick too.”

 Chris nodded slowly, lips twitching upward. “Sure. You’re my secret now.”

 Ash smirked faintly, but there was a tenderness in his eyes that made Chris’s stomach flutter.

 The next 24 hours felt like something out of a dream.

 Ash slept on a mattress beside Chris’s bed, but that space rarely stayed between them. They watched movies — half the time not paying attention. They shared hoodies. Chris’s heart nearly exploded when Ash walked into the kitchen wearing one of his old ones like it was nothing.

 They talked. About the future. About fears. About stupid things like their favorite cereal and who had the better music taste (they agreed to disagree).

 There were kisses, slow and sweet. Cuddles that lingered long into the early morning. And once, just once, Ash’s hand slipped under Chris’s shirt and rested on his waist.

 Chris froze.

 Ash pulled back instantly, eyes apologetic.

 But Chris only shook his head and whispered, “Not yet.”

 Ash smiled. “Okay.”

 They fell asleep that night with fingers intertwined and hearts oddly quiet — like the silence between them had finally found peace.

 Chris thought he’d done a good job hiding everything.

 When his mom knocked the next morning and popped her head in, she raised a brow at the messy hair, the disheveled blankets, and the hoodie Ash was wearing.

 Chris, panicked, said, “Ash just crashed here. It’s not a big deal. He—uh—missed the last bus.”

 “Mm-hmm,” she said, smiling like she already knew the whole story.

 And she did.

 But she didn’t say anything.

 She just made pancakes and left them both alone.

 She’d wait. She didn’t need him to say it. Not yet.

 But oh, when he finally did…

 She’d be ready.