Chapter Eighteen: Repairs & Damages
1047 Words
For once, the school felt calm.
The chaos of the Winter Tournament still buzzed through the halls, but the sharp edges had dulled into tired gossip. Teachers cracked down harder on rumors; phones were confiscated more often.
Akari and Aris slipped through the noise together, side by side for the first time in months. Their steps weren’t perfectly in sync—not yet—but they didn’t feel like strangers anymore.
Aris stole a glance at her twin. Akari’s hair was pinned back neatly, her expression steady. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she was fine. But Aris knew better. She always had.
“Did you sleep?” Aris asked quietly as they walked toward English.
Akari shrugged. “Some.” Then, after a pause, “You?”
Aris huffed a laugh. “Barely.”
It wasn’t much, but it was conversation. That was something.
That afternoon, Akari found Aris alone in the martial arts studio. The punching bag swayed gently, the air sharp with sweat and determination.
“Again?” Akari asked from the doorway.
Aris glanced over her shoulder. “It helps.”
Akari hesitated, then stepped inside. Her voice dropped. “Can I try?”
Aris blinked. For a second she thought she’d misheard. Akari, who used to roll her eyes at training, who once said she’d rather read in the corner than throw a punch, was asking to join.
But the look in her eyes was steady.
“Yeah,” Aris said softly, pulling over a spare pair of gloves. “Here.”
The first few punches were awkward, Akari wincing at the impact. Aris corrected her stance, adjusted her wrist. Their hands brushed, the familiarity stinging with memory.
“Better,” Aris murmured.
Akari threw another punch, stronger this time. “Feels good,” she admitted, almost surprised.
They didn’t talk about Gabe. They didn’t talk about the tournament. But the silence wasn’t hostile anymore. It was healing.
Later that week, the twins walked home together for the first time since fall. The air was crisp, the last of the leaves skittering across the sidewalk.
Aris tugged her jacket tighter. “Feels weird.”
“What does?” Akari asked.
“Us. Together. Like old times.”
Akari’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ve missed it,” she admitted, barely above a whisper.
Aris stopped in her tracks, heart jolting. Akari didn’t look at her, just kept walking, but the words hung between them like a fragile thread.
Aris caught up, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Me too,” she said, and she meant it.
That Friday, Aris stayed late at school. Tobe had insisted on helping her with chemistry—something she’d stubbornly claimed she didn’t need. But two hours in, her notes were a mess, and his patience hadn’t wavered once.
“You’re overthinking it,” he said gently, leaning over her notebook. His arm brushed hers, warm and solid. “Balance the equation like this. See? It works out.”
Aris stared at the page. The numbers made sense now, but all she could feel was the steady calm he radiated.
She realized suddenly that her shoulders had dropped, her jaw had unclenched. She was breathing easier—because he was here.
Without meaning to, she whispered, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Tobe froze. Their eyes met.
She wanted to backpedal, to laugh it off, but the truth was too sharp to swallow. I really don’t know. I lean on you more than anyone. Maybe more than I should.
But instead of teasing or turning away, Tobe just gave her that quiet, grounding smile. “You don’t have to know. I’m not going anywhere.”
Her chest squeezed. She wanted to say something back, something real. But the words tangled on her tongue.
Instead, she looked back at her notes, cheeks warm. But inside, something shifted.
It wasn’t just comfort. It wasn’t just friendship.
She loved him.
She loved him, and the realization felt both terrifying and inevitable.
Later that night, Akari sat curled on the couch with a blanket, half-watching a rerun. She heard the front door creak open and Aris slip inside.
Aris looked flushed, thoughtful, almost lighter than she had in weeks.
Akari tilted her head. “Study session go okay?”
Aris shrugged too quickly. “Yeah. Just… chemistry.”
But Akari caught the way her twin’s fingers lingered on her notebook, the faint curve at her lips. She didn’t press. Not yet. But she knew.
And for once, the knowledge didn’t burn. It settled. If Aris had found something that steadied her, maybe that was okay.
The next night, the twins ended up in the kitchen at midnight, both hunting for snacks.
Aris pulled open the fridge. “Why do our uncles buy five different types of hot sauce but no milk?”
Akari laughed, the sound sudden and bright. “It’s like they’re preparing for battle, not breakfast.”
Aris grinned despite herself. “Guess we’ll just have dry cereal then.”
They ate at the counter, sharing the same bowl when they ran out of clean ones. It felt ridiculous, childish—and perfect.
For the first time in what felt like forever, they laughed until their stomachs hurt.
And when the laughter faded, Akari whispered, “I don’t want to lose this again.”
Aris’s throat tightened. She reached across the counter, squeezing her sister’s hand. “You won’t.”
Across town, Gabe sat in the dark, his window cracked open to the cold. He watched from a distance—literally. The twins’ house was just visible through the bare trees.
He saw the light in their kitchen flicker out around midnight. Saw the silhouettes of two girls moving together, no longer divided.
His pen scratched furiously across his notebook.
“They think they can shut me out,” he muttered. “But she still needs me. She just doesn’t see it yet.”
His plan was forming sharper edges now. More than humiliation, more than whispers. He’d take his time, get close without them knowing. And when the moment came, Aris wouldn’t be able to deny the truth: that he was the only one who had ever really seen her.
- Writer
