Hard To Love

Static Between Us

The café smelled like burnt sugar and rain.

I sat in the corner, the same seat I always took when I didn’t want to be found. The windows were fogged, the city outside just a smear of gray.

Marian was late. I didn’t mind; waiting gave me something to do. I watched people through the glass—faces rushing past, all of them pretending they had somewhere worth going.

When she finally walked in, the bell over the door gave a weak chime. Her hair was still damp from the weather, her uniform hidden under a beige coat two sizes too big. She looked nervous, the kind of nervous that made her twist her fingers and scan the room twice before finding me.

I didn’t stand. She came to me.

“Hey,” she said, almost whispering.

“Hey.”

She sat down, eyes darting to the cigarette tucked behind my ear even though smoking wasn’t allowed inside. The silence between us stretched like wire.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” she said.

“I said I would.”

“I know, but you don’t seem like the kind of person who keeps promises.”

I smirked. “Maybe I’m not.”

The waitress brought coffee. I didn’t remember ordering it. Marian wrapped her hands around her cup as if she needed the heat.

“You really are hard to read,” she said.

“Good.”

“Why good?”

“Because people ruin what they understand.”

Her eyes flickered up at that. She didn’t argue, just looked at me for a long time—long enough that I had to glance away.

She started talking about ordinary things: the trip, her friends, the way the forest looked when it rained. I let her speak. The rhythm of her voice filled the space like soft static, and for once, the noise didn’t bother me.

Then she said, “You looked different yesterday. In the woods.”

“How so?”

“Less… empty.”

I took a sip of coffee. It was bitter, like burnt paper. “You’re imagining things.”

“I don’t think so.” She smiled slightly. “You act like you don’t care about anything, but you ran back for me. People who don’t care don’t do that.”

I didn’t answer. I could feel the weight of her gaze, the quiet hope in it.

She reached out suddenly, brushing a drop of water off my hand. “You’re freezing.”

I pulled away. “I’m always cold.”

Something in her expression shifted—pain maybe, or disappointment. She lowered her hand slowly, retreating behind her coffee cup.

We sat there until the light outside dimmed into evening. The air between us turned heavy, like both of us were waiting for something neither of us could name.

When she finally stood, she said softly, “I’m glad you came, Wayne.”

“Don’t be,” I said. “People regret meeting me eventually.”

She hesitated, eyes searching mine. “Maybe I won’t.”

Then she left.

⸻

Marian’s POV

The night air bit at my skin as I stepped out of the café. My hands shook, not from the cold but from everything I couldn’t say.

Wayne was nothing like the boys I knew. He didn’t smile to please or talk to impress. He looked at the world like it had already ended and he was the only one who noticed.

And yet—when he looked at me, even for a second—I felt seen.

I walked toward the station, replaying every word, every pause. My heart beat too fast, too loud. Maybe it was foolish, but I wanted to see him again.

Halfway down the street, I stopped.

A man was leaning against the corner near the vending machines, hood up, cigarette glowing between his fingers. He had been there when I arrived, I realized. Watching.

When I turned, he flicked the cigarette away and started walking toward me.

“Marian,” he said, voice low, familiar.

My stomach dropped.

“Dex?”

His smile was slow and cruel. “So, that’s him, huh? The boy you’ve been talking about?”

I stepped back. “Leave me alone.”

He caught my wrist before I could move. “You should know better than to ignore me.”

His grip tightened. The streetlights buzzed overhead, casting long, crooked shadows.

“Let go,” I said, but my voice came out small.

He leaned closer, breath hot with smoke. “You think he’s better than me? I’ve heard things about your new friend, Marian. Things you don’t want to believe.”

Her pulse hammered. She pulled free and ran, the sound of Dex’s laughter following her into the dark.