Page 39 of Before We Break Again
I glance over at Dustin, who’s staring out the window, the soft glow of the clouds reflecting against his face.The bright light frames him in a way that makes him seem distant, unreachable, like there’s a whole world inside his mind that no one else can enter.His jaw is tight, his profile unreadable, but the tension is there—held together so carefully, like he’s afraid if he lets go, even just a little, everything will unravel.
I close my eyes and lean back against the plush seat, but there’s no peace to be found.My mind refuses to slow down, racing between memories and thoughts of the future, bouncing between the past and the present like a rubber ball I can’t quite catch.This wasn’t how I expected things to go—not after everything we’ve been through.Not after all this time.
Just this morning, I walked out on my job.No warning, no second-guessing.I quit.It wasn’t a decision made lightly, but it was like something inside me snapped.I had to leave.Sure, it was one of the best rehab centers in the country, and I was doing what I loved—helping people.But working there wasn’t making me happy anymore.
Every step forward was met with resistance from the senior doctors.Nothing I did was ever enough.Every diagnosis, every treatment I planned was questioned, as if I didn’t deserve to be there.But then, they’d take my ideas and present them as their own.I’d watch them bask in the praise, knowing full well that nothing was coming from them.Each time, it stung a little more, each stolen idea chipping away at my passion, making me feel smaller, more invisible.
So, maybe quitting was the right thing to do.It felt reckless, impulsive, but freeing.And now?There’s a possibility waiting for me, a job that might actually let me do what I really love again.
But more importantly, I get to help the two people who loved me unconditionally.The people who never asked for anything, who never took from me but always gave me everything I needed.Love.And for that alone, I’d quit a thousand times over.
I glance at Dustin again.He looks smaller than he is, diminished by whatever is running through his mind.He looks like he’s barely hanging on, like the thread he’s been clinging to is dangerously close to snapping, just like last night.
And it scares me.
“Is there anything I can do for you right now?”The words slip out before I can stop them, my voice soft, hesitant.We’re thirty thousand feet above ground and I’m not sure if I can do anything for him.
Old Dusty was so easy to read.One look, and I could tell exactly what was going through his head.I knew how to make him laugh, how to pull him out of his bad moods with just a joke or a stupid face.But this version of Dustin sitting next to me?He is a stranger sometimes.Maybe it’s not just him that’s changed.Maybe it’s me too.
Still, what if it’s not that complicated?What if it’s just as easy to break through as before?On the surface, he hasn’t changed much—same messy hair falling over his forehead, same quiet intensity simmering just beneath that calm exterior.
But now there’s something different in his eyes, something heavy that wasn’t there before.Exhaustion clings to him like a second skin, and the way his hands tighten into fists when he thinks no one’s watching—he’s fighting a battle no one can see.He’s trying so hard to keep it all together, and every fiber of me wants to reach out, to tell him it’s okay to let go.I’m here.To fall apart if he needs to.But I don’t know if I have that right anymore.
We’re not those carefree kids on the ice anymore, Halsey.The lake where we used to skate is thousands of miles away now.And so is everything we used to be.
“Dust?”I say quietly, my voice barely audible over the low hum of the plane’s engines.
“I’m fine,” he mutters, his voice rough around the edges, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as me.
“No, you’re not.”
He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes fixed on something far away, something I can’t see.“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admits, his voice cracking.“You just quit your job, and what if this fucks up your entire career?I was so fucking selfish to ask you to do this, to come with me.I thought I could fix everything, that if I brought you back, maybe ...maybe you could glue us back together.”His voice falters, and he shakes his head, his fingers tapping restlessly on his leg.“But now?Now I don’t know if this is good for you.What if I’ve dragged you into something that’s just gonna hurt you in the end?”
And we’re back to him not knowing his worth, doubting what he can do.He’s able to conquer worlds with his music and yet, he doesn’t realize any of his worth.
“Sorry to burst your pity party,” I say, “but let me remind you that quitting and coming with you was my decision, not yours.I could’ve said no.I had every chance to back out, but I didn’t.This is something I need to do—for myself.”
His eyes finally meet mine, confusion and doubt swirling in them.“How’s this helping you?”he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“Because,” I begin, swallowing hard against the knot forming in my throat, “we never had closure, Dust.We left so many things unsaid, unresolved.And it’s haunted all of us.Maybe now, we’ll finally find it.Maybe we’ll be able to let go of the things that have been holding us down, or ...”My voice falters, because I don’t know what the future holds.None of us do.But I know we have to find something.Anything—together or separate.“Or maybe we’ll find something new.Something worth holding onto again.”
I hesitate for just a second before I reach for his hand.His skin is warm, but his fingers twitch, uncertain, like he’s not sure whether to hold on or pull away.But I don’t give him the chance to decide.I tighten my grip, grounding us both in the present, in the truth that, despite everything we’ve been through, we’re here.Together.
“It’s always been us against the world, Dust,” I say softly but with a strength I hope he feels, my eyes locking onto his.“No matter what’s happened, no matter how messy it’s gotten, we always find our way back to each other—like the stars, always aligned, even when clouds hide them.We don’t see them for a while, but they’re still there, waiting, pulling us back together.”
He sighs, the sound shaky, like he’s letting out a breath he’s been holding for too long.His eyes still refuse to meet mine, staring out into the distance like he’s looking for something he can’t quite reach.“You sound like you did when we were younger,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a quiet kind of sadness.“We’re not kids anymore, Hals.”
“Exactly,” I say in a tone that sounds almost like, duh.“Which is why, when we land, I need you to stop sulking and start looking forward.I need you to ask for help when you can’t handle it, when everything feels like too much.When the cravings hit, and it feels like you’re drowning in them.I can’t help if you shut me out.”My grip on his hand tightens, desperate to make him feel the urgency of my words.“But I won’t accept any more sulking, Dustin.We don’t have time for it.”
For a moment, there’s silence between us, thick and heavy, but then he lets out a breath, and I feel the tension in his body release just a fraction.His shoulders drop slightly, as if he’s finally letting himself believe, even just a little, that maybe there’s a way out of this darkness.
“I can try, Hals,” he whispers, his voice raw, vulnerable in a way I haven’t heard from him in years.“But it’s going to be fucking hard.I’m scared I’m going to break you.And if that happens ...I don’t know if I can survive that.”
I squeeze his hand tighter, willing him to feel the strength I’m trying to give him, even if I’m not sure I have enough for both of us.“You won’t break me, Dust,” I say, my voice thick with emotion, but steady.“You won’t.I’m stronger than you think.And we’re stronger together.Don’t you see that?We’ve been through so much already.If we survived all of that on our own, we can survive this too as long as we’re together.”
He looks at me then, really looks at me, like he’s searching for something, some glimmer of hope that he’s been too scared to hold onto.“Promise?”he asks, his voice soft, almost fragile.
I hesitate for just a moment before I nod, even though I know it’s a promise I might not be able to keep.But right now, it’s all we have.“I promise.”
