Page 5

Hayden emerged from his room about 20 minutes later, his hair disheveled and his expression weary. He glanced around the darkened living room, his eyes finally landing on me, still sitting on the couch alone in the silence.

I saw him pause when he noticed me, his gaze taking in my red-rimmed eyes and the silent tears on my cheeks. For a moment, he just stood there, looking unsure and conflicted.

Without speaking, he slowly approached me, his steps soft on the carpet. He gingerly sat down on the couch next to me, maintaining a small gap between us, like he was afraid to get too close.

We sat like that for a few moments, the silence only broken by our quiet breaths. I could feel his presence next to me, his warmth and his scent filling the space. It was both reassuring and torturous at the same time.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and gruff. "You’re still up?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak without cracking. "Yeah," I managed to reply, sounding more broken than I intended.

He shifted on the couch, turning to face me more directly. I could feel his eyes studying me in the dim light, taking in my tear-streaked cheeks and the pain etched into my features.

He hesitated for a moment before reaching out a hand, as though he wanted to touch me but held back at the last second. "Milo...I’m sorry," he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

I shook my head, unable to hold back a bitter laugh. "For what?" I asked, my words laced with more anger than I actually felt. "For rejecting me? For telling me you’re uncomfortable around me? For reminding me that you’ll never feel the same way I do?”

He winced at my words, guilt flashing in his eyes. "Yeah," he said, his voice strained. "All of that. I...I don’t know what to do or how to make this better. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t change how I feel.”

I could hear the honesty in his words, the pain that mirrored my own. But it didn’t make it hurt any less. "I know," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "That’s the problem.”

I drew in a deep, trembling breath, trying to reign in my emotions. "Maybe I should just go," I said, my voice cracking with pain. The idea of being apart from him stung, but being so close to him and yet unable to have what I truly wanted felt like torture.

He opened his mouth like he wanted to protest, but closed it again, seeming to struggle with his thoughts. "Milo...," he began, his voice hoarse. "I know it’s hard, but space might be what’s best right now. For both our sakes."

I nodded, knowing he was right, even though it felt like the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. "You’re right," I said, wiping at the tears on my cheeks. "I should go."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but he just nodded, his jaw clenching momentarily. Without another word, I forced myself to stand and leave the room, knowing that staying any longer would be too painful.

As I walked away, I could feel his gaze on my back, a silent plea in his eyes. It took all my willpower not to turn around and throw myself into his arms, to beg him to change his mind and give me a chance. But I knew it was futile.

I made it to the front door, my hand gripping the doorknob. I paused, taking one last look back at him, trying to burn his image into my memory. He was still sitting on the couch, his head leaning back and his eyes closed, looking just as wrecked as I felt.

With one last exhale, I pushed open the door and stepped outside, shutting the door behind me. The sound of it closing echoed in my ears, the finality of it like a dagger to my heart.

The cool air outside felt like a shock to my system, but it also felt like a fresh start, like a much-needed breath of air after suffocating from suppressed emotions.

As I walked away from his apartment, I silently hoped that the distance between us would help me move on from my feelings. However, deep down, I knew that forgetting him wouldn’t be that easy.

Despite the pain in my chest, a part of me already missed him, like a part of me was missing. I quickened my pace, trying to put physical distance between my heart and the one person who had unwittingly claimed it.

The streets were mostly empty at this time of night, and the quiet allowed my mind to run rampant with thoughts. I replayed the conversation over and over again, reliving the pain and the rejection.

Yet, amidst all the hurt, there were moments that I clung to – the times he had been kind to me, the small hints of affection. I knew those moments didn’t mean the same to him as they did to me, but that didn’t stop me from secretly cherishing them.

Just as I was about to step out into the night, I felt a hand grab my wrist, pulling me back into the house. I stumbled, my heart leaping in surprise as I found myself face to face with Hayden.

He had a mixture of desperation and something else – something I couldn’t quite interpret – in his eyes. He closed the door behind me, never loosening his grip on my wrist.

I stared at him in surprise, my heart racing. I had no idea why he had stopped me, but his unexpected action filled me with a mix of hope and trepidation.

He didn’t speak for a few moments, just looked at me, his hand still wrapped around my wrist. I could see him struggling with himself, his jaw tight and his eyes filled with warring emotions.

Finally, he let out a deep exhale, his grip on my wrist loosening a bit. "Milo…," he began, his voice low. "Don't go."

I swallowed hard, my heart fluttering at the sound of his words. I had been prepared to leave, had almost stepped out the door, but his simple request and the desperation in his eyes kept me rooted to the spot.

"Why?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you want me to stay? I thought you said we needed space, that it’s too hard to be around me right now."

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated with himself. "I know what I said," he replied, his voice rough. "And I meant it. But...the thought of you walking out that door, not knowing when I’d see you again...it’s driving me crazy."

I could feel my heart ache at his confession. Here he was, struggling just as much as I was, but for different reasons. "Hayden," I began, my voice wavering. "You need to make up your mind. You can’t keep flipping between pushing me away and pulling me back in. It’s not fair to either of us."

He looked at me, his eyes pleading. "I know, I know," he said, his voice cracking a bit. "I’m sorry. This is all so messed up. I don’t know what to do, Milo. I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t...I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop caring about you."

His admission was like a balm to my wounded heart, but it also stirred up a storm of conflicting emotions. "You’re confusing me, Hayden," I said, my voice shaking. "You say you care about me, but you don’t reciprocate my feelings. You say we need space, then ask me to stay. Which is it? What do you want from me?"

He let go of my wrist, taking a step back. He looked torn, like he was fighting an internal battle. "I don’t know, Milo," he said, his voice raw. "I don’t know what I want, or what’s right. I just know that the thought of you walking out that door…it’s tearing me apart. And I can’t bear the thought of losing you, but I can’t give you what you want either. I’m stuck, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

The torment in his eyes mirrored my own pain. It was clear that he was struggling as much as I was, trapped in a web of conflicting emotions. I wanted to take his pain away, make it all better, but I knew there was no easy solution.

"So what now?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "We keep doing this? Pushing and pulling until we’re both broken and exhausted?"

He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Just...forget all this for now. It’s late. We can talk in the morning when we’re both more clear headed. For now, just come in and sleep here. We’ll figure it out in the morning."

I was momentarily tempted to argue, to insist that we figure things out now. But the exhaustion in his voice mirrored my own feelings, and I didn’t have the energy for another emotional battle.

I nodded and allowed him to lead me back to the living room. He sat down on the couch, looking at me for a moment before patting the spot next to him. I hesitated for a moment before sinking down onto the couch beside him, careful to keep a small gap between us.

The air between us was heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. I could still feel the heat of his proximity, even with the space between us. The silence was almost deafening, and I could feel the tension in the room coiled tight like a spring ready to snap.

The silence was so thick, I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. I was about to say something, anything, just to break the tension when Hayden suddenly moved, lying down on the couch and pulling me with him, positioning me so that I was laying against his chest.

I froze at the unexpected contact, my heart skipping a beat. I hadn’t been expecting him to suddenly pull me down with him, and the feel of his body against mine was both comforting and excruciating.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, anchoring me in place against him. My head was resting on his chest, his scent and warmth enveloping me. It was both blissful and torturous.

He didn’t say anything, just held me there, his breathing steady but his body tense. I could feel his heartbeat against my cheek, the steady rhythm betraying his turmoil.

I should have pulled away, should have extricated myself from his grip. But I found I couldn’t bring myself to move. The feeling of being held by him, of having him so close, was what I had been craving for so long.

Yet, I also knew that it was wrong. That he didn’t feel the same, that we were treading dangerous territory. I forced myself to take a deep breath, trying to find the strength to pull away. But his arms tightened around me, holding me more firmly in place.

"I don’t want to let you go," he mumbled, his voice vibrating against my ear. "Not tonight. Please, just stay here with me. Just for tonight."

His voice was ragged, the plea in his tone breaking me. I couldn’t resist him when he sounded so wounded, so vulnerable. I let myself sink further against him, my body relaxing into his embrace.

The silence continued, broken only by the sound of our breathing. His grip on me remained tight, like he was afraid I’d disappear if he let go.

And as we lay there, wrapped up in each other but also so far apart, I couldn’t help but feel the bittersweet pain of the situation. I was holding onto him just as tightly, my heart torn between the desire to be close and the fear of being hurt.

Even as I closed my eyes, exhaustion and the emotional toll of the day finally catching up with me, I couldn’t ignore the conflict within me. This closeness was everything I wanted, yet it was also a stark reminder of what I couldn’t have – his true affection, his love.

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