Sammy lay on her bed, one leg dangling off the side, her bedroom dark except for the moonlight spilling in through the window. Her shoes were still on. Her hoodie still zipped. The echoes of the car ride, her mother's silence, and the day's invisible weight all pressed against her in the quiet.
Her phone rested on her chest. Her thumb hovered over the screen.
Kane.
She didn't even realize she was pressing "Call" until the dial tone rang in her ear.
Her heart immediately started racing.
What are you doing?! Why are you calling him? What are you even going to say?
But before she could hang up—
"Hello?" His voice was a little rough. Tired. Real.
Her breath caught.
"..."
Silence stretched between them, fragile as glass.
Kane leaned forward on the porch swing, barefoot, can of soda sweating beside him. The stars overhead hadn't changed, but something about the night had. Something about her voice on the other end of the line—quiet, uncertain—made the air feel different.
"Sammy?" he said gently.
"...Yeah. Sorry," she finally whispered. "I… I didn't mean to—well, I mean, I did, but I didn't think you'd pick up."
He smiled faintly, even though she couldn't see it. "Kinda glad I did."
More silence. But it was softer now. Less empty.
Sammy turned her face into her pillow. "I just… felt like calling you."
Kane exhaled. "That's funny."
"Why?"
"Because I was sitting here thinking about calling you."
She blinked. "Really?"
"Yeah. You kinda just entered into my head and didn't leave."
Her lips curved slightly, her voice still barely above a whisper. "That's... weirdly nice haha."
"I'm weirdly flattered."
Another quiet moment. The soda fizzed faintly beside Kane. Somewhere in Sammy's room, a clock ticked.
"You looked like you needed someone today," Kane said suddenly.
Sammy hesitated. "I usually do."
He didn't rush to reply.
Then—"So do I."
Their words lingered between them, hanging on the line and feeling some thing that neither of them could name.
Sammy pulled the blanket a little closer to her chest. "Can we just… stay on the phone? For a while? Even if we don't talk?"
Kane leaned back again on the swing, eyes closed. "Yeah," he murmured. "I'd like that."
And they did. No words. Just the presence.
Two quiet souls who had always stood at the edge of everyone else's stories—now, maybe, starting their own.