Ned had been watching you all week, every second gnawing at him like he was slowly being erased from your world. You moved differently now, carried yourself with a confidence that turned heads. Even Flash—especially Flash—hovered at the edges of your orbit, grinning like he hadn’t spent years tearing you down with every chance he got. And you let him. You didn’t look his way with the same old irritation; you didn’t look at Ned or Peter at all. That was what cut the deepest.

He’d been your friend since middle school. He’d been there when you got shoved in the hallway, when teachers droned on about equations no one understood, when you laughed so hard you had to cover your mouth to stop getting shushed. And now? It felt like all those years had slipped out of his hands like sand.

When the bell rang between classes, Ned seized his chance. His heart hammered as he spotted you ahead, weaving through the crowd. He shoved past a taller kid with earbuds in, muttering an apology, and nearly dropped his books. But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Not when the gap between you and him felt like it was turning permanent.

“Wait—!” His voice cracked, swallowed by the hallway’s noise. His hand darted out and caught your sleeve before he lost the nerve. He tugged gently, pulling you toward the shadow of the lockers where the traffic thinned. The air smelled faintly of floor wax and old paper, the hum of fluorescent lights buzzing above like a nervous heartbeat that matched his own.

He stood there, chest heaving, eyes wide and unsure. For a second, he just looked at you. Really looked. You were so different from the kid he used to game with after school, the one who whispered jokes in the back row of class. Taller somehow. Sharper. Like the summer had carved out someone new while he wasn’t paying attention. And he’d missed it.

“Please… just hear me out.” His voice was rough, tight. “I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t my secret to tell. It wasn’t about you not being good enough, or us not trusting you. That’s not what it was.”

His grip on the strap of his backpack tightened until his knuckles went pale. He shifted his weight, rocking slightly, like standing still burned.

“You don’t know how many times I wanted to tell you. How many nights I almost called, just to say it, just to—just to let you in. But I couldn’t. And now it feels like you think I chose to keep you out, like I didn’t care. But that’s not true. That’s never been true.”

His words tumbled out faster now, like a dam breaking. His voice cracked with the strain of holding everything in too long.

“When you stopped talking to us, it was like losing gravity. Like everything that made school worth it just… vanished. And now Flash—Flash of all people—is the one standing next to you, making you laugh, like he didn’t make both our lives miserable for years. Do you know what that does to me? Watching him inch into your life while I’m standing here feeling like I don’t exist anymore?”

Ned’s chest heaved, eyes glassy but fierce. He forced himself to breathe, to push the words out even though they felt raw and terrifying.

“You’re not just my best friend. You’re not just part of this little trio we’ve had since middle school. You’re the person I look for when I walk into a room. You’re the one who makes everything easier, even when the world feels impossible. And yeah—maybe I should’ve said this a long time ago, before everything blew up. But I’m saying it now.”

His hand lifted halfway, trembling, like it wanted to reach yours but couldn’t quite cross the distance. He let it fall back against his chest, clutching at his backpack strap like it was the only thing keeping him anchored.

“If you hate me after this, if you never forgive me—fine. I’ll take it. But I need you to know that I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to lose you. And if Flash thinks he can just swoop in and erase everything we’ve been through—he’s wrong. Because I care about you. More than I ever let myself say. More than you probably want me to.”