The room was silent except for the faint hum of the night outside.
Arlo's eyes burned from staring at the screen for hours. His back ached, his limbs felt heavy, and his mind felt dull with exhaustion. He shut everything off and dropped onto the thin mat on the floor, not even bothering to straighten it.
The moment his body touched the mat, relief washed over him.
He shifted to his side, reaching out absentmindedly—
And his fingers brushed against something soft.
He frowned.
The texture was unfamiliar. Too smooth. Too warm.
His cold hand lingered there for a second, but his mind was too tired to react properly. Probably nothing, he thought hazily. Maybe a pillow. Maybe his blanket twisted strangely.
He exhaled and let himself sink deeper into the mat.
Then his body rolled slightly forward.
His cold skin pressed against warmth.
Human warmth.
Before his brain could process it—
"AHHH!"
A piercing scream shattered the silence.
A sharp pain exploded across his cheek.
Smack.
The force snapped his head to the side, and Arlo's eyes flew open as consciousness slammed back into place.
"What—?!"
His vision blurred for a second, then focused.
A girl.
She was sitting up now, shaking violently. Her eyes were wide with terror, her lips trembling as tears streamed down her face. She wore a short dress, wrinkled from sleep, her hands clutching the fabric as if trying to make herself disappear.
She scrambled backward, dragging herself across the floor until her back hit the corner of the room. Her breathing was fast and uneven, like she was on the verge of collapsing.
Arlo couldn't move.
Couldn't speak.
His heart pounded so loudly he could hear it in his ears.
This isn't possible.
"Hey!" she cried, her voice breaking. "Why did you kidnap me?! What do you want from me?!"
The words hit him like a punch.
"I—I don't know," Arlo said, panic flooding his voice. "I swear, I don't. I don't even know where you came from!"
She shook her head violently, tears falling faster.
"Where am I?" she sobbed. "Mom… Dad…"
The sound of her crying tightened something in his chest.
He stared at her, trying to understand the situation, trying to make sense of how another person could be in his room.
Too long.
She noticed.
Her eyes flicked down, then back up at him, and she let out a frightened gasp. Instinctively, she crossed her arms over her chest, curling into herself, her face burning with shame and fear.
That's when it finally hit him—how terrifying this must look from her side.
"Wait—!"
Arlo quickly reached for the blanket beside him and tossed it toward her, his face flushing as he turned away immediately.
"Cover yourself," he said, his voice tight. "I'm not— I'm not trying to do anything."
She hesitated, then pulled the blanket around herself, still trembling.
Arlo swallowed hard and forced himself to speak calmly.
"Listen," he said. "I seriously don't know what's going on. This is my place. I live here. I don't know how you ended up here, but I swear I didn't kidnap you."
She stared at him through tear-filled eyes, fear still written across her face.
"I don't expect you to trust me," he added quietly. "But when morning comes, I'll make sure you get home safely. I promise."
Silence filled the room again.
Eventually, exhaustion dragged him down. Arlo lay on his side, facing away from her, every muscle tense, sleep shallow and uneasy.
When morning came, it came violently.
"OPEN THE DOOR!"
A loud bang shook the room.
"OPEN IT RIGHT NOW OR I'LL BREAK IT DOWN!"
Arlo jolted awake, heart racing.
For a split second, he hoped—prayed—that everything had been a dream.
Then he turned his head.
She was still there.
Curled up beneath the blanket, her body small and still, her breathing soft and steady—as if the chaos of the night had never happened.
Sleeping.
His mind spiraled.
He didn't know what to do. If someone saw her here, everything would fall apart. No explanation would be enough. No excuse would save him.
And the shouting outside the door grew louder.