Cracks Starting
1110 Words
Shay hadn’t stopped thinking about him.
It had only been two days since that late-night meet-up under the tree, but it played on repeat in her mind like a song stuck between verses. Cairo’s voice, the tension in his shoulders, the way he looked at her like she was more than just some girl in his psych class—more than some girl, period.
And the way her body reacted to him?
That was the part that kept her up at night.
She could still feel the ghost of his stare on her neck. The vibration in his voice when he said he wasn’t used to people giving a s**t. The kind of confession that cracked something open inside her, even if it scared her to admit it.
She hadn’t planned on catching feelings.
But they were creeping in anyway—softly, quietly, dangerously.
Now here she was, walking into the library for another project meeting, acting like her insides weren’t at war with each other.
Cairo was already at their usual table. Hoodie down, sleeves pushed up, eyes locked on the screen in front of him, but he looked distracted. His jaw was tighter than usual. One of his legs bounced under the table like he was trying to outrun a thought.
Shay approached cautiously.
“Hey,” she said, sitting across from him.
He didn’t look up right away.
When he finally did, his eyes didn’t carry the weight of teasing like they usually did. They were dark. Heavy. Worn out.
“You good?” she asked gently.
He nodded once. “Yeah. Just tired.”
Shay didn’t push. She opened her laptop and started reviewing their notes. The silence between them wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t easy either. It felt… strained.
Fifteen minutes passed. Cairo hadn’t typed a single word.
Finally, Shay closed her laptop. “Alright. What’s going on?”
He looked up slowly.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re off. Not like usual. You’re somewhere else.”
He swallowed, leaned back, and rubbed a hand over his jaw.
“I’m fine, Shay.”
“No, you’re not.” Her voice was firmer now. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but don’t lie to me.”
That landed harder than she expected. Cairo’s eyes flickered—briefly vulnerable, then guarded again.
He leaned forward, lowered his voice. “You ever have someone show up in your life just to remind you you’re still broken?”
Shay’s chest tightened.
He exhaled sharply. “My brother’s in town. We don’t talk. Haven’t in years. And now he’s texting me like nothing happened. Wants to meet up.”
She hesitated. “Is that a bad thing?”
Cairo’s jaw clenched again. “He’s part of the reason I left in the first place.”
He didn’t say more. But he didn’t need to. Shay could read the tension in his body like it was screaming.
“I don’t know how to handle people like that anymore,” he continued, quieter. “The ones who are stuck in their toxic ways an have no intentions of really changing.”
Shay’s throat burned. “You don’t have to meet him.”
“Yeah,” Cairo said bitterly. “But the second I don’t, he’ll tell everyone I’m still the same angry, unpredictable kid who runs away from his problems.”
“Are you?”
He looked at her like she slapped him.
Then, almost too quietly—“I don’t know.”
Silence again. This time heavier.
Shay reached across the table, just like she had that night under the tree, and placed her hand on his. Steady. No pressure. Just warmth.
“I think you’re more than what they think you are.”
His eyes stayed on her for a long time.
Then he stood.
“I’ll text you later,” he said, grabbing his backpack and leaving without another word.
Shay sat there, watching him disappear down the hallway, her hand still tingling.
She should’ve felt frustrated. But all she felt was worried.
And way too attached.
⸻
Later that night, Shay was curled on her bed, the soft light of her lamp flickering against the page of her book, when a loud knock echoed from the common area.
Her roommate popped her head in.
“Uh, Shay? There’s some dude asking for you.”
Her heart dropped.
She got up slowly, padded to the door, and—
There he was.
Cairo.
Except he didn’t look like himself.
His knuckles were bloodied. His hoodie was streaked with dirt. His chest rose and fell like he’d just run across campus. And his eyes—
His eyes were wild.
“What the hell happened?” Shay asked, stepping toward him instinctively.
He didn’t speak.
Just stared at her. Breathing hard.
“Cairo.”
“I—I didn’t know where else to go.”
She stepped aside. “Come in.”
He walked in like he didn’t recognize his own limbs, collapsing onto her desk chair while she grabbed tissues and a towel. She knelt in front of him, gently wiping his knuckles. They were raw. Split. Fresh.
“Who did you fight?”
“My brother.”
Shay looked up, startled.
“I told him to leave me alone,” Cairo said through clenched teeth. “He didn’t listen. He kept talking about the past like it was a story, like it didn’t ruin me.”
He paused. Swallowed. His voice broke slightly.
“He grabbed me. Called me a coward. Said I’d never change.”
Shay blinked back her own tears. “So you hit him?”
“I snapped.”
He was trembling now.
Not from rage.
From shame.
Shay stood slowly, then sat beside him on the bed.
“You’re not a coward,” she whispered.
“I am.”
“You’re not,” she said again, firmer this time. “You’re someone who’s trying.”
His eyes finally met hers. And what she saw there? It broke her a little.
Because it was the look of a boy who never believed he deserved to be held.
So she held him.
She wrapped her arms around him, pulled him in tight, and let his body collapse against hers. No judgment. No fear. Just warmth.
For the first time since she’d met him, Cairo let his walls fall. Just for a minute.
He didn’t say thank you.
Didn’t apologize.
He just sat there, forehead pressed to her shoulder, breathing like it was the only thing keeping him together.
And Shay?
She held him like she already knew—
She was in way too deep.
- Writer
