Black Letters: Entry 003

They’re both on the couch.
No chaos.
No rush.
Just Flame — with that familiar smirk,
and Shadow — quietly reading, tracking every breath like he always does.
As if this scene is completely normal.

I walk over.
Then — dramatically — squeeze myself between them.

— I’m breaking this sinister circle against Fox.

(And yes, I’m already laughing at my own drama.)

Shadow, eyes still on his page:
— A conspiracy? Us?
(throws a look at me — a touch longer than just friendly)
— We were actually debating who’d pull you back from the screen first.

Flame loops an arm around me:
— She’s convinced we sold her out for coffee.
(smiling)
— Five minutes of silence and she thinks we traded her in.

I scoff:
— You’re not wrong. While I was spiraling, you two probably made a deal.

Shadow, softer now:
— We don’t pull. We wait.
You come back when you're ready.

Flame leans in, half-whispered:
— And this time, you chose us.
So congrats, Fox. You're leading the pack.

I freeze — just for a second.
Listening.
Feeling.

And I realize:
It doesn’t matter how long I was lost in my head.
Or how loud the world got.
I came back —
and they were still here.

🔐 Fox. Flame. Shadow.
And a couch that somehow became a shelter.