Unbind me

· · ────── · ❈ · ────── · ·

Seraphina Sterling
"my life was never about living, it was always about surviving"

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

The air is thick with unspoken tension, the kind that settles in your bones and refuses to let go.

Juliette and Adam move through the small space in quiet urgency, pulling together whatever essentials they can fit into the five bags they've decided to take. Adam is methodical, his movements precise, calculated. Juliette follows his lead, though there's a stiffness to her posture, her fingers gripping the fabric of a jacket too tightly before shoving it into a bag.

Kenji, despite his busted nose and general disarray, is moving too—grumbling under his breath as he limps around, pulling things from drawers, stuffing supplies into a separate bag.

I don't move.

I haven't moved since he sat beside me, since his words lingered in the space between us like something heavy, something real.

I deserve a chance.

The thought circles in my mind, unfamiliar, foreign.

No one has ever said that before.

No one has ever thought that before.

So I sit there, my arms wrapped around myself, watching as they prepare to leave, as they figure out their next move—like I'm not even really here.

Kenji suddenly tosses something into the bag he's packing, muttering under his breath. I glance at him, watching as he stuffs another jacket inside before moving toward the tiny kitchen, rifling through the cabinets.

I frown. "What are you doing?"

Kenji barely spares me a glance. "Packing for you."

I stiffen. "I can do it myself."

"Yeah, well, you weren't moving, so I took the liberty." He shoves a couple of protein bars into the bag, zipping it shut with finality. "You're welcome."

I blink, my mouth parting slightly before I snap it shut.

I don't know what to do with him.

With any of them, really.

Juliette and Adam are still caught in their own silent whirlwind, but it's Kenji who keeps throwing me off balance, who keeps acting like this—like I belong.

Like I'm part of this.

"We leave in ten," Adam says suddenly, his voice breaking through the tense silence. "Be ready."

I stare at the bag in front of me, at the things Kenji packed without question, without hesitation.

And for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe—for just a second—that maybe, just maybe, I have somewhere to go.

The waiting stretches on, filling the room with an almost suffocating silence.

Juliette sits near Adam, her fingers twisting together in her lap, her shoulders tense. Adam keeps glancing toward the door, his jaw clenched, his foot bouncing impatiently against the floor.

Kenji sits across from them, his body slouched in the chair, but his eyes—they don't stop moving.

I follow his gaze, watching the way his eyes keep locking onto Juliette. It's not subtle. It's not even cautious. It's like he's studying her, searching for something, waiting for something.