Page 62 of Make Them Bleed

Juno: Home. Doors locked. I did not turn the Ring back on. Thought you should know so you don’t do the anxious hover.

The knot behind my sternum loosens a notch.

Thank you for telling me. No hover. I’m on the couch trying to teach Gage manners.

Across from me, Gage raises one eyebrow without looking away from his rig.

Juno: Tell him I appreciate his bat energy.

Juno: Also tell him I know he stiff-arms sentiments and that’s fine because I have enough for both of us.

I read that out loud. Gage goes a little pink around the ears. “Tell her to hydrate,” he mutters, which in Gage meanstell her I care.

Hydrate. Orders from the bat.

Juno: Wow, powerful. Drinking water now.

Juno: …fine, half a glass. Don’t narc me out.

I grin at the screen like an idiot. Gage sees and sets his rig down, and stands. “I’m going to go scrub the plate frames in mycave,” he says, gesturing to his room-slash-lab like a troll under a bridge. He pauses at the hall. “Hey, Arrow?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not wrong to want to keep her breathing.” He scratches his jaw. “Just don’t do it by taking her lungs.”

That hits hard. “Got it, thanks.”

He disappears down the hall. The apartment gets very quiet, the kind of quiet that feels like a held breath rather than an absence. I stretch out on the couch, one knee up, phone balanced on my thigh.

What are you listening to?

Juno: Do not laugh.

Juno: Hold The Peppers—the live album. Yelling along quietly so my neighbors don’t file a complaint.

My heart does an undignified thing. Hold The Peppers was our shared rope-ladder in high school. We traded bootleg recordings on burned CDs and argued about whether the drummer’s fill in “Statue of Liberty Tax Fraud” was intentional (it was, Gage later proved it in a waveform).

Track 7?

Juno: Obviously. The clap-clap before the bridge still makes me think I’m invincible.

You are. But also maybe don’t try parkour off your couch.

Juno: Parkour is a state of mind.

Juno: What about you? Listening to anything besides router fans and your conscience?

I chuckle, thumb hovering.

I queued the demo where they mess up the second verse and keep going.

I love it when they don’t cut the mistakes.

A pause. Then:

Juno: Of course you do. That’s very… you.

Juno: Do you remember the basement show senior year? You snuck me in because my mother thought I had the flu.