Julian hadn't slept.
He sat in his room with the lights off, the same sentence repeating in his head like a curse: "You don't get to make me your redemption story."
He kept picturing Penelope walking away. The way her voice had cracked. The look in her eyes—like she wasn't even angry anymore.
Just tired.
He deserved it. He knew that.
But it didn't make it hurt less.
The worst part? She was right.
He had been using her as proof that he was better now. Like if she loved him, then maybe he wasn't the monster he still sometimes saw in the mirror.
And now?
She was gone.
Julian ran his hand through his hair and stood up.
He couldn't let this be the end. Not like this. Not with Scott walking around acting like a tragic hero when he had secrets too.
Because Julian knew things. Things Penelope didn't.
And if Scott was going to play dirty?
Julian would play smarter.
---
Meanwhile, Scott was pacing in his garage like a caged animal. A punching bag hung in the corner, already bruised worse than Julian's face.
He couldn't get Penelope's words out of his head either.
"Fight over who gets to lose me first."
And just like Julian, he hated how much it hurt that she meant it.
Scott had spent years building a wall between who he was and who he wanted to be. He'd convinced himself that if he just stayed quiet, stayed helpful, stayed in the background—he'd get the girl without having to bleed for her.
But Penelope hadn't fallen for quiet.
She'd fallen for complicated.
For damaged.
For Julian.
And it made Scott furious in a way that scared even him.
So when Julian showed up the next day, standing by the tree outside Scott's house like some brooding poetic threat, Scott didn't even hesitate.
He stormed out. "What do you want?"
Julian held up his phone. "To talk."
Scott scoffed. "About how you punched me? Or how you conveniently left out that you nearly put someone in the hospital?"
"No," Julian said. "About you."
Scott froze.
Julian's voice was calm. Too calm. "You think I didn't look into you after you showed Penelope that picture? You think I don't know who your brother is?"
Scott's face hardened.
"You wanna play hero, Scott? Fine," Julian said. "But maybe Penelope should know about you sneaking into therapy group meetings you weren't registered for. Pretending to be someone you're not. Stealing someone's story so you could make her think you were the broken one worth fixing."
Scott stepped forward, fists clenched. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't I?" Julian tilted his head. "Or is the truth that you're just as messed up as me, but better at hiding it?"
They stood there, silent, rage thick in the air.
Then Scott said, "If you tell her, you'll break her."
Julian didn't blink. "She deserves to know who she's trusting."
"She doesn't trust anyone anymore," Scott snapped. "Because of us."
That landed.
Hard.
Because it was true.
They had both betrayed her. In different ways. And now all they had left was a cold war made of jealousy and guilt.
Scott shook his head. "You're not the only one who lost her, Julian."
Julian didn't reply.
He didn't have to.
Because this wasn't about who lost Penelope anymore.
It was about who would destroy her first if they weren't careful.
---
Penelope, meanwhile, was back at the community center.
Same seat.
Same soft music in the background.
Only this time, she wasn't alone.
Milo was there again, sketching lazily, sipping something suspiciously labeled "emotional support juice" (spoiler: it was just orange soda).
"Rough day?" he asked without looking up.
She shrugged. "Rough month."
He glanced at her, then tossed a peanut butter granola bar her way. "For courage."
She caught it with a tired smile. "Is this how you solve problems? Snacks and sarcasm?"
"Only the big ones," he said.
They didn't talk much after that.
And maybe that's what she needed. Someone who wasn't asking her to choose sides. Someone who didn't want anything from her.
Just… space to be.
Still, even in that quiet, her brain wouldn't stop running laps.
Julian.
Scott.
Julian and Scott.
She still felt something for Julian. Of course she did. He was written all over her sketchbooks like a song she couldn't skip.
But Scott… Scott had held pieces of her pain too. He had caught her when she didn't even know she was falling.
And now?
They were tearing each other apart.
Because of her.
She looked at her painting.
And suddenly, she knew.
This wasn't a love triangle.
It was a caution sign.
One of them was about to make a move that would ruin everything.
And if she didn't stop it…
She'd lose both of them.