Page 29 of Try Line Hearts
“In,” Kaine murmured. “One, two, three, four… hold… two, three, four… out… two, three, four.”
Byrne tried to match him. The first attempt stuttered, lungs snagging halfway.
“That’s fine,” Kaine said softly. “Again.”
They did it again.
And again.
Gradually, the buzzing in Byrne’s ears faded. His hands stopped tingling. The world stretched back out, edges returning, color bleeding back into the concrete and the rain.
He opened his eyes.
Kaine watched him carefully—no mockery, no impatience. Just assessment and something that looked dangerously like care.
“Better?” Kaine asked.
“No,” Byrne rasped. Then, after a beat: “…Yes.”
Kaine huffed a quiet laugh. “Pick one.”
Byrne didn’t.
His phone buzzed weakly in his hand.
He didn’t look.
Kaine tilted it gently instead, just enough to catch the preview—another group chat message with a cartoon GIF of characters kissing.
Kaine’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
“Idiots,” he muttered.
Byrne’s stomach clenched. “They don’t mean—”
“I know what they mean,” Kaine said. “I also know what it feels like when a joke hits the wrong place.”
The words were light. The truth underneath them wasn’t.
Byrne forced himself to speak. “It’s not just— I can’t have people thinking things. Even as a joke. Not like that.”
The last words came out raw, unfinished, heavy with implication.
For a moment, Kaine went very still.
Something flickered in his eyes—sharp, quick understanding, a puzzle piece locking into place.
He didn’t sayI knew.
He didn’t sayare you?
He didn’t make it a question at all.
“Oh,” Kaine said quietly.
Just that.
Not judgment. Not surprise. Just awareness.
