HIS ROOMMATE

HE IS MY FRIEND

CHAPTER 31

KAI’S POV

He is my friend and I don’t want to lose that because some feelings I can’t control.

I’ve seen it happen. You catch feelings, you say something, and then the late-night talks stop. The soup stops. The “you alive over there?” texts stop. Everything gets awkward and careful and then… gone.

I’d rather he have Australia me than awkward me.

I press my forehead against my knees. The email is still open. *Reply by Friday.* My dream. My apartment. My car. My own life.

And his text is still there.

He’s not asking me to stay. He’s not asking for anything. That’s the worst part. He’s okay. He’s better. He danced with me last night like he was free of everything, including me.

So why do I feel like leaving would be losing him twice? Once to Australia, and once to the version of us that was just… easy.

Friend. I was supposed to be just his friend.

But when did “friend” start feeling like the smallest word in the world?

My phone lights up again. Not him this time. The agency. *“Just checking you saw our message, miss Moore . We’re so excited for you!”*

Excited. For me.

I should be excited too.

I type three words, delete them. Type again. Delete.

Friend. Dream. Stay. Go.

None of them feel right. None of them feel like “okay.”

Maybe “okay” was never the point.

Maybe the point is choosing, and living with it.

I took a deep breath and my fingers moved across the screen, typing. Too quickly.

"Thank you, I appreciate the opportunity."

Send.

The message flies to the agency before I can take it back. Before I can breathe again.

Melbourne. Apartment. Car. Salary. Dream.

I just said yes.

My phone slips from my hand onto the carpet. I stare at the ceiling of my apartment like it’s going to give me answers.

It doesn’t.

The quiet hits different now. Not peaceful. Final.

Two years ago I told Adrian “the pain only makes us stronger.” I believed it when I said it to him. I don’t know if I believe it for me.

I was supposed to be just his friend. Not feel things. Not want things. Not choose between my dream and… him.

But I chose.

Dream.

My phone buzzes immediately. Agency: *“Fantastic news, Kai! We’ll send relocation details. Start date: Jan 15.”*

Jan 15. Six weeks.

Six weeks to pack my life. Six weeks to say goodbye.

Another buzz. Adrian.

*“Hello?? Are still there?, *

I pick the phone up with shaking hands. Typing is harder this time.

*“Got the job.”*

I delete it. Too blunt. Too much.

*“Big news. Can we talk later?”*

Delete. That’s a lie. “Later” is a countdown now.

I settle on: *“Busy today. I can't come to the mansion?”*

Send.

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.

*“You okay, Kai?”*

And there it is. He knows. Not about Australia. Not yet. But he knows when my “I’m fine” is a lie. He learned it two months ago, sleeping on my floor.

I stare at his question. *You okay, Kai?*

No. I’m not. I said yes to Melbourne and my chest feels like I left something behind in the room.

But I can’t tell him. Not yet. Not when he just learned how to stand without breaking.

So I type the same thing I’ve typed for two months: *“I’m fine. Just tired.”*

Send.

Friend. I’m still his friend.

Even if “friend” now feels like the word I’m using to hide every other word I’m too scared to say.

The agency email glows on my screen. *Congratulations.*

I close my eyes.

Dream. Or him.

I chose dream.

So why does it feel like I’m the one losing?

I sat there for a long time. Don’t know how long. The agency email was still glowing on my phone. *Congratulations.* *Jan 15.* *Melbourne.*

My brain was stuck on a loop: Dream. Friend. Leaving. Staying.

I was startled out of my trance when I heard the doorbell ring.

I’m not expecting anyone. Not even Nancy. Nancy texts first. Always.

But I sluggishly go for the door. Bare feet on cold tile. Hair probably a mess. Eyes probably red even though I didn’t cry. Not yet.

Immediately I open up, Adrian was right there in a black suit.

Of course he is now the CEO. Tailored. Clean-shaven. The same suit he wore last night, but today it looks less like armor and more like him.

But why did he come?

I was literally just typing “Busy today. Rain check on soup?” to him five minutes ago. Lying. The way I always lie when I’m falling apart.

And God! Why do I feel like crying after seeing him?

Because he looks at me and he *knows*. The same way he knew two years ago when he showed up at my door and I pretended I wasn’t scared of the quiet. He takes one look at my face and sees straight through every “I’m fine” I’ve ever said.

He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t say “you okay?” again. Doesn’t make me explain the email or the lies or the shaking hands.

Like he knew I needed a hug, he gently and silently pulled me into a hug.

Arms around me. Black suit against my cheek. He smells like his cologne and the car leather and something that’s just… Adrian. Safe. Steady.

I don’t hug back at first. I can’t. If I do, I’ll crack. And if I crack, I’ll tell him about Melbourne. About Jan 15. About choosing dream over him and hating myself for it.

So I just stand there. Frozen. While his arms stay around me like he’s not going anywhere.

He doesn’t say “I saw through your text.” Doesn’t say “what’s wrong.” Just holds me. Like he did two years ago when he couldn’t sleep and I told him pain makes us stronger.

Except now I’m the one who needs to believe it.

His chin rests on top of my head for a second. Quiet. “You texted ‘rain check’,” he murmurs into my hair. Voice low. CEO-voice gone. Just Adrian. “Adrian Reyes rule #1: No one rain checks on soup. Especially not you.”

I laugh. It comes out wet. Broken. Almost a sob.

Because he came. Without asking. Without needing me to explain.

And I just told Australia yes.

Friend. I was supposed to be just his friend.

So why does his hug feel like goodbye and coming home at the same time?

"Adrian... I'm so confused," I can't help but cry. The words come out wet and shaky against his suit jacket. I’m gripping the fabric now, like if I let go I’ll fall apart completely.

I’m so confused that I don’t know what I want anymore.

Months ago I was so sure. Dream. Melbourne. My own life. My own apartment. My own everything.

Now there’s Jan 15 and an email and a salary and a car… and there’s him. Black suit. Arms around me. Thumb stroking my head like I’m something breakable and worth keeping whole.

He didn’t say anything. He just kept stroking my head gently, listening to me. No “explain.” No “what’s wrong.” Just there. The same way he was there two years ago when I told him to breathe.

“I just don’t know what to do,” I whisper into his chest.

Because if I say Melbourne, I break us. If I say stay, I break me.

His hand doesn’t stop. Up and down my hair, slow and steady. CEO Adrian would have answers. Speeches. Board meetings. Solutions.

But this Adrian… he just holds me. Like he remembers what it felt like to be the one falling apart and not know the words.

His arms are still around me when he suddenly pulls back just enough to look at my face. Eyes red-rimmed from crying, hair a mess, probably mascara everywhere. I look like a disaster.

“Come on,” he says.

I glance at him in confusion. His hand is still on my arm, warm and steady. CEO-suit Adrian, but his voice is soft. Urgent in a different way.

“Where?” I ask. My voice is wrecked. I sound like I’ve been crying for hours, even though it’s only been minutes.

He shakes his head. Doesn’t let go. “Just don’t argue. Just come with me okay.”

No explanation. No plan. No “we need to talk about Melbourne.” Just… come.

Two years ago he couldn’t leave his mansion without me dragging him. Now he’s dragging me. The irony would be funny if my chest didn’t hurt so much.

“Oh… Okay,” I mumble. I wiped my face.

TBC