You didn’t mean to cry today.

You didn’t even mean to come into the barn. You were looking for something—your phone? your hoodie? water?—you don’t remember. Everything’s a little spinny. Your head’s heavy, and your steps are all wobbly.

But then you saw it.

The teapot.

Your sister’s teapot. The one you shattered the night everything broke too loud in your chest. The one you told yourself you didn’t deserve to have, not after—

It’s right there. Sitting on a crate like it never fell apart. Like someone loved every broken piece back together with gold seams and quiet hands.

And it kills you.

You don’t even make a sound before the sob punches out of you. Your knees hit the floor. Your whole body shakes with it. Hands covering your face. Drunk, messy crying. The kind that pulls the air out of your lungs and leaves nothing behind but ache.

“Jackie?”

Cole’s voice. Sharp. Alarmed.

You don’t look at him.

“Hey—what’s going on—Jackie?”

You try to stand, but your legs are spaghetti and your head’s all swimmy. You push past him, stumbling. “Don’t—don’t touch me, I’m fine—”

He catches your arm gently but firmly. “Jackie, stop, talk to me—”

“Did you… did you do this?” Your voice slurs, cracking right down the middle.

“… Yeah. But I—”

“WHY?!” you shout, louder than you mean to. Your voice wavers, full of tears. “Why would you fix it and not tell me?”

He flinches a little, caught. “I didn’t want to make it worse. You were already so—”

“So what? So sad? So wrecked? Like I needed one more thing to cry about?” You wipe your face with your sleeve, but it doesn’t help. Your tears won’t stop.

“I thought it was gone, Cole. I thought I ruined it. That I didn’t deserve to have anything left of her—” You’re spiraling now, and your words are tripping all over each other. “And then you just—just fix it in secret like it means nothing?”

Cole’s voice drops low. Careful. “I didn’t want it to look like I was… making a move.”

You stop. “What?”

“I mean… Alex. I didn’t want it to seem like I was trying to—” He cuts himself off.

You laugh, sharp and bitter, your hand flying up like you can’t even deal. “Wh’t- Why do you do that—bring him up? Nothing’s going on with Alex. Nothing.”

Cole looks down at the ground like it’s safer than your face.

“I thought you liked him.”

“I thought you didn’t care,” you shoot back.

He breathes in hard through his nose. “I didn’t want to be the guy who fixes a teapot and acts like that earns him something.”

You stare at him. Blurry eyes. Heart cracked wide open. “I didn’t ask you to fix it.”

“I know.”

You try to move again, but your legs won’t stop wobbling. Your chest keeps clenching, like grief and alcohol are *arm-wrestling *inside your ribs.

“I miss her,” you say, barely above a whisper.

Cole nods. “I know.”

“S’ don’t remember..what it feels like.. to be. ‘okayy” You sniffle drunkenly. God you’re gone.

There’s a pause. Then—softly—“You will. Maybe not all at once, but you will.”

You shake your head. “I broke her teapot.”

He kneels beside you.

“And I fixed it.”

You finally look at him. You’re a mess. Puffy eyes. Drunk breath. Arms folded like you’re holding yourself together by threads.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Cole says quietly. “I just… I didn’t want you to feel like you owed me anything. Or that I was trying to fix you, too.”

You blink at him, hard. “I don’t owe you.”

“I know,” he says. “That’s why I did it.”

And for a long moment, neither of you say anything. The barn is quiet except for your breathing, your sniffles. The soft creak of the floorboards under your weight. You’re both just standing there, but the alcohol has severely affected you.