Chapter Text
Winter
"Thank you," she says, hazel eyes clear under the dim yellow light of a single lamp post, "for the ride."
"Yeah," he breathes, his fingers tightening on the helmet he is holding by his side. "Anytime."
Looking at her now, he realizes he doesn't know what he wants in that moment—or maybe he flatters himself that way. Maybe he's looking for an escape. Maybe he tells himself he doesn't know because the way her manicured fingers comb through her hair, tucking a loose blond strand behind her ear, he knows they both know what's still hanging unspoken in the air.
He struggles to explain it, even to himself. He wants to say something, to bring the words out in the open, however imperfect, because he has never liked the idea of hiding any part of himself from her. But every attempt between then and now has always ended the same way they always have: like ashes in the air, faded to dust and dwindled to nothing.
He shakes his head out of his thoughts and pushes himself off his bike, fixing an easygoing grin on his face as he leans forward to brush a chaste kiss on the apple of her cheek. He has got this. "Until next time, princess."
When he pulls away from her, those treacherous, treacherous hazel eyes twinkle through thick, long lashes, and for a second, his mind empties itself of all thought. He has not got this. It's stupid, he thinks, because this isn't him, and she's no longer his. She isn't supposed to have this kind of hold on him anymore. Not then, not now.
But she had, and she does.
"Buy me flowers next time."
Her voice is playful, and he can trace the amusement in her expression just before she spins on her heels with a toss of her golden locks. It's only when she reaches the large wing-shaped gates that she pauses to glance past her shoulder at him, and when she does, the previous hints of her amusement vanish. Her features soften with a curve of a smile, and he feels a betraying flutter rise in his chest.
"Good night, Brandon."
He nods, returning her smile as he tries not to look too disappointed at having to say goodbye. "Good night, Stella."
How had he found himself in this situation, he would never know, but what he does know is that he should stop thinking about things like him and her, things that smudge the fine line friends aren't supposed to cross. He can't afford it. He can't risk it again.
Losing her once had already been hard enough.
Losing her twice is unthinkable.