Archive of Our Own

Alex sensed something was amiss the moment the wheels of the plane screamed against the runway. Not the creeping dread of an impending disaster- he just felt that something wasn't right. 

As he blinked against the harsh cabin lights, his heart pounding from the thrill of takeoff, the world around him… shifted. It was subtle at first, but as he looked around, each passenger was accompanied by a faint shape hovering near them- translucent, ethereal, resembling a solitary puzzle piece. 

He initially thought he was hallucinating, perhaps a result of his chronic fear of flying finally short-circuiting his brain. But as he glanced around, it became clear: every single person in the cabin harbored one of these specters. 

Some were small and sharp-edged, others curvy and soft. Some pieces shimmered in pastel hues, while others radiated vibrant colors. 

‘Maybe I’m just exhausted,’ Alex pondered. ‘A nap might do the trick, if only I could manage to get one on this flight.’

He decided to keep his strange observations to himself until they landed in France. 

Even then, it took another twenty minutes, a sweaty bus ride, and the sight of a couple by the Eiffel Tower- lost in each other’s embrace, their puzzle pieces hovering and glowing as they clicked together with a magnetic intimacy- for Alex to crack. 

He nudged Tod, who was preoccupied trying to confirm if their hotel had a rooftop pool. “Hey,” Alex whispered, nervous energy crackling through him. “Do you… see anything strange?” 

Tod didn’t even bother to look up. “In general? Or, like, with you specifically?” 

“I mean… around people. Next to their heads.” 

That earned him a skeptical side-eye. “Their heads?” 

“Yeah. Like, shapes. Puzzle pieces. Everyone has one. They’re all different.” 

Now Tod finally shifted his gaze towards Alex, a mix of curiosity and concern on his face. “Okay, dude. Are you okay? You didn’t hit your head or something, right?” 

“No,” Alex muttered, crossing his arms defensively. “Forget it.” 

He had to be losing it. 

Yet, when the third couple sauntered by- two girls intertwined, their delicate pink puzzle pieces clicking together with precision as soon as Alex laid eyes on them- it became impossible to ignore. 

These puzzle pieces weren’t exclusive to couples. Sometimes they adorned solitary figures in cafés, hovering like unanswered questions just above their heads. But the ones that matched? They were so strikingly obvious that Alex felt like he was seeing the world through a new lens. 

Soulmates. That had to be it. France seemed teeming with couples, and it was tough to overlook the ones seamlessly fitting together. What further intrigued him was that he witnessed pairs whose pieces didn’t align. Mostly, it was the elderly couples whose pieces harmonized, glowing as if celebrating decades of love.

So Alex kept quiet. If Tod couldn’t see it, perhaps no one else could either. Maybe that meant he should remain silent. He definitely didn’t want to be known as ‘the guy who sees imaginary floating shapes.’

But he couldn’t help himself. 

It turned into a twisted game of sorts; his eyes roamed the gathering crowds, watching pieces drift near people’s heads as if tethered by invisible strings. Some glowed faintly, flickering like dying stars, while others- very few- clicked into place as though gravity pulled them together. 

That night, while the rest of the class reveled in their rooms or snuck out to explore the Parisian night, Alex sat on the edge of his bed, transfixed by the subtle shimmer of his own puzzle piece, hovering just inches from his temple in the dim light of the hotel mirror. 

His piece was oddly shaped- one side jagged and rough, the other rounded and gentle. It was a dusty green that seemed to blend into the wallpaper behind him, making it feel even more elusive. 

He reached out once, instinctively wanting to touch it, his fingertips barely grazing the air beside his head. Nothing. Not even a tingling sensation. It was almost as if it existed solely in his mind- but there it was, clearly visible. 

With a sigh, Alex let his hand drop. 

Sleep was elusive that night. 

…

The following morning, he kept his gaze low, unwilling to rejoin the game of spotting pieces. He didn’t want to see who matched with whom; it felt invasive, like prying into someone’s most guarded secrets without consent. 

The following days blurred together, a kaleidoscope of sightseeing and jet lag, but the puzzle pieces remained steadfast, a continuous presence in the background of his mind. Every crowd felt like a living puzzle box, filled with souls vibrating at different frequencies. People strolled by on the streets, sat alone at cozy cafés, their pieces brushing against one another but never quite connecting. 

Alex found himself zoning out more frequently, simply watching. On the subway, he stared at the ceiling while sneaking glances at a teenage boy across from him, who had a soft yellow piece that spun slowly, almost impatiently. 

In line at the museum, a woman ahead kept glancing over her shoulder, as if she felt the pull of her own piece, even though it remained a dull blue, solitary and forlorn. 

Each time his gaze landed on a duo whose pieces locked together with a delicate shine, his stomach twisted in an unexplainable mix of yearning and melancholy. 

Why didn’t his own piece glow? Or shimmer, for that matter? Sure, he was miles away from home, with the most probable place for his soulmate being back in his hometown. Yet still, he found himself hyper-aware, waiting for a change in the dusty green that defined his essence. Perhaps he was just too blind to see its glow, or maybe it blended into the background far too well. 

It was on the third day that the group split up for the afternoon. Christa and Blake were on a mission to find that crêpe place Ms. Lewton had raved about, leaving Alex alone once again with his thoughts- thoughts tangled in an unseen web of possibilities and quiet hopes.

Eventually, he ducked into a narrow alley flanked by tourist trap boutiques- rows of diminutive shops brimming with colorful postcards, miniature Eiffel Towers, and shirts emblazoned with the glittering words “Je t’aime Paris.” The air was thick with the fragrant aromas of incense and smooth lavender soap, creating a sensory cocoon around him.

As he wandered through a quaint little corner store, he found it packed to the brim with shiny knickknacks and a myriad of gaudy mirrors that reflected distorted versions of the world around him. He wasn’t entirely sure what compelled him to stop. Perhaps it was the enticing shade of the shop, or the unexpected calm that lingered within its four walls. Or maybe it was the full-length mirror tucked away between a vibrant rack of scarves and a cluttered table overflowing with tiny, whimsical snow globes.

With deliberate slowness, Alex drifted closer, feigning interest in the trinkets around him, yet his gaze would frequently dart up- inevitably drawn to the distorted shimmer of his own dusty green piece, still lifeless and stagnant, still- 

Still alone.

He let out a heavy sigh.

The bell above the door jingled softly, its sound echoing in the quiet space behind him.

He didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to.

A voice cut through the tranquil atmosphere- a low, annoyed tone that lingered in the air: “Terry, I’m not paying twenty euros for a mug.”

His stomach twisted in that familiar way it did when it sensed impending trouble- except this time it wasn’t fear. Not quite. It was something colder, sharper, an instinctual awareness that prompted him to brace for the unknown.

His eyes flicked up, not to the source of the voice but instead to the mirror.

And there he was.

Carter Horton, fully visible in the reflection, standing a few feet back with sunglasses pushed into his tousled hair, arms crossed in that familiar posture that screamed indifference to everything around him. Terry stood next to him, engrossed in flipping through a rack of novelty t-shirts, completely oblivious to Carter’s presence.

But it wasn’t that sight alone that made Alex’s breath hitch.

It was Carter’s piece.

It hung just beside him in the mirror, a small yet unmistakable shape- burnt red, almost rust-colored, and- 

And it fit.

He wouldn’t have noticed it if they weren’t side by side in the reflection, he hadn’t been looking at pieces from anyone who was in his class. Other than Tod’s, but he couldn't help that the guy wanted ot be around Alex so much.

But no.

The jagged edge of Carter’s piece, the uneven curve- it aligned perfectly with his own. Now, the colors were different, but Alex didnt know what that ment. He had just figured out they were about soul mates- who knows if the colors mattered.

He desperately wished that they did.

He cast a lingering glance back at his own reflection in the dim, flickering light of the store, taking in the dusty green shimmer of his piece. Then his gaze shifted to Carter’s- red and ragged, a chaotic swirl of unformed shapes, yet somehow, inexplicably- 

“Alex?” Terry’s voice, casual and unassuming, sliced through his thoughts like a knife through fog.

She was behind him now, fingers deftly sifting through a shelf teetering under the weight of keychains shaped like whimsical baguettes, her brow furrowed in concentration as she continued her search. Carter had drifted deeper into the store, his dissatisfied muttering echoing off the walls like an incensed chorus condemning the ridiculous prices of gaudy souvenirs.

Alex stepped back from the mirror, a doubt creeping into his mind.

This had to be some kind of mistake. After all, his color was green- not red. It couldn’t be Carter; it had to be some bizarre coincidence that the puzzle pieces happened to align in such an uncanny way.

“Terry. Hey. I didn’t see you guys here…” he said, surprised at how steady his voice sounded, devoid of the tremor that usually clung to his words.

“Didn’t know you were into souvenir shopping,” she replied, glancing up briefly before returning to the jumble of vibrant keychains.

He shrugged, forcing himself not to look past her toward the aisle where Carter’s figure had vanished amongst the treacherous sea of overpriced snow globes. “Just… wandering,” he mumbled, hoping the weight of his uncertainty didn’t seep into his tone.

Terry didn’t pry; she simply nodded, engrossed in her search.

But Alex's gaze, drawn by an invisible tether, flickered back to the mirror.

Nothing had changed.

His puzzle piece hovered quietly, dull and lifeless, like a question posed without the promise of an answer. Carter’s piece- burnt red, distorted, restless- loomed in the reflection, its angles facing slightly in the wrong direction. Too distant to truly connect, yet somehow aligned. Still right, in a way Alex couldn’t articulate without feeling utterly foolish.

He turned away, heart pounding.

This couldn’t be real. It defied reason.

Carter Horton was not his soulmate.

He was loud, brash, and insufferably arrogant. Their shared history was steeped in mutual disdain since elementary school. Memories flashed like old film reels: Carter dumping a Snapple into his backpack during middle school, while Alex delighted in spreading rumors about Carter’s supposed reliance on insoles that added inches to his height.

They were not soulmates; they were adversaries with a shared record of petty grievances.

The color discrepancy had to mean something, didn’t it? After all, Carter wasn’t meant to be his match. He had Terry.

Terry , yes!

Alex's heart sank as he discreetly glanced at her, a gut-wrenching realization hitting him like a cold wave. Terry’s piece, a light pink,  wouldn’t even come close to aligning with Carter’s, even if they were forcibly slammed together.

This was dire. It not only confirmed his creeping doubts about the durability of his relationship with Terry, but it also raised unsettling questions about the potential bond looming over him like a storm cloud, with Carter at the eye.

Or maybe he was spiraling into madness. After all, he was envisioning puzzle pieces above the heads of those around him.

He turned, trying to shake the static buzz in his chest, the pulsing pressure behind his ribs like something trapped was trying to escape. He is not your soulmate, he told himself, repeating it like a mantra. He’s not. He can’t be.

The bell above the shop door jingled again. Carter brushed past him without so much as a glance, a low scoff under his breath as he passed by, muttering something about ‘tourist hellholes’

Alex tensed automatically, like a reflex born from years of carefully avoiding locker-side sneers and passive-aggressive elbow jabs in the school hallway.

But Carter didn’t stop. He didn’t say anything more. He just walked- out of the mirror, out of view, out of reach.

…

By day five of the trip, Alex had managed to avoid Carter entirely, which was impressive considering they were sharing a hotel floor. He’d memorized Carter’s schedule, found every excuse to split from his group when Carter and Terry were nearby, and even skipped an entire museum tour by pretending to be sick.

But the memories didn’t stop.

They haunted him now- floating in his peripheral vision even when he tried not to look. Sometimes he’d catch Carter in a crowd, and without fail, that red piece would be there.

Then came the rooftop night.

The group had found a vantage point high above the city, a slanted overlook where the Eiffel Tower blinked in the distance, casting golden pulses into the dark. Someone had brought cheap wine. Someone else had snuck in chocolate from the hotel minibar.

Alex ended up leaning against the railing, the quiet air cool against his face. He hadn’t meant to be alone. But it was better than pretending everything was normal when it wasn’t.

Footsteps approached from behind. He didn’t turn around.

“You’ve been weird,” Carter said flatly. Not a question. A statement.

Alex exhaled slowly. “You’ve always thought I was weird.”

“Yeah, but this is like... extra .”

Alex didn’t answer.

Carter leaned beside him, far too close. His arm brushed Alex’s for the briefest second before he shifted away again like he regretted it. “So what’s up?” he asked.

Alex didn’t answer.

All he could see was the piece. Hovering, crooked and burnt red. Carter hadn’t noticed it. Of course not.

“You’re staring,” Carter said after a moment.

Alex’s mouth went dry. “ No , I’m not.”

“You are,” Carter said. “Like I grew a third eye or something.”

Alex took a breath. “You ever feel like…” He stopped. This was a bad idea.

Carter raised an eyebrow. “Feel like what?”

Alex hesitated. “…like there’s something following you? Something only you can see?”

Carter stared at him for a long moment. “...You’re fucking creepy , man.” He muttered.

Carter turned his face back toward the skyline, exhaling through his nose like he’d run out of insults but wasn’t ready to leave. Alex, on the other hand, was trying to will his heart into behaving- trying to force the sick, swirling tension in his stomach to go away.

Carter was right. He was being weird. Not just the kind of weird Carter liked to mock in gym class or during group projects. This was deeper. The kind of weird you couldn’t explain without sounding insane.

Because what could he even say?

‘Oh, by the way, I see glowing metaphysical representations of people’s soulmates now. And yours just so happens to slot perfectly into mine. So, uh. Yay?’

No. Not happening.

“See ya,” Carter muttered, straightening up. 

Alex didn’t move. The silence between them stretched too long, too taut. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t hostile either. It just… hovered.

Finally, Carter stepped away.

The sixth day was worse.

Because now Alex couldn’t stop watching Carter.

It wasn’t deliberate. At least, not at first. It started with a glance across the café, a lazy look past rows of croissants and overpriced espresso- and there it was. That damn puzzle piece. Hovering next to Carter’s head like a dog on a leash, frayed and twisted and still a perfect fit.

And once Alex saw it again, he couldn’t unsee it. Couldn’t unfeel the strange, magnetic ache that pooled under his ribs whenever Carter was near. Like some part of him had been subtly rewired without permission.

He hated it.

Especially because Carter… didn’t change.

Still loud. Still smug. Still laughing too hard at Tod’s jokes and still shoving chairs out of the way like rules never applied to him.

And Alex? Alex was unraveling.

“Earth to Alex?” George waved his hand in front of his face. “You good, dude?”

Alex blinked, realizing he’d been halfway through stirring a sugar packet into his tea for… who knows how long.

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Just- tired.”

George narrowed his eyes. “You sure ? You’ve been acting like you’re haunted.”

He almost said I might be . But instead he just nodded and muttered something noncommittal. His gaze flicked past him to where Carter sat at the edge of the patio, sunglasses perched back in his hair, one foot balanced on an empty chair like he owned the city.

Terry was talking to him- something animated, probably about their plans for the evening- but Carter wasn’t really paying attention.

He was looking at Alex.

Not for long. Just a flicker. Just enough for Alex to feel it like a static charge behind his eyes.

…

That night, the rain came in sudden bursts- shallow, silver sheets that clung to the city like a second skin.

The group scattered. Some made it to restaurants, some ducked under shop awnings. Alex ran blindly into a narrow alley, heart pounding with more adrenaline than was really warranted.

The thunder cracked behind him.

“Alex,” someone stated, closer than expected.

He turned too fast, nearly slipped- and Carter was there , grabbing his arm, steadying him.

They both froze.

Alex stared down at the spot where Carter’s hand gripped his jacket sleeve, rain dripping from his knuckles.

Carter didn’t let go immediately.

Alex yanked his arm back.

“Don’t touch me.”

Carter’s mouth twisted, not quite into a smirk. Something colder. “You’re welcome for stopping you from face-planting into the floor, Browning.”

Alex took a step back. His voice came out sharp. “What do you want , Carter?”

“I don’t want anything,” Carter snapped. “You’re the one who keeps staring at me like I’m growing horns.”

“Maybe because you’ve been acting like a dick since we landed,” Alex shot back.

“Funny,” Carter said. “I was gonna say the same thing about you.”

For a second, neither of them spoke. The rain beat down harder.

Alex's throat was raw. “You know what? I think I hate this city.”

“Good,” Carter said, stepping in closer, his voice low and almost cruel. “Because it makes people act stupid. Makes them think weird shit. Like they’ve got some tragic little romance story going on in their heads. Like the Eiffel Tower’s gonna fix their personality.”

“Talk less.” Alex said simply. He had never had a normal conversation with Carter other than when they had school projects together. He didn’t know why Carter was making a move to change that fact.

“Jackass.” Carter bit back, looking down at Alex, his hoodie moist from the downpour next to them. He looked away.

A small aroma of red light came from above Alex, and he looked up to meet Carters eyes, tell him to fuck off or something of the sort, his eyes moved higher up through.

Alex knew what he saw. That flicker. That faint pulse of rust-colored light, like a match struck in the dark.

Interest .

Carter’s piece had flickered.

…

Alex couldn’t sleep. Again.

He laid on his side in the stiff hotel bed, the sound of Tod slightly snoring, the sound of the city bleeding through the thin walls.

He turned over, groaning into the lumpy pillow. Maybe if he pressed hard enough, he could crush the thoughts out of his skull. Or at least smother them into silence.

…

He gave up trying to sleep sometime around three.

The ceiling had stopped being a ceiling hours ago- it was just a blur now, a pale smear behind his eyelids every time he blinked. Tod snored lightly on the other side of the room, rolled up tight in the scratchy hotel blanket, oblivious.

He rubbed his eyes hard enough to see stars and stood up, wincing at the way the bed creaked. He pulled on his jacket, shoved his hands into his pockets, and slipped out.

The hallway was empty. The elevator too loud, so he took the stairs.

The air outside was cold but not sharp. Just enough to wake him up, enough to keep him moving. He walked without really thinking about where he was going, passing shuttered bakeries and damp patches of sidewalk where the evening’s light rain hadn’t quite dried. The city felt quieter than usual. A little hollow.

He turned a corner and stopped.

Voices. Not loud. Not yelling. But not good, either.

“I’m just saying, you don’t have to babysit me every second.”

Carter.

Alex shrank back automatically, ducking near the edge of a closed café’s awning.

“ Oh my god , Carter,” Terry’s voice followed. Frustrated. “I wasn’t. You’re the one who disappears for an hour and then acts like I’m being clingy for asking where you went.”

“I just wanted to be alone for five minutes...I’m just saying, you don’t have to babysit me every second," Carter’s voice said, low and sharp, cutting through the quiet.

"Jesus, I wasn’t-" Terry’s voice snapped back, frustrated. "You disappear for an hour, don’t answer anyone, I’m getting worried Carter-! You can’t just disappear without telling anyone.”

“I’m just- can we not do this here?”

“No. Because this is the third time this trip you’ve acted like I’m the one with a problem just for asking where the hell you’ve been.”

Silence stretched.

Then Carter said, quieter, “I needed air.”

Terry laughed once, a short, bitter sound. “You’ve needed air every day since we got here. Do you not like me anymore so much that you can’t stand being next to me? Do you want to break up ?”

Alex didn’t mean to listen. He tried not to. But every cell in his body had gone still. He could practically feel the shape of Carter’s piece now- burnt red, restless, frayed at the edges.

“...I didn’t say that,” Carter muttered, too quiet.

“You don't need to.”

Alex closed his eyes. Stepped back further into the doorway, like maybe the shadows could swallow him whole.

He didn’t hear the rest of the conversation. Just footsteps retreating- Terry’s heels clicking away, fast and furious. Carter didn’t follow.

When Alex peeked around the corner a full minute later, Carter was alone, leaning against a lamp post despite its dampness from the rain, which was only a light drizzle now. 

Alex should’ve gone back.

Instead, he stepped into the open.

Carter noticed immediately. “...What, are you stalking me now?”

Alex shook his head. “Didn’t know you were here.”

Carter looked him up and down, unimpressed. “ Right .”

“...So, what was that about?”

“None of your fucking business, Browning.”

“...” Alex took a deep breath. “Look, I know you guys are having issues-"

Carter’s head snapped towards him, eyes sharp. “ You don’t know anything.”

“...Okay, fine. I don’t know anything. But-" Alex’s hand twitched, hovered by his side. “But maybe you should talk to her. Like- actually talk. Maybe it’ll help.”

Carter stared at him like he’d suggested they start a flash mob. “Why do you care?”

Alex didn’t care. He just thought that maybe if he got their relationship to work, their pieces would snap together, magically rearranging themselves to fit. Then this whole thing would be over.

Carter scoffed at the lack of response. “You’re full of shit, man. Just go to bed.”

And with that, he walked away.

Alex stood there for a long time, watching the spot where he’d disappeared into the shadows.

The rain had completely stopped. The air felt cleaner now.

…

They were on a tour boat ride down the Seine, passing under bridges, past the gleaming lights of the city. Everyone else chattered away, Tod and George taking polaroid photos, but Alex remained silent, eyes on the water. 

Carter was on the opposite side of the boat, but Alex could feel him there, not to mention the looming glare focused on Alex.

The boat drifted slowly down the Seine, the glow of Paris casting gold onto the dark ripples. Lights shimmered in the water like scattered coins, flickering with each shift of the current.

Alex kept his arms folded against the railing, the cool breeze slipping under his sleeves. The buzz of classmates around him faded into background noise- laughter, camera clicks, the rustle of snack wrappers. He stared at the water but wasn’t really seeing it.

Across the boat, Carter hadn’t moved in ten minutes.

Terry, though. She kept shifting- arms folded, then hands on hips, then tugging her sleeves over her palms. Alex knew that body language. He’d seen it in group presentations, cafeteria arguments.

She was trying not to lose it.

Finally, it cracked.

“Carter. Seriously?”

Alex stiffened.

Carter didn’t look at her. Just kept his eyes on the lights, jaw set. His rust-red puzzle piece hovered just to the side of his face- frayed and restless. Alex hadn’t seen it flicker since that night in the rain.

Terry stepped in front of him, blocking his view. “You haven’t said a word to me since lunch. What’s your deal?”

Carter shifted just enough to meet her eyes. His voice was low. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“That’s not even remotely true and you know it .”

He looked away again.

“You asked me to come on this trip with you, remember?” Her voice shook, not with tears but with something tighter- like she was holding everything in by sheer will. “You said it would be good for us. That we’d get space from all the bullshit back home. That we’d have fun.”

Carter didn't answer.

She laughed, sharp and humorless. “But here we are, in fucking Paris, and you’ve barely looked at me. So what is it? Did I do something? Are you mad at me for something I don’t even know I did?”

“I’m not mad,” Carter muttered.

“Then what is it?”

A long pause.

Alex didn’t want to hear this. Didn’t want to be here. But something inside him refused to look away. He stared down at his own reflection in the dark water- watched the faint shimmer of green above his head distort in the ripples.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” Carter said finally.

Terry took a step back, arms dropping to her sides. “What does that even mean?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes on the river. “I don’t know. I feel... wrong. All the time.”

“So you don’t want to be with me anymore?” she asked, quiet now.

“I don’t know.”

“ That’s not good enough .”

Another silence.

Then Carter said, voice flat: “I think I’m trying to want something I don’t.”

Alex’s chest tightened.

Terry blinked at him. “ What ?”

“I’m trying,” Carter said, louder now. “I’ve been trying for months. To be what you need. To be what I thought I was supposed to be.”

“What are you saying-?”

“I don’t want this anymore, Terry,” he snapped. “I don’t want to be someone I’m not. And I’m sick of pretending I’m fine when I’m-" He stopped himself.

Terry stepped back like he’d hit her. “So that’s it.”

Carter looked at her, and for once, he didn’t look smug. He looked tired.

She shook her head, scoffed, and turned away- shoulders rigid, arms wrapped around herself like she might splinter. She didn’t say anything else. Just walked to the far end of the boat.

Carter didn’t follow.

…

Alex didn’t move until the boat docked.

When the group filtered off, some laughing, some shivering in the cooling air, he kept his head down and followed Tod without saying anything. Tod didn’t ask. Just tossed him a look like You good? and nudged his shoulder lightly as they stepped off the ramp.

Dinner that night was at a touristy restaurant tucked between old stone buildings, with wrought-iron balconies overhead and warm lights glowing from behind lace-curtained windows. Their teachers corralled them toward the back of the place- long tables already set with water pitchers and woven baskets of bread.

Alex ended up squished between Tod and George, across from Clear, who was trying to eye-read the French side of the menu-but still held a tiny pocket dictionary. Everyone around him buzzed with end-of-day exhaustion- talking about the boat, about souvenirs, about what they were going to buy their families.

No one mentioned the fight.

No one mentioned Carter or Terry at all.

Alex hadn’t seen either of them since they got off the boat. Probably still somewhere outside. Or maybe already here, just at the opposite end of the table. He didn’t check.

Someone shoved a menu at him. He blinked down at it.

“Get the coq au vin,” Tod said around a mouthful of bread. “It’s like…chicken but with wine and sauce and whatever. Super French.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“ Dude , you haven't eaten since that sad croissant the teachers provided for the students this morning.”

Alex ignored him. Folded the menu closed. The puzzle piece above his head flickered once, pale green, then dulled back to static.

Eventually, Carter walked in.

His hair was windblown, shirt damp from the mist still hanging in the air. He looked like he hadn’t spoken in hours. His eyes scanned the room briefly- and for a second, they locked with Alex’s.

It wasn’t long. Not even a full heartbeat.

But it was enough.

Carter looked away first, slid into a chair at the far end of the table, two seats down from Terry.

She didn’t look at him once.

The restaurant was loud enough that the silence between them could go unnoticed.

Alex forced himself to eat. Forced himself to talk when Tod made a joke. Forced himself to laugh once, even though it came out hollow and wrong.

The puzzle piece above Carter’s head glowed faintly for a moment.

Alex blinked.

But when he looked again, it was just static.

…

Alex slept like a rock.

He didn’t mean to. He’d meant to lie awake and overthink the way he usually did- let the whir of French street noise and late-night mopeds keep him company while he turned over every eye contact, every flicker, every breath of the day like it was a clue.

But sometime after dragging himself upstairs, brushing his teeth in silence while Tod hummed some dumb melody in the bathroom, and curling up on the scratchy hostel pillow, his body just…shut down.

When he woke up, the room was filled with that pale morning light that only existed in old European buildings- dusty and slanted, like it had filtered through time. Tod was still asleep, limbs splayed in chaotic angles across his bed, one arm dangling off the side like he’d died there.

Alex sat up slowly. For the first time in days, his head didn’t immediately start racing.

He didn’t feel better.

But he felt less .

Outside the window, bells chimed. Somewhere down the street, a delivery truck rattled over cobblestone. He let the sound fill the space inside him that used to be panic.

Eventually, Tod stirred. Mumbled something about breakfast and socks.

They joined the others downstairs in the cramped dining area where the hostel served a basic spread: cereal in tiny bowls, yogurt, baguettes, bitter coffee. Someone had claimed the corner table with a loud game of cards. 

By the time the group gathered out front for the morning’s walking tour, the air had already started warming. Their teacher- Mrs. Halperin, armed with a stack of printed pamphlets and a slightly broken umbrella she used for visibility- rattled off directions.

Alex walked near the middle of the group. Tod talked to George about souvenir knives.

And for a while, it was easy to forget what had happened yesterday.

Until Carter showed up late.

He didn’t run to catch up- just slouched into view with that same slow, almost bored gait like he’d been there the whole time and everyone else had only just noticed. His hoodie was wrinkled, the same one from yesterday, sleeves shoved halfway up his forearms like he hadn’t bothered to change.

Carter merged with the group like static- faded into the line of students as if he hadn’t missed anything at all. His expression was unreadable. Not cold. Not angry. Just…blank. He looked past everyone like they were background noise.

Alex’s stomach twisted. He tried not to look. He really, really tried.

But when he caught Carter in his peripheral vision, the puzzle piece flickered.

It was soft- like someone lighting a match in a snowstorm. Not enough to burn. Just enough to see.

A faint green shimmer. A low glow, pulsing once. Then gone.

Carter didn’t notice, obviously . He just rubbed the back of his neck absently and kept walking, falling into step a few paces ahead.

Alex let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. The piece above Carter’s head wasn’t supposed to matter. It was a mistake. A glitch in the matrix or something.

Tod nudged him lightly with an elbow. “You’re spacing out again.”

Alex blinked. “What?”

“You’re spacing out. You good?”

He nodded, even though it felt like lying.

“Cool, cool…” Tod said, brushing a baguette crumb off his hoodie.

Their guide had a microphone clipped to her scarf and an accent so thick it made half the group lean in to catch each word. Alex barely heard any of it. At some point, they stopped at a cathedral with stained glass taller than most apartment buildings back home. Everyone tilted their heads back. Someone took a photo with a disposable camera.

Alex didn’t look at the architecture. His eyes kept drifting forward.

To Carter.

They made their way through cobblestone plazas and breezy gardens, eventually stopping in a quiet square for lunch. Students peeled off in groups toward nearby cafés, armed with a handful of Euros and vague directions about meeting back in an hour.

Alex stayed behind for a second, letting the crowd split around him like water.

Then he heard footsteps behind him.

“Your friend ditched you?” a voice said.

He turned. Carter stood a few feet away, hands in his hoodie pocket, a plastic water bottle half-crushed in one of them.

Alex’s heart jumped to his throat. “Tod went with George,” he said, voice thin.

Carter nodded once. His face was unreadable. His puzzle piece flickered.

Alex didn’t comment on it. Just shoved his hands into his jacket and looked at the ground.

“...I didn’t mean for her to cry,” Carter muttered.

“I know.”

“You were right. I should have talked to her one-on-one. Or something -...”

Alex took a risk and glanced over at him, their eyes locking momentarily. There was a flicker of vulnerability in Carter’s gaze, but it quickly faded. 

“Are you saying I was right?” Alex teased, attempting to lighten the somber atmosphere that surrounded them.

Carter scoffed, a weak smile barely breaking through his otherwise tense demeanor. “Hell no. You’re the most stupid person I’ve ever met.”

Despite the banter, Alex could still feel the residual tension from the night before coursing through him, an odd mix of adrenaline and anxiety lingering like a ghost in his chest. It was a strange feeling, that hollow echo of turmoil as if something unresolved still thrummed beneath his skin.

Carter, on the other hand, appeared disturbingly calm. His expressions were detached, as if the chaos of the previous night simply brushed past him without leaving a mark. 

Above their heads, the flickering of red and green pulsed softly, but went unnoticed by the single person who could see them.

“You wanna go find food?” Carter asked, breaking the silence, his casual tone belying the gravity of their conversation. “Or are you waiting for someone else?”

Alex hesitated, weighing the options in his mind. He felt the lingering urge to stay and untangle the knots of their conversation, but the allure of a distraction was tempting. Finally, he shook his head with a bit of resolve. “No. I’ll come.”

Carter nodded, turning before Alex could add anything else. They walked in silence for a block or two until they found a café with wicker chairs and a chalkboard menu in scrawled French.

The café was tucked between two bookstores, shaded by faded yellow awnings and framed by ivy-covered brick. A little bell above the door jingled as they stepped inside, and the scent of espresso and butter hit Alex all at once. Carter nodded toward a corner table by the window and slid into one side of the booth. Alex sat across from him, eyes flicking to the glass- more out of instinct now than intention.

Outside, a few tourists milled about, their puzzle pieces dim in the daylight, lazily drifting near their heads like they weighed nothing. None of them matched. None of them mattered.

He glanced at Carter.

The piece above Carter’s head was still there- low, flickering faintly. Not glowing. Not anything. Just there. The same shape, same irritatingly sharp color. Alex looked away quickly, his stomach turning.

The waitress came over and rattled off something too fast in French. Carter raised a brow. “Croque monsieur?” he said, like a guess.

Alex nodded, barely catching the words. “Same.”

They handed back the menus. The silence stretched again. The table was too small. Or maybe Carter was just too close. His knee bumped Alex’s under the table and didn’t move right away.

Alex shifted, but didn’t say anything.

Carter leaned back, arm stretched along the back of the booth like he owned the space -  like it hadn’t just been his knee pressing into Alex’s like he forgot they were supposed to hate each other.

Alex kept his eyes on the condensation gathering on his water glass. If he looked up, if he let his gaze drift, he knew where it would land. And he didn’t want to know what it would do to him -  seeing that puzzle piece just hanging there. Still not glowing. Still wrong.

“You’ve been looking at me weird lately,” Carter said suddenly.

Alex’s head snapped up. “I haven’t.”

“You have.” Carter’s tone wasn’t angry, more… testing. “You get all twitchy. Keep staring like I’ve got something on my face.”

Alex’s jaw tightened. “Maybe you do.”

A corner of Carter’s mouth quirked. “Yeah?” He leaned forward slightly, squinting theatrically. “Well, I’m not bleeding. Not on fire. So what is it?”

Alex didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The words stacked behind his teeth like bricks.

Their food arrived. Carter immediately dug in like he hadn’t eaten in days. Alex picked at his, barely registering the taste.

At one point, Carter looked up, mouth half-full, and asked, “You always this quiet?”

Alex raised a brow. “You always this nosy?”

Carter snorted, and that smile again- crooked, involuntary, like it surprised even him- slipped across his face. “Guess I deserved that.”

The air shifted between them. Not warmer. Not softer. Just… tighter.

And then, just for a moment, as Alex glanced up again, Carter’s piece flickered.

It didn’t glow- still dulled, still dormant- but the flicker was sharper this time, like a skipped heartbeat. Alex froze. His throat went dry.

Carter was still talking, oblivious. Something about the sandwich being better than expected.

Alex couldn’t listen. Couldn’t breathe right. He looked down at his plate, then out the window again. Don’t do this, he thought. Don’t start hoping.

…

They made it back to the hotel just before sundown, slipping in through the side door to avoid the front desk clerk who clearly hated all of them.

Carter peeled off toward the elevator with a lazy, “Later,” and Alex stood there a second too long, watching him go.

He wandered into the common lounge, where a few of the others were gathered- Clear was flipping through a tourist pamphlet, and Christa was curled up on one of the couches with a Coke. The TV played softly in the background.

And Terry was there.

She stood by the window, phone pressed to her ear, back half-turned to the room. She was laughing at something- something she didn’t seem to mean- and nodding as she spoke. Light from the window caught in her hair.

Alex’s eyes flicked up automatically.

Her puzzle piece was still there.

But it wasn’t light pink anymore.

It was a deep, bruised navy, dull and lifeless, as if soaked in water and left to dry. It didn’t glow. It didn’t even flicker. It just… hovered. Heavy. Like it was waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen.

Alex stared at it, his stomach sinking.

Alex blinked hard and stepped back from the doorway, he had thought colors couldn’t change thus far. He had thought that they needed to match with the other piece to connect- but he didn’t know anymore.

Great. Another thing to keep him in doubt about Carter.

He’d felt bad for Terry, he really did. But he had known, deep down- ever since he saw Terry's piece that it wouldn’t work out. Not without some divine intervention, that is.

He let out a lengthy sigh as he opened the door to his room, finding Tod nowhere to be seen. He was probably out with George or off hiding from teachers telling him to get back to authorized zones so they could watch him.

Alex didn’t feel like being watched.

He ducked out of the main building while the others filtered toward the dining hall, the usual chorus of feet and voices fading as he slipped away. Someone called his name, or maybe it was someone else’s- it didn’t matter. He didn’t stop walking.

The hotel’s rooftop had technically been “closed after the first night’s welcome dinner” thanks to some kid from another school almost falling over the side, but the side stairwell still led up, and the lock on the access door still hadn’t been fixed. Maybe the teachers forgot. Maybe they just didn’t care anymore. Either way, Alex nudged the door open and stepped out.

Evening had started to bleed into the sky.

The Eiffel Tower stood at a distance, glass and gold in the dipping sun. Tour boats cruised along the Seine far below, leaving soft wakes in the water, glittering reflections cutting across the surface. The rooftop was quiet, the kind of quiet that made your shoulders drop a little when you realized how long you’d been tense.

Alex walked to the edge- carefully, this time- and sat on the low stone wall. His legs dangled, half-shaking, but the wind felt nice. He let it brush over his arms, lift his hair.

The city spread endlessly in every direction, rooftops cluttered with chimneys and metal and the occasional line of laundry. The Tower loomed off-center, its iron body starting to catch the fading sun.

It was quiet. Peaceful.

Until it wasn’t.

Footsteps.

Alex didn’t turn around right away. He knew, somehow, before the voice even came.

“You’re not eating either?” Carter.

Of course.

Alex blinked, keeping his face neutral. “Guess not.”

He heard the scrape of shoes on rooftop gravel, the door clicking shut again. Carter was walking toward him slowly, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be here. Like this wasn’t already breaking at least three school rules.

Alex finally looked.

Carter didn’t come to stand right next to him. He stopped a few feet away, stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, and stared out at the skyline like it had something to say.

“I didn’t think anyone else would come up here,” Alex said after a beat, quiet.

Carter shrugged. “Didn’t feel like being down there.”

Alex didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The quiet settled again, but not uncomfortably.

They stood like that for a while- just them, the city, the gentle breeze shifting hair and collar edges. The sun had sunk lower now, stretching shadows long across the rooftop. The Eiffel Tower gleamed orange-gold against the dusky blue.

Alex risked a glance at him.

The puzzle piece hovered just above Carter’s head, its soft blue edges outlined in the gold of the setting sun. Still as ever. No flicker. No shift. Just... there. Steady. Inescapable.

Alex looked away.

Carter exhaled, long and quiet. “You always sneak off alone like this?”

Alex tilted his head, letting the breeze cool his cheeks.

“Only when I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

A dry laugh. “Cool. Glad I’m the exception.”

Alex didn’t mean to smile, but something tugged at his mouth.

“You kind of forced it.”

Another pause. The bottle clinked gently as Carter set it down between them.

“I can leave.”

Alex’s chest tightened. Not in panic. Just- tight.

“No,” he said, a little too quickly. “You don’t have to.”

Carter didn’t move. For a second, the breeze pulled his sweatshirt sleeve back just far enough that Alex could see a fading scratch along his wrist. Probably from when he’d tripped during their hike yesterday. Alex remembered. He’d been watching.

“Nice view,” Carter said finally.

Alex nodded.

“The city looks fake from up here.”

“I know.”

The sky deepened. Orange became pink, then lavender, then a bruise-blue creeping in from the corners.

“You’re quiet,” Carter said after a moment. Not accusing. Just... noticing.

“Wish you’d be,” Alex said, not being able to hold back a smirk.

“ Jackass .”

And just like that- flicker.

The puzzle piece above Carter’s head alit up, faint and fleeting, like a match trying to catch.

Alex didn’t move. He just stared straight ahead.

The light died.

Carter didn’t look at him, but his voice was quieter this time. “I’m not used to being around you when it’s this quiet.”

Alex smirked faintly. “You’re usually yelling.”

Carter snorted. “Yeah, well. You’re usually asking for it.”

Alex chuckled, and looked away before Carter noticed. 

“You cold?” Carter asked, his voice too casual.

Alex shook his head.

But Carter pulled off his jacket anyway and tossed it at him. “You look cold.”

Alex caught it on instinct, stared at it like it might disappear.

“You’re-” he started.

“I didn’t say I was giving it to you,” Carter cut in. “Just until we go back down.”

“...Okay, thanks. I guess.” Alex muttered, staring up at Carters now glowing piece. It held its glow long enough for Carter to think that Alex was just blatantly staring at him.

So much so that he hadn’t seen his own piece glow.

That made Carter glance at him- really look. And for a second, Alex thought… maybe.

Maybe this was it.

But Carter didn’t lean in. Didn’t say anything else.

He didn’t know why he was expecting anything.

Just stood up, still flushed, and shoved his hands into his jacket again. “I should go back down before they do roll call.”

Alex nodded. His chest hurt, but he didn’t say why.

Carter hovered a second longer.

Then turned, pulled the door open, and left- glow still steady as a streetlight.

Alex sat alone with the sunset, trying not to hope for anything more.

…

The morning sun bled pale gold through the hotel curtains.

Alex blinked awake slowly, disoriented for a second by the unfamiliar ceiling, the whir of an old air conditioner. (Thank god this hotel had AC, most places in France had none.) Two more days.

It was their final free day. One last chance to explore before the pre-flight packing chaos tomorrow. Some kids were planning to revisit the Louvre. Others were headed toward the Latin Quarter or the big flea market just outside the city. Alex didn’t have a plan.

“You coming with me and George?” Tod asked as soon as Alex had emerged from their room; he was already roaring to go. “We’re trying to find that vinyl shop we passed on the first day. He thinks he saw a limited Bowie print.”

Alex hesitated. He hadn’t planned anything. His sketchbook was still zipped into his day bag, but his mind felt too restless to draw. The thought of museums or shopping made him want to crawl out of his skin.

“I might just walk,” he said finally. “Just wanna see the city a little more before we leave.”

“Suit yourself.” Tod clapped him on the shoulder, already moving toward the metro station with George.

Alex waited until the crowd thinned, then ducked back inside the hotel.

The hall smelled like laundry detergent and too many colognes. His steps slowed as he reached Carter’s door, which had been conveniently on the same floor as Alex’s.

Alex still had Carter’s jacket in his room. That was the excuse. That was the out.

He lifted a hand, knocked once.

For a second, nothing.

Then- shuffling. A click. The door cracked open.

Carter blinked at him through sleep-mussed hair, shirt wrinkled and socks mismatched. His eyes were bleary. No pretense yet. No armor.

“Oh,” Carter said. “It’s you.”

“...Yeah.” He kept his eyes up.

A beat. Then Carter stepped back. “You gonna give me my jacket or just stand there like a stalker?”

Alex snorted, but didn’t rise to it. 

“I figured you’d be out with Tod,” he said.

“Changed my mind.”

“ Shocker .”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “You going anywhere?”

Carter shrugged. “Was thinking about it.”

A pause stretched between them. Long enough for Alex to glance up- just briefly. The puzzle piece still hovered. Still glowing.

And now, for the first time since the plane, his was glowing too.

Carter didn’t notice; he was looking at Alex again, brow furrowed slightly. “Why’d you come?”

“I owed you your jacket.”

“You could’ve just left it on my door or something.”

Alex shrugged.

Carter narrowed his eyes a little, not in annoyance- just confusion. Suspicion, maybe, in the way he always got when things didn’t make immediate sense. “Right.”

Alex didn’t offer more. Didn’t explain the sudden pull in his chest, or the way he’d stood in front of this door longer than he should’ve, trying to rationalize something that wasn’t rational at all. He held out the jacket.

Carter reached for it, but his fingers brushed Alex’s by accident- quick, nothing. But Carter flinched, like the contact had shocked him. His eyes flicked up.

And that’s when it happened again.

A flicker.

Not just Carter’s this time. Alex’s too. Both pieces, alight, for barely a second- then dim again like breath on glass.

Carter’s face changed. Not drastically- just something tight pulling between his brows, like he’d felt something but couldn’t name it.

He pulled the jacket out of Alex’s hands and let it hang over his shoulder. “Cool,” he said, flat, as if his throat was dry.

Alex was about to step back, make an excuse to leave- when Carter spoke again, this time too fast:

“Wanna come with me?”

Alex blinked. “Where?”

“I don’t know yet. Just... out. Walk around or something.” Carter looked away. “I was gonna go alone, but- whatever. You’re already here.”

He sounded annoyed even saying it, but the tips of his ears had gone a little red.

Alex hesitated. His heart did something strange in his chest- like a slow lurch, offbeat.

“Okay,” he said finally. Quiet. “Sure.”

Carter glanced back at him, and for a second- just a second- he almost smiled.

He shut the door behind him and started walking, not checking to see if Alex followed.

But Alex did.

…

They ended up walking aimlessly down narrow, sunlit streets that didn’t look like anything from the itinerary- less touristy, less polished. The kind of places no one took photos of. A sleepy bookstore with a cat in the window. A cracked water fountain where kids were dunking their arms. Cobbled alleys with creeping ivy and postcards faded by sun.

At first, Carter was silent. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, his gait thoughtful, as if he were deliberately trying to erase whatever tumult churned in his mind. Alex felt the tension in the air, mirroring it in his own reluctance to speak. Instead, he cast occasional glances at Carter, captivated by the delicate curve of his profile, the way his hair fell in gentle curls, untamed since the gel had been washed away.

After a while, Carter broke the silence, glancing sideways with a hint of irritation. “You’re staring,” he remarked, his voice low but tinged with that familiar, teasing tone.

Caught off guard, Alex turned his gaze away too quickly. “No, I’m not,” he protested, though his cheeks felt warm.

“You are,” Carter insisted, a smirk playing at the edges of his lips.

Alex rolled his eyes, attempting to feign indifference. “You’d know. You’ve spent the last four years glaring at me.”

Carter’s expression shifted, a flicker of past animosity crossing his features. “That’s different. I hated you,” he retorted, the edge softening the moment the words left his mouth.

“Past tense?” Alex prodded, lifting an eyebrow, curiosity mingling with mischief.

Carter fell silent, his gaze drifting as if he were lost in thought. 

Alex, feeling emboldened, drifted closer, the space between them shrinking almost instinctively. The soft afternoon light caught the faint scar on Carter’s wrist, drawing Alex’s gaze like a magnet. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out, to trace the line of it, but instead he exhaled slowly, struggling to calm the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through him.

Carter's brow furrowed slightly, his focus fixed on something far away. His voice dropped to an almost conspiratorial whisper. “I don’t like not knowing.”

Alex’s heart tightened at those words. “Knowing what?” he asked, his voice barely more than a breath.

“Whatever this is,” Carter gestured vaguely between them, “or isn’t.” His tone was imbued with a longing that felt almost tangible, as if he longed for clarity yet feared what that clarity might reveal.

Alex swallowed hard, stepping just a fraction closer. The space felt simultaneously too small and impossibly vast, electric with unspoken tension. The sunlight washed across Carter’s features, softening them, rendering him momentarily vulnerable and painfully beautiful.

In that moment, Carter's emotions flickered across his face like a puzzle piece, the quiet glow igniting something in Alex’s chest. For a heartbeat, their eyes met- unguarded and raw- as if an unnamable connection hung suspended between them, waiting for one to take a leap into the unknown.

Alex's breath hitched, and everything around them faded into the background. Without fully processing his actions, he reached up and brushed a stray curl away from Carter’s forehead- slow, deliberate, as if savoring the moment. Carter’s eyes fluttered closed at the contact, a shiver rippling through him.

Alex’s hand lingered for just a heartbeat longer, then fell back to his side, as if the weight of the moment had suddenly become too heavy. 

“What are you doing?” Carter's voice barely rose above a whisper, laced with disbelief.

Alex held his silence, tension thrumming in the air, and in response, took a small step forward, closing the distance further.

Carter’s eyes snapped open, an assortment of emotions flitting across his face- desperation, vulnerability, and a cautious glimmer of hope all battled for dominance. 

Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, Carter leaned in. Breath by breath, they moved closer until the world outside faded completely. When their lips met, it was soft and tentative, a gentle question lingering between them.

But that question deepened- transformed into something unspoken, grounding, and exhilarating all at once. Carter's fingers found their way to Alex’s wrists, holding tightly as if Alex might vanish into thin air if he let go. Meanwhile, Alex’s hands clutched Carter's sweatshirt, anchoring himself in the whirlwind of overwhelming emotions.

In that instant, the cacophony of city sounds faded away. The golden light around them dimmed to an intimate glow, cocooning them in a world of their own. 

When, finally, they pulled apart, it was a slow retreat, both left breathless, eyes locked, the air around them crackling with all the words they had left unspoken.

Carter’s cheeks were flushed, his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, and he managed only to whisper, “What the hell .”