Always Not Enough

Mr. Grayson.

The words slipped out before I could think twice about them.

They were safe. Formal. Distant.

And they were a lie.

Because there wasn't anything distant about the way my chest was tightening, or the way my stomach churned as I met his eyes. There wasn't anything distant about the way his name—Malyen—echoed in my head, raw and sharp, like an old wound I'd never quite let heal.

I gripped the paintbrush in my hand so tightly that my knuckles went white. I told myself to keep it together, to stay calm. Ellie was watching, and the last thing I wanted was for her to notice the storm swirling inside me.

Ellie didn't miss much. She never had.

Malyen didn't move. He just stood there in the doorway, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other hanging loosely at his side. His eyes locked on mine, his expression unreadable.

He looked... different.

Older.

His lean, angular face had sharpened even further, his aristocratic cheekbones shadowed in just enough scruff to make him look rugged but unpolished. His blue-gray eyes—always piercing, always too knowing for their own good—held something darker now, something that spoke of years spent fighting demons he didn't want anyone to see.

His dark hair was tousled, just slightly too long, brushing against the nape of his neck like he hadn't bothered with a trim in months. And his clothes—ripped jeans and a faded black shirt that hung loosely across his shoulders—looked like he'd thrown them on without a second thought.

He looked... Malyen.

That raw magnetism, that unintentional arrogance he'd always carried—it was still there. But now it was layered with something quieter. Something broken.

From the way his posture radiated both quiet confidence and restrained chaos to the faint accent in his voice when he muttered a quiet, almost hesitant, "Yeah," to something Ellie had said—it all brought me back.

Brought me back to when his voice was lighter, when his laugh carried across the park where we used to spend our afternoons after school. When everything about him seemed warm and familiar, like the perfect cup of tea after a rainy day.

But now, even though he was standing right in front of me, he felt impossibly far away.

Ellie finally broke the tension, her voice bright and conspiratorial.

"So... what do you think, Malyen? Best teacher ever, right?"

I blinked, tearing my gaze away from him. My throat felt tight, but I forced myself to speak, to keep my voice steady.

"She's exaggerating," I said, setting the paintbrush down on the table with careful precision.

Ellie grinned, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. "No, I'm not. Ms. Acostia is amazing. You're lucky I get to learn from her, you know."

Malyen raised an eyebrow at his sister, his lips quirking into the faintest hint of a smile. "She always this dramatic?"

"She's not dramatic," Ellie shot back, crossing her arms over her chest. "She's passionate."

Her words warmed something deep in my chest, but they also made it harder to breathe.

Ellie had been my student for months now, but she wasn't just a student. She was Malyen's little sister. The same girl I used to babysit, the same girl who used to fall asleep in my lap when she was a toddler and wake up with the wildest bedhead I'd ever seen. The same girl who had hugged me tight the first day I started teaching at the academy and whispered, "I missed you."

It had gutted me then, and it was gutting me now.

I wasn't ready for this.

I wasn't ready for him.

I'd spent years rebuilding myself after him. I'd poured everything into my art, into my work, into becoming someone new, someone whole. And for the most part, it had worked.

Until now.

Ellie turned to me, her grin widening.

"So, are you gonna tell him, or should I?"

"Tell me what?" Malyen asked, his gaze flicking between the two of us.

My stomach sank, and I shot Ellie a warning look. "Ellie..."

She ignored me, her grin growing even more mischievous.

"Did you know she's an amazing painter? Like, actually famous in Europe?" Ellie said, her voice filled with pride. "She won this huge award last year, and one of her pieces sold for, like, a bajillion dollars."

I groaned, pressing a hand to my forehead. "It wasn't a bajillion dollars."

"Close enough," Ellie said with a shrug.

Malyen's gaze shifted back to me, his expression softening. "You're still painting."

It wasn't a question.

"Of course," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded slowly, his blue-gray eyes locking onto mine again. For a moment, it felt like the room was shrinking, like the air between us was too heavy to breathe.

Ellie cleared her throat dramatically, breaking the tension.

"Okay, but you have to see what Ms. Acostia helped me with today. It's my favorite one so far."

Malyen's jaw tightened, but he nodded, stepping further into the room.

As they moved toward the canvas, I busied myself with wiping down the easels, my hands trembling as I worked. The motions were automatic, something I'd done a thousand times before, but my mind was somewhere else entirely.

"Ms. Acostia?" Ellie's voice pulled me back to the present.

I turned to find her standing by her easel, her face scrunched up in concentration. "Do you think I should add more green here?" she asked, pointing to the swirls of color on her canvas.

I forced a smile, stepping closer to her. "I think it's perfect the way it is. You don't want to overwork it."

She beamed at me, and for a moment, the tightness in my chest eased.

"You're sure?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Positive," I said with a small laugh. "Besides, you've already outdone yourself. You should be proud."

Ellie grinned, but instead of turning back to her painting, she glanced over at Malyen with a knowing look.;

"What do you think, M?" she asked, her voice bright. "Pretty good, right?"

Malyen's gaze lingered on the canvas for a moment before flicking to Ellie.

"It's brilliant," he said softly, his voice rough around the edges.

Ellie's grin widened, and I felt a pang of something sharp and bittersweet in my chest.

She adored him. Despite everything, despite his flaws and his absences, Ellie worshiped the ground he walked on.

And I hated that part of me still did too.

"Ellie," I said, my voice calm and even. "You should get going. Your brother's probably tired of waiting."

Ellie glanced back at him, then at me, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Oh, he's fine," she said with a laugh. "Aren't you, E?"

Malyen didn't answer right away. His gaze shifted to me, his expression unreadable.

"Yeah," he said finally, his voice quieter now. "I'm fine."

But he didn't look fine.

He looked lost.

Ellie grabbed her backpack, slinging it over one shoulder as she turned back to me. "Thanks for everything, Ms. Acostia. You're the best teacher ever!"

Her words warmed something deep in my chest, and I smiled despite the ache in my throat.

"You're welcome, Ellie," I said softly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She darted toward the door, turning back once to wave at me. "Come on, E! Hurry up!"

Malyen didn't move right away. He lingered in the doorway, his eyes fixed on me like he wanted to say something.

The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.

"Jupe," he said finally, his voice cracking.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay steady. "Mr. Raynes," I replied, my voice soft but firm.

He flinched, just barely, and for a split second, I hated myself for the way it felt like a small victory.

And then he turned and followed Ellie out the door, the sound of their footsteps fading down the hall.