Marked By My Best Friend's Dad

042

~ Ky

I knew Iris was drunk the moment I saw her.

Not sloppy-drunk. Not loud.

The dangerous kind. The kind where her eyes went soft and unfocused, where her walls slipped without her noticing.

Alice noticed too. Everyone always did when it came to Iris. She drew attention without asking for it. Without wanting it.

I stood there beside Alice, arms folded, pretending I wasn’t watching Iris’s every move.

Pretending my chest didn’t tighten when she said she’d been with Thorne.

Thorne.

I didn’t like the way he looked at her. Too steady. Too aware. Like he saw the parts of Iris she didn’t offer freely.

When Alice kissed her, I laughed and told them to keep clubbing, like I wasn’t relieved Iris leaned into her girlfriend so easily. Like I didn’t feel stupid for the relief.

Then Eunice called.

Of course she did.

I watched Alice walk away, watched Iris’s shoulders sink just a little, like the night had finally taken its toll. When Iris turned to me, it felt… natural. Like this was where she was supposed to land.

“Looks like I’m driving,” I told her, light, easy.

Anything to keep her steady.

The car ride was harder than I expected.

I kept my eyes on the road because if I looked at Iris for too long, I’d forget why I needed boundaries in the first place.

She stared out the window, quiet. Too quiet.

When she said my name, softly, it did something to me. It always did.

I told her not to drink again, and I meant it. Not because I wanted control, but because the idea of her vulnerable in the wrong hands scared me more than I wanted to admit.

When she asked if she’d done anything, my heart stuttered.

I lied first.

Then I didn’t.

“You tried to kiss me.”

The truth sat heavy between us. I didn’t tell her how close I’d come to letting it happen. How instinct screamed at me to pull over and let everything else burn.

But Iris was with Alice.

And Iris was hurting.

And I wasn’t going to be another mistake she woke up regretting.

When she apologized, it hurt worse than if she hadn’t. Because she sounded like she was ashamed of wanting comfort.

She told me I was her emotional support, and I had to swallow hard.

Because I’d been holding her together quietly for a long time now.

And I didn’t know how much longer I could pretend that didn’t matter.

Back at the dorm, the quiet wrapped around us like a warning.

I watched Iris take in the room,Alice’s scent, her things, and I knew she was trying not to miss her too loudly. I asked if she wanted me to stay, already knowing the answer.

When she said please, something in my chest loosened.

I didn’t touch her at first. I never did unless she asked. I sat close enough to be felt, not close enough to cross lines.

When she started shaking, I moved without thinking.

Holding Iris felt… right. Too right. Like my body already knew how she fit there. I let her cry, let her curl into me, let her jacket become her anchor.

When she said she was always choosing wrong, I wanted to tell her she wasn’t. That the world just kept asking too much of her too early.

But honesty was kinder.

No kissing. Just breathing. Just being.

When she lifted her face and looked at my lips, my heart broke a little. Not because she wanted me,but because I wanted her back.

Turning my head was the hardest thing I’d done all night.

Her apology nearly undid me.

I didn’t answer because if I spoke, I’d say something selfish. So I held her tighter instead. Like I was holding myself together too.

When she finally fell asleep, I stayed still long after my arms ached.

I watched her breathe. Watched the storm inside her quiet, just for now.

I knew this wouldn’t be the last complicated night.

I knew loving Iris,even silently,was going to cost me something.

But as long as she felt safe in my arms,

as long as she slept without fear..

I’d pay it.

Every time.

I stayed still long after Iris fell asleep.

Her breathing evened out first.slow, soft, the way it always did when she finally let herself rest. She was curled into my side, fingers still twisted in my jacket like she might disappear if she let go. I didn’t move. Didn’t dare.

People thought being strong meant acting loud, acting fearless. They were wrong. Strength was this, holding yourself together while someone else fell apart in your arms and pretending it didn’t cost you anything.

I brushed my thumb gently through her hair, slower now, careful not to wake her. She looked younger when she slept. Softer. Like the world hadn’t already taken so much from her.

God.

I exhaled through my nose and leaned my head back against the wall.

She had tried to kiss me again.

Not because she wanted me. I knew that. Iris reached for warmth when she was drowning. And I had always been close enough to grab.

That didn’t make it easier.

Turning my head away earlier had felt like tearing muscle from bone. Every instinct in me had screamed to close the distance, to let myself have the thing I wanted but never claimed. But I couldn’t. Not like that. Not when she was hurting, not when Alice’s name still lived in this room like a ghost.

I respected Iris too much for that.

Even if it meant hurting myself.

I shifted slightly, easing her more comfortably against the pillows. She mumbled something in her sleep,too quiet to understand,but her grip tightened for half a second before relaxing again. My chest ached at that.

“You don’t even know,” I whispered. “How much you undo me.”

I’d been her emotional support for so long that it blurred into something dangerous. Lines faded. Boundaries softened. And somewhere along the way, my care had turned into something sharper. Something selfish.

I loved her.

Not in a way that demanded anything. Not in a way that expected to be chosen.

Just… quietly. Constantly.