Brianna | Jessi

They stayed like that until the sky turned amber and the first stars came out, two girls on a rooftop, holding on to each other because letting go wasn’t an option.

Brianna didn’t turn around. “Your mom loves me.”

Brianna stared at their joined hands. “You can’t fix me, Jess.”

“She loves rescuing you. There’s a difference.” jessi brianna

The late September wind pulled at their hair, carrying the smell of dry grass and distant rain. Brianna finally glanced back, and Jessi felt the familiar twist in her chest—that sharp, fragile thing that lived between her ribs whenever Brianna looked at her like that. Tired. Defiant. Waiting for something Jessi couldn’t name.

“Probably not,” Jessi agreed. “But here I am anyway.”

Jessi squeezed Brianna’s hand one last time before whispering, “Come on. Let’s go inside before my mom sends a search party.” They stayed like that until the sky turned

And maybe that was enough. Maybe love wasn’t about fixing the broken pieces. Maybe it was just sitting in the wreckage together, saying I’ll stay when every part of you wanted to run.

“I got the letter,” Brianna said.

“I’m not trying to fix you. I’m trying to sit with you.” “You can’t fix me, Jess

“What do you want?”

“Same time tomorrow.” Would you like a different tone—something more upbeat, adventurous, or romantic?

“You’re going to give my mom a heart attack,” Jessi said, climbing the last rung of the makeshift ladder. “Again.”