You up?
822 Words
It started with a text.
Cairo: “You up?”
Two words. No emojis. No explanation.
Shay stared at the message, glowing against the darkness of her bedroom ceiling. She’d been tossing for hours anyway, eyes heavy but brain wide awake. Her psych reading sat abandoned at the edge of the bed, highlighter uncapped, forgotten.
She hesitated.
Then typed:
Shay: “Yeah. What’s up?”
The three little dots blinked for way too long.
Then—
Cairo: “Come out.”
No location. No reason. No plea.
Just a command, lowkey.
She stared at the screen. Her heartbeat did that little flutter again—the one she hated admitting had become familiar when it came to him.
She bit her lip, cursed herself in advance, and texted back.
Shay: “Give me 10.”
⸻
The night air hit different after midnight—cooler, quieter, more honest. Shay pulled her hoodie over her head and slipped into sneakers, phone clutched in her hand as she stepped outside her dorm. The sky was soft with leftover city glow, stars barely peeking through.
He was waiting under the big tree near the back path behind the dorms. Hoodie on. One earbud in. Hands in his pockets.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at her like she was some sort of puzzle he wasn’t finished solving.
“You really came,” he finally said.
“You really texted.”
That earned a faint smirk. “Touché.”
She stepped closer. “You okay?”
Cairo looked away. “Didn’t wanna be in my room.”
Shay nodded. She didn’t push.
Instead, she sat down on the cold concrete ledge nearby and waited. Let him come to her.
He stood for a while, silent, eyes scanning nothing. Then, slowly, he sank down beside her.
They didn’t speak for a long time. And weirdly, it wasn’t awkward. The quiet felt earned. Heavy, but shared.
Shay tilted her head toward him. “You ever talk about stuff? Or just sit around being all mysterious and brooding?”
That pulled a small laugh from him. “You don’t miss a thing, huh?”
“I try not to.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Talking doesn’t fix everything.”
“No,” she said, “but sometimes it makes it suck less.”
He didn’t answer. But after a few moments, he said quietly, “You ever feel like the walls are closing in, but nobody else notices because they think you’re fine?”
Shay turned toward him, surprised by the question. His voice was low, almost like he was ashamed of asking it out loud.
“All the time,” she said.
They sat in that for a moment.
Cairo looked at her then. Really looked. “You don’t talk about your stuff either.”
“Nope.”
“But you’ve got it.”
“Don’t we all?”
His jaw tightened. He nodded once, then looked away.
“You ever hurt someone just so they won’t get close enough to hurt you first?” he asked suddenly.
Shay blinked.
“That’s… specific.”
“Yeah.” His voice was flatter now. Cold.
Shay watched him carefully. His hands had balled into loose fists. His leg was bouncing slightly.
There was something brewing under his surface.
A storm.
“Cairo,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “What happened?”
He didn’t answer. Just shook his head like he regretted saying anything.
She didn’t push. Instead, she reached over and placed a hand lightly on his knee. Not a move. Not a flirt. Just… grounding.
He looked at her hand like it startled him.
Then, slowly, his shoulders dropped.
“I’m not used to this,” he said.
“To what?”
“People giving a shit.”
Shay swallowed. Her hand didn’t move.
“Well… get used to it.”
They didn’t move for a while after that.
Eventually, the conversation shifted. Cairo asked about her major. Her favorite artist. What book she’d read twice. She asked him what song reminded him of home. He didn’t answer that one.
But his expression said plenty.
By the time they finally stood, her fingers were cold and her heart was warm. Cairo walked her back to her building, steps slow and almost… reluctant.
When they reached her door, he hesitated.
“I’m not good at this,” he said.
“At what?”
“Being close. Trusting people. Letting them see past the surface.”
She nodded. “Neither am I.”
He looked at her then, that same heavy stare he always gave her when he wasn’t trying to be charming—when he was just real.
“Night, Shay.”
“Night, Cairo.”
She stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and leaned against it—heart pounding like she’d just survived something and didn’t know what.
- Writer
