Which was ridiculous.
Liam had his own life. His own friends. His own problems.
Yet somehow, every time she looked at the screen, he was there.
The typing dots disappeared.
Then came back.
Then disappeared again.
Ivy frowned.
"Now who's overthinking?" she muttered.
A few seconds later, his reply arrived.
LIAM: You're right.
Ivy blinked.
That wasn't the response she expected.
Another message followed.
LIAM: I don't know you properly.
Then:
LIAM: But I know enough to know today sucked.
Despite herself, a small laugh escaped her.
Not a big one.
Just enough to surprise her.
She covered her mouth immediately, glancing toward the door like someone might have heard.
No one did.
No one ever did.
Her phone buzzed again.
LIAM: Was that too direct?
Ivy stared.
Then:
IVY: A little.
Three dots.
LIAM: Sorry.
Another pause.
LIAM: Today sucked.
There. Rephrased.
Ivy rolled her eyes.
The smile stayed anyway.
For a few moments neither of them sent anything.
The silence felt different now.
Not awkward.
Just... comfortable.
Outside her window, the sky had darkened completely.
Streetlights glowed faintly through the curtains.
The house creaked around her.
A door opened downstairs.
Someone laughed.
Someone else complained about dishes.
Life continuing.
Always continuing.
Her phone lit again.
LIAM: Did you eat?
Ivy looked toward her bedroom door.
Toward the hallway.
Toward the place where dinner had happened without really including her.
She thought about the half-finished plate.
The cold rice.
The conversation she had never been invited into.
IVY: Kind of.
A pause.
Then:
LIAM: That doesn't sound convincing.
IVY: It wasn't.
This time the response took longer.
Long enough that Ivy wondered if she'd said something wrong.
Then
LIAM: Okay.
Ivy frowned.
IVY: Okay?
LIAM: Okay.
LIAM: I'm learning that when you say something vaguely concerning and then try to move on, it usually means there's more to it.
Ivy sat up slightly.
IVY: That's not fair.
LIAM: Probably not.
LIAM: Still true though.
She stared at the messages.
Then shook her head.
Somehow he'd gone from awkward boy-with-a-manga to annoyingly observant in less than twenty-four hours.
It was suspicious.
Very suspicious.
IVY: You're weird.
The reply came instantly.
LIAM: I've been told that.
IVY: Frequently?
LIAM: Enough.
A small smile tugged at Ivy's mouth again.
Her gaze drifted toward the ceiling.
For a second she forgot about Qin Jingze.
Forgot about Zoey.
Forgot about her mother's disappointed expression.
Forgot about the way the dinner table had felt like a place she occupied rather than belonged.
Just for a second.
Buzz.
LIAM: You know...
Ivy waited.
Three dots appeared.
Vanished.
Appeared again.
LIAM: You don't have to carry everything by yourself.
The smile disappeared.
Not because the words were wrong.
Because they landed too close.
Ivy stared at them.
A strange ache spread through her chest.
She wasn't even sure why.
Maybe because nobody had said that before.
Or maybe because somebody finally had.
Her fingers rested motionless above the keyboard.
Downstairs, the television clicked off.
Footsteps moved through the hallway.
A door closed.
The house settled into nighttime.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Ivy sat cross-legged on her small bed with her phone glowing softly in the dark.
And for the first time in a very long time
she found herself wondering what it might feel like if someone actually meant it.
Ivy stared at the message longer than she meant to.
You don't have to carry everything by yourself.
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
Then she did what she always did when something felt too close.
She deflected.
IVY: That sounds like something you practiced in the mirror.
She hit send immediately, like speed could cancel out meaning.
A second passed.
Then another.
The typing dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Ivy squinted.
"…Why is he like this," she muttered.
LIAM: I did not practice it in the mirror.
IVY: That was a fast denial.
LIAM: Because it's false.
A pause.
Then:
LIAM: Also I don't have a mirror in my room that I can stand in front of and say inspirational things to myself.
IVY stared.
Then snorted.
Not loudly.
Just enough to surprise herself again.
IVY: That's oddly specific.
LIAM: It's because I knew you'd assume that.
IVY: I did not assume that.
LIAM: You absolutely did.
She opened her mouth to argue and then stopped.
Because… he was right.
She frowned at her screen.
IVY: You're annoying.
LIAM: Noted.
IVY: And confident for someone who was watching anime under his desk today.
There was a delay.
Longer this time.
Ivy tilted her head slightly.
Then
LIAM: That was tactical.
IVY: Tactical?
LIAM: Yes.
LIAM: Low profile environment. Reduced emotional exposure.
IVY blinked.
Then slowly sat up straighter.
IVY: You were hiding your anime from people emotionally?
LIAM: That sounds worse than it is.
IVY: It sounds exactly what it is.
Three dots appeared again immediately.
LIAM: Okay yes.
IVY: Oh my god.
LIAM: In my defence, people judge.
IVY: People judge everything.
LIAM: Exactly.
IVY stared at her screen, shaking her head again but this time the smile didn't leave.
Somewhere in the house, a floorboard creaked.
She didn't care.
Buzz.
LIAM: Are you still there?
IVY: Unfortunately yes.
LIAM: Good.
That word made her pause.
Not okay. Not fine.
Just
Good.
IVY: That sounded weird.
LIAM: I meant it normally.
IVY: That's not reassuring.
LIAM: I'm aware.
Another pause.
Then, unexpectedly:
LIAM: I'm not good at this.
IVY frowned slightly.
IVY: At what?
The dots appeared.
Vanished.
Appeared again.
LIAM: Talking to people like this.
LIAM: Without it being… structured.
IVY blinked.
Then leaned back against her headboard.
IVY: You mean like… conversations?
LIAM: Yes.
IVY: That's concerning.
LIAM: I agree.
That made her laugh again shorter this time, more natural.
She stared at the ceiling afterward, the phone resting loosely in her hand.
For a moment, she didn't type anything.
Neither did he.
The silence stretched.
But it didn't feel empty.
Then
LIAM: I overthink messages.
IVY: I noticed.
LIAM: I'm overthinking this one right now.
IVY: I can tell.
LIAM: Should I stop talking?
IVY: No.
A pause.
Then she quickly added:
IVY: I mean no, you don't have to stop. That wasn't an order.
Three dots.
Immediate.
LIAM: Okay.
LIAM: That also sounded like an order.
IVY: IT WASN'T.
LIAM: Noted.
She groaned softly into her hand.
IVY: You're doing it on purpose now.
LIAM: I am not.
LIAM: I am trying to calibrate tone.
IVY: That sounds worse.
LIAM: I'm aware.
And somehow
somehow that made it easier.
Ivy stared at the screen, the glow soft against her face.
Outside, the night deepened.
Inside, for once, nothing was chasing her.
No stares.
No rumours.
No megaphones.
Just Liam's awkward typing dots appearing and disappearing like he couldn't decide whether to exist confidently or quietly.
IVY: Hey.
The reply came instantly.
LIAM: Yes?
She hesitated.
Then typed anyway.
IVY: You're not as weird as I thought.
A long pause.
Long enough that she almost regretted it.
Then
LIAM: That is not the compliment I think it is.
IVY smiled into the dim light.
IVY: It's the best one you're getting tonight.
LIAM: I'll accept it.
LIAM: Reluctantly.
IVY: Of course you will.
And for a while after that
neither of them tried to end the conversation.
Not because they didn't know how.
But because, quietly, neither of them wanted to.