"Between friends, unspoken feelings can feel like a fragile thread pulled taut; one denies its existence while the other hides behind its delicate weave, both yearning for the courage to unravel what lies beneath."
Ian and Julian, long-time best fri...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I made my way through the house, my footsteps echoing with each step as I strode. When I descended the stairs, I spotted Mel sitting in the living room, her attention absorbed by her phone. She seemed engrossed in whatever she was doing, and I hesitated—for a moment—before approaching her.
"Hey, Mel," I said with a tight smile, not really feeling like I wanted to have a long conversation with her, but that was probably just because I was in a bad mood. I could not stop thinking about how the conversation would turn out. There were only two things that could come out of this confrontation between me and Julian: either things would get better and I'd feel a little more at ease in my own skin, or my mood would go from bad to worse.
Mel looked up and saw me, but her expression was distant. She mumbled, "Oh, hey," and turned back to her phone.
"Is Julian—"
"Yes, now go away."
Sighing, I started up the marble staircase toward his room. My feet felt like they were stuck in slow motion, blocking out all the nervousness and second thoughts I was feeling. Despite my nerves having their clutches around my chest, I went with the flow and ended up here. I'm all in now; there's no way out, and I knew I had to do something about it, even if it was uncomfortable.
As I reached his door, instinctively, my hand landed on the knob. Normally, I'd just grab the handle and bust right in without thinking, but this time, I hesitated and pulled back for some reason. I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the conversation ahead, however it may pan out. My hand trembled slightly as I knocked tentatively.
Silence greeted me, an unnerving stillness that taunted my patience. The sinking feeling had already settled in the pit of my stomach, as if I were about to witness something unsettling on the other side of the door.
"Julian," I called almost quietly.
I raised my hand to knock on the door again, but a sudden rustle from within stopped me in my tracks. I turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. My eyes darted around the room; Julian was nowhere to be seen. I called out his name, my voice echoing in the silence. No response. Curiosity mingled with concern as I stepped further into the room. His Xbox was still running, the latest shooter game was on pause, his clothes were strewn all over the floor, his bed sheet was thrown on the bed, and there were snack wrappers all over the place near his bed.
And then I noticed the open window and the gust of cold winds whispering through his room. As if propelled by an unknown variable, I rushed towards the window, peering out into the sprawling grounds below. There, in the distance, I see him. Julian was sprinting recklessly across the carefully groomed lawn; his steps were purposeful, fueled by a desperation I understood not. I called out his name repeatedly, my voice torn between urgency and frustration, but it was lost in the wind.
