MATT WALKED HOME THAT NIGHT, the small laptop clutched under his arm. The cold night air did nothing to clear the fog of emotions swirling inside him.

He replayed the scene with Marissa and you over and over again in his mind, the weight of regret growing heavier with each step.

He couldn't understand why you hadn't just walked away after the way he'd treated you.

Another part of him, a part he rarely acknowledged, felt an odd sense of relief that you hadn't.

When he got home, he tossed the laptop onto his bed, pacing the length of his small, cluttered room. His thoughts were scattered, but one thing kept gnawing at him.

He wanted—needed—to know more about you. The project was a convenient excuse to stay in your orbit, but it was more than that now.

Sighing, Matt sat down on the edge of his bed and opened the laptop. The screen flickered to life, and he found himself staring at the email program.

Your email address was already logged in, a small detail you probably hadn't thought twice about, but it felt strangely intimate.

He clicked into the inbox.

There it was—your email.

But instead of your name, all he saw was a random jumble of letters and numbers: skydreamer4567@gmail.com.

A frustrated groan escaped his lips. He had hoped for more, something tangible. Instead, you'd hidden your identity behind this cryptic address.

He couldn't piece together any clues from the random string of words and numbers.

Hovering over the "Compose" button, he hesitated. What could he even say? He wasn't used to reaching out to people, let alone someone like you.

His fingers floated over the keys, starting to type something before deleting it several times.

Finally, he typed a single line:

To: skydreamer4567

Message:
Got the laptop. Thanks, I guess.

Matt stared at the screen for a moment before clicking send. He expected that to be the end of it. Maybe you wouldn't even respond. He didn't deserve your help, not after everything.

But a few minutes later, the laptop pinged.

To: Matt

Message:
You're welcome. Let me know if you need help with anything. And... you don't have to thank me. It's just a laptop.

Matt found himself smirking at your response. Just a laptop, as if it hadn't been this small, unexpected lifeline. He shook his head, almost laughing under his breath. Without overthinking it, he typed another reply.

To: skydreamer4567

Message:
"Sky Dreamer," huh? It's... interesting. Why'd you stick with it? You're not exactly 12 anymore. Trouble would've been better

He hit send and leaned back against his bedframe, staring at the ceiling. This whole thing was strange—emailing you like this, having these conversations without seeing your face. But maybe that was why it felt easier.

Another ping.

To: Matt

Message:
haha you must think you're so funny :|. It's just one of those things, you know? You come up with a name when you're a kid, and it sticks with you. Kinda like a part of who you are. Besides, I'm still dreaming about the sky.

Matt frowned slightly as he read that last sentence: Still dreaming about the sky. He wasn't sure what that meant. He hadn't dreamed about anything in years. Not since his life had gotten so... messy.

He typed out a response:

To: skydreamer4567

Message:
I know I am ;). But besides that, I don't think I've dreamt about anything in a long time. Must be nice to hold on to something like that.

This time, he didn't immediately send it. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he stared at the message.

Why was he even opening up like this? It wasn't like him. With a sigh, he pressed "Send," feeling a strange mixture of regret and relief.

Your reply came faster than he expected.

To: Matt

Message:
Everyone has something, even if it's buried deep. You just have to dig a little. What about you? What's something you used to dream about?

Matt stared at the screen, his chest tightening. You were pushing him to talk about something he didn't want to think about, something buried so deep he wasn't sure it was even there anymore.

To: skydreamer4567

Message:
Does it matter? It's not like any of that's real anymore.

He hit send and shut the laptop with a snap. Why did you care? Why were you so determined to dig into him, to keep showing up, to keep trying?

A few minutes passed before he gave in and opened the laptop again. To his surprise, your reply was already waiting.

To: Matt

Message:

Matt clenched his jaw. It matters. You didn't know him. You couldn't understand what he'd been through, what he'd become.

Still, there was something about your persistence that gnawed at him, pulling at something he didn't know was there.

To: skydreamer4567

Message:
Your parents there?

To: Matt

Message:
No why?

Without thinking he replied.

To: skydreamer4567

Message:
I'm coming over.

He didn't wait for a reply. Matt grabbed his jacket and stormed out of the house, the cold night air biting at his skin.

His heart pounded as he walked down the street toward your house. He didn't know why he was doing this—why he felt the need to see you face-to-face.

You lived just a few houses down, so the walk was short. But every step felt heavier, like something was pulling him toward you that he couldn't resist.

When he reached your porch, he hesitated for a moment, staring at your door.

What the hell was he doing?

He knocked.

A few seconds later, you opened the door, your eyes widening slightly in surprise. "Matt? You weren't kidding. You really did come over."

"I said I would," Matt replied, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets.

You stepped back, gesturing for him to come in. "Didn't know if you're a man of your word" You smiled at him softly. "Well, come on then. Might as well not freeze out there."

Matt stepped inside, feeling the warmth of your house settle over him like a heavy blanket. It wasn't his first time there and yet he still felt out of place immediately, but you didn't seem to mind.

You led him into the living room, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. You sat on the couch, waiting for him to follow, and eventually, he did, sitting across from you on the edge of a chair, his posture stiff and uneasy.

"I still don't understand why you're doing all this," Matt muttered, staring at the floor as he spoke. His hands were jammed into the pockets of his hoodie, his usual defensiveness creeping back in. "You don't owe me anything."

You sighed, leaning back against the cushions. "I'm doing this because I care. You do seem like a nice person Matt, whether you want to believe that or not, it's the truth."

Matt shook his head, his jaw clenched tight. "You don't even know me."

"Then tell me," you pressed gently, your eyes never leaving him. "Tell me why you keep pushing everyone away. Why you don't want anyone to care about you. You might not have noticed me Matt but I've seen you every day of my life" you retorted back.

Matt's hands fidgeted in his pockets, and he didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor as if it held all the answers he couldn't find.

"I'm not good at this," he said after a long pause. "Letting people in, trusting anyone. That's not me."

"I can see that," you said softly, though there was no judgment in your voice.

You tilted your head, studying him carefully. "But I'm already here, Matt. Whether you like it or not, I'm involved because of the project. I really wanna be your friend, I swear"

He finally looked up at you, his eyes hard but filled with a vulnerability he was clearly struggling to keep hidden. "That's what scares me."

His admission hung in the air, raw and honest. For the first time since you'd met him, Matt wasn't putting up a wall. He wasn't trying to be tough or distant—he was just being real.

"Why?" you asked, your voice soft. "Why does it scare you so much?"

"Because everyone I've ever let in ends up hurt, because pf some problems I'm involved in or people I'm involved with. Or better, they leave. And I can't... I don't want to see that happen again."

You blinked, taken aback by the rawness of his words. It was clear now that beneath all the anger and coldness was someone who had been hurt, who had learned to shut out the world to protect himself.

"I'm not going anywhere," you said quietly, leaning forward slightly. "No matter how hard you try to push me away."

Matt exhaled sharply, his eyes flickering with emotion as he sat back, his gaze still locked on you. "You're an Ember, how do I know that you're not like them," he said softly. "How can I trust you?."

"If you didn't trust me you wouldn't be here Matt. Why don't you just trust your heart" you said, your voice gentle but insistent.

Matt looked down at his hands, shaking his head. "Because I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to let someone be there for me without screwing it all up."

"You're not going to screw it up," you replied, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. "You just have to let me in, Matt. That's the only way this works."

He looked at your hand for a moment, clearly torn between his instinct to pull away and his desire to trust you. Before he could respond, though, his phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking the tension.

Matt frowned, pulling out his phone and glancing at the screen. His face immediately darkened, his posture shifting back into that closed-off version of himself you knew too well.

"Who is it?" you asked, sensing something was wrong.

Matt's jaw tightened as he shoved the phone back into his pocket. "It's nothing, doesn't matter," Matt muttered, standing up abruptly, his entire demeanor now guarded and tense. "I've gotta go handle something."

You raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing something was off. "Handle what?"

Matt sighed, his jaw clenching. He hadn't meant to bring this up, but he wasn't exactly the best at keeping things to himself. "I've got a deal tonight."

Your eyes widened slightly, and you sat up straighter. "A deal? You mean, deal as in drug deals?"

Matt glanced away, his shoulders tense. He was afraid of your reaction but decided that for once on his life, he would be honest. "Yeah."

There was a moment of silence as you processed what he'd just said. Then, to his surprise, you stood up. "Alright. I'm coming with you."

Matt's head snapped toward you, his eyes narrowing. "What? No. You're not."

"Why not?" you asked, your voice firm. "You just told me about it, so clearly, you're involving me already."

Matt took a step toward you, his voice low and harsh. "You don't belong in that world. You don't need to see it. Just stay out of it."

"And you do?" you shot back, crossing your arms. "Is this what you want? To keep doing deals like this?"

Matt's jaw tightened, frustration boiling over. "It's not about what I want. It's what I have to do."

"You always have a choice, Matt," you said, your voice softening. "You don't have to do this."

Matt groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. "You don't get it. This isn't your problem. It's mine. Just stay out of it."

You stared at him for a long moment, your eyes searching his face. "Fine," you said finally, your voice cold. "But don't come running to me when it all falls apart."

Matt didn't reply. He turned on his heel and stormed out of the house, the door closing behind him with a heavy thud.

He felt like he was suffocating, the weight of your words pressing down on him.

You didn't understand.

You couldn't.

The Next Morning

You were still thinking about Matt when you left your house the next morning, your mind replaying the argument from the night before.

You had no idea where he was or what had happened, but something told you he wasn't okay.

As you stepped outside, locking the door behind you, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb.

The window rolled down, and a man you didn't recognize leaned out. He looked exactly like Matt, the only difference was that he looked younger than Matt, but his features were sharper, and there was a certain smugness in his expression that immediately put you on edge.

"Hey," he called out casually, his voice smooth but with an underlying tension. "You're the girl with the pink headband, right?"

You frowned, stepping back instinctively. "What? How?-"

The man tilted his head, smirking slightly. "I'm Chris—Matt's brother."

You blinked in surprise. Matt had never mentioned having a brother. The resemblance was there, though, obviously : same sharp eyes, same confident demeanor, but something about Chris felt... off.

Still, you kept your guard up. "What do you want?"

Chris's smirk didn't falter. "I'm here because Matt's in trouble, and I need your help."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Trouble? What do you mean, trouble?"

Chris leaned across the passenger seat, resting one arm on the window ledge. "He got arrested last night. Caught in the middle of a deal." He paused, watching your reaction carefully. "He's in lockup right now, and I've got no way to get him out."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Matt had been arrested? "Why are you telling me this?" you asked, suspicion creeping into your voice. "Why me?"

Chris shrugged, his smirk widening a little. "Matt talks about you."

That made you pause. "What do you mean, he talks about me?"

Chris gave you a pointed look, his eyes flicking up to your hair. "He always says, 'the girl with the beautiful hair and the pink headband.' Figured it was you when I saw you." He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the effect his words were having.

You looked at yourself in the reflection of the car, and Chris was right. Looking back at you stood a girl with beautiful hair thrown over her shoulder and a pink headband placed neatly on her head.

You shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond. Matt had been talking about you? And to his brother, no less?

"What does that have to do with anything?" you asked, your voice hardening. "How am I supposed to help?"

Chris leaned back in his seat, tapping his fingers lightly on the steering wheel. "Look, I know this is a lot, but Matt's in deeper than he ever let on. And right now, he's got no one but you."

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. "And why should I trust you? I don't even know you."

Chris's smile faltered slightly, though his voice remained smooth. "I get it. You don't know me, and you have no reason to trust me. But trust me on this—Matt's in serious trouble, and you're the only person he's been talking about lately. That's why I came to you."

You hesitated, a mix of emotions swirling inside you—concern for Matt, suspicion toward Chris, and the overwhelming feeling of being pulled into something you didn't fully understand. "So what exactly do you need from me?"

Chris sighed, glancing down the street as if making sure no one was watching. "I need you to come with me to the police station. You're the only person who might be able to help get him out."

You frowned. "What, like bail him out?"

"Exactly," Chris said, his voice serious now. "Matt's bail is set at fifty grand, and I don't have that kind of cash. But I know you do. You're an Ember, aren't I right?" His smirked back into place.

You blinked, stunned by the number. "Fifty thousand dollars? You think I have that lying around?"

Chris shook his head quickly. "No, actually yes, I do. But I figured maybe you wouldn't want to spend it on someone as idiotic as my brother. But maybe you know someone who could help. You look like someone who's got connections."

His words were a strange mix of flattery and manipulation, but something about his urgency kept you from walking away.

Despite your better judgment, you felt like you couldn't leave Matt to fend for himself—not after what had happened between you two the night before.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the situation settle on your shoulders. "Fine," you said finally, your voice steady. "Take me to the police station."

Chris's smirk returned, though there was something darker in his eyes now. "Good choice. Get in."

You hesitated for just a moment before walking around the car and sliding into the passenger seat. Chris pulled away from the curb, and the car's engine hummed as you sped down the street.

The drive was tense, and you couldn't help but ask, "How deep is Matt in? You said he's in trouble—what kind of trouble are we talking about?"

Chris didn't answer right away.

His fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the road. "Matt's been doing deals for a while now," he said, his voice lower, more serious. "Small stuff at first, but recently, things have gotten bigger. Riskier. Last night wasn't supposed to go the way it did."

You swallowed hard, the unease in your chest growing. "Why didn't he stop? Why didn't you stop him?"

Chris let out a humorless laugh. "You think I could've stopped him? Matt's stubborn as hell. He thinks he's got it all under control, but the truth is, this life... it swallows people whole."

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. "That's why I'm hoping you can talk some sense into him. He listens to you, even if he won't admit it."

You didn't know how to respond to that. The Matt you knew—the one who always tried to keep his distance, who pushed you away at every turn—didn't seem like someone who would listen to anyone.

But Chris's words lingered in the back of your mind. Maybe there was something more to Matt than you had seen. Maybe he needed more help than he was willing to ask for.

Before long, Chris pulled into the parking lot of the police station. The building loomed ahead, cold and uninviting. Your heart raced as you stepped out of the car, the gravity of the situation finally sinking in.

Chris walked beside you, his pace casual, but you could feel the tension radiating off him. As you approached the entrance, he paused, glancing at you. "You sure about this? Once we go in there, it's gonna get real."

You squared your shoulders, meeting his gaze with a determined look. "Yeah. I'm sure."

With that, you pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The station was bustling with activity—officers talking at the front desk, people waiting in chairs along the walls, the faint hum of police radios in the background.

Chris walked up to the desk, speaking briefly with the officer on duty. After a moment, the officer nodded and disappeared into the back.

You stood there, your hands clenched at your sides, trying to ignore the knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. Chris glanced at you again, his expression unreadable.

A few minutes later, the officer returned, motioning for you to follow