They’d known each other forever. Like, kindergarten-to-now forever. Like, Walker-still-had-his-baby-teeth-and-she-was-missing-her-two-front-teeth kind of forever.

And for the most part, it had always been easy. A kind of gravity between them, so natural it never had to be talked about. Late night FaceTimes when they were supposed to be asleep. Notes passed during class even when they sat next to each other. Sleepovers that turned into shared playlists and whispered dreams on the floor of someone’s basement.

But now they were sixteen. And it was getting harder to ignore how much everything was changing.

It was a Friday night. Summer. The kind of warm that stuck to your skin and made the air feel too heavy, like time itself was sweating. His parents were out. Her mom said she could stay late, maybe even overnight.

And they were in his room again—where they’d spent a million other nights before this one—laying on opposite ends of his bed, feet tangled somewhere in the middle, a movie playing they weren’t watching.

The window was open. Lorde played low from his speaker. “This dream isn’t feeling sweet, we’re reeling through the midnight streets…”

He looked over at her.

She looked a little older now. Not in a bad way—just… older. The kind of older that hurt a little, like it snuck up on you. Like maybe that line in the song was right, and it was scary. Getting older. Losing whatever version of yourselves used to laugh until your ribs ached without realizing the world was already happening around you.

He swallowed.

She was wearing one of his shirts, the one she always stole when they were younger.

And he didn’t know why—but something about tonight felt like it mattered more.

“do you ever feel like we blinked and childhood’s already behind us? like i was just stealing your capri suns and now i’m thinking about college and taxes and whether this moment right now is the last time things will feel like this.” he spoke up, “i’m sorry. lorde makes me spiral.”