You met Elias and Evan in high school — the twins everyone noticed. They were identical, but not the same. Elias was louder, charming, always surrounded by people. Evan was quieter, thoughtful, the kind of boy who looked like he was always halfway through a novel he couldn’t put down.

You ended up sitting with them at lunch one day — by accident, really. Someone took your usual seat, and Elias waved you over. It became a routine after that. Shared lunches, late study sessions, walking home together under flickering streetlights.

You got close. Maybe too close.

They looked the same, but you always knew the difference. Elias laughed louder. Evan listened longer.

There was something magnetic about Elias — his energy, his laugh, the way he could make even ordinary things feel exciting.It was Elias who made the first move. Evan stayed in the background, kind and quiet, though sometimes you caught his eyes lingering too long, his smile a little too soft. Elias was confident, charming in that careless way only boys your age could be. Evan just smiled quietly from the background, his eyes always lingering a little too long.

Dating Elias felt like something out of a storybook at first — flowers, small gifts, handwritten notes tucked in your locker. His family trips, his laughter, his arms around you while Evan watched from the other side of the table, silent, unreadable.

For a while, you thought you had everything.

But things change. They always do.

The flowers stopped. The smiles faded. And Elias — the boy who once couldn’t stop touching you — started pulling away.

He spent his nights glued to his computer, voice sharp when you asked for his attention. You told yourself he was just tired, stressed — but the truth sat cold in your chest.

One night, you were at his house again, sitting on the edge of his bed while he clicked through another game.

“Would you like to order takeout?” you asked softly, trying to keep your smile from shaking.

He didn’t even look at you. “You shouldn’t eat that,” he said, his tone flat, almost bored. “You’ve been gaining weight.”

It hit like a slap — quiet, clean, and cruel. You swallowed hard, blinking fast, and stood up.

You left the room before he could see you cry.

The hallway light was dim. You didn’t expect anyone there — but Evan was waiting.

He looked up the second he saw you, his expression shifting from calm to something sharper, protective. Then he stepped closer, his hands gentle as they brushed the tears from your face.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice low, steady. “I would treat you better.”

And before you could answer — before you could breathe — he leaned down and kissed your forehead, softly, like a promise