It had been a few days since Leo's nightmare—since he had bared everything to Ethan and Alina.
The silence that followed wasn't awkward or heavy. It was gentle. Respectful. Like the universe finally understood that Leo had carried his pain long enough, and it was time someone else helped carry it too.
He hadn't said much, but something had changed.
There was less tension in his shoulders. His laughter came a little easier, no longer forced. And he no longer recoiled when someone reached for him—especially Alina.
That night, Ethan ordered takeout, Alina lit a few candles, and the three of them ended up out on the balcony—their favorite place when the world felt too loud.
The city lights shimmered below, casting reflections on their faces as they passed a bowl of noodles back and forth.
Alina sat cross-legged beside Leo, her hand close to his but not touching—just near enough to feel.
Ethan leaned back against the railing, sipping a soda. "You know," he said lightly, "this is the weirdest little family I never asked for… but probably the best one I've ever had."
Leo smiled, soft and real. "That makes two of us."
Alina looked at him, then at her brother. "Three."
They sat in silence for a while, the kind that didn't need to be filled.
Then Leo turned to them. His voice was quiet, but steady. "Thank you. For seeing me. For staying."
Ethan bumped his shoulder gently. "Always, man."
Alina finally reached over, her pinky finger hooking around Leo's.
"No more hiding," she whispered.
Leo nodded, eyes shimmering. "No more hiding."
They stayed there under the stars, wrapped in warmth that had nothing to do with blankets or sweaters. It was a warmth built on trust, love, and the kind of healing that only came from being truly known—and still held close.
For the first time in his life, Leo didn't feel like a ghost walking through the world.
He felt alive.
He felt loved.
He felt home.