Holding Back
1046 Words
Amara almost ran the whole way home. Her backpack kept slipping off one shoulder, but she didn’t stop to fix it. The sky was a dull gray and the pavement was slick from the rain earlier, but she barely noticed. Her legs ached, lungs burning, but panic kept her moving. She had called Leo. Twice. Three times. Then a dozen texts. Nothing. Not even read receipts. She even waited outside his class, hoping to catch him after school. But the teacher just shrugged and said he left early.
He never left early.
Something was wrong.
Her feet pounded up the steps of the porch. The front door wasn’t locked. She shoved it open and dropped her bag without thinking. Her shoes squeaked against the wooden floor as she called out his name.
“Leo?”
Nothing.
Then she saw it.
A smear of blood across the hallway floor. Dried mostly but still dark, too fresh to forget.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her hands started to shake.
She didn’t say his name again. She just moved. Fast.
His bedroom door was slightly open. She pushed it and the creak it made was almost too loud.
He was there. Sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt half torn, knuckles raw and swollen like they’d been through glass. His eyes were down, locked on the floor, hair falling in his face.
“Leo?”
His head snapped up.
The next second, he was on his feet and in front of her, hands grabbing her wrists and shoving her back against the wall. Hard. Not rough enough to hurt but not gentle either.
She gasped.
His face was too close. She could see the lines around his eyes, the strange golden tint in them that wasn't there before, the sweat on his temple. His breath came out fast, short, like he’d been running.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked. His voice was low, tight.
“You weren’t answering your phone. I thought...” her voice cracked. “I thought maybe you were...”
“What?” he said. “Dead?”
He let go of her and took a step back.
“You think I can’t handle a couple of idiots with sticks?”
She blinked. “Wait. What?”
His jaw clenched, eyes still on her like she was the one who messed up.
“I heard...” she swallowed, her voice quieter now. “I heard you beat Kevin. For me.”
Something in his face shifted. His lips twitched, almost like a smirk but colder.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said. “He stepped on my foot.”
She stared. “So you beat him bloody because he stepped on your foot?”
He didn’t answer. Just turned away and ran a hand through his hair, fingers gripping the roots like he was trying to pull himself together.
Her stomach twisted.
“Leo...”
“Go home, Amara,” he said. His back was to her now.
She didn’t move. She didn’t want to.
“I was worried about you.”
“I didn’t ask you to be,” he muttered.
“Why are you being like this?”
He turned again. This time slower. He looked different. Shadows under his eyes. Muscles tense. And something else. Something raw.
“Because you shouldn’t be here,” he said. “Not tonight.”
Her lips parted. She wanted to say something, anything, but she didn’t even know what this was. Why he looked like he was in pain and angry at the same time.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he snapped.
She flinched.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not. Look at your hands.”
He shoved them into his pockets like he could hide the evidence.
She took a step closer, cautious. Her heart was beating too fast.
“I don’t believe you,” she said quietly.
He laughed. Bitter. Dry.
“Of course you don’t.”
Then he looked at her again. Like he was seeing her for the first time. Like something in him had snapped again, but this time not in anger. He stepped forward. Slowly.
Amara’s breath caught.
She didn’t move. She should have. Something in his eyes was too intense, too real, like heat pressing against her skin.
He didn’t touch her. Not yet. Just looked.
Then his fingers brushed her wrist. Just barely. Her skin tingled under it.
Her lips parted but no words came out. She stared up at him, confused, curious, her head spinning.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she whispered.
“Because I don’t know what else to do,” he murmured.
Her hand trembled. She looked down. His fingers moved to her waist. Slow. Careful. Not a pull, just there.
The space between them was charged now. Too close. Too loud in the silence.
She could feel the tension in his body. The way his breath had changed. Shaky. Like he was trying not to want something.
Her throat was dry. Her heart wouldn’t slow down.
“Leo...”
His hand slid away.
He turned his face like he couldn’t stand the sight of her.
Then he moved. Fast. Too fast.
He grabbed her arm again, not rough, just tight enough to freeze her in place.
“You have to go.”
“Why?” Her voice was small.
His fingers twitched around her wrist. His eyes closed like it hurt him just to say it.
“Because I won’t be able to stop myself if you stay.”
Her lips snapped shut. Her breath hitched.
He let her go.
She didn’t speak.
“Go, Amara,” he said, voice harder now.
Her feet stumbled backward. Her hand reached for the doorframe, something steady to hold onto.
He looked away, his whole body tense like a wire pulled too tight.
She waited. One more second. Hoped maybe he’d stop her. Say anything else.
But he didn’t.
So she turned.
She didn’t look back.
She left the house, heart hammering, breath uneven, her body still buzzing with something she didn’t have a name for.
And the sound of the door closing behind her felt more final than it should have.
- Writer
