Love didn't arrive all at once.
It didn't crash into Elior's life with fireworks or grand declarations. It settled instead—quietly, persistently—into the spaces he had kept empty for so long. It appeared in routine moments, in shared silence, in the way Mira said his name like it belonged to her world.
And that was what frightened him most.
Because once something felt real, it could be taken away.
---
They began walking to school together every morning.
It was unspoken, how it started. Elior left his apartment at the same time. Mira appeared at the corner with her backpack slung over one shoulder, hair still slightly damp from a rushed shower. They exchanged sleepy smiles and fell into step beside each other.
Some mornings they talked. Others, they didn't.
But the silence never felt heavy.
It felt chosen.
Elior noticed how easily she fit into his days—like she had always been meant to be there. He caught himself saving small thoughts just to tell her later. A strange cloud formation. A line from a book. A memory that surfaced unexpectedly.
Each realization tightened something in his chest.
He was letting her in.
---
One afternoon, they sat on the low wall behind the gym, legs dangling, watching the sky soften into shades of orange and pink. The air smelled like cut grass and distant rain.
"Can I ask you something?" Mira said.
He nodded.
"Do you ever think about the future?"
The word made him tense.
"Not really," he admitted. "It feels… dangerous."
She smiled slightly. "Everything meaningful is."
He considered that.
"What about you?" he asked.
"I think about it," she said. "But not in big, dramatic ways. Just… who I want to be with. What kind of life feels honest."
He glanced at her. "And what feels honest?"
She looked straight ahead, but her voice was steady. "This. Right now."
His breath caught.
He didn't respond. Not because he didn't feel the same—but because the weight of her words pressed against his fear.
If this mattered… then losing it would hurt.
---
The first test came in the form of attention.
People noticed them now.
Not just glances, but whispers. Questions. Curious looks that lingered too long.
"Are you two together?"
Mira answered easily. "We're seeing where things go."
Elior answered with silence.
He hated how exposed he felt. How visible. He had spent years making sure no one looked at him long enough to form opinions.
Now they were forming them anyway.
One day, Jonah cornered him near the lockers.
"So it's real?" he asked, smirking. "Didn't think you had it in you."
Elior's jaw tightened. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Jonah shrugged. "Just surprised she chose you."
The words burned.
Elior didn't respond. He walked away—but they followed him all the way home, echoing in his mind.
She chose you.
Why?
---
That evening, he grew quiet.
Mira noticed.
They sat on the steps outside his apartment building, the city humming softly around them.
"You're pulling back," she said gently.
"I'm just tired."
She studied him. "That's not the whole truth."
He sighed, rubbing his hands together. "People keep asking why you're with me."
Her expression sharpened slightly. "And what do you say?"
"I don't say anything."
"That's not an answer, Elior."
"I don't know what to say," he admitted. "Because sometimes I wonder the same thing."
The silence that followed was heavier than any before.
Mira stood slowly. "Do you think I made a mistake?"
"No," he said quickly. "I think… I think you haven't made it yet."
Her eyes searched his face. "That hurts."
"I know," he whispered.
---
That night, Elior dreamed again.
This time, it wasn't hallways or closing doors.
It was Mira, standing across from him, reaching out—and him stepping back, no matter how much he wanted to move forward.
He woke with his heart racing.
---
The next few days were strained.
Not distant. Not cold.
Just careful.
They spoke, but with restraint. Touched less. Laughed softer.
Love, he realized, didn't only bring warmth.
It brought mirrors.
And Elior didn't like what he saw reflected back at him.
---
Everything came to a breaking point on a Friday afternoon.
The school hosted a small event—music, food, laughter spilling across the courtyard. Mira tugged him toward it, excitement bright in her eyes.
"Come on," she said. "Just stay a little."
He hesitated, then nodded.
For a while, it was easy.
They stood together, listening to a band play off-key covers. Mira swayed slightly to the music, bumping into him with a grin. He laughed—actually laughed—and something inside him loosened.
Then someone shouted her name.
A group of students waved her over—people she knew from before she transferred.
"Come meet them," she said, taking his hand.
His chest tightened.
"I'm okay here," he said.
Her smile faltered. "Elior."
"I'll wait."
She hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Okay."
He watched her walk away.
Watched how easily she fit into the crowd.
Watched people laugh with her, lean in close, respond to her warmth.
The familiar voice in his head returned.
She belongs there. You don't.
When she came back, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, he was already standing.
"I think I should go," he said.
"What? Why?"
"I just—this isn't for me."
She searched his face. "Or you don't think you are."
The truth landed between them, sharp and undeniable.
"I can't keep pretending I'm enough," he said, voice tight. "One day you'll realize it too."
Her eyes filled with emotion. "Why are you deciding that for me?"
"Because someone has to," he said. "And it might as well be me."
She stepped closer, voice trembling. "I'm choosing you, Elior. Why can't you let that be enough?"
Because choosing himself still felt impossible.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
And he walked away.
---
He didn't expect her to follow.
But she did.
She caught up to him at the edge of the courtyard, breathless.
"Stop," she said. "Just stop running."
He turned, pain etched into his face. "I don't know how not to."
She stood in front of him, eyes shining, heart laid bare.
"Then let me stay while you learn."
The words shattered something inside him.
He closed his eyes, breathing hard.
"I'm scared," he admitted. "That if I let myself believe this is real… losing you will destroy me."
She reached out, pressing her forehead to his.
"Loving me might hurt someday," she said. "But not loving me is already hurting you."
The truth of it hit him all at once.
Slowly, shaking, he wrapped his arms around her.
She held him tightly, as if anchoring him to the present.
For the first time, Elior understood:
Love wasn't the absence of fear.
It was the decision to stay, even when fear was loud.
---