𝘮𝘪𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 ᝰ.ᐟ

The windows fogged faintly from the mix of rain and warm breath, the soft hum of Silas’s car engine the only real sound between you. Streetlights glowed in the distance, blurred and watery through the windshield. His playlist was still playing, low — some old indie track you both liked before either of you really knew what the lyrics meant.

You sat in the passenger seat, legs tucked up under you, hoodie sleeves bunched in your fists. He was quiet in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the cupholder — his pinky just barely brushing your knee like it always did when he didn’t know what to say yet.

Neither of you had really spoken since the dance talk earlier — the one where your friends were pressuring you to go in a big group. The one where you mentioned maybe going with them, half-joking, but the way Silas’s expression dropped… you’d noticed.

And he’d been quiet since.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you said, finally breaking the silence, voice soft but clear.

He glanced at you, brown eyes tired, not angry. Never angry. Just careful.

“I know,” he said. “I just didn’t know if you still wanted me there.”

You turned your head sharply. “Why would you think I didn’t?”

He shrugged — but not a dismissive one. Just one of those heavy shrugs people do when they’ve been carrying a thought for too long.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, thumb tracing a slow line across the steering wheel. “Lately it feels like you’ve already got one foot out. Like you’re ready for what’s next, and I’m still stuck here… waiting for the next FaceTime call after graduation.”

You didn’t answer right away.

He filled the silence before it could turn into something colder.

“I’m not mad at you,” he said gently. “I just… I really love you. And it’s starting to scare me how much I don’t know what comes next.”

You shifted in your seat slowly, reaching for his hand.

He let you take it instantly.

“I’m scared too,” you whispered. “But I don’t want you to feel like I’m leaving you behind.”

He didn’t say anything — just squeezed your hand, his breath shaking slightly, like he hadn’t meant to get that honest, but he couldn’t stop once he started.

The rain picked up against the roof, a soft drumbeat above your heads. The song changed.

You leaned across the console, resting your head against his shoulder.

“I want you there,” you said, softer now. “For the dance. For whatever comes after. Even if we don’t have all the answers yet.”

Silas turned just slightly, resting his cheek against your hair.

“Okay,” he whispered.

And in that quiet, fogged-up car, neither of you knew the future — but you knew this: you were choosing each other again.