“It’s not okay,” I say, my voice muffled. It’s so hard to breathe. “It’s not okay.”

“Shhh,” Ace murmurs, his lips pressed against my hair. “You’ll figure it out, whatever it is. I know that. I know you.”

“I don’t even know me,” I say, wishing it wasn’t the truth. I’m a stranger in my own skin. I’m a puppet on strings, playing out my parents’ dreams.

“Of course you do,” Ace says before squeezing my shoulders. “Please breathe. Follow me, come on.”

I exhale deeply and try to breathe with the movements of his chest. It clears my head enough to say, “Nothing about me is even real. I’m just the person my parents want me to be.”

“No,” Ace says, his voice fierce enough to jar me. I’m suddenly hyperaware of my surroundings, of his wool sweater pressed against my cheek, the faint scent of cinnamon in the air, the thump of his heartbeat beneath my ear. “That’s not true. How can you not be real? You’re the realest thing I’ve ever known.”

“Maybe you need to broaden your horizons,” I say weakly. I forgot how easy it is to talk to Ace. It’s the most natural thing in the world, somehow, to joke with him even when I feel five seconds away from a mental breakdown. Maybe six seconds away now. With every passing moment, it seems like a further-off possibility.

“Why? You already light up my world unlike anybody else,” Ace says, pulling back to brush my hair out of my eyes.

“Are you quoting One Direction?” I ask. Again, for the first time in weeks, I feel the urge to smile even though I can’t quite bring myself to actually do it.

“Yes,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I absolutely am. It’s not my fault they wrote a song about you.”

“Hm.” I close my eyes and rest my head against his chest again. In turn, he wraps his arms around me.

Maybe for five minutes, I don’t have to think about my future.

Maybe for five minutes, I can have this.

A long moment passes in silence before Ace tenderly strokes my cheek with his thumb, making me open my eyes. “What happened back there?”

Well. That was a nice five minutes while it lasted.

“I’m just really overwhelmed right now.” I look down to avoid his earnest gaze. “Your poem was...a lot.”

“I meant it,” Ace says, tilting my chin up. His rings are cold against my heated skin. “You’re so brave. Even if things didn’t work out the way you wanted, you tried. You conquered your fear and put your heart on the line, even though you knew it might get broken. That’s the bravest thing someone can do.”