Ceilings

Caitlyn adjusted the intricate silver sleeves of her skating dress, her fingers trembling slightly against the cold fabric. The shimmering rhinestones caught the light filtering through the dressing room door, giving her a ghostly glow in the mirror. Her reflection stared back with wide, uncertain eyes.

The Christmas show wasn’t a competition, but for Caitlyn, it was more pressure than any qualifying event. Everyone who mattered in the skating world would be watching tonight: her coach, sponsors, her ever critical mother, and even a few scouts. Every movement had to be perfect, every spin seamless. Mistakes weren’t an option, not for Caitlyn Kiramman.

Her breath hitched as she pulled her laces tighter than necessary, the strain grounding her in the moment. But the voices in her head wouldn’t stop: You’re not good enough. You’ll fall. Everyone will see you fail. She pressed her palms against her knees, trying to will the panic away.

A knock at the door broke through her spiraling thoughts, sharp and sudden.

“Caitlyn?”

She froze. That voice didn’t belong here.

The door creaked open, and Vi stepped in, her red leather jacket slung lazily over her shoulders, a beanie barely covering her wild hair. She looked completely out of place among the glittering costumes and pristine atmosphere of the event, but her presence filled the room.

“Hey,” Vi said, her tone casual but laced with warmth. “Figured I’d find you back here.”

Caitlyn blinked, too stunned to react. “Vi? What are you doing here?”

Vi leaned against the doorframe, her smirk making Caitlyn’s chest tighten. “Jayce mentioned this thing when we were talking after practice. Thought I’d come check it out. He made it sound like a big deal.”

“It is,” Caitlyn replied curtly, standing and smoothing the skirt of her dress. “For skaters.”

Vi’s grin widened. “And you’re the best one, right?”

Caitlyn tried to ignore the heat rising to her face. “That’s not the point.”

“Looks like it is,” Vi countered, stepping into the room. Her eyes swept over Caitlyn’s outfit, lingering for a moment before she cleared her throat. “Anyway, you looked like you were about to bolt. Thought I’d stop you.”

“I wasn’t—” Caitlyn started, but Vi cut her off.

“Save it. You’re nervous. It’s normal.”

Caitlyn hesitated, her walls faltering for just a moment. “I don’t get nervous.”

Vi raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Right. And I’m a figure skater.”

Despite herself, Caitlyn let out a breathy laugh, the sound surprising even her.

“There it is,” Vi said, a genuine smile replacing her usual smirk. “Knew I could get you to crack.”

Caitlyn sat back down, her hands finding her skates again as a distraction. “Why are you really here?” she asked, her voice softer now.
Vi shrugged. “Honestly? I wanted to see you skate. You talk about it like it’s your whole world, so I figured I’d see what the fuss was about.”

Caitlyn froze, her fingers pausing mid motion. No one, besides her coach, had ever cared enough to say something like that. Not her parents, not her so called friends, not even herself most days.

“Well,” she said finally, keeping her gaze on her skates, “don’t expect much.”

Vi scoffed. “Yeah, okay. Like I haven’t seen you practicing those crazy jumps and spins for weeks now. You’re amazing, Caitlyn. Everyone here’s lucky to watch you, even if they don’t know it yet.”

The sincerity in Vi’s voice made Caitlyn’s chest tighten again, but this time it wasn’t from anxiety. She took a shaky breath and tied her laces for the final time.

“Thanks,” she murmured, the word feeling foreign on her tongue.

Vi gave her a lopsided grin. “Don’t mention it.”

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, “you gonna tell me what I’m about to see, or should I just sit here clueless?”

Caitlyn blinked, momentarily thrown off. “What do you mean?”

Vi raised an eyebrow. “The program. You’ve been working on it forever, right? What’s the story? What’s the vibe? Give me something to look for.”

Caitlyn hesitated, not used to explaining her routines to anyone. Usually, people either knew the technical aspects or didn’t care enough to ask. But Vi’s curiosity felt genuine, and it made her stomach flip in a way she wasn’t ready to analyze.

“It’s… a contemporary piece,” Caitlyn began, her voice steadying as she fell into familiar territory. “The theme is resilience, picking yourself up after you’ve been knocked down. It starts soft and uncertain, but it builds into something stronger.”

Vi tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “Sounds like you.”

Caitlyn blinked again, startled. “What?”

Vi shrugged, her smirk softening. “You’re always so hard on yourself, but you keep going. Sounds like the routine’s pretty personal.”
Caitlyn’s cheeks flushed, and she looked away, pretending to adjust her gloves. “It’s not about me,” she said quickly, her voice sharper than intended. “It’s just a program.”

Vi held up her hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Didn’t mean to hit a nerve. I just think it sounds cool.”

Caitlyn sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Sorry. I just… It’s hard to talk about.”

Vi nodded, her expression more serious now. “I get it. But for what it’s worth, I think it’s brave. Putting all that on the ice for everyone to see? That’s badass.”

Caitlyn felt a small, reluctant smile tug at her lips. “Thanks,” she said quietly, meeting Vi’s eyes for a brief moment before glancing at the ice.

“So, what should I watch for?” Vi asked, breaking the silence. “Any big tricks? Fancy spins?”

“There’s a back counter into a layback spin right after the first chorus,” Caitlyn replied, her tone slipping into that of a focused athlete. “And a triple lutz toe combination toward the end. Those are the highlights.”

Vi gave a low whistle. “Triple lutz combination sounds intense.”

“It is,” Caitlyn admitted, her voice soft. “I’ve been struggling with the landing. If I mess it up…”

“You won’t,” Vi interrupted, her tone firm. “You’ve got this.”

Caitlyn looked at her, searching for any hint of sarcasm or doubt, but found none. Vi’s confidence felt almost tangible, and for the first time that evening, Caitlyn felt a flicker of calm.

“Thanks,” she murmured again, the word carrying more weight this time.

“Anytime,” Vi said with a grin. “Now go out there and show them what you’ve got.”

The rink was silent as Caitlyn took her place at center ice, the lights enveloping her in a pale glow. Her head bowed, arms crossed tightly over her chest, she seemed small, almost fragile, against the vast expanse of the ice. The first haunting notes of the piano began, each one reverberating through the arena. Slowly, she unfurled, extending her arms as if breaking free from invisible chains, and began to glide.

Her opening movements were slow and deliberate. A deep spiral brought her body parallel to the ice, her fingertips brushing its surface as though she was tethered to it. Rising smoothly, she transitioned into a layback spin, her body arching gracefully, her arms reaching upward in a silent plea. The melancholy of the piano was echoed in every sweep of her arms and turn of her blades, each motion speaking of struggle and yearning.

As the music began to build, so did her intensity. Her movements became sharper, her pace quicker, as though she was fighting against the invisible restraints that held her. She launched into a triple loop, soaring high before landing with a quiet, confident glide. The crowd murmured their appreciation, but Caitlyn didn’t hear it. She was locked in the world she had created, her focus unbreakable.

The orchestra joined the piano, and the music swelled. Caitlyn’s blades cut through the ice with purpose as she powered into a triple lutz-double toe loop combination, the arcs of her jumps clean and precise. She followed with a triple flip, her landing as soft as a whisper, her arms extending elegantly outward.

Her movements were no longer confined or hesitant. She spun with increasing speed, her camel spin elongating into a striking line, her body perfectly balanced. Transitioning into a back sit spin, her free leg extended in an angular shape, she seemed almost defiant.
Then came the brief pause in the music, leaving the arena suspended in anticipation. Caitlyn stood still in the center of the ice, arms outstretched and chest heaving. Her eyes, glistening under the lights, scanned the crowd, though she wasn’t really looking at anyone.
When the melody returned, softer, lighter, there was a new energy in her skating. Her steps were quicker, more intricate, as though she were dancing with joy for the first time. She leapt into a double axel, her body turning like a blur in the air before landing effortlessly. She glided backward into a step sequence, her movements now full of hope and strength, her arms painting graceful arcs in the air.
As the final notes played, Caitlyn moved toward center ice once more, spinning in a blur that gradually slowed until she stopped, her arms reaching upward in triumph. The music faded, and for a moment, the arena was silent.

Then, like a wave, the applause came. It was deafening, a standing ovation that rippled across the audience. Caitlyn stood there, chest heaving, tears threatening to spill as she soaked in the sound. For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to believe she was free.
She turned her head slightly, scanning the crowd, and her eyes found Vi. She stood out amidst the sea of clapping hands and smiling faces, her expression soft but electric. Vi clapped with a kind of reckless enthusiasm, and for a second, Caitlyn almost forgot where she was.

She skated toward the edge of the rink, a faint, genuine smile breaking through her composed exterior as she nodded in gratitude toward the cheering crowd. Her coach met her at the gate with an uncharacteristic grin, patting her shoulder in approval.

“You nailed it,” her coach said simply.

The compliment made Caitlyn’s chest tighten with pride, but her mind lingered elsewhere. As she stepped off the ice, she cast another glance toward the stands, searching for Vi. When she was unable to spot her pink hair, Caitlyn felt a pang of something she couldn’t quite name.

She didn’t have time to think about it now, though. Right now, she let herself revel in the moment, her worries and doubts melting away under the weight of the standing ovation still echoing in her ears.

She made her way to the locker room, shutting the door behind her quietly. Caitlyn leaned against the lockers, still catching her breath from the performance. The adrenaline was fading, leaving her exhilarated but physically drained. She reached up to unpin her hair, letting it fall loose around her shoulders. The quiet of the locker room was a stark contrast to the roaring crowd from minutes ago.
The door creaked open, and Caitlyn turned her head to see Vi stepping inside.

Caitlyn paused, momentarily caught off guard by the sight of her. Vi’s face lit up when their eyes met, and she closed the door behind her, striding over with that effortless confidence that Caitlyn could never quite understand.

“That was insane,” Vi started, her voice filled with genuine excitement. “Like, I knew you were good, but that? That was on another level.”

Caitlyn felt her cheeks warm as she turned to open her locker, hoping to distract herself. “It was nothing, really. Just the routine I’ve been practicing for months.”

Vi scoffed. “Nothing? Caitlyn, you looked like... I don’t even know how to describe it. You were, like, floating out there. Every jump, every spin, perfect.” She paused, her tone softening. “And, uh, you looked really pretty doing it.”

Caitlyn froze, her hand lingering on the edge of her locker door. Pretty? Vi’s words echoed in her head, amplifying the heat in her cheeks. She fumbled for a response, suddenly hyper aware of Vi’s presence behind her.

“Th-thank you,” Caitlyn stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She cursed herself internally for sounding so flustered.
Vi grinned, clearly amused by Caitlyn’s reaction. “You’re welcome, ice queen.”

Caitlyn turned slightly, stealing a glance at Vi’s lopsided smirk. She didn’t know why it made her chest feel so tight, why it made her heart beat just a little faster. “Well,” she said, clearing her throat and forcing a more composed tone, “it’s all part of the performance. Looking... presentable is important.”

“Presentable?” Vi raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. “C’mon, Cait. Own it. You’re more than just presentable, you’re amazing.”

Caitlyn’s breath caught in her throat. She quickly turned back to her locker, hoping Vi didn’t notice the tremble in her hands. “I… I suppose I should change out of this dress,” she muttered, desperate to shift the focus. She reached for her bag, tugging it free from the tight space.

Her sleeve snagged on the corner of her locker as she pulled her bag free. A faint ripping sound echoed in the quiet room.

“Damn it,” Caitlyn hissed under her breath, glancing down at the tear. The delicate fabric hung loose around her arm, and as she tried to tug it back into place, it slipped farther, exposing the thick, pale, crisscrossing marks that ran from her wrist to her shoulder.
She froze.

“Cait?” Vi’s voice cut through the stillness, tentative and quiet. Caitlyn didn’t respond, her breath catching in her throat. She felt Vi’s eyes on her, heavy and unrelenting.

“What...” Vi’s words trailed off, her tone a mixture of confusion and something deeper. Concern, maybe.

Caitlyn spun around sharply, yanking the sleeve back up her arm with trembling hands. “It’s nothing,” she said quickly, the words spilling out like a defense mechanism. “Just forget it.”

“Nothing?” Vi repeated, her voice rising slightly. “Caitlyn, that… what the hell was that?”

“It’s none of your business!” Caitlyn snapped, her voice shaking as she stuffed her bag with unnecessary force.

“It is my business!” Vi shot back, stepping closer. Her voice was firm, but her eyes betrayed the hurt and worry she felt. “You can’t just… Caitlyn, those weren’t nothing. Those… ”

“Don’t!” Caitlyn cut her off, her voice breaking. She turned away, pressing herself against the cold metal lockers, her shoulders trembling as she fought to keep her composure.

Vi hesitated, her hands clenching at her sides. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” she said, her voice softening, but still tinged with desperation. “But you can’t expect me to pretend I didn’t see that. You can’t just shut me out.”

Caitlyn’s face twisted, and a guttural sob tore from her throat, loud and raw. She clutched at her torn sleeve, pressing it against her arm as if she could hide everything from Vi’s gaze.

“Why are you even here?” she suddenly yelled, her voice breaking. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Vi flinched but didn’t move. “Cait…”

“No!” Caitlyn cut her off, her words tumbling out, thick with anger and despair. “You don’t get it! You don’t know what it’s like to have to be perfect! To have everyone watching you, waiting for you to screw up, and when you do, it’s like the world ends! I can’t… I can’t fail, Vi!” Her sobs grew louder, and she shook her head violently, as if trying to shake off her own thoughts.

Vi’s jaw tightened, but she stayed where she was. “I’m not here to watch you fail, Cait. I’m here because I care.”

“Why?!” Caitlyn shouted, her voice reverberating off the locker room walls. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her tears falling unchecked. “I don’t need anyone! I’ve never needed anyone! I’m fine on my own!”

“You’re not fine!” Vi snapped, her voice rising in frustration, though her eyes shimmered with concern. “You’re sitting here, breaking down, screaming at me, and telling me you’re fine? Look at yourself, Caitlyn!”

That struck a nerve, and Caitlyn recoiled as if slapped. “Shut up,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “You don’t get to judge me.”
“I’m not judging you,” Vi said, softer now but no less firm. “I’m trying to help.”

“I didn’t ask for your help!” Caitlyn shouted, her voice raw. She buried her face in her hands, her sobs choking her words. “You should just go. Everyone leaves anyway. Just… go!”

Vi’s face twisted with a mix of frustration and pain as Caitlyn’s sobs filled the air. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but the weight of Caitlyn’s words, and her own helplessness, pressed down too heavily. Without another word, Vi turned on her heel and strode out of the locker room, the door swinging shut behind her with a harsh clang.

Caitlyn flinched at the sound, and as the echo faded, the room was filled with an oppressive silence. Her knees gave out, and she sank to the cold floor, curling in on herself. Her arms wrapped tightly around her legs, her forehead pressing against her knees as the sobs came harder and louder, wracking her body like violent waves.

The tears blurred her vision, and her breaths came in shallow, gasping hiccups. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, though no one was there to hear it. “I’m sorry, Vi. I’m sorry.”

The coldness of the floor seeped into her skin, but she barely noticed. All she felt was the unbearable weight in her chest. The guilt, the shame, the self loathing that had been festering for so long. It poured out of her now, uncontrollably, with no one left to witness it.

Her mind spiraled, the silence of the locker room amplifying the storm inside her. She couldn’t stop imagining the worst case scenarios. Vi would tell everyone. Her team, her coach, maybe even her family. The rumors would spread like wildfire, twisting into cruel, exaggerated versions of the truth.

The thought of the press finding out made Caitlyn’s chest tighten. Headlines flashed in her mind: “Future Olympian’s Troubled Past Exposed.” Every mistake, every scar, every cut, every part of her that she kept hidden would be dragged into the light for everyone to pick apart. The whispers, the pitying looks, they’d destroy her. Her mother’s scornful voice rang in her ears: How could you let this happen, Caitlyn? You’ve ruined everything.

A fresh wave of tears rolled down her cheeks. She buried her face in her arms, wishing she could disappear. She had tried so hard to keep everything contained, to build walls so high no one could see over them. But now, she’d let someone in, someone who could have been a friend, maybe even more, and she had ruined it.

Her heart twisted as she thought about Vi. The way she had stayed, had tried to help, even when Caitlyn pushed her away. The way she looked at Caitlyn, not with pity, but with genuine concern. Caitlyn had thrown it all back in her face, yelling, accusing, and driving her away.

“I’m such an idiot,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

For a brief moment, Vi had been something real, something Caitlyn didn’t know she needed. And now, she had lost her.

Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She couldn’t blame Vi for leaving. Why would anyone stay? Caitlyn had spent so long convincing herself she didn’t need anyone, and now that someone had tried to be there for her, she had pushed them out.
The emptiness in her chest grew heavier, more suffocating. She had no one to blame but herself.

The car ride home was suffocating. Caitlyn stared out of the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of gold and white, her chest heavy with the weight of her emotions. Her mom’s voice filled the silence, cheerful and oblivious, as she went on about how incredible Caitlyn’s performance had been.

“That double axel was perfection,” her mother gushed, hands gripping the wheel tightly as though she were still in control. “And the way you held that final pose… completely captivating. Everyone in the audience was on their feet, darling. You were the star of the show.”

Caitlyn barely nodded, her gaze unfocused. Her mother hadn’t noticed her trembling hands or the tears that threatened to spill over the moment they left the rink. She hadn’t noticed the way Caitlyn had hurried out of the locker room, head bowed, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

“And that dress,” her mother continued, as if oblivious to the storm brewing in the passenger seat, “simply divine. I told you the custom tailoring was worth it. You looked… well, you looked perfect, as always.”

Perfect. The word stabbed at Caitlyn’s chest. It echoed every criticism, every expectation, every self inflicted demand that had led her to this point. She couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Can we not talk about it?” she said quietly, her voice cracking.

Her mom didn’t seem to hear her, or maybe she chose not to. “You know, the reporters were already buzzing about you. This performance is going to set the stage for Nationals. This could be your moment—”

“Mom, please!” Caitlyn’s voice rose, sharper now. “Just... stop.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Her mom blinked, taken aback, but didn’t press further. Instead, she tightened her grip on the wheel and focused on the road ahead, her expression unreadable.

When they finally pulled into the driveway of their sprawling estate, Caitlyn didn’t wait for the car to fully stop before unbuckling her seatbelt. “I’m going to my room,” she muttered, not waiting for a response.

Her mom called after her as she climbed out of the car. “Darling, you were wonderful tonight! Remember that!”

Caitlyn didn’t look back. Her heels clicked against the stone pathway as she made her way to the front door, her head low. She slipped inside the house, the warmth and grandeur of the entryway doing little to soothe her. The familiar scent of polished wood and fresh flowers felt suffocating.

She ascended the grand staircase with hurried steps, her chest tightening with every beat of her heart. The moment she reached her room, she shut the door behind her and locked it.

The dress felt like it was choking her. She yanked at the zipper, finally slipping out of it and letting it crumple on the floor in a heap of satin and sequins. Standing in her undergarments, Caitlyn crossed the room to the full length mirror.

Her reflection stared back at her. A girl who was supposed to be perfect, who had just wowed an audience with flawless jumps and spins, but who now felt utterly empty. Her arms hung at her sides, the lines on her skin a harsh contrast to the polished image she presented to the world.

She pulled on a faded navy blue hoodie and flannel shorts, sitting down on her bed when an unfamiliar sound broke through the quiet.
Caitlyn scrambled to her feet, her breath still shaky as the sound of heavy footsteps reached her ears. They were deliberate and slow, far too heavy to belong to her mom or dad. Her heart leapt into her throat, adrenaline drowning out the sobs that had wracked her just moments ago.

Her hand shot out to the nightstand, fingers brushing against the cool metal of her pistol. Her dad had insisted she keep it for safety, a precaution she’d never expected to actually need. Now, her grip tightened around it, her knuckles white as she whipped around to face the door.

The footsteps grew closer, each one sending a jolt through her. She raised the gun, her arms trembling but steady enough to aim. She stared at the door, her finger brushing against the trigger but not pressing it.

"Who's there?" she called out, her voice cracking but sharp.

The footsteps stopped. For a moment, there was only silence, broken by the rapid pounding of her heart.

“Caitlyn?” A familiar voice came through, muffled but unmistakable.

Her breath hitched. "Vi?"

The door creaked open slowly, revealing Vi standing in the doorway. She froze when she saw the gun pointed at her, her eyes widening in shock.

“Whoa, hey, it’s just me,” Vi said, raising her hands in a placating gesture. Her voice was calm, but her expression was laced with concern.

Caitlyn lowered the gun immediately, her hands trembling now for an entirely different reason. “What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice shaking. “How did you even get in?”

Vi shut the door behind her, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. “I came in through the back door, the one I used last time. Your mom didn’t see me. I just... wanted to check on you. I didn’t want you to do anything you’d regret.”

Caitlyn’s eyes snapped up, her expression darkening instantly. “What the hell, Vi?” she snapped, her voice louder than she intended. She set her gun down abruptly, fists clenched at her sides. “I told you to stay away from me! I told you I didn’t want anything to do with you!”

Vi flinched, but her face hardened. “I know what you said,” she replied, her tone calm but firm. “And I ignored it because I could tell you didn’t mean it.”

“I did mean it!” Caitlyn shot back, her voice rising with each word. “I don’t need you barging into my house like this, acting like you care, when you clearly don’t know anything about me!”

Vi’s jaw tightened. “I care more than you think,” she said, her voice steady but with a sharp edge. “That’s why I’m here. “I saw your arms at the rink, Caitlyn,” she said, her tone harder now. “And you know what? It reminded me of how I didn’t do enough to help Powder when she needed me. I thought I was protecting her, but look where that got us.”

Caitlyn froze, the anger in her expression faltering as Vi’s words hit her.

Vi’s voice wavered, but she pushed on, her emotions raw and unfiltered. “I’ve spent every second since she ended up in that hospital blaming myself. Telling myself I should’ve seen it, done something, anything. And now, seeing you like this…” She gestured toward Caitlyn, her eyes glistening with emotion. “I’m not going to make the same mistake again. Like it or not, we’re friends now, Caitlyn.”
Caitlyn’s hands curled into fists, her defenses rising again. “We are not friends,” she snapped, her voice trembling. “You don’t know me, Vi. You don’t know anything about my life or what I’m going through. So stop pretending like you care.”

Vi’s expression hardened, but there was no anger in her voice, just determination. “You’re right, I don’t know everything about you. But I know enough to see that you’re drowning. And I’m not going to stand here and watch you sink.”

Caitlyn shook her head, her breathing uneven as she fought back tears. “Why? Why do you even care?”

“Because I know what it feels like to think you have to handle everything on your own,” Vi said, her voice softening. “And I know how much it hurts to feel like no one’s in your corner. You might not want me here, but I’m not leaving, Caitlyn. Not this time.”

Caitlyn stared at her, the walls she’d built around herself starting to crack under the weight of Vi’s words. Her lips parted as if to argue, but no sound came out. Instead, she turned away, wrapping her arms around herself as if trying to hold herself together.

Vi stayed where she was, giving Caitlyn the space she clearly needed but refusing to back down. “You don’t have to like me, Caitlyn,” she said quietly. “But I’m here. Whether you want me to be or not.”

The room fell silent, the tension between them heavy but no longer suffocating. Caitlyn remained frozen, her back to Vi, as she tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions inside her. For once, she didn’t have a quick retort or a sharp comment.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel entirely alone.

Caitlyn stood there, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring at the floor as if the weight of Vi’s words had drained the last of her energy. The silence stretched between them, heavy and fragile. Her voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper, trembling with uncertainty.

“Vi?”

Vi straightened slightly, her expression softening as she watched Caitlyn struggle to find the words. “Yeah?”

There was a long pause, and then Caitlyn turned just enough for her profile to be visible, her gaze still fixed somewhere in the distance. “Can you… stay over tonight?”

Vi blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Of all the things Caitlyn could’ve said, this wasn’t what she’d expected. “You want me to stay?”

Caitlyn nodded, her movements stiff, like it physically pained her to ask. “I don’t… I just…” She trailed off, biting her lip. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Vi’s heart clenched at the vulnerability in Caitlyn’s voice, so raw and exposed. “Yeah,” she said without hesitation. “Of course I’ll stay.”

Caitlyn glanced at her for a brief moment, her face etched with exhaustion and something softer, relief, maybe. She didn’t say anything else, just turned back toward the bed, sitting down.

Vi didn’t push or tease her like she might’ve under different circumstances. Instead, she moved quietly, respecting the fragile truce that seemed to have formed between them.

“I don't want to make you sleep on that miniscule couch. The bed’s big enough.”

Vi chuckled softly, but there was a nervous edge to it. “Big enough, huh?”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. “Don’t make this weird.”

“Not making it weird,” Vi said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. She hesitated for a moment, then kicked off her boots and crossed the room to the other side of the bed.

Caitlyn pulled back the covers and slid under them, facing the far wall. She didn’t look at Vi, didn’t want to see the awkwardness, or worse, the pity, in her expression.

Vi climbed in after her, moving cautiously as though afraid she might accidentally break something in the pristine, overdecorated room. The bed was enormous, but it still felt strangely intimate sharing it with Caitlyn.

They lay there in silence, the only sound the faint rustling of the blanket as they shifted to get comfortable. Caitlyn stared at the wall, her mind racing, while Vi stared at the ceiling, uncharacteristically quiet.

“Thanks,” Caitlyn said softly, breaking the silence.

Vi turned her head to glance at her. “For what?”

“For being here,” Caitlyn murmured, her voice barely audible.

Vi’s chest tightened, but she didn’t let it show. “Always,” she said, just as quietly.

They lapsed into silence again, the tension easing as exhaustion settled over them. Slowly, their breathing evened out, and they drifted off, the shared bed a tentative step toward the fragile connection growing between them.

Neither would admit it, but as the night stretched on, the quiet companionship was exactly what they both needed.