“Actually,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. Now that we’re in the same space, the thought of being away from him feels unbearable. “If you’re not doing anything, I was thinking we could hang out for a bit. Just to catch up. If you want.”
He blinks. “Oh. You want to catch up… with me?”
I grin. “Yeah, Gabe, with you.”
He shifts until he’s leaning on the doorframe instead of hovering in it. He exhales shakily and nods toward the kitchen. “Yeah, okay. I was gonna make tea.”
Knew it.
“I’d love some.”
The kettle whistles a few minutes later. Of course he has one that whistles. It’s an endearing little fact about him. I tuck it away with all the new information I’m hoarding.
He hands me a bright, colorful mug over the island, and our fingers brush for a second. He flinches, eyes dropping. He takes a large step back, blinking fast. He looks so unsure. I want to comfort him, I’m just not sure how. I don’t say anything about it—calling it out feels wrong—so I give him a small smile, and he visibly relaxes, some of the tension leaving his posture.
We end up on the couch, steam curling from our mugs. Quiet stretches between us, and it’s awkward. I don’t like it one bit. Things have never been like this between us before. He’s tucked in the corner, and I’m leaning back with the mug in my hands.
“So, how’ve you been?” I ask.
He shifts in his seat. “F-fine. How about you?”
Fine. I don’t like that response, or that he won’t look at me.
“Not bad. Better now I’m back in Willowrun.”
He glances at me, and I see the curiosity in his eyes, like he wants to ask more, but then he shifts his gaze to the kitchen with a sudden, startled look. “You’re probably hungry? I should have made you something.”
He’s starting to sound nervous again, and I’m not sure why. “I had something to eat at the gym before I left. Thanks, though.”
He nods again.
I clear my throat. “Areyouhungry? I could play chef. I know I burned a lot of things in your mom’s kitchen growing up, but I’m pretty good now at not starting fires.”
A small smile graces his face, and I hear a little laugh as he settles further into the sofa. He’s still not looking at me, but it’s something. “I’m good,” he says, lifting his tea.
I don’t push any more conversation on him. I know I said I wanted to catch up, and I do, but he seems a bit more relaxed now, and I don’t want to take that from him.
I don’t think I realized how much noise I’ve been carrying until now. Not just city noise, but the kind inside my mind. The pressure to talk, to fill the space, to keep people entertained.
But here, sitting on this couch with Gabe, I don’t feel any of that. He isn’t filling the silence, and he isn’t expecting me to either. The awkwardness has faded some. We’re just being... quiet.
And I like it. In this moment, I feel like I can stop trying so hard to be the bright one. The funny one. The happy one.
I practically melt into the sofa.
Maybe it shouldn’t feel like such a big deal. But it does.
5
GABE
Noah said goodnight a little while ago, voice low like he didn’t want to spook me. His bedroom door clicked shut with a soft finality. Now the quiet is back, but it doesn’t feel the same.
I’m on the sofa with my yellow mug, gone cold between my hands. There’s still a dip in the cushion from where he sat, long leg stretched out, ankle hooked over his knee like he’d been completely at ease. He’d asked if I wanted to hang out, catch up. I said yes. And then I just… didn’t say much of anything.
At the time, it hadn’t felt strange. Once the initial awkwardness passed, the quiet had actually been easy, almost warm. Quickly, I felt comfortable in a way I didn’t expect. I put it down to familiarity—I’ve known him since we were kids, watched him grow up with Aiden. Even if we haven’t seen much of each other over the last year, that history still sits between us.
But now, sitting here alone, I can’t stop replaying it. What if he thought I was being weird? He probably wishes he never asked. Who says yes to hanging out and then just… sits there?
