"I suspected texting would fail," he said as I opened the door. "So I escalated to soup."
I stepped aside and let him in.
He moved through my kitchen with the growing ease of someone who had been there often enough to know where things were but still respected the space enough to ask before opening cupboards. He unpacked containers of soup, bread wrapped in paper, and two slices of cake that had partially collapsed into one another during transport.
"They were separate when I acquired them," he said, examining the container with mild disappointment. "Circumstances have altered them."
I leaned against the counter while he arranged everything with unnecessary concentration, the domestic familiarity of it doing something unsettlingly gentle to the atmosphere of the room.
"You are not coming," he said after a while, not as accusation but observation.
I looked down, forcing the words out in a few, careful pieces. “Many people… and Ellis.” Saying it cost more than it should have, but I reminded myself this was a safe place, and kept going.
“They know what happened,” I added quickly, the rest slipping out before I could stop it. “I’m… embarrassed.”
Then he inhaled slowly through his nose and said, with deliberate calm, "I see." After a brief pause, he asked quietly, "This is because of what he said before, isn't it?"
I could not answer. I had never told him exactly what Ellis had said, only what it had done to me afterward. He stepped a little closer, though not enough to crowd me.
''You speak as though you are the one who must fit into the world," he murmured. "Personally, I think the world should be trying harder to deserve you. You have the kind of beauty people used to turn into legends."
I kept my eyes lowered, but he continued anyway, his voice calm and matter-of-fact, as though he were simply explaining something obvious.
''You are tall in the way trees are tall, in the way statues are tall, something carved to outlast centuries. You occupy space with the effortless cathedral-like majesty, as though time itself pauses to make room for you. You have hair of fire and a face of a goddess, as if both were made to be remembered.''
My throat tightened a little at that, though I said nothing.
"I know you do not believe me yet," he added softly.
I stayed silent.
His expression gentled almost imperceptibly. "So borrow my belief until yours returns."
My eyes lifted to his again. I stared at him, unable to move.
"And for practical purposes," he said lightly, "if you ever attended something like that with me, you should know I would handle the room."
I blinked at him.
He looked up from the counter, entirely calm. "I would identify exits, assess social threats, intercept tedious conversations before they reached you, and secure food that is actually edible. I would also remain nearby enough that nobody mistakes you for unattended."
A laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it.
"I am also exceptionally skilled at strategic compliments," he continued with quiet seriousness. "And I possess a highly reliable instinct for extracting people from situations moments before they become unbearable."
I shook my head, smiling despite myself now. "Like a military operation."
"In fairness," he said, setting the bowl in front of me with measured satisfaction, "most social gatherings are."
I laughed again, softer this time. He rested one hand briefly against the counter and glanced at me. "So if you ever say yes, understand that you would not have to manage any of it alone. I got this."
Something in my chest loosened quietly at the certainty in his voice. We ate in easy quiet afterward while he explained why public fundraisers inevitably contained at least three dangerous personalities and one deeply suspicious cheese tray. By the time he stood to leave, the dread attached to the event had become smaller, less absolute than before.
******
July started texting me before I had even finished getting ready for the night.
July: You're going.
