Don't want the world to see me

Kian/Mallory

Kian

I didn't go back inside. I couldn't.

Shane's words stuck to me like grime, making my skin crawl. Proud of me? For what? Selling to Mallory's best friend? Getting high to forget how much I hated myself for it? That wasn't something to be proud of. That was something to be ashamed of.

I lit a cigarette with shaky hands, pacing in the cold outside the house. The street was quiet, a few lads passing by on bikes, music playing from some shitty Bluetooth speaker. It felt like the whole world was moving forward, but I was stuck in place, drowning.

Dad had never told me he was proud of me before. Not when I was a kid, not when I did well in school before I stopped trying, not even when I landed the job at the garage. But dealing? That was something he could finally respect.

I hated it.

Hated that I'd done anything to make him look at me like that. Hated that I let myself get into this mess in the first place.

I exhaled, smoke curling in the air, and ran a hand through my hair. My face still ached from the last time he'd laid into me, bruises hidden under my hoodie, but none of that compared to the weight sitting on my chest.

I needed to get out of here.

I flicked my cigarette onto the ground and crushed it under my shoe before pulling out my phone. I hesitated for half a second before typing out a message.

Me: You up?

I stared at the screen, waiting. It was late, but I knew she'd reply.

Sure enough, a minute later, my phone buzzed.

Lynchy: Yeah. You alright?

No. I wasn't.

I should've left her alone. Should've kept my distance like I told myself I would. But she was the only thing in my life that didn't feel completely fucked.

So I swallowed down everything else and sent another text.

Me: Can I see you?

Mallory

I didn't even think twice before replying.

Me: Where are you?

His response came fast.

Ki: Out. Need to get away for a bit.

That was all I needed to hear. I grabbed a hoodie, pulling it over my pajamas, and slipped out of my room as quietly as I could. AJ's door was shut with the slightest creaking of his bed frame— clearly too busy with Saoirse to hear me walk past, and the house was dark except for the faint glow from the sitting room where Mam and Da had probably fallen asleep watching the telly.

I crept outside, my heart pounding as I stepped into the cold night air. Kian wasn't outside my house, but I knew where he'd be.

The skate park.

I walked fast, hands shoved into my pockets, and sure enough, there he was—sitting on the ledge, hood up, cigarette between his fingers. Even in the dim light, I could see the tension in his shoulders.

I climbed up beside him, nudging his leg with my knee. "Hey."

He exhaled slowly, glancing at me. His eyes were red—like he'd been drinking, maybe smoking more than just cigarettes. But there was something else, something tired and heavy.

"I shouldn't have texted you," he muttered.

I shrugged. "But you did."

He let out a short breath, almost a laugh, and flicked ash from his cigarette. "I just... needed to see you."

I didn't know what to say to that.

Instead, I leaned against him, resting my head on his shoulder. For a second, he didn't move. Then, his arm slid around my waist, pulling me in closer. He pressed his lips to the top of my head, sighing like he'd been holding his breath all night.

"I fucked up, Mal," he said quietly.

I frowned, tilting my head to look up at him. "What happened?"

His jaw tightened. "Doesn't matter."

But it did. I could feel it in the way he was holding onto me like I was the only solid thing in his world.

I didn't push, though. Not yet.

I just wrapped my arms around him, hoping that, for now, it was enough.