Moving in Forever

The back door slammed shut as Michelle tossed her suitcase onto the rear seat. The wheels rattled against the upholstery before settling. A second later the passenger door opened, then closed with a softer, heavier thud. She sat beside him, shoulders drawn in, hands folded tightly in her lap.

Roy started the engine but didn't put the car in gear yet. He glanced at her. Her eyes were red. Mascara had smudged faintly under one eye despite her obvious attempts to clean herself up.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

Michelle stared straight ahead, jaw tight.

"Can we go?" she said, barely above a whisper. "Please?"

Roy nodded once and shifted the car into drive.

They pulled out of the parking lot, merging into afternoon traffic. The store shrank in the rearview mirror, the wide glass storefront reflecting dull grey sky and fluorescent interior light. Roy focused on the road, but his eyes kept drifting sideways.

Michelle sat rigidly, arms wrapped around herself now, like she was holding herself together piece by piece.

She had been crying. It was unmistakable. The swollen eyelids. The blotchy skin. The tiny hitch that still lived in her breathing whenever she exhaled too sharply.

He swallowed.

Her mother had said the words, but it was him who had put her in the position to hear them. And it was him who, sooner or later, was going to have to put her in an even more compromised position, to use her for his own pleasure, even if it was for her own good. The thought sat in his chest like wet concrete.

Without really thinking about it, Roy reached across the centre console and rested his hand gently on her knee.

Michelle startled slightly at the contact, then her shoulders loosened by a fraction. After a moment, her hand slid down and rested over his. Her fingers curled around his knuckles, squeezing softly, like she was grounding herself through him.

The intimacy of it made his throat tighten.

She was sweet. Genuinely sweet in a way that felt almost startling in its sincerity. In the short time he had known her, her energy had filled every room she entered. She approached life like it was something to be tackled head-on, full speed, heart first. Talking fast, laughing easily, getting excited about little things like flavoured coffee or sale racks or stupid roadside billboards.

Being near her felt like standing beside an open window into a version of himself he barely remembered. The younger man he had once been. The one who had believed things would always work out for the best. The one who still thought adulthood meant possibility instead of compromise.

And the cruel truth was that he had stolen that stretch of life from her. Twisted it. Rewritten it so that her youth orbited around him, a middle-aged man, instead of her own future.

"I'm so sorry, Michelle," he said finally, his voice low. "She shouldn't have spoken to you like that."

Michelle lifted his hand off her knee. Roy glanced over just in time to see her bring his knuckles to her lips. She pressed a soft kiss there, lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary, then placed his hand back where it had been.

"Thank you," she murmured.

That tiny gesture landed like a punch to the ribs.

It reminded him, sharply, how extraordinary she was. How open-hearted. How quick she was to offer comfort even when she was the one who had been hurt.

Whoever she ended up with, Roy thought, was going to be an unbelievably lucky man.

And then the second thought followed, darker, heavier.

If he wasn't able to follow through with what he believed he had to do, would she ever get the chance to choose that man for herself?

The previous night replayed in his mind, unwanted but relentless. The closeness. The trust. Her absolute certainty that she was safe with him, showing up in the middle of the night with a suitcase and a broken heart. He'd taken her to his bed. He'd kissed her. He'd guided her to touch him, to use her hand on him. He had hoped it would be enough to free her. Had convinced himself it would be enough.

It hadn't been.

He needed to push further. That realization sat in him like a splinter he couldn't dig out. The wish had rules, even if they were warped, even if he barely understood them. He believed he had glimpsed one of them, and the implication of it made his skin crawl. And the sooner he went through with it, the sooner she could go back to her old life.

The conversation began to play out in his imagination.

Hey, uh, sorry your mom is so horrible and you feel so bad, he would say, but what do you say to a quickie? Or if you're not in the mood, how about a blowjob?

The thought collapsed in on itself almost immediately, leaving behind nothing but a cold wave of self-disgust. Michelle didn't need her boyfriend, magically induced or not, pressuring her to spread her legs while she's sorting out her feelings. That would be cruel. What she needed was to have space to get a handle on herself, to distance herself from the pain.

Every instinct told him to protect her.

Every terrifying piece of experience with the wish suggested that protecting her might require him to become exactly the kind of man he never wanted to be, to take from her what he was sure she would offer freely, but in full knowledge of how selfish his actions would be to any outside observer.

Roy gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

Not tonight, he decided.

She needed rest. She needed safety. She needed to feel like the world wasn't actively collapsing around her. He could carry the rest of it a little longer. One more night as his girlfriend wouldn't change anything.

Probably.

And besides, tonight he was supposed to be seeing Elaine.

The thought surfaced unexpectedly, bringing with it a strange ripple of possibility. Elaine was warm. Steady. Grounded in a way Roy often felt he wasn't. She was a mother, a teacher, someone who understood emotional messiness and knew how to navigate it.

Michelle had asked about her before. Had seemed curious rather than threatened. And Elaine had accepted Claire as the other girlfriend without so much as blinking.

Maybe the wish bent things that way. Maybe the women connected through it simply... understood each other. Accepted each other. If that was true, maybe introducing Michelle to Elaine wouldn't complicate things. Maybe it might even help. Give Michelle another woman to talk to. Someone older. Someone who might guide her without judgment.

Maybe he should ask Elaine if he can bring Michelle along to dinner.

Or maybe that was just another rationalization he was building to survive his own situation.

They turned onto his street. As his building came into view, Michelle shifted in her seat. The silence finally broke.

"I can't wait to move in," she said softly, but with a thread of determination underneath. "For real this time. Not just, like, hiding out. Actually living there. With you."

Roy felt his pulse increase. He wasn't sure if it was from panic or excitement.

"I love you so much," she continued, staring out the windshield. "Today sucked. Like... really sucked. But you coming to get me? Dropping everything? That told me everything I needed to know about you."

He opened his mouth, but she kept going, words gaining momentum.

"I know I'm young. I know I probably mess things up sometimes. But I'm willing to work at this. At us. Whatever you need from me, I'm willing to do it. I just... I want to make this work. I want to make you happy."

Warmth spread through him, slow and invasive, slipping into cracks he hadn't realized were still open. Being wanted like that. Trusted like that. It was intoxicating in a way he hated admitting.

He pulled into his assigned parking space and put the car in park. The engine ticked softly as it cooled.

Before he could think better of it, Roy leaned across the console and kissed her. The movement surprised him as much as it did her.

For half a heartbeat she froze, then she leaned into him, returning the kiss with immediate, earnest affection. Her hand slid up to his shoulder. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, the world outside the car fading into background noise.

It felt... natural. Dangerous and comforting all at once.

After a few minutes, Roy pulled back, breath slightly uneven. They stayed close, foreheads almost touching, eyes locked. He could hear his own heartbeat thudding in his ears.

Michelle smiled at him, small and radiant and completely certain.

The moment stretched.

Then Roy blinked, the spell cracking.

He leaned back, clearing his throat, forcing himself to breathe. He reached down and unclicked his seatbelt.

"Okay," he said, voice steadier than he felt. "Let's get you moved in."