And finally, he smiled. A small smile, but a real one. We held each other’s gaze for another second before he let go. He watched me as he climbed into his car. He watched me as he fastened his seatbelt. He watched me until he drove away. I stood alone on the empty street, unchained and unanchored. I kept taking deep breaths, like I wanted the night air to cleanse me, though I wasn’t sure of what. After what felt like hours, but was really only minutes, I turned. There was weight in that movement, because it felt like turning away from Austin, and from our story.
Instead of walking back toward my house, I wandered into the damp grass beside the street. In my emotions, I hadn’t thought to put shoes on, and my feet squealed softly at the feeling of the cool blades against my skin. My mind was still trying to process what had just happened. Trying to understand that this reallywas goodbye, and how final it felt at this moment. It struggled to keep up, leaving me drifting in my own small world beneath the stars.
I was staring up at them, searching for perspective. I wasn’t sure whose. I wasn’t even sure what kind. Then pain snapped me back. A sharp sting shot through my foot, pulling a hiss from my mouth. I bent down quickly, grabbing my foot and bracing myself to see blood. There wasn’t any. I was fine. I looked down at the ground, searching for the cause, and that’s when I saw it. The pink rock. The one I had thrown from my window.Pink for my Yellow.
I had finally found where it landed, far from the windowsill it had flown from. I let out a shaky breath as I turned the small stone over and over in my hands, the taste of Austin still lingering on my lips.
Then I slipped the rock into my pocket.
Something to remind you of me.
I nodded to myself, not entirely sure what I was agreeing with. Maybe I was just agreeing with the universe. Finally understanding what Austin and I were meant to be for each other. It was hope, wasn’t it? Hope. Trust.
Hope that when the sun finally shines, it will shine clearer than ever. Trust that what you’re holding onto is worth believing in. And I knew then—I wasn’t trusting fate anymore.
I was trusting in hope. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe there isn’t anything in life but hope. Hope for love. Hope for life. Hope for beauty, happiness, and health. Hope that there is good in the world—and that it’s worth seeing. Hope that there are people who will always see the Yellow in you.
23
Two and a half years later
“It’s like no one really cares about how I feel in this situation,” Cherry continued, completely oblivious to the fact that I had just about tuned her out.
“Mhm…” I nodded, my eyes focused on the concrete pathway in front of us. This was the trickiest time to pass through campus. It was four, and the courtyard was completely packed with students. Freshmen with wide eyes, even though they’d been here long enough to stop looking lost. Seniors who walked like they owned the place. And people like us, perfectly in between.
“Like, how does Warren really expect me to complete this bullshit assignment in the time he’s given me?” Cherry continued, trailing just slightly behind me as I navigated through the maze of students.
“Well, Cherry,” I said, unable to stop the smile creeping into my voice, “if you’d done it when you were supposed to, you wouldn’t need an extension.”
I was rarely surprised by Cherry. She had always been the constant. The one piece of the puzzle I never worried about shifting. We had both been afraid that college would change us. Different dorms. Different classes. Different lives. It felt possible that we might grow apart, that we’d build memories that didn’t include each other. But we didn’t. If anything, our friendship became something better. I knew why, too.
I was lighter now. Not because life was easier, but because I wasn’t pretending anymore. I wasn’t forcing myself into a version of who I thought I needed to be. This version was real. I had finally found myself, and I loved her. I still had greydays. I didn’t pretend otherwise. But now, when they came, I remembered something I once forgot. The sun always rises again. I used to think hope was something you waited for. Turns out it’s something you practice.
“Well,” Cherry continued, dragging me back into the conversation. “If I’d done it when I was supposed to, I wouldn’t have had time to get laid.”
A short snort escaped my nose. She said it so casually, a reminder of what a firecracker she still was. “Who was it this time?” I asked, mentally flipping through the names on her current roster.
“Hm.” She sidestepped the question. “It doesn’t matter. I think it was a one-time thing.”
“Oh.” I shrugged. The constant in the chaos, indeed. “We’re meeting Holden,” I said, relief settling in once we finally escaped the crowds.
I led Cherry toward the corner of the stone wall where we always met him. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye, half-expecting a comment. She surprised me again. Her eyes were fixed on the ground as she leaned against the stone, completely inside her own head.
“Here’s my girls,” Holden’s voice cut in, and I turned toward him. I smiled as I took him in. He looked nothing like Holden from high school. He was broader, stronger. Healthy in a way that went beyond muscle. His skin wasn’t pale anymore. His eyes were bright. He even seemed taller. I guess that’s what almost three years of sobriety does to you.
“Hi,” I said, letting him press a quick kiss to my hair. “How was class?”
“Fine,” he huffed, offering nothing more. It had been my parents’ dream come true when Holden, Cherry, and I chose the same college. We hadn’t even left the state, even. They visited often. Holden was a year behind us, making up for the year he missed.
“Cherry,” Holden said, his voice stiffer than usual as he glanced at her awkwardly.
“Hey, Holden,” Cherry replied, barely looking at either of us.
Well, then. My eyebrows lifted as I looked back and forth between them. They must have had a fight. The tension between them was palpable.
“Okay,” I said, trying to cut through it. “What are we doing tonight?”
“What’s tonight?” Holden asked, genuinely blank.
