Work Text:
“Sometimes we don’t even fight to hurt each other.
We fight because we’re scared the other person will leave if we say what we actually feel.”
⸻
It started with dinner.
Cirrus had set the table, Skylar made the pasta, and his mother had smiled a little too tightly when Cirrus poured her wine. It could’ve been fine. It almost was.
Until she said, casually, eyes flicking between them:
“So… are you two…?”
And Skylar had frozen. Completely. Like the question had pulled a ripcord inside his chest.
Cirrus had looked at him then—hopeful. Vulnerable. Hands trembling in his lap, knuckles white. Skylar had just… looked away.
That was the moment.
The instant Cirrus got up and said, “Thanks for dinner,” so quietly Skylar’s mother didn’t even blink.
He left the apartment with Candy trailing behind him.
⸻
Two hours later, Skylar was still at the sink, scrubbing the same plate raw. His mother had gone to bed with a tired smile and no questions. And all Skylar could hear was Cirrus’s silence in every room.
His phone buzzed once.
[CIRRUS]: can we talk
Twice.
[CIRRUS]: you really couldn’t say it huh
Three times.
[CIRRUS]: you still ashamed of me?
Skylar turned it off. Sat down. Exhaled. But his stomach clenched like someone had tied barbed wire around his ribs.
He wasn’t ashamed.
He was fucking terrified.
⸻
He returned home at 9pm.
The knock came just after 11pm. Sharp. Angry.
Skylar opened the door.
Cirrus stood in the hall, hoodie soaked from walking in the mist, hair clinging to his cheeks. His eyes—red. Candy barked once at Skylar and immediately trotted past him inside.
Cirrus didn’t smile. Didn’t wait.
“You had one fucking chance,” he said. Voice low. Shaking. “One chance to say something. Anything. And you just—sat there.”
Skylar’s jaw tightened. “It wasn’t the right time.”
Cirrus laughed. It was hollow. “Right, because ‘Hey Mom, this is the guy who’s been sleeping in my bed for six months’ is such a complex sentence.”
“Don’t do this, Cirrus.”
“Do what?” His voice cracked. “Get mad that your fucking closet is starting to feel like a coffin I have to live in, too?”
Skylar stepped back. “You think I wanted to shut down like that? You think I’m proud of it?”
“I think you’re scared of her hating you,” Cirrus spat. “Which, fine, maybe she will. But at least you have a fucking mom to be scared of disappointing.”
The words hung there.
Like a blade between them.
Skylar’s face dropped. “Wow. So we’re doing that now.”
Cirrus’s breathing was fast and shallow. “You think I don’t fucking ache for what you have? A mom who calls, who cooks—who at least pretends she gives a shit? I walk into your house and smell food and feel safe for the first time since I was eleven, and you just sit there acting like I’m supposed to stay invisible.”
“Don’t act like I don’t want you there,” Skylar snapped, heat building in his chest. “I made dinner, didn’t I? I invited you. I let you sleep here for weeks.”
“Oh yeah,” Cirrus said bitterly. “You let me. What an honor. Sleeping next to you but still being your dirty secret.”
Skylar’s fists clenched. “Shut the fuck up.”
Cirrus stepped closer. “Why? Because it’s true? You can fuck me, you can cry into my shoulder at night, but you can’t even say I’m yours to the one woman who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”
“Don’t,” Skylar growled. “Don’t pull the ‘I’m unloved’ card just to make me the villain.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Cirrus said, voice sharpening. “I forgot you’re the only one with trauma. You think I like flinching when people raise their voice? You think I don’t remember every time my stepmom told me I was a fucking freak? You think I don’t know what it’s like to be terrified of being seen?”
Skylar’s voice broke. “I do know.”
“Then why did you let me sit there,” Cirrus shouted, “feeling like I wasn’t worth saying the fucking word ‘boyfriend’ for?!”
The silence after that was heavier than anything either of them had ever screamed.
Skylar’s shoulders fell.
His voice was small.
“I wanted to say it.”
Cirrus swallowed hard. His lips trembled.
“Then why didn’t you?”
Skylar looked down. “Because… I didn’t want to say it and have her look at me like I was broken.”
Cirrus’s voice cracked.
“So instead, you let her look at me like I don’t matter.”
⸻
They stood in the hallway, the distance between them suddenly unbearable.
Skylar’s throat tightened. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Cirrus’s face twisted. “You didn’t mean to. But you did.”
Skylar leaned against the doorframe, eyes damp. “What the fuck do you want me to say?”
Cirrus didn’t answer.
Instead, he turned, gripping Candy’s leash. “I’m staying at Ri-in’s.”
Skylar’s voice barely made it out.
“Are we… breaking up?”
Cirrus didn’t look back.
“I don’t know.”
⸻
But when Skylar tried to sleep that night, he couldn’t.
The bed was too cold.
The smell of Wacholder cologne still lingered on the pillow.
And the memory of Cirrus’s hand on his chest, of his hair fanned against the sheets, of soft morning kisses and whispered “stay a little longer”s—it was all still there.
Skylar stared at the ceiling, heart pounding, throat raw, mouth aching to whisper: come back.
But he didn’t say anything.
Not yet.
—-
The cold hits harder than he expected.
He zips up his hoodie, walks fast, Candy’s leash tugging softly in his fingers. The city is loud but numb—just like his brain. Just like his chest.
He hears Skylar’s voice again, like a punch behind his ribs.
“Don’t act like I don’t want you there.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
But he did.
Cirrus wipes his face hard with the sleeve of his hoodie. The tears come faster when he tries to stop them.
He doesn’t go to Ri-in’s yet. He walks instead. Past buildings, under fluorescent signs, past where Wacholder used to be. They closed it last month, but the smell still lingers near the brick wall. Cigarette smoke and perfume and the bitter scent of coffee Skylar always hated.
Cirrus sits on the bench outside. Candy jumps up beside him, warm and steady.
And fuck, he misses Skylar already.
He pulls his knees up, hoodie over his head.
“You think I don’t remember every time my stepmom told me I was a fucking freak?”
His voice echoes in his skull like broken glass. He hates himself for saying it. Hates himself for meaning it even more.
He had finally found somewhere he felt… not invisible. Skylar’s bed. Skylar’s room. Skylar’s mom, who made dinner and folded towels and looked at him like maybe he wasn’t an alien dropped into someone else’s life.
And now?
Now he’s back out in the cold, angry and shaking, just like always.
“I wanted to say it.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
Cirrus exhales through his nose, hands buried deep in the pocket where Skylar’s spare lighter still lives. He pulls it out, flicks it open, closed, open, closed. He hasn’t smoked in months, but the snap of the lighter’s teeth is calming.
He wanted to be chosen.
Just once.
Not hidden. Not tolerated. Not pitied.
Chosen.
⸻
The apartment is too quiet.
He sits on the kitchen floor, staring at the empty chair where Cirrus sat hours ago.
He doesn’t remember finishing dinner. Doesn’t remember clearing the table. All he remembers is Cirrus standing in the hallway, soaking wet, eyes full of betrayal.
Skylar smacks the back of his head softly against the cabinet behind him. Once. Twice. Three times.
“You’re scared of your mom hating you.”
“You let her look at me like I don’t matter.”
The words hit harder the longer he thinks about them.
And they’re not wrong.
He is scared.
Of the look his father gave him when he was twelve and asked what being gay meant.
Of the way kids whispered in the locker room.
Of the time his mother flinched when she saw a guy kissing another guy in a drama.
“At least you have a mom.”
Skylar shuts his eyes.
He’s never felt more ashamed in his life.
He didn’t just freeze tonight—he abandoned Cirrus. Again.
He thinks of how Cirrus used to tremble in his sleep. How he used to wake up gasping, sweat-slick and muttering “please, please, I won’t say anything.”
Skylar had sworn he’d never be someone Cirrus had to hide from.
And now?
He hides him in plain sight.
He buries his face in his hands. His throat feels tight, like something’s stuck there. Regret, maybe. Or love.
He doesn’t know how to fix this.
And worse—he doesn’t know if he even deserves to.
⸻
Later that night
Ri-in lets him crash on the couch. Doesn’t ask too many questions.
Candy curls up next to him, warm against his side. But Cirrus can’t sleep.
He stares at the ceiling, heart beating way too fast, eyes burning. He plays Skylar’s words again and again.
Cirrus had yelled. Said things he promised never to weaponize. But fuck, he was so tired of waiting. Of being patient. Of being halfway loved.
He thinks of their mornings.
Skylar’s arm heavy across his waist. The soft press of lips against the back of his neck. The quiet murmurs of stay, I’m not done with you yet.
He misses it so much it makes his stomach ache.
He wants to scream. Or curl into himself. Or beg.
Instead, he texts:
[1:43AM] CIRRUS: I miss you. I’m still fucking mad. But I miss you.
He stares at the screen. No typing bubble. Just silence.
He throws the phone across the blanket, curls in tighter, and lets the longing eat at him until sleep takes him under.
⸻
same night
He lies in bed. The one Cirrus used to sleep in. Still does. Still should.
He stares at the dent on the pillow where Cirrus’s head used to be.
The room smells like him—Wacholder and lemon, and the cheap detergent he refuses to stop using.
He reaches across the sheets, fingertips brushing cold fabric. No warmth left.
He misses Cirrus with a desperation that cracks something inside his chest.
He wants to text. To say he’s sorry.
To admit he’s scared shitless of losing the only person who ever made him feel safe.
Instead, he just lays there.
Silent.
Lonely.
Regret curled around him like a second skin.
~
Ri-in’s apartment, 7:23 AM
The sunlight creeping through the blinds makes Cirrus flinch.
He’s not hungover, but he feels like it — like his body’s aching from something emotional he can’t name yet. Like heartbreak is lodged in the backs of his knees and under his ribs.
Candy shifts at his feet on the couch, paws twitching in her sleep.
Cirrus rolls onto his side, squinting at Ri-in’s ceiling, blinking hard. His chest is sore — not physically, just that dull ache that comes after a storm. His phone is silent. Nothing from Skylar.
Are we actually broken up?
He keeps asking himself, even though he knows the answer.
He hadn’t taken a bag. Hadn’t taken his toothbrush. Candy’s food bowl was still at the apartment. Everything was still there. His books. His jacket. His half of the bed.
But Skylar didn’t come after him.
Not really.
A late text? After silence?
He told him he was ashamed. Told him he let his mom look at Cirrus like a guest in his own boyfriend’s life. Cirrus had cracked open in front of him.
And Skylar had stood there like it wasn’t enough to matter.
⸻
Ri-in walks in quietly, a mug in her hand.
She doesn’t ask questions at first. She just puts the coffee on the low table and sits down in the chair beside the couch, curling her legs up beneath her.
After a long pause:
“You sleep at all?”
Cirrus shrugs. “A couple hours.”
He pulls the blanket tighter around himself. His eyes feel gritty.
Ri-in doesn’t press. She never does.
After another beat, she says simply, “Want to talk about it?”
Cirrus lets the silence stretch for a while.
Then: “He didn’t say it.”
Ri-in nods once. “To his mom?”
Cirrus just stares at the coffee.
“He just… sat there,” he says, voice low. “Like he was watching a car crash. And I was the car.”
Ri-in leans her chin into her palm. She doesn’t rush him.
Cirrus finally sits up, wiping at his face even though he’s not crying anymore.
“I thought maybe he was finally ready. Not to make some big announcement or anything. Just… to say something. I didn’t even need the word. Just anything.”
He glances at her, biting his lip.
“I don’t think he wanted me to be there.”
Ri-in doesn’t argue. She never softens something just to protect your feelings. But she’s not cruel either.
Instead she says, “Do you really believe that? Or did it just feel like that?”
Cirrus exhales, slow and shaky. “I don’t know anymore.”
Another silence.
Then he adds, without meeting her eyes:
“I think… we might really be done.”
And that feels like a second slap. Because saying it out loud makes it feel true.
⸻
Ri-in watches him for a long moment.
“Do you still love him?”
Cirrus scoffs, bitter. “That’s not even a question.”
Ri-in sips her coffee. “Then you should stop pretending like that means it’s going to be enough.”
Cirrus looks away.
He hates her a little for saying it. But mostly he hates how true it feels.
⸻
Their apartment, 9:06 AM
The first thing he notices when he wakes up is the silence.
It’s not the usual soft silence of early mornings with Cirrus half-snoring beside him, Candy scratching at the floor, the sheets warm and wrinkled.
It’s a vacuum.
Cold.
He reaches to the other side of the bed before he even thinks about it.
It’s empty.
No scent. No warmth.
Skylar sits up, rubbing his eyes, the ache in his chest immediate.
He didn’t come back.
The words land hard.
He checks his phone. Nothing.
The message he sent at 2AM still says “Delivered.” No reply.
His stomach clenches.
R he attd
He gets out of bed and walks into the living room. Candy’s bed is empty. Her leash is gone. Cirrus didn’t just crash somewhere — he took her. He’s staying somewhere else.
That hits harder than he expects.
Skylar walks into the kitchen. Everything still looks like Cirrus — his mug on the counter, his hoodie still draped over the back of a chair, his headphones tangled in the charger cable.
It’s still our place.
But it doesn’t feel like ours without him.
He sits at the table, puts his head in his hands, and breathes.
Tries not to cry.
Fails.
⸻
He knows he should text him. Call. Beg. Something.
But something else gnaws at him too — shame.
Cirrus asked for something so small. To be acknowledged. To exist.
And Skylar couldn’t give it.
Maybe he’s finally tired of waiting.
Maybe he should be.
He can still feel Cirrus’s voice like a bruise:
“You can fuck me, cry to me, sleep beside me, but you can’t even say I’m yours?”
Skylar chokes on the air in his lungs.
Because no matter how badly he wants to believe they’re just having a fight…
This feels like a breakup.
Like the real kind.
A few day later
He doesn’t mean to go back.
He knows it’s a bad idea.
But he forgot his sketchbook. And Candy’s leash is falling apart, and the new one is at the apartment. And he’s tired of pretending like he doesn’t still live there.
Ri-in offers to grab it for him, but he refuses.
“It’s just ten minutes. He’s probably not even there.”
But part of him hopes he is.
And that’s the part that gets him in trouble.
⸻
When he opens the door, the smell hits him first.
Coffee. Fresh laundry. Familiar. Too familiar.
Skylar’s hoodie is on the back of the couch, same place as always. Candy’s bowl has been rinsed and put back on the mat. Her toy sheep is on the floor. Nothing’s moved.
He steps in quietly, not knowing why he’s holding his breath.
Until—
“Cirrus.”
He freezes.
Skylar’s voice comes from the hallway, and a second later, he’s there—hair messy, hoodie too big, eyes tired and red-rimmed.
Cirrus’s stomach flips.
He came too early.
Or maybe too late.
They stare at each other like strangers.
Skylar’s voice is hoarse.
“You—you didn’t text.”
Cirrus forces a shrug. “Didn’t think I had to.”
He walks to the desk, grabs the sketchbook without looking back.
“I was gonna be out in a sec.”
Skylar shifts like he doesn’t know where to put his hands. “You didn’t have to leave like that.”
Cirrus laughs once. “No? You want to talk about how I should’ve left after that dinner?”
Skylar winces.
“I didn’t mean—”
Cirrus turns around, sharp.
“What? You didn’t mean to humiliate me? To sit there while your mom stared at me like I was some fucking phase you picked up in college?”
Skylar swallows. “It wasn’t like that—”
“Then what was it?” Cirrus snaps, voice cracking. “Because I sat there trying to breathe through every second of that dinner. I gave you space. I waited. I didn’t even expect you to say the word ‘boyfriend.’ Just something. Anything.”
Skylar’s jaw tightens.
“You think I didn’t want to? That I didn’t feel like vomiting the entire fucking time?”
Cirrus fires back: “Then why didn’t you say it?”
“Because I’m scared!” Skylar finally shouts. “Because she’s all I have left! And I didn’t want to see the look on her face when she realized the version of me she loves doesn’t exist!”
The room falls silent.
Skylar breathes hard, tears pushing into his voice.
Cirrus just stares at him, stunned.
Skylar’s voice lowers. “You don’t get it.”
Cirrus steps forward.
“Don’t say that. Don’t act like you’ve cornered the market on fear.”
His voice is shaking. “You think I haven’t lived with that kind of silence my whole fucking life? The kind that looks like love but feels like punishment?”
Skylar opens his mouth. Shuts it.
Cirrus takes a breath. “I’ve spent every day of my life wishing I could be someone people were proud of. Just once. And I thought—being with you—maybe I could be.”
His voice breaks. “But even you couldn’t say it.”
Skylar’s face twists.
“You don’t understand what it’s like to be ashamed of yourself and not know why.”
Cirrus snaps, louder than before: “You don’t get to say that to me. Not after what I lived through. Not after the shit my stepmother said to me, every day, for years. I know shame. I choked on it.”
They both fall silent again.
Like they’ve run out of air.
Like the only thing left between them is damage.
Cirrus exhales. His throat aches.
“Maybe we broke this before we even knew what we were doing.”
Skylar doesn’t respond.
Just stares at the floor like the words are nails in his chest.
Cirrus grabs Candy’s new leash from the table. It takes everything in him not to look back.
“I’ll be out of here by tomorrow.”
And then—
Skylar’s phone rings.
They both freeze.
He checks the screen.
MOM
Of course.
He answers on instinct.
“Hey.”
Cirrus watches him. Watches Skylar try to steady his voice.
“Yeah, I’m—no, I’m home.”
A pause. Skylar’s face tightens.
“Cirrus?” He glances up, eyes flicking to him and away again. “He’s, uh. He’s not here right now.”
The silence on the line says enough.
Then, softly:
“So… when are you both coming over again? I really didn’t get a chance to talk to him last time.”
Skylar’s lips part.
Cirrus sees the panic behind his eyes.
And something like regret.
“I… I’ll let you know,” Skylar says quietly. “Yeah. Okay.”
He hangs up.
Cirrus doesn’t speak.
Skylar tries. “She—she asked about you.”
Cirrus just nods.
“Too late.”
Then he walks out the door.
Skylar’s phone still buzzes in his hand after his mom’s call ends.
Cirrus is standing by the door again — sketchbook and leash in hand. His face is already shuttered. Blank. But under it, Skylar can see the flicker of hurt.
The kind Cirrus never shows until he’s already halfway gone.
He turns the knob—
“Don’t go.”
Skylar says it before he even thinks it.
Cirrus freezes.
Slowly turns back, jaw tight.
“Skylar—”
“Don’t fucking go.” His voice shakes. “Not like this.”
Cirrus stares at him.
“How else am I supposed to go?”
Skylar steps closer. His chest aches. His hands are fists at his sides.
“I love you.”
Cirrus laughs. It’s sharp. Bitter.
“Great. Little late for that, don’t you think?”
But Skylar doesn’t stop. Can’t.
“You were my first everything, Cirrus. First person I let in. First person I—trusted.
He swallows. “You think I just stopped feeling that because I choked at dinner?”
Cirrus doesn’t answer.
Skylar steps forward again, voice ragged.
“You still have a toothbrush here.”
“Your shoes are by the door.”
“Candy still sleeps by my side of the bed like she’s waiting for you to come home.”
Cirrus looks away, his jaw clenching.
Skylar’s voice breaks.
“You said I couldn’t say it. But I’m saying it now. I love you. I want to be your boyfriend. I want to fucking try, even if I’m not good at this yet.”
Cirrus’s eyes go glassy. But his arms stay folded. He’s trembling.
“You think love fixes it?” His voice is so quiet it’s almost a whisper. “It doesn’t.”
Skylar nods. “I know. But you’re the only thing that ever made me want to try.”
A pause.
“Don’t let this be how we end.”
Cirrus blinks hard.
He’s trying not to cry.
He hates crying in front of people, even Skylar. Especially Skylar.
His voice cracks.
“You broke me, Sky.”
Skylar steps forward, gently this time. No more shouting.
“Then let me try to put you back together.”
Another pause.
Cirrus shakes his head, backing up a step.
“It’s not that easy.”
Skylar nods, quickly. “It’s not. I know.”
Cirrus finally speaks, lower now.
“You were my first too.”
Skylar stares at him, breath caught.
Cirrus continues, voice shaking. “First person I wanted to stay. First person I let hold me when I was too tired to act okay. First person who said I wasn’t broken even when I knew I was.”
His voice falters.
“I don’t want to stop loving you.”
Skylar’s chest cracks.
“Then don’t.”
Another pause.
Cirrus closes his eyes.
When he opens them, he looks… wrecked.
“I need time.”
Skylar nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Okay.”
Cirrus takes one last breath, then steps back — into the hallway.
He doesn’t slam the door this time.
He closes it quietly.
But Skylar stays standing there for a long time after it shuts — heart pounding, eyes burning, with the faintest, smallest shred of something still alive in his hands.
Not hope.
But maybe the start of it.
It’s been twelve hours since the door closed.
He’s replayed it a hundred times — Cirrus’s face, the way he said “you broke me” like it was already decided. The way he didn’t slam the door this time. The silence that followed.
Skylar has barely eaten. Barely slept.
But this morning — he knows what he has to do.
His fingers shake as he holds his phone. His thumb hovers over the contact.
MOM
He presses call before he can think too hard about it.
She answers after two rings, cheerful, casual.
“Skylar! You sound tired. Did you stay up late again?”
He swallows. His voice is already uneven.
“Yeah. Uh. Yeah.”
Pause.
“You remember Cirrus?”
A beat. “Haha you silly boy! Of course, you both were just here last week..”
Skylar laughs softly. “Yeah-..uhm.“
Another pause.
His throat is dry. “He’s, um. He’s not just my friend. He’s—he’s actually—”
Silence.
Skylar’s voice fails.
He breathes in, shallow. His chest clenches.
“I mean, we’ve… we’ve been living together. For a while now.”
Another beat.
„Yes honey i know that. I helped you move your stuff. what’s wrong?“
Skylar backtracks without meaning to.
“I just thought—maybe next time we came over—I could tell you more. About him.”
His mom chuckles. “That’s sweet, Sky. You boys have fun out there. I’m just happy you’re eating well.”
And just like that, it’s gone.
Skylar hangs up a minute later. Eyes burning.
She didn’t say anything cruel.
But she didn’t say anything kind either.
Not the way he needed.
He puts the phone down.
Covers his face.
And whispers, broken:
“Why can’t I just say it?”
⸻
Cirrus
Next Day – 5:41 PM
He hasn’t stopped thinking about what Skylar said.
The “I love you.”
The “don’t let this be how we end.”
The please stay.
He wanted to be furious. Wanted to shut the door in his own head and lock it.
But instead, he’s been… soft. Quiet.
Which, for Cirrus, is more dangerous than angry.
At lunch, he stares at his food and doesn’t eat. Ri-in nudges him eventually.
“You okay?”
He shrugs.
Two hours later, he blurts it out without looking at her.
“I need to go back.”
Ri-in just nods. Doesn’t push. That’s why he asks her to come.
⸻
They take the bus. Candy in her carrier, resting her head against his knee.
Cirrus clutches the leash, the sketchbook, the memory of Skylar’s voice saying “I want to try.”
When they reach the apartment building, it’s nearly sunset.
Cirrus stops at the entrance. Looks up at the window they used to fall asleep behind.
The air’s heavier here.
Familiar.
Too much.
He doesn’t move.
Ri-in waits beside him. Arms crossed, but her face soft.
“Want me to go up with you?”
Cirrus shakes his head.
But his legs won’t work.
After a minute, he drops down onto the bench outside the entrance. Candy jumps up beside him, curling into his lap.
He puts his face in his hands.
Whispers:
“I said awful things.”
Ri-in sits beside him, not touching. Just there.
Cirrus bites his lip. “I meant them. At the time.”
“That doesn’t mean you still do.”
Cirrus’s voice trembles.
“What if he doesn’t want me back?”
Ri-in pulls out her phone without a word.
⸻
TEXT TO: Skylar 🌀
your boyfriend’s sitting outside your building crying.
not my business but you should maybe fix that.
⸻
The text comes in while he’s folding Cirrus’s hoodie.
He stares at the screen.
And goes downstairs.
Ri-in doesn’t say anything when Skylar rushes down the stairs.
Doesn’t say anything when she gently hands over Candy’s leash to him.
And she definitely doesn’t say anything when she sees the way Cirrus looks up at Skylar — like the last hour, the last week, the last fight didn’t kill him, but damn near came close.
She just raises her eyebrows.
“Text me when you’re human again,” she mutters. “I’m going to Chan-il’s. You two can rot or kiss or cry or whatever.”
She walks off with Candy tucked into her coat like a judgmental witness.
Skylar watches her go, then looks at Cirrus.
Cirrus stares at the sidewalk.
Neither speaks.
Then Cirrus finally says:
“I thought I could do it.”
Skylar swallows. “Do what?”
Cirrus lifts his head, voice thin and cracked.
“Walk away from you.”
⸻
They end up in the stairwell.
Not inside the apartment.
Not quite home yet.
Skylar sits on the second step from the top. Cirrus stands a few feet away, pacing. He talks with his hands when he’s overwhelmed. Right now they’re trembling.
“You know I was angry,” he starts, voice rough. “I said things. Some of it I meant. Some of it I didn’t. I just—”
He breaks off.
Skylar stays quiet.
Cirrus rubs his eyes with the back of his hand.
“I miss you, Sky.”
His voice lowers. “I miss the way you talk in your sleep and pretend you don’t. I miss calling you baby and making you blush even though you pretend you hate it.”
He huffs a laugh. “You chew like you’re trying to kill your food, and you make the worst faces when you brush your teeth.”
He looks up, eyes red.
“And I love all of it.”
Skylar blinks hard.
Cirrus continues before he can stop himself.
“I miss grocery shopping with you. I miss the way you spend ten minutes picking out the right brand of Ritter bars, like it’s a religious ritual.”
A breath. A bitter laugh.
“I miss yelling at you for forgetting to defrost chicken. I miss you getting fake mad when I beat you at Mario Kart.”
He’s crying now, openly.
“I miss waking up and knowing you’re there. Not just beside me. But there. Like this anchor in my goddamn life.”
Skylar covers his mouth.
His chest is rising and falling fast, too fast.
Cirrus steps closer.
“You don’t know what it’s like, Sky. To have no mom. No dad. No one who gives a shit if you come home. And then suddenly—you. You happened. You cared.”
He breathes in like it hurts.
“You can’t just take that away and expect me to survive.”
Skylar finally speaks.
Quiet. Cracked.
“I didn’t know I mattered like that to you.”
Cirrus stares at him.
“Of course you did. Of course you do.”
Silence.
Skylar wipes at his eyes.
“Even when I couldn’t say it out loud?”
“Especially then.”
Skylar looks up at him.
“Why?”
Cirrus sits beside him. Close, but not touching.
He says:
“Because I could see it. In how you always saved the last bite for me. In how you remembered my shampoo. In how you looked at me like I wasn’t too much.”
Skylar lets out a sound — almost a laugh, almost a sob.
He leans his shoulder against Cirrus’s.
“I missed you so much, I forgot how to sleep.”
Cirrus leans back.
“I slept on Ri-in’s floor. Candy kept licking my face at 4 a.m. I pretended I hated it.”
They both laugh, watery and tired.
Skylar turns his head. Looks him full in the face.
“You’re still my boyfriend, you know. If you want to be.”
Cirrus’s answer comes like breathing:
“I never stopped.”
⸻
They don’t kiss right away.
They just sit there.
Two steps from home.
Holding onto something neither of them can name.
But it feels like the beginning of healing.
———-
They wait until Sunday.
It’s been five days since Cirrus came back.
Things between them are soft. Quiet. Deliberate.
They don’t rush. They eat breakfast together again. Cirrus grumbles about Skylar’s overcooked eggs, and Skylar pretends not to cry when Cirrus calls him baby under his breath.
They still flinch sometimes. Still hesitate.
But they’ve stopped walking on eggshells.
And when Sunday comes, Skylar finally says:
“I think I want to tell them.”
Cirrus just nods.
He doesn’t say are you sure?
He says:
“I’ve got you.”
⸻
The call starts off normal.
His mom and sister are in the kitchen. He can hear the clatter of pans and the TV humming in the background.
Skylar fumbles with the phone. Puts it on video. Cirrus is just out of frame, but he’s holding Skylar’s hand.
“Sky!” His sister beams. “You guys are still coming down next month, right? I need backup against mom’s food tyranny.”
Skylar huffs a laugh. “We’ll be there.”
His mom leans into view. “Cirrus still doesn’t like pickled radish, does he? I was going to leave it out of the kimbap this time.”
Cirrus squeezes Skylar’s hand gently.
Now. Say it now.
Skylar nods. “Actually, um… about Cirrus.”
They both look up.
His sister raises an eyebrow. His mom tilts her head.
Skylar’s voice is quiet. Measured. Scared, but steady.
“We’re not just friends. We’re together. He’s my boyfriend.”
Silence.
Three full seconds.
Then his sister exhales.
“I knew it.”
Skylar blinks. “Wait, what?”
She grins. “You two practically eye-fuck over ramen. Glad you finally said it.”
Skylar lets out a shaky laugh. Cirrus does too, leaning into view for a second.
His sister laughs again. “Cirrus, if you’re listening — I love you. You’re family, no matter what.”
Cirrus’s voice is quiet. “Thanks.”
But Skylar’s not looking at her.
He’s watching his mom.
And her smile is gone.
She’s staring at them. Her hands frozen on her lap.
Skylar’s chest twists.
“Mom…?”
She inhales — like it takes effort.
Then she says, softly:
“I see.”
Just that. Nothing else.
“Mom,” Skylar says again, more fragile now. “Did you… hear me?”
“I heard.”
The silence after is worse than shouting.
She looks at him — eyes tired. Not angry. But not accepting either.
Just… disappointed.
“I didn’t know,” she says.
Cirrus leans back, out of frame.
Skylar’s voice is small. “We didn’t want to hide. I just didn’t know how to say it before.”
She nods, slowly. Not really at him.
“You should’ve said something.”
Skylar blinks fast.
“I’m saying it now.”
Another pause.
Then she murmurs:
“I’ll need some time. That’s all I can say right now.”
His heart drops.
That cold, formal quiet.
Cirrus gently squeezes his hand, unseen by the screen.
Skylar swallows. “You’re not… mad?”
His mom exhales. Looks at her son again.
“No. Just surprised. And—” she hesitates.
“—a little sad.”
Skylar’s voice cracks. “Why?”
“Because I thought I knew you. And now I feel like I missed something.”
She looks away.
“But I don’t love you any less.”
The call ends shortly after.
Skylar doesn’t speak for a long time. Cirrus just pulls him close, and lets him breathe against his chest.
⸻
Three Days Later
Text from: Mom
I’m sorry I wasn’t kinder.
I was shocked, and I didn’t handle it well.
I love you both. You’re my sons.
I’ll get there.
I want you to be happy.
Skylar cries reading it. Just a little.
Then he reads it out loud to Cirrus.
Cirrus smiles faintly and whispers:
“I think she means it.”
Skylar nods.
“Me too.”