⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⭒❊✿❊⭒∘∙⊱⋅•

Ethan leaned in closer, his voice urgent but low, gripping my shoulders tightly. He pulled back just enough to really look at me, his fingers pressing down firmly...just enough to be steady, not painful, as if he needed to be sure I was really there and not about to vanish.

His gaze roamed my face carefully, taking in every detail with an intensity that suggested he was searching for anything amiss, and then it landed on something.

The bruise.

I could tell the second he spotted it. His expression tightened, and a darker look flickered across his face before he pushed it down. His jaw clenched a bit, tension settling in, but his voice stayed measured when he asked,

"What happened?" It was quieter now, but the underlying strain was still there.

For a moment, I hesitated. Not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I did. I had repeated those words so many times that they came out like a reflex, an old habit I couldn’t seem to shake.

"It’s nothing. I’m fine," I replied, shaking my head slightly as the words slipped from my lips without thought. I wasn’t sure if I should tell him the bruise was from my own mother.

They sounded familiar, just as automatic and practiced as ever, but this time they felt lighter, almost hollow. They weren’t completely true, but in light of everything else that had just transpired, the bruise felt distant, as if it belonged to a past moment that didn’t hold the same weight anymore.

Ethan didn’t seem convinced. For a heartbeat, it looked like he might dig deeper, his gaze lingering on my face as though he was weighing whether to confront my answer or let it slide.

I could see the uncertainty in him, the struggle between worry and restraint, but finally, he exhaled gently and relaxed his grip on my shoulders, his hands resting there with more assurance than urgency.

"I’m glad you’re okay," he said softly.

There was something in his tone that tightened my chest, and I nodded in response while focusing on him more closely. Now that the immediate tension had lifted, I could notice the smaller things, like the faint fatigue in his eyes and the heaviness in his posture. It felt like the weight of it all hadn’t quite settled yet.

"What about you?" I asked quietly, holding his gaze.

It seemed like a simple enough question, but it carried more weight than I intended. I paused for a second before adding, "With everything... Logan, your uncle. I mean, it’s not everyday you find out your uncle’s killer is your nemesis’ dad."

At that, I noticed a shift in his expression even at my light yet nervous joke. It wasn’t grand, but it was definitely there, a subtle movement that hinted at something deeper. His emotions were complex, hard to pinpoint; it wasn’t just sadness, nor was it relief. It was more nuanced, something existing in the space between.

He took a slow breath and glanced toward the empty driveway, lingering on the spot where the car had once been before turning back to me.

"I’m glad I know the truth," he said, his voice steady though it carried a quiet weight. "Even if it’s not a good one."

He paused, his jaw tightening slightly as his eyes drifted, unfocused, as if he were trying to sort through thoughts that were still forming.

"Uncle Logan wasn’t good to me and he definitely did terrible things," he confessed, his tone more personal now, less guarded. "But he didn’t deserve to die like that. No one does."

I stayed quiet, listening without interrupting, because anything I could say felt too small next to what he was dealing with.

"And at least now he didn’t get away with it," he continued, his gaze shifting back toward the driveway. "Neither of them did."

There was a sense of finality in his words that hadn’t been there before-a hint of resolution, even if it didn’t provide any peace.

"And Adrien’s mom gets justice too," he added more softly.

Those words hung between us, weighty yet grounding. I nodded slowly as I let them sink in.

"Yeah," I murmured.

For a moment, we lingered there, the silence stretching out around us, not feeling empty or awkward, but instead full of all that had just unfolded. It was a silence that didn’t need filling because it already spoke volumes.

Then, without a word, we both turned to look at Adrien.

He was still standing precisely where we left him, at the edge of the driveway, completely still as the snow continued to fall. It had started to gather noticeably, settling on his shoulders, sticking to his coat, and dusting through his hair-but he didn’t seem to notice at all.

His gaze was fixed on the empty space where the police car used to be, as if he hadn’t fully grasped that it was gone.

That he was gone.

There was something about the way he stood there that made my chest ache, a quiet sorrow settling deep within me as I walked up to him with Ethan. It wasn’t just sympathy; that didn’t seem enough to explain it. It felt heavier, rooted in a shared understanding, even if it was only partial, of what it meant to lose something irretrievable.

"So the plan actually worked...we did it," I said softly once we stopped beside him, my voice barely audible over the sound of snow falling around us.

Even as I spoke, the words felt odd, as if they didn’t quite fit either me or this moment.

Adrien didn’t reply right away. He stood there, breathing steady but distant, as if he were holding himself together through sheer will rather than truly processing what had just happened. His gaze didn’t shift for a moment, and I almost thought he hadn’t heard me at all.

But then there was a subtle change-a small enough movement that it might have gone unnoticed had I not been paying close attention. It wasn’t a full reaction, not by a long shot, but it was something-a slight shift in his posture that suggested he was still present, still aware.

Not giving myself time to overthink, I stepped closer and reached out, my hand brushing gently against his arm before wrapping around him in a careful embrace. I moved slowly, giving him room to pull away if he wanted, but he didn’t.

"I’m sorry," I murmured quietly, my voice muffled against his coat.

I didn’t need to elaborate; my apology conveyed everything I couldn’t express in words...the loss, the harsh realities he had just faced, and the void that couldn’t be filled.

At first, he felt stiff, caught between resisting and succumbing, but after a heartbeat, I sensed a slight shift. It wasn’t enough to call it a reciprocated hug, but it was enough to let me know he wasn’t pushing me away.

Ethan moved closer too, his presence calm as he placed a hand on Adrien’s back. He didn’t say anything or try to force a response; the gesture alone was more than enough.

We’re here.

You’re not alone.

None of us spoke after that. There was no need since anything we might say would feel trivial compared to the quiet understanding that enveloped us.

The snow kept falling, soft and steady, blanketing the driveway, the steps, and the area around us in a fine layer of white. It blurred the outlines of everything, making the world feel quieter, more remote, as if it were giving us a moment to breathe.

Adrien stood between us, still tense, still a bit lost, like he hadn’t fully caught up to what had happened. Part of him seemed stuck in a limbo between before and after, unable to move forward or go back.

So we didn’t rush him.

We just stayed there with him, holding on as best we could, offering whatever steadiness we had while the world continued turning around us.

In that moment, under the quiet cold and the dim glow of distant lights, it felt like the most important thing was that he didn’t have to face it alone, and that even if everything else crumbled, we could at least keep him grounded long enough to get through.