Page 22 of Killing Me Softly

Aaron scoffed, shifting his grip on the phone. “I’mthat person.”

“I know.”Jayden didn’t miss a beat.“So don’t pretend like you don’t get it. How many times did I have to drag your arse out of hiding when shit got too much for you?”

Aaron’s chest tightened. He wanted to argue, but there was nothing to argue about. Jayden was right. Aaron had spentyearspushing people away, making them work for his trust, for his presence. And Kenny had been the one who was alwaysthere. Always waiting. Always patient.

Now the roles were reversed, Aaron didn’t know what to do with that.

Jayden continued, voice steady.“Some people shut down when they lose someone. Not ‘cause they don’t care about the people around them, but because it’s easier to suffer alone than to let someone see you break. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you there.”

“Then why didn’t he justsaythat?”

“Because grief is messy, bruv. You should know that better than anyone.”

Aaron closed his eyes. Hedidknow. But knowing didn’t make it easier.

“Look. If you care about him, just let him know you’re there. Even if he doesn’t say anything back. He’ll know. And when he’s ready? He’ll come to you.”

“Will he?”

There was an all-consuming pause until Jayden broke it with a flippant, “Sure.”He then let that sit for a second, but, in typical Jayden fashion, shattered it quick enough.“Now, let’s get back to the important issue. My thirty quid.”

Aaron snorted, tension easing just a fraction. “Fuck’s sake. Surely you don’t need thirty quid anymore. Your fella owns a fucking theatre.”

Jayden laughed, easy and warm.“Don’t make me send debt collectors, bruv.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, but something in his chest loosened. He wasn’t fixed. He wasn’t okay. But for now, at least, he wasn’t drowning.

“Laters, J.”

“Come see my show.”

“Sure.” That seemed to be the lie of the evening.

Cutting the call, he forced himself to move, dragging his feet through the rain-slicked car park and over the muddy mound leading to the rows of blocky, utilitarian buildings making up the University of Ryston Student Accommodation. It had been months since he’d last set foot here. The summer holiday had emptied the place out back in May, students scattering to their family homes or shared off-campus flats. But Aaron had stayed behind, the lone fixture in an otherwise transient space. His care-leaver bursary covered his rent, ensuring he had a roof over his head even when the block felt more like a ghost town than a student residence.

Back then, the silence had been oppressive, amplifying the loneliness he tried so hard to ignore. But June rolled around, and Kenny no longer had lectures to teach. Staying over at Kenny’s place had started innocently enough. One night stretched into two, and two into three. Until, without ever discussing it, Aaron just… stopped going back to his room. Kenny hadn’t asked him to leave, and Aaron hadn’t wanted to. Being there with Kenny had felt easier than he’d ever expected.

Now, walking the familiar path back to his old room, Aaron couldn’t shake the hollowness creeping in. The place wasn’t just empty of people. It was empty of him. The life he’d built over the past few months, the makeshift home he’d found in Kenny’s bed, suddenly felt distant. As if maybe it had never been real at all.

Aaron pushed open the main door to his block, letting it slam shut behind him with a hollow echo rattling through the empty hallways. It smelled faintly of disinfectant and damp. Exactly as he remembered. Ten doors lined the corridor, including his own, with a communal room and kitchen at the far end and two shared bathrooms tucked awkwardly in between. It was dead quiet. No voices, no music, no laughter. Only the distant hum of the fridge in the kitchen. The first-years wouldn’t move in untiltomorrow, which meant the block was a void of lifelessness, a waiting room for the chaos of the new term.

He sighed. In a couple of days, he’d be the out-of-place third-year. Twenty-one years old—this coming Monday— and stuck in a block with a bunch of teenagers who’d just left home for the first time. But he dug through his bag, searching for his key, swearing under his breath as he fumbled through the mess of receipts, chargers, and loose pens. He hoped he hadn’t left it at Kenny’s. Although…that could give him an excuse to go back there, especially since he had the spare key he’d swiped tucked safely on a chain in the secret pocket of his bag. If Kenny ever noticed it was missing, Aaron could feign ignorance and claim he hadn’t taken it. After all, how would Kenny know it wasn’t where he’d left it? And if he went back to Kenny’s, he could sneak beneath his sheets and just…stay there.

His fingers closed around the key at the bottom of the bag.Damnit.So much for that excuse. He wrangled it into the lock, but before he could turn it, the door to the room next to his flew open with a crash, and someone burst out, startling him so badly he nearly dropped the key.

“Fuckyes!” The unmistakable squeal jolted his senses as Mel launched herself at him, locking her arms around his neck in a bone-crushing hug. “I hoped that was you!”

Aaron staggered back. “What the fuck?” He leaned away, taking her in.

Mel hadn’t ever been one for subtlety, and tonight was no exception. Her hair, previously a vibrant turquoise, was now a shocking magenta, cropped into a jagged pixie cut framing her sharp cheekbones. With a sheer black top layered over a neon green sports bra, ripped skinny jeans, and combat boots splattered with what looked like paint, multiple rings adorning her fingers, and eyeliner smudged just enough to lookintentional, she was a sight for sore fucking eyes. And empty hearts.

She grinned. “Surprise! You’ve got a new next-door neighbour.”

Aaron blinked, furrowing his brow. “What? Seriously?”

“Yup!” Mel beamed, leaning casually on the doorframe. “Couldn’t stand the house-share crap last year. Everyone’s sofuckingmessy. I need my own space, y’know? So I applied for accommodation and, ta-da, here I am!”

“But Mel, this is a boy’s floor.”

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