Vulnerability

Alya's POV

Levi and I have been playing Two Truths and a Lie for a while now, and it has been chaotic but fun. Oddly enough, I felt comfortable around him—yes, that was the aim when I proposed the game, but it was different since I doubted I'd be at ease with him. My gaze lingered on his illuminated face longer than it should have, captivated by the way the warm glow of the lamp highlighted his features. His smile was genuine and warm, contradicting my earlier impression of him. Initially, I had thought he was rude, self-absorbed, and closed off, but I discovered he was none of those. He was a little introverted, soft-spoken, and surprisingly open to sharing his thoughts.

I hadn't expected him to open up about the proposal or his fear of heights, but he did, and that had to mean something—that he felt comfortable enough to share with me, a stranger.

We sat in silence for a moment, listening to the relentless storm hammer against the roof, the wind whipping the windows and causing the room to creak. The storm struck the roof harshly, causing me to shiver as I hugged my knees to my chest. The heat from the small fire crackling in the stone fireplace was barely making a dent against the cold night.

Levi noticed and asked, "Cold?"

"No, I'm fine. My teeth always chatter for... dramatic effect," I replied, brushing it off and trying to sound casual.

"Mhm. Liar," he called my bluff with a knowing smile.

He stood up silently, rummaging through a nearby basket for extra blankets—thick, woollen blankets I hadn't noticed before. When he sat back down, he draped one across both of us without asking. Our shoulders brushed against each other, and I tensed for half a second before relaxing, surprised by how natural it felt.

"So we're sharing blankets now?" I teased, making light of the situation even though my stomach was doing a stupid flip at our close proximity.

"Hmm, consider it... Strategic body heat management," he teased back with a smirk. We both sat close enough to feel each other's warmth, the quiet thickening between us. The game had faded, but its echoes lingered.

"Levi," I called, catching his gaze, curious about what I had to say.

"Remember when I said I hated the ocean and refused to explain why when you asked?" I hesitated, then decided to be honest.

He looked at me patiently, "Yeah, you don't have to share if you don't want to."

But I wanted to. I wanted to let my guard down, even if just for one night. Maybe I'd regret it, but it was worth a try.

"I liked your last truth, and maybe it's the storm, or maybe it's you, but I want to be vulnerable right here in this cold yet strangely warm room. Can I?" I half pleaded.

He shifted slightly, tucking the blankets around me as he sat opposite, the soft glow from the lamp contrasting against his face. His jawline, the warm brown of his eyes, his tousled, grizzled curly hair—all seemed to glow softly in the subdued light.

"Of course," he replied gently.

I took a deep breath, summoning the memories I'd buried deep—the ones that haunted me, that made my heart ache.

I can do this, I told myself.

"When I was 18, I went surfing with my best friend at night. We thought we were invincible. One second we were laughing, the next..." I exhaled sharply, trying to steady the lump rising in my throat, but I pressed on.

"The current pulled her away. I tried to grab her, but it was dark, and I couldn't...I couldn't see her," I said softly, voice trembling.

I could hear the crashing of the waves against the rocky shoreline, her soft, melodic laughs echoing softly in the cool night air, and the gentle glow of the full moon illuminating the darkened sky. It was a peaceful night, until everything suddenly shifted into chaos. I surfed away from her, asking her to catch me, to hold on tight, but she couldn't. Not when the relentless waves slammed her repeatedly, pulling her towards the turbulent surface. I called out to her, tried to reach out and grab her hand, but I was too slow, too blinded by the darkness and the swirling water to find or save her. Panicking, I screamed for help, desperately pleading for somebody, anybody nearby, to hear me and come to her rescue.

He stayed quiet, watching me intently, giving me space. I swallowed hard before continuing.

"They pulled me out, the lifeguards. But she... she didn't make it." A tear slid down my cheek as I said the last words. The room grew still; he didn't interrupt or say that everything was okay. He just listened, patiently.

I couldn't continue, the lump in my throat was too much. I wanted to cry, to scream, anything just to get rid of the lump that was blocking my airway.

I couldn't stop seeing her lifeless body on the sand. The ambulance sirens rang behind us, approaching as fast as they could, but they were too late. Too late to save her. Too late to stop me from ruining her life. She had big dreams. She wanted to see the world, to go on tour as a singer. But now her dreams had died with her. And I had to live with the guilt forever. I had to learn to live without her.

I remained quiet but he spoke softly, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's a long time ago," I half shrugged.

I shoved all the images and memories back to the back of my mind. Trying to move on, like her parents had asked me to. I couldn't possibly imagine how much courage and restraint it must have taken for her grieving parents to utter those words to me, the person who drove their daughter to her death. "Be happy, Al. Taylor would have wanted you to be. She always bragged about how lucky she was to have met you. About how you were like the sister she never had. I want to blame you, Al, for dragging her out tonight but I can't. It wasn't your fault. You shouldn't live with the guilt." they'd said to me as they drove away in tears in the ambulance carrying their dead daughter.

He shook his head gently, "It doesn't matter how long ago it was. It's clear it's left a scar on your heart."

His words struck a chord, and I looked into his eyes, amazed by how he didn't pity me—he truly saw me. It urged me to continue.

"I've hated myself ever since. And the ocean. I developed PTSD related to the ocean. What if we hadn't gone surfing? She'd still be here. I ruined her life." My voice cracked again, tears spilling uncontrollably. I felt a strange mix of relief and vulnerability, as tears spilled unchecked. I was a mess, embarrassed that Levi was watching me so intently. I hurriedly wiped my tears away, about to apologise.

Levi's arms suddenly encircled me, surprising me. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "but stop me if you hate this." Without waiting for a reply, he pulled me into a gentle hug.

I froze, surprised by the gesture, but I didn't push him away or pull back. I sat there in silence, feeling his warmth seep into me. The room spun slightly, and I relished the comfort of his embrace.

I should push him away, I thought.

I hated this feeling, so I should stop him, I thought.

But why couldn't I?

He placed one hand on my upper back and gently caressed my head with the other.

"None of that is your fault. You can't keep harbouring such hate toward yourself. You're only human. You need to forgive yourself, Alya." His voice was steady and reassuring.

His hug was surprisingly comforting, and I finally hugged him back. The blanket between us grew smaller as it hung on our bodies.

"Thank you, Levi," I whispered.

We stayed in that position for a while, the silence settling comfortably around us until I started to feel a little better.

"Ahem," I coughed softly, and he pulled away hurriedly.

"I'm really sorry about hugging you so abruptly," he said, avoiding eye contact.

"It wasn't what I was expecting, but it was comforting. Thank you," I smiled, genuinely appreciating his kindness.

He was unpredictable, that was for sure—yet kind too. It seemed clear that he didn't like to see anyone hurting. Well, safe to say, we both trauma-bonded.

"Alya, do you want to stay up all night and talk instead? Of course, you don't have to," he chuckled nervously. I couldn't help but laugh at his sudden shyness, but deep down, I wanted the night to last longer.

"Sure, we can!" I exclaimed with enthusiasm. My mind raced with a million ideas for topics to discuss, hoping they would magically make the night longer.

It did not.

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