Page 70 of Madness

Dakota.

The contrast between the man on my screen moments ago and the one standing before me is stark. The Dakota in the video was a performer, confident and distant. This Dakota... he's real, immediate, and breathtaking.

His hair is slightly longer, tousled as if he's been running his hands through it nervously. His skin is sun-kissed from weeks on the road, a light stubble shadowing his jaw. But it's his eyes that capture me - clear, bright, and filled with a vulnerability that makes my heart ache.

I notice the slight tremor in his hands, the way he swallows hard. His T-shirt is wrinkled, like he's just pulled it from a suitcase. He smells faintly of coffee and the night air, not a trace of alcohol.

For a long moment, we just stare at each other, drinking in the sight. I'm acutely aware of my own appearance - pajama shorts and an old college t-shirt, my hair piled messily atop my head. I wonder what he sees in me - the dark circles under my eyes from late-night study sessions? The new highlights in my hair I got on a whim last week?

Neither of us speaks. We don't need to.

In an instant, we're in each other's arms. His embrace is familiar yet new, strong, and sure. I feel the solid warmth of his body, the steady thump of his heart against my cheek. My fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt as if afraid he might disappear if I let go.

We stand there, holding each other, for what feels like hours. All the worry, the fear, the longing of the past months pours out in that embrace. I feel tears prick at my eyes, and I can feel Dakota's uneven breath against my hair, causing a shiver to run down my spine.

My body seems to melt into his, the tension of the past months - the stress of exams, the worry about his sobriety, the uncertainty of our future - ebbing away with each passing second.

There's so much to say, so much to discuss. The envelope. The tour. My school. Our future.

But for now, this is enough. This silent reunion, this wordless understanding.

We're here. We're together. And for the first time in a long time, it feels like everything might just be okay.

41

I’M COMING HOME

DAKOTA

The car feels suffocating as I pull up to Lauren's house. My hands shake slightly as I turn off the engine, and I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I've been rehearsing what to say for weeks, but now that I'm here, all the words seem to evaporate.

The porch light casts a warm glow on the familiar front door. How many times have I walked through it, feeling like I was coming home? Now, I'm not sure if I still have that right.

I check my reflection in the rearview mirror. My hair's a bit longer, and my face leaner after months of trading booze for workouts. I look better, I know. But will it be enough?

Before I can talk myself out of it, I'm out of the car and knocking on the door. The sound seems too loud in the quiet neighborhood.

For a moment, there's silence. Then, footsteps.

The door opens, and there she is.

Lauren.

My breath catches in my throat. She looks... tired. Beautiful, always beautiful, but exhausted. There are dark circles under her eyes, and her hair is piled messily on top of her head. She's wearing pajama shorts and an old T-shirt that I recognize as one I used to sleep in.

But it's her eyes that captivate me. They're wide with surprise, and beneath the fatigue, there's a spark. A glimmer of... hope? Happiness?

For a long moment, we just stare at each other. I drink in the sight of her, noticing small changes. New highlights in her hair. A small scrape on her knee, probably from chasing after Roman. She looks like she's carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, but somehow, impossibly, she also looks happy to see me.

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. What can I say? I'm sorry? I've missed you? I love you?

Before I can figure it out, Lauren moves. In an instant, we're in each other's arms.

I pull her close, breathing in her scent. She smells like home - a hint of floral shampoo, the faint sweetness of wine on her breath. I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, quick and strong.

We stand there, holding each other, for what feels like forever. I pour every emotion into this hug. I feel a lump form in my throat, and I have to blink back tears.

Lauren's fingers curl into my shirt, and I tighten my arms around her. I want to memorize this moment, the feeling of her in my arms again.