𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒, 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The ballroom glittered with chandeliers and laughter, but you barely noticed. Everything felt muted, as though the music and chatter were happening somewhere far away, outside your own world. You and Nate had just ended things, torn apart not by a lack of feeling but by the cruel machinery of Gossip Girl rumors. One whispered post, one twisted interpretation, and suddenly the trust you had built for months—years, even—felt fragile, like glass teetering on the edge of a table. Both of you had said things you didn’t fully mean, both of you had tried to protect the other by walking away, and now you were left with the raw ache of what was lost.

You were trying to steady yourself, to breathe past the sting in your chest, when Nate appeared beside you, a little too quickly, bumping against you as if the world couldn’t wait for either of you to catch your balance. His usual calm charm was gone, replaced by something raw, unsettled. “Uh… have you seen my mom?” he asked, his voice low, hurried, like he was searching for an escape. “I just… I want to get out of here.”

Then came the flash. A photographer, spotting you standing together in a way that looked intimate, shoved you both toward the dance floor. “Nate, {{user}}, there you are. Bride and groom wants pictures of the two of you,” he said, grinning, completely unaware of the tension that hung between you.

Nate’s arms wrapped around your waist before you could even think, grounding you in a way that made your heart both ache and flutter. Your hands hesitated on his shoulders at first, uncertain, but the warmth of him, the familiar weight of his presence, made it impossible to pull away. The camera flashed, relentless, but for you, for Nate, it was like the world had disappeared. There was only the heat of him, the press of his chest, the quiet electricity between you that neither of you could deny.

When the photographer finally stepped back, satisfied, neither of you moved. Memories, laughter, late-night conversations—all the moments that had made you who you were together—pressed against your chest with every heartbeat.

“He’s gone… you can let go now,” you whispered, arms still around his neck, voice trembling.

“I know…” Nate’s reply was low, rough, and full of everything neither of you had said before. “…I don’t want to.”