Kole Leaves

"You leaving?""I need to.""Will you come back?""...Yes."

---

It happened quietly.

There was no fight. No dramatic slamming of doors. No accusations hurled like daggers.

Just a bag by the door. A hand hesitating over the zipper. And a silence that held more words than either of them could say out loud.

Kole stood in the living room, half-turned toward Jackson, barefoot, hoodie pulled tight like armor. His suitcase waited beside him, worn and familiar.

Jackson sat on the couch, elbows on knees, head bowed. He had known this was coming. The signs had been there for days: the long stares into nothing, the tightening in Kole's jaw, the nights where his laughter didn't reach his eyes.

Still, when the moment arrived, it felt like something inside him folded in half.

"Where are you going?" Jackson asked.

"Somewhere quiet," Kole replied. "I booked a cabin. Off grid. Just for a few weeks."

Jackson nodded slowly. "Okay."

No protest. No pleading.

Just trust.

That made Kole's throat ache more than if Jackson had tried to stop him.

---

"I just..." Kole ran a hand through his hair. "After everything with the tabloid, and the fans, and-us-I need to feel like myself again. Not someone who's constantly performing. Not someone who's always reacting to the next crisis."

Jackson rose. Walked over. Stood in front of him.

Kole couldn't meet his eyes.

"Look at me," Jackson said softly.

He did.

"I love you," Jackson said. "That doesn't come with chains. Or demands. If space is what you need, take it."

Kole blinked rapidly. "How are you okay with this?"

Jackson smiled, small and sad. "Because I trust you to come back."

---

The ride to the train station was quiet.

No music. No news. Just the steady hum of the tires on asphalt and the sound of two hearts trying not to break.

Kole sat with his hand on the gearshift, not quite touching Jackson's.

"I hate leaving like this," he said.

Jackson glanced at him. "Then don't think of it as leaving. Think of it as catching your breath."

Kole looked down at their hands. "I don't want us to lose this."

"We won't," Jackson said, firm now. "You're not running from me. You're running to yourself. I get that."

A silence passed between them, but this time it was peaceful. Like shared breath.

When they reached the station, Kole hesitated before opening the door.

"I packed the ring," he said quietly. "The one I gave you."

Jackson smiled. "Good. Keep it with you. So you don't forget who's waiting."

---

They hugged like they'd done it a thousand times-but this one lasted longer.

Jackson smelled like cedar and clean sheets. Kole closed his eyes and pressed his face into his neck.

"I'm scared," Kole whispered.

"I'm not," Jackson whispered back. "Not of losing you."

"Why?"

"Because love that survives fire doesn't burn out in the wind."

Kole let out a broken laugh. "Poet."

"Only for you."

---

The train pulled in.

Kole pulled away.

One last look. One last smile, thin but true.

Then he boarded.

Jackson watched him go, hands in his pockets, chest hollow but full of something steadier than pain.

Faith.

---

That night, Jackson sat alone on the balcony.

One text came in.

From Kole.

Just two words.

Still yours.

Jackson smiled.

Texted back:

Always.