Dawn
The news came after school, in the quiet space behind the gym where the trees softened everything.
Earl sat beside me on the low concrete ledge, hands folded in his lap the way he did when he was nervous. He hadn't looked at me yet. He just stared at the ground, shoe nudging a small pebble back and forth.
"My parents talked to a specialist," he said finally. His voice was calm, but I could hear the strain underneath it. "They think… it would be better if I went abroad for a while. There's a clinic there that focuses on this kind of thing."
My chest tightened.
"Abroad?" I repeated, carefully. Not because I didn't understand—but because saying it out loud made it real.
He nodded. "For treatment. Tests. Therapy." A pause. "They think it'll help. Or at least… give answers."
I swallowed and leaned my elbows on my knees, forcing myself to breathe. This wasn't about me. This was about him. His health. His ears. His comfort.
"That sounds important," I said slowly. "When would you go?"
"In a few weeks," he replied. "I'd be gone for a couple of months. Maybe longer. We don't really know yet."
Silence settled between us.
I could tell what he wasn't saying. The way his shoulders were slightly hunched, like he was bracing for something. Like he was expecting me to pull away.
He finally looked up.
"I understand if you think it's… too much," he said quietly. "We just—" He stopped, fingers curling into his sleeves. "We just started spending time together. I mean..."
That did it.
I turned toward him fully. "Hey. Look at me."
He hesitated, then met my eyes.
"This?" I gestured vaguely between us. "This isn't too much. And you?" I shook my head. "You're not a burden. Not even close."
His lips parted slightly, like he hadn't expected that.
"You going to get treatment doesn't change how I feel," I continued. "If anything, it just means you're doing something good for yourself. And I want that for you."
He searched my face, like he was checking for cracks. "You don't mind… waiting?"
The word waiting hung there, fragile.
I smiled soft, steady. "I'm not going anywhere, Earl. You take care of your ears. You focus on getting better. I'll be right here."
His shoulders sagged, tension draining out of him in a way that made my chest ache.
"You really mean that?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said without hesitation. "I mean it."
He looked down again, but this time it was to hide a small, overwhelmed smile. "I was scared to tell you."
I nudged my knee gently against his. "I know."
We sat there as the afternoon light shifted through the trees, shadows stretching across the ground.
"I'll miss you," he admitted softly.
I felt that familiar tightness behind my ribs but it wasn't panic. It was resolve.
"I'll miss you too," I said. "But we'll talk. Message. Call. And when you come back..." I paused, then smiled. "We'll pick up right where we left off."
He nodded, eyes shining just a little.
After a moment, he leaned closer not touching, just enough that our shoulders almost met.
"Thank you," he said. "For not making this feel scary."
I glanced at him, heart steady and sure. "You don't have to face it alone."
And as we sat there together, I knew something important.
This wasn't an ending.
It was just a pause.