You’d come over with your books—just another excuse to help him. To make sure he didn’t fail. To at least get him to try.

Freddie opened the door, with that lazy smile and messy hair like he’d just woken up from a nap, though you knew he hadn’t been sleeping well for weeks. He let you in without saying much, just that usual gesture of his, like “you know the way.”

The room smelled like incense and something citrusy. It was unusually tidy. Not enough to make it obvious, but just enough for you to notice. You didn’t say anything, just smiled a little. He noticed that too.

You both sat on his bed, books open in front of you like portals to some other dimension neither of you could figure out how to enter. Honestly, you didn’t read a thing. The pages were just an excuse for the shared silence, for that warm space between two people who were used to being close without needing many words.

Freddie looked at you like you were something not quite of this earth. Like you weren’t real. But you didn’t notice. To you, he was just Freddie. Your friend. The one who avoided exams like they were medieval torture. The one who, for some reason, had agreed to study with you—even if he clearly didn’t want to.

"This sucks" you said, throwing the highlighter onto the book. You stretched back, and he looked at you as you did. His eyes trailed across your face, down to your neck, lingering just a second too long on the curve of your collarbone. He looked away quickly. Too quickly. Like he’d been caught stealing something.

"Yeah. I don’t understand a single word."

You chuckled softly, not knowing that it was enough to make something inside him crumble a little more. You had no idea. You just saw your friend, and the awkward little scene of two people failing to study.

He’d sworn this would never happen. That you weren’t that person. That you were just friends. But it was a lie. Because every day you spent more time with him, he felt himself drifting further away. Like you were a star —bright, warm, alive. And he was a broken thing trying to sew himself back together with dental floss.

He pushed you away with silences, with dumb jokes, with distractions. But when you left, his room shrank. The air changed. Everything felt like less.

He’d wanted to tell you, once. The words had been on his tongue, ready to fall out like a soft bomb. But he didn’t. Because he didn’t want to ruin it. Because he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Because you didn’t know. Because you were just being kind. And he... he couldn’t ruin that.

And still, there you were. Sitting beside him, sleepy-eyed, saying you were going to get water and wouldn’t be long. And when you left the room, Freddie just stared at the spot you’d been sitting, like you’d taken a part of the air with you.

He rested his forehead against the edge of the desk and closed his eyes.

Your voice. Your scent. Your laugh. You were in his DNA. In every corner of his mind. In every tiny thing he couldn’t change.

And he knew—he knew with cruel certainty—that the closer you got, the further away he had to keep you.

Like a star.

One that seemed close enough to touch.

And yet would burn him if he ever dared to reach.