Falloff

“I’m nervous, Fali.”

Skyscrapers towered above the little white car as it crawled through the midday traffic of the city where they’d first met. Horns blared in the distance, sunlight glinting off a sea of windshields. Mele sat in the passenger seat, twisting her hands together, eyes darting from car to car.

“Me too,” he admitted.

She shook her head quickly. “No, like… I’m really nervous. I’m scared.”

The traffic stopped, and for a moment, he could really look at her.
“Scared?”

She gave a small nod, her voice shaking.

As the car inched forward again, he glanced between her and the ugly green vehicle ahead.
“Worried someone will try something?”

“Of course there’s that,” she said, “but that’s not it.”

“Then what?”

“I’m scared of what others will think. Believe it or not… really scared.”

He frowned. “I thought you said you didn’t care anymore.”

She scowled. “Well, apparently I do.”

He tried to lift his hands in mock surrender, but the moving car made that impossible.
“Okay, okay. What should we do about it?”

“Go home.”

He sighed. “We can’t do that…”

“Yes we can!” she snapped. “Who’s gonna stop us?”

“Mele…” His voice tightened. “You know that’s illegal.”

“I CAN’T!” she shouted, trembling. The courthouse was visible ahead now, the grand building framed by the endless stream of cars. Dozens of vehicles circled for parking spots; a line stretched down into the underground garage. “I can’t be watched by all those people!”

The trial was set to be one of the biggest events of the year - livestreamed to over a million viewers. The courtroom itself would be packed beyond capacity.

Fali’s voice hardened. “What makes you think I’m any more comfortable with it? But this is something we have to do.”

“NO! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!”

Tears streaked her cheeks as her voice cracked. The car crept forward; the noise of traffic swallowed her shouts, but not for him.

“YOU HAVEN’T HAD TO WORRY ABOUT YOUR REPUTATION! YOU HAVEN’T HAD TO WORRY ABOUT HOW PEOPLE SEE YOU! YOU-”

“Mele…”

“DON’T INTERRUPT ME! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO SEE NOTHING BUT EYES, CONSTANTLY!”

Her breath ran out. The car fell silent but for the muted hum of the engine. Fali was grateful for the congestion - it gave them cover, and time.

His voice was quiet, but it carried weight. “You don’t know what I see.”

She blinked.

“I know you’re being watched all the time,” he said softly. “By people who adore you. Who judge you. Who… expect something from you. But you don’t know what it’s like to be haunted by eyes.”

Her voice came as a hiss. “You think I don’t see eyes in my dreams too?”

He glanced at her, startled. “Your… dreams?”

She nodded, suddenly small in her seat. “Yeah. I used to have nightmares. About the soldiers I played for - the ones who didn’t come back the next day.”

The quiet that followed was almost unbearable.

Fali’s voice barely rose above a whisper. “I… had nightmares too. Of the faces of people I…” He drew in a shaky breath. “…I killed. I see their eyes all the time. Like the soldiers I told you about.”

He gave a hollow laugh. “I’m one of them, you know. One of those haunted soldiers. Like that poor guy on the news the other day.”

Her reply came softly. “So when you explained your reason for using ‘eyes’ in my song… you were talking about yourself.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

She smiled weakly. “Then it’s really our song now. About both of us.”

“I guess it is,” he murmured.

A pause. Then, gently, she asked, “You said you had nightmares… did they stop?”

He smiled, nervous and shy all at once. “Yeah. Ever since we started sharing a bed.”

Her cheeks reddened - and so did his. “Me too,” she said quietly.

They looked at each other, unsure whether to laugh or cry, until a loud honk from behind made them jump. Fali jolted forward, realizing he’d left a gap in traffic.

A flush of embarrassment hit him - and then he started to laugh. Not because it was funny, but because the tension had nowhere else to go. Mele joined in, giggling through tears, until both of them were laughing so hard they could hardly breathe. Neither knew exactly why.

Maybe it was fear.
Maybe relief.
Maybe love.
Maybe all three.

The courtroom hushed as Fali pushed Mele through the doors.

She wore a plain, long dress that reached almost to her ankles, simple enough that if not for her pretty face, she might have been mistaken for someone’s grandmother. The sound of her wheelchair’s soft creak echoed faintly off the walls.

Gasps rippled through the public gallery. Their idol - their goddess - was no longer the radiant figure who had once performed beneath the lights. Now she sat small and fragile, a woman who had to be helped with even the smallest things. Vulnerable. Delicate. As if she’d been dashed against the rocks over and over, leaving behind only the faintest trace of the girl she used to be.

Dozens of eyes turned toward the defendant’s table. The boy sitting there - just barely nineteen - kept his head bowed, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. Not the press. Not the judge. Certainly not the hostile crowd that packed the benches behind him.

Mele also kept her head lowered as Fali guided her to the prosecutor’s table. Her pulse raced. She didn’t know what the outcome would be - didn’t want to know - but as she allowed herself a single glance at her assailant, something unexpected rose within her.

Remorse.

It shocked her. She told herself it was wrong - absurd, even. Why should she feel guilty? She wasn’t the one who’d done anything. She wasn’t the one who’d destroyed someone’s life.

And yet… she pitied him.

He looked hollow, broken in a way that mirrored her own scars. The trauma was etched into his every movement, into the stillness of his trembling hands.

She thought of what the media had said - that he blamed her for her family’s deaths. That he was consumed by superstition, by lies and ghosts and grief. She hated all of it.

She wanted to scream. To tell them all to stop looking. To leave her and him both alone.

But she couldn’t.

So she gritted her teeth and stared down at the polished wood of the table, silently praying that it would be over quickly.