amberdiaries

[amberdiaries]

“The Art of Awkward”

Synopsis: Lizzy and Billie share silent glances in art class, until a chance encounter at the café forces them to speak. What follows is a slow, unexpected connection neither of them anticipated.

CW: no content warning

WC: 1.9k

~

Lizzy sat at the back of the art studio, pencil in hand but her focus elsewhere. Her eyes drifted to the girl across the room—Billie. She was tucked into her oversized hoodie, the fabric swallowing her frame, dark green streaks of hair falling into her face as she sketched furiously in her notebook. Billie never seemed to look at anyone directly, but Lizzy had caught glimpses of her eyes before, like brief flashes of something deep, something untold. It was odd how they both fell into this silent orbit around each other, exchanging glances from a distance but never quite touching.

Lizzy’s gaze would shift back to her canvas, the edges of her watercolor blobs blending into each other as her mind wandered back to the way Billie’s lips would twitch slightly when she was lost in thought, or the way her fingers gripped the charcoal like it was the only thing grounding her in that moment.

The professor’s voice was a low hum in the background. Lizzy couldn’t remember the last time she’d truly listened. It was always the same routine—draw, glance, avoid, repeat. And yet, something about Billie’s presence kept her tethered in the room, as if all the invisible lines in the air between them made the space feel more alive.

The class ended, and Lizzy collected her things slowly, not because she was in any rush but because she didn’t want to be the first to leave. Billie was still hunched over her notebook, scribbling something down, and as Lizzy turned toward the door, she felt an odd twinge of regret.

“See you tomorrow,” Lizzy murmured to no one in particular, her voice soft as she made her way out, footsteps echoing on the cold tile.

Later that day, Lizzy found herself wandering into the college café, her stomach twisting from hunger and exhaustion. She was halfway through her latte when she felt the unmistakable shift in the air—a collision, a jolt that startled her.

“Oh!” Lizzy exclaimed, her cup nearly slipping from her hand.

Billie stood there, wide-eyed, holding her own sketchbook against her chest like a shield. She was wearing a deep navy hoodie, sleeves long enough to cover her hands, and her green-tinted hair was loose and wild, like a tangle of vines. For a second, neither of them said anything.

Lizzy’s heart thudded in her chest as she met Billie’s eyes, only for a moment before Billie glanced away. There was a slight flush on her cheeks, the faintest sign that she was equally flustered.

“Sorry, I wasn’t looking—” Lizzy started, but her voice trailed off as she tried to steady herself, now fully aware of how her hands were shaking a little.

Billie laughed quietly, a small sound, almost to herself. “It’s okay. I’m… I wasn’t looking either.” Her gaze flickered down to the floor, and she shrugged like it didn’t matter, but there was something in her posture, something that told Lizzy she wasn’t quite as indifferent as she tried to seem.

The silence that followed felt dense, like they were both standing on the edge of something neither knew how to approach. Lizzy cleared her throat, hoping to break the tension.

“So… uh, how’s the art thing going?” she asked, cringing a little at how casual it sounded.

Billie’s lips quirked into a subtle smile. “Art thing? You mean the class? It’s… it’s fine, I guess. I’m just trying to make sense of it all, y’know?” She tilted her head slightly, eyes flitting to Lizzy’s cup. “Is it good? The coffee, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Lizzy said, grateful for the shift in focus. “It’s… it’s not bad. But I’ve been here enough to know what’s drinkable.” She raised the cup in a mock toast. “Survival 101.”

Billie’s smile softened, the tension in her posture easing just a little. “Survival, huh? Yeah, I get that.” Her voice was low, a little rough around the edges, but there was a warmth to it that Lizzy hadn’t expected.

There was another awkward pause, but this time it didn’t feel quite so heavy. Lizzy’s fingers wrapped around her cup, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in her chest. She glanced back at Billie, who had her own coffee in hand, her thumb absently tracing the rim of the cup.

“I’m Lizzy, by the way,” she said suddenly, feeling the need to say something that wasn’t completely awkward.

Billie raised an eyebrow. “I know,” she said, her tone almost teasing but in a way that felt more like recognition than anything else. “You sit behind me in class, right?”

Lizzy blinked, surprised. “Oh. I didn’t think you noticed me.”

Billie shrugged again, nonchalant. “I notice things. Just… not always in the way people think.”

The words felt heavier than Lizzy had expected. She wasn’t sure why, but it made her feel seen in a way that was almost too intimate for this kind of conversation.

“Well, I guess I notice you too,” Lizzy admitted, her voice a little shy.

Billie’s eyes flickered up to meet hers, and for a second, there was a stillness between them, the kind that felt too big for a simple café table. Then Billie grinned, a crooked, hesitant smile that made Lizzy’s stomach do a nervous flip.

“You do, huh?” she said softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s… good, I guess.”

They both stood there for a moment, not knowing exactly what to do with this new layer of connection. Lizzy cleared her throat again, suddenly eager to say something before this quiet moment slipped away entirely.

“So, uh, do you want to grab coffee… sometime? Outside of all the ‘bumping into each other’ chaos?”

Billie hesitated for a beat, her gaze moving from Lizzy’s face to the empty table in front of them. For a second, Lizzy thought she was going to say no, but then Billie looked back up, her expression softening, something unreadable passing through her eyes.

“I’d like that,” Billie said, her voice just shy of a whisper. “Yeah. I think I’d like that a lot.”

Lizzy felt something warm unfurl in her chest, a mixture of relief and excitement. For the first time, the silence between them didn’t feel like a barrier—it felt like the space where something new was beginning to take shape.

And as they sat down together, the weight of the world outside the café seemed a little less pressing, a little more distant, as if the two of them had carved out a small, quiet corner to just exist in.

The next few days in art class were strange. Lizzy kept catching Billie’s gaze more often than before. There was something less tentative in those brief moments—less like a fleeting glance and more like an invitation. And every time their eyes met, Lizzy couldn’t help but feel like they were starting to piece something together, slowly but surely.

One afternoon after class, Lizzy lingered by the door, watching Billie pack up her things in her usual disorganized way. Her bag was half-open, sketchbooks spilling out, a pencil case that looked like it had seen better days.

“Need help with that?” Lizzy asked before she could stop herself, gesturing to the pile of things threatening to fall out of Billie’s bag.

Billie looked up with a raised eyebrow. “What, you’re going to help me organize my disaster?” Her tone was playful, but Lizzy caught the warmth behind it.

“Hey, I’m good with chaos,” Lizzy replied with a grin. “Maybe I’ll even throw in some color theory to help with the mess.”

Billie laughed, low and unguarded. “I think that’s what my brain looks like—an abstract color theory gone wrong.”

Lizzy tilted her head, considering this for a moment. “I don’t know, I think it sounds kind of… fascinating. Chaos can be pretty… beautiful.”

Billie gave her an amused look. “Well, if that’s how you see it, then I guess we’re both artists here.”

Lizzy smiled, heart pounding a little, but this time, the silence felt more like a pause���something to catch their breath before jumping in. “Yeah,” she said, quieter now, “I guess we are.”

And just like that, something shifted again—less like an awkward step forward, and more like they were both finally starting to walk the same path.

[amberdiaries]

Midnight Munchies (part I)

Synopsis: At a college dorm party, Liv meets Billie, and what starts as a casual invitation for fast food quickly spirals into an unforgettable night. From a midnight swim to a stolen kiss, their connection deepens in ways neither of them expected. As the night unfolds, they both find themselves caught between desire, vulnerability, and something more than just a fleeting moment.

CW: This story contains mature themes including intimate and romantic interactions between two characters. There are moments of suggestive language and physical intimacy that may not be suitable for all audiences. Reader discretion is advised.

WC: 1.7k

~

The party was in full swing by the time Liv stepped inside. She wasn’t a fan of big crowds, and the pulsating music made her head throb. Her roommate, Erica, had practically dragged her along, claiming it was the best way to meet new people. Liv was skeptical, but here she was, awkwardly clutching a cup of punch in the corner of the room, watching everyone else dance and laugh like they’d known each other for years.

The place was packed—students from every corner of campus, talking, laughing, and doing shots. The air felt thick with chatter, the bass vibrating her chest. She wasn’t much of a party-goer. She preferred quiet nights in, reading or binge-watching shows on Netflix. This? This was chaotic, and she felt like a stranger here.

Her thoughts were interrupted by movement from across the room. She caught sight of a girl, standing near the edge of the dance floor. She was laughing, her head thrown back, and the way she moved was effortless, like the music was a part of her. Her dark hair, messy in the best way, fell around her face, and she wore a loose, vintage-looking graphic tee with a pair of ripped jeans. She was attractive in a way that made Liv’s heart do an unexpected little skip. It wasn’t the typical beauty that most guys in this room fawned over—it was something more subtle, intriguing. And she had a magnetic energy.

Liv watched, subconsciously leaning against the wall, trying to get a better look. She noticed the girl wasn’t alone—she was dancing with a group of people, carefree and confident, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Liv wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away.

The girl, sensing eyes on her, glanced across the room and met Liv’s stare. Liv quickly looked away, her face flushing a shade of red that could rival a tomato. She hoped no one had noticed. But then, the girl started making her way through the crowd, her eyes never leaving Liv. Liv felt her heart race, wondering if she was imagining this. The girl stopped in front of her, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, you.” Her voice was playful, but there was a warmth to it. “You look like you could use a friend.”

Liv blinked, slightly startled. She was caught off guard by how direct the girl was, but there was something inviting about her—something that made Liv feel like maybe she wasn’t so out of place after all.

“Uh, hi,” Liv stammered, looking at the girl’s outstretched hand. “I’m Liv.”

“Billie,” the girl replied, her grin widening. She glanced back toward the dance floor. “You were watching me dance, weren’t you?”

Liv’s face heated up even more. “What? No. I mean, yeah, but—uh—” she trailed off, unsure of how to explain herself without sounding like a complete weirdo.

Billie chuckled, the sound soft but warm. “Don’t worry about it. I get it. I’m kind of impossible to miss.” Her eyes glinted with something mischievous, but there was also a softness to her expression.

Liv shifted on her feet, suddenly feeling shy. “You’re a really good dancer,” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Billie laughed, a genuine, unguarded laugh. “Thanks. I’ve been dancing since I could walk. It’s my thing.”

Liv smiled awkwardly, trying to think of something else to say. Billie took pity on her, stepping closer.

“Okay, look. I can tell you’re not really feeling this party. Neither am I, to be honest. How about we go grab a drink somewhere quieter?” Billie suggested, tilting her head in a way that made Liv’s heart skip again. “It’ll be just us, no noise, no crowds.”

Liv hesitated. She was about to say no, but something about Billie’s presence was magnetic. Something about her made Liv feel like she could trust her, despite how little she knew her. Maybe it was the honesty in her eyes or the way she spoke like she wasn’t trying to impress anyone.

“Sure,” Liv said finally, her voice more confident than she felt. “Let’s go.”

Billie grinned and led the way, maneuvering through the throng of people. They made their way out of the crowded dorm and onto the quieter, cooler streets. The night air was a relief after the stuffy heat of the party. Billie stopped at a bench and sat down, patting the spot next to her.

Liv joined her, sitting with a little distance at first. Billie leaned back and let out a contented sigh.

“So,” Billie began, turning toward Liv. “You don’t seem like you’re into the whole party scene. What’s your deal?”

Liv shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess I’m just not much of a… party person? I prefer being at home, reading or watching movies. Parties always feel kind of… overwhelming, you know?”

Billie nodded, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Yeah, I get that. It’s like everyone’s just trying so hard to be something they’re not. But not you. You’re just… you.” She smiled a little, her gaze softening. “That’s kind of rare here.”

Liv blushed, feeling her heart flutter in a way she couldn’t quite explain. She didn’t know what it was about Billie, but there was something about her that made Liv feel both comfortable and, at the same time, strangely electrified.

“So, uh, what do you do when you’re not at parties?” Liv asked, trying to steer the conversation away from her sudden nervousness.

Billie leaned in slightly, her voice lowering, conspiratorial. “I smoke weed. It helps me clear my head. Sometimes, I just need to shut the world out for a bit.” She smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You ever tried it?”

Liv hesitated. She wasn’t the type to take risks. But there was something in Billie’s eyes—something that made her want to let go, to do something spontaneous for once.

“Not… not really,” Liv admitted. “I mean, I’ve never smoked before.”

Billie raised an eyebrow. “Well, tonight might be the night,” she said with a playful wink. “It’ll make you feel lighter. And I’ve got some good stuff.”

Liv glanced at Billie, then down at the ground. She was tempted—maybe more than she had ever been. There was something freeing about Billie’s presence, like she could make the world feel a little less heavy.

After a moment of indecision, Liv nodded. “Alright, I’ll give it a shot.”

Billie grinned, her eyes twinkling. “That’s the spirit.” She reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out a small bag of weed, then quickly rolled a joint, lighting it with ease. She handed it to Liv, who took a cautious puff, the smoke filling her lungs in a way that made her cough. Billie laughed, offering her a playful look. “Don’t worry, it gets easier.”

Liv took another drag, the second hit going down much smoother. As she exhaled, she felt the tension in her shoulders ease, her thoughts becoming a little less sharp. She glanced at Billie, who was watching her with amusement.

“See? Not so bad,” Billie said, her voice soft but teasing. “You’re already looking more relaxed.”

Liv laughed, her head buzzing with the sensation. “Yeah, I think I am. This is weirdly… nice.”

Billie leaned back against the bench, closing her eyes as she exhaled. “Told you.” She glanced over at Liv again, her gaze lingering a little longer than before. “So, Liv… now that you’re not so uptight, want to grab some food? You’re probably gonna get hit with the munchies any minute now.”

Liv smiled, the suggestion sounding perfect. “I’m definitely starting to get hungry.”

“Good,” Billie said, standing up and offering a hand to Liv. “Because I know exactly where we can go.”

They ended up at a small, 24-hour fast food joint, the fluorescent lights casting an almost surreal glow over the place. The line was long, filled with a mix of students and locals, all seemingly in the same state of late-night hunger. Billie nudged Liv playfully as they stood in line.

“Okay, so what’s your go-to order?” Billie asked, eyes gleaming with excitement.

Liv thought for a moment, her stomach growling in response to the smell of fries and burgers. “I’m kind of a classic—fries and a burger, with a soda”

Billie grinned. “I like your style.” She turned to the counter and placed an order for both of them, loading up on fries, chicken nuggets, and two sodas—sprite for Liv and dr pepper for herself.

As they sat down at a table, surrounded by the warm, comforting smell of greasy food, Billie grabbed a fry and dipped it in ketchup, her eyes never leaving Liv. “You know, I’m really glad we met tonight,” she said, her voice soft but sincere.

Liv smiled, her heart fluttering. “Me too. This night turned out to be… a lot more interesting than I expected.”

Billie chuckled, nudging Liv’s shoulder with hers. “That’s how I like to roll. Life’s too short to not do something unexpected every once in a while.”

Liv took a bite of her burger, savoring the simplicity of it. As she looked at Billie, she realized she had no idea where this night would lead, but something told her it was the start of something she’d never forget.

[amberdiaries]

Synopsis: Billie and Amber’s close friendship takes an unexpected turn one summer night, as unspoken feelings begin to surface during a quiet evening together. What starts as an ordinary moment soon becomes something much more.

CW: no warning except for the emotional tension and romantic feelings between close friends

WC: 1.5k

~

Billie and Amber had always been close. So close, in fact, that some days it was hard to tell where one of them ended and the other began. They'd spent endless hours together, shared secrets that no one else would ever hear, and formed a bond that had always been unshakable. But tonight, something in the air was different. The invisible thread that usually connected them so effortlessly was taut, like a guitar string stretched to its limit, and neither of them knew how to play the melody.

It was a sticky summer night, the kind of heat that didn’t just sit on your skin, it clung to you. The city hummed around them—distant car engines, the soft murmur of voices in the streets—but for Billie and Amber, it felt like a world away. They were walking down the sidewalk, the heat pressing against their bodies, yet there was a coolness in the space between them, like the start of a storm.

"How about a slurpee?" Amber asked, breaking the silence between them. Her voice was light, almost too light, like she was trying to fill the uncomfortable gap that had formed between them.

Billie paused, caught off guard by the suggestion. The words felt oddly familiar, a comfort amidst the tension, yet the way Amber said it—like she was trying to keep the conversation casual—made Billie’s heart flutter uncomfortably. The way their friendship had been, easy and unguarded, no longer seemed so simple.

"Yeah, sounds good," Billie said, trying to sound unaffected, but she couldn’t mask the slight tremor in her voice. She couldn’t ignore the tightness in her chest either.

As they walked the familiar path toward the gas station, Billie noticed the way Amber’s shoulders were tense, her gaze often darting to the ground, as if trying to avoid looking at her, trying to avoid the unspoken words hanging in the air. Amber had always been the more open one between them, her smile contagious, her laughter the soundtrack of their friendship. But tonight, something had shifted. Billie could feel it in the way Amber’s hand brushed hers for a second too long, the way Amber looked away immediately after. Something was different.

They reached the gas station, the lights flickering overhead, the smell of stale popcorn filling the air. Amber wasted no time, heading straight for the slurpee machine, her movements quick, almost rushed, as though she were trying to escape something in the air. Billie stood beside her, glancing over the colorful flavors, but her mind was elsewhere, tangled up in the thoughts she didn’t want to admit.

“You get cherry, right?” Amber asked, her voice carrying a lightness she didn’t quite feel.

Billie nodded, but her eyes were on Amber, the way she fidgeted, the way she avoided meeting her gaze. The familiar comfort of their shared moments was gone, replaced by something new, something uncharted. She couldn’t quite understand it, but she knew it was there.

Amber handed her the slurpee cup, their fingers brushing for a moment that felt electric. Billie’s heart skipped a beat, and she forced herself to look away, her pulse hammering in her ears.

“Thanks,” Billie managed to say, trying to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks.

Amber smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. The music playing softly in the background seemed to emphasize the tension between them, each beat like a reminder of what was unsaid. Neither of them spoke as they walked to the counter to pay, the air between them thick with words neither could find the courage to say.

They left the gas station, their slurpees in hand, and headed back to Billie’s house. The night felt heavier now, the weight of their unspoken thoughts pressing on them from all sides. The music from the gas station still echoed in Billie’s head, a mix of nostalgia and sadness that made her wonder how long they could keep pretending everything was the same.

As they reached the front door, Amber lingered for a moment before following Billie inside. The house was quiet, a soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound. Billie kicked off her shoes and tossed her keys on the table, glancing over at Amber, who was standing by the door, not quite sure what to do.

“You want to hang out for a bit?” Billie asked, her voice hesitant. She didn’t want the night to end yet, didn’t want the unspoken words to go unsaid for any longer.

Amber looked at her, her eyes flickering with something Billie couldn’t quite read, before she nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Billie walked over to the stereo, flicking the switch and letting the music fill the room. It was upbeat, an old favorite that they used to play whenever they hung out, something light and easy. For a moment, it felt like things could return to normal—like they could forget about the weight in the air and just be. Amber smiled, that familiar smile, and Billie felt a pang of relief. Maybe this would bring back the old feeling. Maybe they could go back to how things had always been.

But as they moved, swaying and laughing in a carefree rhythm, something still felt off. Billie caught Amber’s eye, her heart skipping a beat. Amber’s smile was warm, but it wasn’t the same. There was something in her eyes, something deep and unsure, and it mirrored the confusion Billie felt in her chest.

The song shifted suddenly, the beat slowing down, the melody turning into a soft ballad. Billie hesitated, then held out her hand to Amber. For a brief moment, neither of them moved. Then Amber took her hand, and the world seemed to hold its breath.

They moved slowly, the space between them closing as they swayed to the rhythm of the song. Billie could feel Amber’s presence, her warmth, the gentle brush of her hand on her waist. The music filled the silence between them, but this time, it wasn’t enough. The energy in the air had changed, and Billie felt it deep in her bones.

Amber’s gaze dropped to the floor, her cheeks flushed. She wasn’t meeting Billie’s eyes anymore, and Billie wasn’t sure why that made her heart ache. She wanted to say something, to ask if Amber felt it too, but the words stuck in her throat. She wanted to bridge the gap, to pull Amber closer, but there was something in the way. Some invisible force holding them back.

Billie stepped closer, her heart pounding. She reached out, tucking a strand of Amber’s hair behind her ear. The gesture was small, but it felt monumental, like an unspoken confession, a silent admission that something had changed between them.

Amber’s breath hitched. She looked up at Billie then, her eyes wide, searching. In that moment, Billie could see it—the vulnerability, the longing, the same emotions she had been hiding for so long. They were standing on the edge of something, something unknown and terrifying, and neither of them knew what to do with it.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Billie lost her footing. Her heel caught on the edge of the rug, and before she could stop herself, she was tumbling forward. Amber was caught in the fall, both of them collapsing onto the floor with a soft thud.

Billie landed with a gasp, her back hitting the floor. Amber, somehow, ended up on top of her, their faces only inches apart. For a moment, neither of them moved, both of them staring into each other’s eyes. The fall had been unplanned, clumsy, but now, lying there, neither of them seemed to care about the awkwardness. The world seemed to pause around them, leaving just the two of them in that single, perfect moment.

Amber’s hair fell around her face, framing her features, and Billie’s fingers twitched, wanting to reach up and tuck it behind her ear again. But this time, she didn’t wait. She reached up, gently pushing a strand of Amber’s hair back, the touch tender, deliberate. The soft brush of her fingers on Amber’s skin sent a jolt of warmth through her chest.

“Billie…” Amber whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I… I don’t know what to say…”

Billie’s heart was pounding, her breath shaky as she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to say anything.”

She lifted her head slightly, leaning up on her elbows until their faces were so close, their breaths mingling in the space between them. For a moment, everything in Billie’s world narrowed to just Amber—Amber’s eyes, Amber’s smile, Amber’s warmth.

And then, without thinking, Billie closed the gap between them, her lips meeting Amber’s in a soft, hesitant kiss. It wasn’t desperate or hurried. It was a quiet confession, a realization that everything they had been feeling for so long was finally coming to the surface.

When they pulled away, both of them were breathless. Amber’s forehead rested gently against Billie’s, her hand still pressed to Billie’s cheek. The world outside didn’t matter anymore. There was only the quiet certainty of what they had just shared.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Billie whispered, her voice shaky with emotion. Amber’s smile was small but genuine, and it was the most beautiful thing Billie had ever seen.

“Me too,” Amber whispered back.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, everything made sense. They had fallen, yes, but they had fallen together. And in that moment, everything was exactly as it was meant to be.

[amberdiaries]

Synopsis: Ellie has always kept her feelings for Gracie locked away, too afraid to confess her love. As Gracie battles with cystic fibrosis, Ellie watches from the sidelines, paralyzed by guilt and fear. When Gracie makes the heartbreaking decision to stop life support, Ellie realizes she may never get the chance to say what she's been holding back.

CW: death, grief, loss, guilt, regret, terminal illness, depression, anxiety, hospitals.

WC: 2k

~

It was late when I saw the message. I had just gotten home, my body weighed down by exhaustion, but my phone buzzed in my hand, and I couldn’t ignore it. Her name flashed across the screen—Gracie. My chest tightened, unsure whether it was a blessing or a curse to hear from her again.

"I’m sorry. I don’t want to go, but my body is giving up on me. The doctors have nothing else to try. I don’t want this. But I can't fight anymore."

I felt my stomach churn. She was saying goodbye, in a way. She was choosing not to be on life support, choosing to let go. And I wasn’t there. I hadn’t been there. I hadn’t been by her side when she needed me most, and now... now it was too late. My hands trembled as I read on.

"I’m scared. I never wanted it to end like this. But the doctors can’t help me anymore. I just... I want you to know."

Her words were a knife to my chest. I slammed the phone down onto the counter, my breath short and shaky. I had been so caught up in my own fears, in my own life, that I couldn’t even be there for her. I hadn’t been there when she needed me the most, and now she was making the hardest choice of her life alone.

I sat on the kitchen floor, the darkness closing in. I knew she was at the hospital—Jesse had texted me hours ago. He said she was on the edge, fading, and she wanted to see me. I hadn’t responded. I was afraid, like always. Afraid of seeing her like this. But now it was too late. She was slipping away, and I was sitting here, paralyzed by guilt.

The message hit me harder than I expected. Because I hadn’t just failed her. I had failed me, too.

Flashback

A few weeks ago, we had spent the night together in her apartment, just the two of us, hanging out like we always did. The TV hummed softly in the background, and Gracie’s laughter filled the room, but something between us felt different that night. She sat a little closer than usual, her body pressing against mine as we both pretended to watch some random show.

I could feel the heat of her skin against mine, the way her presence made everything feel electric, like the world could disappear if we stayed like this long enough. For a moment, it felt like it was just us. No walls, no fears. Just her and me.

My heart raced as I caught her eye, and she held my gaze just a little too long. A thousand thoughts ran through my head, none of them making any sense. It was like she was waiting for me to say something. And God, I wanted to. More than anything, I wanted to tell her that this—us—could be something real.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t. The fear of rejection had kept me silent for so long. I didn't know how to put into words what I had felt for so long. It was easier this way. Or so I told myself.

“Ellie?” she asked, her voice small, like she wasn’t sure whether to press for an answer or pull back.

“Yeah?” I barely whispered back, my throat tight.

She gave me that familiar sad smile, the one that always made me ache. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

And just like that, we returned to our comfortable silence. The unspoken words hung between us like a thick fog, and we pretended that everything was fine. But nothing was fine. I wanted to tell her I loved her, but I was too afraid to ruin what we had. So instead, we continued pretending.

But now... now I couldn’t pretend anymore.

Present Day

I grabbed my coat and ran out the door. I wasn’t going to wait anymore. I had to tell her. I had to tell Gracie how I felt. I couldn’t leave it unsaid. Not this time. Not when she needed me more than ever.

The hospital was only a few miles away, but it felt like the longest drive of my life. My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as I pushed the pedal harder, trying to get there faster. The guilt gnawed at me the entire ride, but I forced myself to ignore it. I wasn’t going to let this be the end of us, the end of my chance to tell her how I felt.

I arrived at the hospital, my heart pounding in my chest. Jesse’s text from earlier echoed in my mind: She’s asking for you, Ellie. You need to get here, now.

But when I rushed through the doors, my legs unsteady and my heart threatening to burst, I was met with the worst news I could imagine.

“She’s gone,” Jesse’s voice cracked as he stood in the hallway, his face pale and hollow with grief. “She passed a few minutes ago.”

My world stopped. The room felt too small, like the walls were closing in on me. The words wouldn’t sink in. She couldn’t be gone. Not like this. Not when I still had so much to say.

“She... asked for you,” Jesse whispered, his voice shaky. “She kept calling for you. She wanted to see you, Ellie. She needed you...”

My throat closed up, and all I could do was stand there, shaking. My body felt cold, distant. She was gone. Gracie, the woman I had loved in silence for so long, was gone. And I hadn’t made it in time.

The Funeral

The day of the funeral was a blur. I barely remember the service—just faces, just hushed whispers, and a heavy, suffocating silence. Dina and Abby sat in the front row, both trying to hold it together, both looking like they had lost a part of themselves. But they had known her better than I did. They had seen the real Gracie, the one I had been too afraid to truly know.

Jesse sat next to me, his face set in that same, haunted expression. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, but I could feel the weight of his words from earlier. He had been there for Gracie when I couldn’t. He had stayed by her side, holding her hand while I let my fear keep me at a distance.

I let the silence hang between us as we watched Gracie’s casket be lowered into the ground. And in that moment, I realized that I would never have the chance to tell her what I should have said so long ago. I would never get to hear her tell me the things she had wanted to say but never could. It was too late.

I turned to Jesse, my voice barely audible. “I never told her... how I felt. I never—” My words choked off as I realized the finality of it all.

“You didn’t have to,” Jesse said softly, his eyes filled with unshed tears. “She knew, Ellie. She always knew.”

And in that moment, all I could do was nod, a single tear slipping down my cheek. She had known, but I hadn’t been brave enough to say it. And now, it was too late.