The world seemed to still as Adam began to speak.
Even the wind softened, as if it knew better than to interrupt.
Kara sat beside him in the tall grass, knees drawn close, fingers lightly curled against the fabric of her skirt. The warmth of the day lingered, but the sun had slipped lower now, painting the meadow in amber and rose. She turned fully toward him, giving him her complete attention—no distractions, no guarded glances. Just listening.
Adam swallowed.
"My parents are… good," he started, then stopped, lips pressing together. "They really are. I mean—" He let out a quiet breath. "I know I sound ungrateful."
"You don't," Kara said softly.
He nodded, eyes fixed on the horizon. "My dad is… old-fashioned. Really old-fashioned. He believes men are supposed to be tough. Solid. No crying, no weakness, no excuses." His jaw tightened. "He gets angry easily. Emotionally unstable is probably the nicest way to put it."
He reached down and plucked a small wildflower from the ground, twisting the stem slowly between his fingers.
"We got into an argument once," he continued. "Over something stupid. A board game. I corrected a rule." He let out a breathless, humorless laugh. "And he just snapped. Said if I disrespected him again, he'd kill me. He meant it. I know he did."
Kara's chest tightened.
Her eyes softened—not with pity, but with a quiet, aching understanding.
Adam didn't look at her.
"He never hit me," he added quickly. "Never touched my mom either. He was… a good husband. He adored her." His voice wavered for the first time. "My mom is strong. Scary strong. When she's hurting, she doesn't say anything. She just… keeps going."
He paused.
Then whispered, "She has stage four cancer."
The words hung between them, heavy and unmoving.
Adam's breathing faltered. "When we found out… it was the first time I ever saw my dad cry." His fingers trembled around the flower. "My mom acted like it was nothing. Joked about it. Smiled." His voice cracked. "But I saw it. The pain. The coughing. The fluid in her lungs. The tumors. The way it spread to her bones."
He inhaled sharply, tears finally breaking free.
"I know it's killing her," he said, voice shaking. "And I can't do anything."
A tear slipped down his cheek.
He wiped it away immediately, almost angrily.
"They're staying at some resort that treats cancer patients," he went on, words tumbling out now. "And all I can think about is how much money they're wasting on me. Football. School. Cars. Clothes." His breath hitched. "I'm just… taking up space while she's dying."
The dam broke.
Tears streamed down his face, shoulders trembling as he turned away, humiliated.
Kara didn't hesitate.
She moved closer and wrapped her arms around him, firm and steady. No rush. No panic. Just presence.
Adam collapsed into her, his body folding as the sobs came hard and raw. He ended up sprawled in the grass, his head resting near her waist, arms gripping her like he was afraid she'd disappear.
"I'm useless," he choked. "I'm crying like a fucking toddler."
"You're not useless," Kara said calmly, fingers threading through his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp the way she'd seen soothe crying children. Her other hand rubbed slow circles into his back. "You're a boy. Barely an adult. And this is too much for anyone."
The sky deepened as they stayed like that, the last of the sun bleeding into purple and blue. Fireflies blinked to life at the edges of the meadow casting sparks of yellow and green around them. Stars peeked through the darkening sky, shy at first, then bolder.
"I just want to help her," Adam whispered hoarsely. "She's my mom. She's in pain."
Kara tipped his face up gently, her hands warm against his tear-streaked cheeks.
"Then help her by living," she said quietly. "Graduate. Go to university. Become someone you're proud of. Fall in love. Build a life." Her lips curved into a soft smile. "That's how you help her. You give her peace."
Adam stared at her, eyes glassy, lashes clumped with tears.
"You're stronger than you think," Kara added. "And braver than you give yourself credit for."
His face flushed deeply.
"Don't fuck with me," he muttered.
She laughed, the sound light and real. "I'm serious, dumbass."
He tightened his arms around her waist just a little.
"Can we stay like this for a bit?" he asked quietly. "Before we go back to… everything?"
Kara leaned back slightly, gazing up at the moon now fully risen, silver light spilling across the meadow.
"Sure," she said. "We can stay here all night. Get mauled by wolves together."
Adam huffed out a laugh, muffled against her.
"Sounds romantic," he murmured. "Cara mia."
And beneath the stars, with the wind whispering through the flowers, they talked. They talked until they couldn't find anything else to talk about, which made Adam feel at peace and made Kara feel a sense of joy seeing him smile after sharing such a thing.
Fireflies flew between them as they glanced at eachother for a moment... as if signifying the sparks that rampages across there body like lighting touching eachother indirectly like a zap of... something...?
A feeling? No. A state. A beginning.
But what kind of state was it?