You’re both living at a youth center, she’s your gf (only for the girls)

The air inside the youth center feels heavy tonight, like everyone can sense the inevitable but no one wants to say it out loud. You sit on the floor of Janessa’s room, leaning against her bed while she stretches out on the mattress above you, tossing a basketball up and catching it absentmindedly. The dim light from the bedside lamp casts soft shadows over her face, making her look almost peaceful—if you didn’t know better, you’d think she wasn’t worried at all.

But you know her too well for that.

“You’re quiet,” Janessa murmurs, not looking away from the ball as it spins in her hands.

You shrug, pretending to focus on the small rip in your sweatpants. “Just thinking.”

She smirks, finally glancing down at you. “Dangerous habit.”

You roll your eyes, but your chest tightens. Because there’s too much to think about, and none of it feels fair. In just a few weeks, she’ll turn eighteen. And that means she has to leave.

Janessa never talks about where she’s going next. Whenever you ask, she just shrugs and says, I’ll figure it out. Like it’s that simple. Like she’s not about to be thrown into the world alone with nothing but a duffel bag and that stubborn confidence she wears like armor.

And worst of all—you’re not allowed to go with her.

You hear footsteps outside in the hallway, the faint chatter of some of the younger kids messing around before bed. The staff does room checks at ten. You should probably leave soon.

Janessa must be thinking the same thing, because she lets out a breath and sits up, setting the ball aside “Come here.”

You hesitate for half a second before climbing onto the bed beside her. She shifts so you can curl into her side, her arm wrapping around you easily, like you belong there.

“I don’t want you to go,” you whisper, barely loud enough to be heard.