JAY-JAY POV
Week two was worse. Not louder. Not sharper. Just heavier.
The doses hit harder. My body stopped pretending to bounce back. Everything ached. Even my eyelashes.
Keifer was always there. Like gravity. Like breath.
He didn't talk much anymore. Just held my hand. Traced circles into my palm. Watched me like I might vanish if he blinked too long.
When I needed him—he was already there.
And Jare— Jare tried to be strong.
He brought me water. Adjusted my pillows. Told me dumb facts about clouds and frogs and vending machines.
But his eyes gave him away. Lingering too long. Flicking to the monitor every few seconds. Smiling like it was a mask he couldn't take off.
I didn't call him out. Didn't say a word.
Because I needed him to pretend. And he needed me not to notice.
So we played our roles. Me: the quiet fighter. Him: the steady friend. Keifer: the anchor.
And around us— Section E spun like a galaxy.
Some days, I couldn't speak. Some days, I couldn't eat. Some days, I couldn't even cry.
But they were always there. Loud. Messy. Mine.
And somehow— That made the pain survivable.
Dr. Paralta walked in, clipboard in hand, voice calm as ever. Like she was narrating a nature documentary. But today— Her words hit different.
"Jay," she said, stepping closer. "We've made good progress with your recovery. And today is the last dose."
I blinked. Once. Twice. My brain lagged behind.
"The last?" I asked.
She nodded. "It might be painful. But you'll recover."
Recover. That word felt foreign. Like a language I hadn't spoken in weeks.
Keifer was beside me instantly. His hand found mine like it always did. Like it belonged there.
I looked at him. Then at Jare, standing by the window, trying to look calm.
But his eyes— His eyes betrayed him.
He was scared. Just like me. Just like all of us.
The room shifted. Heavier. Still.
Ci-N stopped typing. Percy dropped his glitter pen. Calix closed his book. David sat up straighter. Felix didn't argue. Edrix stared at the monitor like it might lie. Drew stopped flirting. Eren stopped chewing. Mayo froze mid-cartwheel. Rory set down his journal. Denzel stepped closer. Josh looked up from his sketch. Blaster paused the music. Kit set down his tea.
Everyone knew. This was it.
The last dose.
I didn't speak. Didn't cry. Didn't ask for more time.
I just nodded. Because I was ready. Or maybe— I wanted to be.
"Mom," Ci-N said, way too casually for a hospital room.
Dr. Paralta didn't look up. "Yes, Ci-N?"
I blinked. Wait. Mom?
Oh right. She was his mother. How did I forget that?
Ci-N leaned against the wall like he was asking for extra recess. "Can she come back to school after this dose?"
I stared at him. Then at the IV. Then at my own arm.
"What the hell, Ci-N?" I croaked. "You want me to suffer by coming back to school?"
He didn't flinch. Didn't apologize. Just shrugged.
"We were suffering too," he said. "You should've seen Section E. It was disturbingly quiet."
Percy popped his head in. "Ci-N tried to teach math. It was traumatic."
Felix muttered, "He used memes as equations."
Mayo shouted from the hallway, "I MISS THE CHAOS."
I groaned. "You're all unhinged."
Ci-N grinned. "Exactly. And you're the hinge."
Keifer chuckled beside me. Soft. Real.
Dr. Paralta finally looked up. "She can return when she's ready. But maybe not during meme math."
Ci-N saluted. "No promises."
I rolled my eyes. But I was smiling.
Because even here— Even now— They were still mine.
It started fast. Too fast.
The needle. The drip. The cold rush through my veins.
I gasped. Then choked. Then everything blurred.
Keifer's voice was there. Low. Steady.
"Breathe, Jay. You've got this."
But I didn't.
Not at first.
Pain bloomed like fire. Sharp. Relentless. Every nerve screaming.
I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Couldn't think.
And then— The flashbacks hit.
The hallway. The first day. Room 3B. The janitor's closet.
Ci-N laughing. Percy running. Felix rolling his eyes.
Keifer asking me that stupid question. My rage. My silence.
Then the hospital. The first dose. The list.
Captain Crunchless. The vending machine joke. Jare's eye-rolls.
Keifer's hoodie. His hand in mine. His voice saying, "I believe in you."
I wanted to scream. Wanted to beg for it to stop.
But I didn't. I couldn't.
I just endured.
Keifer's hand was still there. Holding mine. Anchoring me.
I heard him. Through the chaos. Through the pain.
"I'm right here," he said. "You're not alone."
And somehow— That mattered.
The pain didn't vanish. But it stopped growing.
The flashbacks slowed. The fire dimmed.
And then— Darkness.
Not scary. Not empty.
Just… quiet.
I woke up to warmth. Not pain. Not fire. Just warmth.
My body felt wrecked. But I was breathing. I was here.
The light was soft. The room was quiet.
And Keifer— Keifer was still holding my hand.
His head rested on the edge of the bed. Eyes closed. Hair messy. Fingers wrapped around mine like he never let go.
I blinked. Slow. Careful.
He stirred. Lifted his head. Looked at me.
And smiled. That soft, crooked smile that made everything feel less terrifying.
"See? You made it," Keifer whispered.
His voice was gentle. Like he didn't want to wake the pain. Like he was afraid I'd disappear if he spoke too loud.
I blinked at him. My body still felt borrowed. But I was here. I was breathing. I was alive.
"I did," I rasped. Barely a sound. But his smile widened like I'd shouted it.
He brushed a strand of hair from my face. His hand trembled. Just a little.
"You scared the hell out of me," he said.
"You looked like a ghost," I whispered. "Still do."
He laughed. Quiet. Relieved.
"I didn't leave," he said. "Not once."
"I know."
I looked down at our hands. Still tangled. Still warm.
"I thought I'd die," I said. "I really thought—"
"I know," he said. "But you didn't."
I nodded. Tears slipped down my cheeks. Not from pain. Not from fear.
Just… release.
"I'm still here," I said.
"You are," he whispered. "And we're not going anywhere."
The door creaked open. Ci-N peeked in.
"Is it safe to be emotionally vulnerable or are we still in the 'crying quietly' phase?"
Keifer didn't look away from me. "She's awake."
Ci-N grinned. Then turned and shouted down the hall, "SHE'S AWAKE. I REPEAT. THE GREMLIN LIVES."
Footsteps. Voices. Laughter. Chaos.
Section E was coming. Loud. Unfiltered. Mine.
But for now— It was just me and Keifer. And the truth of it.
I made it.