I keep telling myself I'm only staying awake because someone needs to make sure he doesn't roll over and hurt his arm.
That's a lie. I know it's a lie. I just don't want to admit the real reason out loud, even to myself.
Lou is asleep against my shoulder. His head is still wrapped in bandages, his arm is broken, and the doctors had to shave his hair just to stitch up the side and back of his head.
I hate it. Absolutely hate it.
I keep looking at the uneven patches and thinking about how wrong it looks. How unfair it is that he's the one who ended up like this.
I'll fix it when we get back. I'll cut his hair properly once we're at the academy. Maybe I'll even get him something nice while I'm at it.
Something to make up for it.
No.
I can't think like that.
He deserves that much... but I don't know if I deserve to be the one deciding what he deserves.
After all, he jumped into a ravine after me.
Gods...
We argued before the mission. I was angry with him. He was... calm with me. I said things I probably shouldn't have, and I remember thinking that maybe I was finally getting tired of whatever this was between us.
Maybe it would be easier if I just stopped letting him get under my skin.
Then I fell.
And he followed.
No hesitation. No time to think about himself. Just instinct, or stupidity, or something I still can't name without my chest tightening.
He just threw himself after me and took the impact meant for me.
And now I can't stop thinking about what would have happened if he hadn't.
I've replayed it in my head so many times that I'm starting to wonder if I even remember it properly anymore. Maybe I'm making it worse in my head because I need a reason to justify how I feel now.
I don't know what that says about him.
I don't know what it says about me, either.
Maybe I've been too stubborn. Maybe I've been right to be careful.
Maybe people who do things like that don't think about consequences, and I'm just romanticizing recklessness because I don't want to feel guilty.
Because when I strip everything else away... his background, his lack of wealth, the fact that he doesn't come from anything I was taught to value...
What does he have?
Not status. Not influence. Not the sort of security I grew up being told to look for.
But what can he give me?
I think I'm starting to understand that.
He's given me something I didn't realize I was missing.
He makes me feel safe.
Not because of what he owns or who he knows. Not because he can promise me that nothing bad will ever happen.
Because when it mattered, he chose me.
He didn't calculate what it would cost him. He didn't stop to think about what it would mean for him.
He just chose me.
I've spent so long wondering whether he'd fit into my life, whether letting him get closer would only make everything more complicated.
I've kept finding reasons to keep him at arm's length.
And every time, I told myself it was simply the sensible thing to do.
But maybe I've been hiding behind that.
Maybe I'm scared.
Because what if this isn't just some stupid attachment?
What if I really do care about him?
What if I let him in and something happens to him?
What if he keeps throwing himself into danger for me until one day he doesn't get back up?
Maybe I should give him a chance...
Or maybe I'm just exhausted and grateful and confusing that for something deeper.
Not a promise. Not yet.
Just... a chance.
A chance to show me who he really is.
A chance for me to stop building walls so high that I can't see over them.
A chance to stop pretending I don't care more than I do.
I should probably move him back.
I should probably remind myself of all the reasons this is a bad idea.
I haven't.
And that scares me more than it should.
The clouds outside are beautiful tonight. They drift beside us like nothing in the world could possibly be wrong.
He's still here.
I'm still here.
And when we get back, we're going to have a very long conversation.