The following weeks passed in a blur of routine and quiet moments. Ocean and Skyler settled into a rhythm—shared lunches, walks home, and stolen moments in the art room where they sat in comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
It was slow, the way their connection deepened. Neither of them pushed, but there was a growing understanding between them, something unspoken that lingered in the air whenever they were together.
But with that closeness came something else—something Ocean hadn't expected. He had begun to look forward to their time together, to the sound of Skyler's laughter, to the warmth of his presence. And that scared him.
One evening, after one of their usual walks home, Ocean found himself staring at the ocean from his bedroom window, the waves crashing against the shore in the distance. The sky was a deep shade of blue, with the last remnants of the sunset fading on the horizon.
He had never felt like this before. Not with anyone.
But that was the problem, wasn't it? Feelings like this—hope, attachment—they always led to disappointment. To broken promises.
A soft knock at his door pulled him from his thoughts, and his mother's voice called out from the hallway. "Ocean, dinner's ready."
"Coming," he called back, though his mind was still tangled with thoughts of Skyler.
As he made his way downstairs, the familiar smell of his mother's cooking filled the air. But even the comfort of home couldn't quiet the unease that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts.
Skyler was different. Ocean knew that. But different didn't mean safe. It didn't mean that Skyler wouldn't leave, that he wouldn't break a promise like everyone else had.
And that was the crux of it, wasn't it? The fear that no matter how much he let Skyler in, it would all come crashing down in the end.
The next day at school, Ocean found himself standing outside the art room again, his hand resting on the door handle. He had meant to meet Skyler for lunch, like they always did, but something held him back.
It was stupid, he knew that. But the fear was there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to rear its ugly head.
Taking a deep breath, Ocean pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Skyler was there, sitting at their usual spot, his sketchbook open in front of him. He glanced up when he heard Ocean enter, a smile immediately lighting up his face.
"Hey," Skyler greeted, his tone as warm as always. "You're late."
"Sorry," Ocean muttered, taking a seat across from him.
Skyler didn't seem to mind. He just went back to his sketching, the soft scratch of pencil against paper filling the room.
For a while, they sat in silence, but it wasn't the comfortable kind Ocean had grown used to. There was something heavy between them, something Ocean couldn't quite put into words.
Finally, Skyler broke the silence. "Ocean, are you okay?"
Ocean hesitated, his fingers tightening around the edges of his notebook. He didn't know how to answer that. Because the truth was, he wasn't sure. Everything was so tangled up inside him—his feelings for Skyler, his fear of getting hurt, his desire to let someone in for the first time in what felt like forever.
"I don't know," Ocean admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Skyler set his pencil down and leaned forward, his gaze steady. "You can talk to me, you know. About anything."
