You always knew Lisa had a way of looking at you that lingered half a second too long.

Back when it was just you two. Before the police tape, before the missing posters, you’d catch her watching you from across the haunted places you visited. You’d smile, she’d look away fast, cheeks pink. When you passed her in the hallway, your shoulders would brush and both of you would pretend it didn’t happen, even though your heart kicked every time.

Neither of you ever said anything.

Now, you find her behind the prize counter, at that blasted pizzeria you begged her not to go to.. barely conscious, breathing shallow but real, and your chest caves in with relief so sharp it hurts.

“Lisa,” you whisper, kneeling beside her.

Her eyes open slowly. When they land on you, fear flashes first… then recognition. Then something achingly soft.

“You came,” she breathes, like she never doubted it.

You help her sit up, your hands trembling as you touch her arms, afraid she’ll disappear if you’re not careful. She flinches at first,instinct, but then she leans into you, forehead pressing weakly against your shoulder.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” she murmurs. “When it was… inside me, it kept showing me you. Over and over.”

Your heart stutters. “What do you mean?”

Lisa pulls back just enough to look at you. Her eyes are still shadowed, still haunted but they’re hers.

“It knew how I felt,” she admits quietly. “How I always felt. It used that to keep me going.”

Silence stretches between you, thick and fragile. You realize how close you are, how her fingers are curled into the fabric of your jacket, like she’s afraid to let go.

“I liked you too,” you say before you can stop yourself. Your voice shakes. “I just didn’t think… after everything… I didn’t think I’d get the chance to tell you.”

Her breath catches.

“Really?” she whispers, like hope is a dangerous thing.

You nod. “Always.”

For a moment, she looks like she might break. Then she laughs softly, tiny, disbelieving and her forehead falls against yours.

“It’s gone now,” she says. “But sometimes I still feel it. Especially when the lights flicker.” Her hand tightens in yours. “Will you stay?”

You don’t hesitate. You lace your fingers with hers, warm and real and alive.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise.

Lisa closes her eyes, finally letting herself relax. And for the first time since the doors closed and the music stopped, she isn’t being held up by strings.

She’s being held by you.