“I don’t think it works like that,” I say gently. “Grief doesn’t come with an expiration date, baby. It doesn’t finish. You just learn to live with the hole it leaves.”
Levi laughs exactly once, sharp and bitter. “Great. Love that for me.”
“If all you do today is breathe and drink water, that counts.” My lips twitch, just slightly. “Everything else? You don’t have to carry it alone.”
Levi stills, and I let my fingers flex against his spine, like I need to feel him there. Real. Solid. Alive.
“I don’t know how to let someone in like that,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper.
I swallow behind the lump in my throat.
“You don’t need to,” I murmur, my lips pressing into his hair. “Just let me be here.”
Levi falls silent. He’s unraveled, stripped bare, every carefully placed brick of his sunshiny persona crumbling around him, leaving nothing but raw, open grief.
It’s a living thing, sinking into my skin like it’s mine. Maybe, in some ways, it is. Because this isn’t just about what he lost. It’s about what he’s held on to for so many years. The weight of a childshouldering something too big, too devastating. The way he made himself easily digestible so others could survive.
Levi shifts, and I realize my arms have gone tight around him, like I’m trying to hold him together with sheer force alone. His breath stutters against my throat, his fingers curled weakly into my sweater like he’s bracing himself, like he’s waiting for something…anything…to make this pain bearable.
And I would give him anything if I knew how.
I rest my chin against the crown of his head. “Levi, I wish there was something I could say or do to…”
“You’re doing it,” he whispers, interrupting me as he nuzzles closer.
My shadows slip across the sheets, reaching for him without asking. They comfort instead of consume, covering him like a blanket.
He doesn’t tense. He doesn’t flinch. If anything, he melts farther into me, pulling his knees up slightly, curling himself into the embrace. Into me.
“This is a first,” I murmur, barely recognizing I’ve spoken aloud.
Levi shifts, voice slurred from exhaustion. “Guess even your shadows are officially Team Levi now.”
I press my lips to his temple. Just a breath of a kiss, something soft, something I’m not sure I even meant to do until it’s already done.
“They should be,” I whisper. “Because I am.”
He doesn’t respond. He’s slipping toward sleep, finally.
“I’ve seen a lot of grief,” I murmur eventually, my voice careful. “But I don’t think I’ve ever felt it like this.”
Levi sniffles. “Lucky you.”
I huff a quiet laugh, my lips brushing against his hair.
“I don’t meanyours,” I amend, tightening my hold on him. “I mean…feeling it. Understanding it.” I exhale. “I’ve spent so longat the edges of grief, I never knew what it meant to truly wade into it.”
Levi’s cheek presses against my chest. His voice is tired. “And now?”
I hesitate. “Now…I don’t think I can stand at the edges anymore. Not with you.”
The words are too raw. Too honest. But I don’t take them back.
They’re true. Grief still burns through me when I take on too much. It always has. Every mortal ache, every loss…it finds its way in and leaves a mark. I can already feel it now, the exhaustion settling deep in my bones, the weight of his story threading itself into mine.
But I stay. I choose to stay.
Because with Levi, the cost doesn’t scare me.
