Maxwell's days began to take on a quiet rhythm he hadn't known he craved. His mornings were filled with school, the drudgery of dragging himself through classes where he hardly felt present, followed by long afternoons spent half-listening to the few friends he'd somehow kept. But every night, it was the same: he'd open his laptop, waiting for Nathan's name to appear online.
Two months in, their conversations had grown to feel like a separate world—a safe place. Nathan had once joked that they were like "pen pals from a different universe." It felt true, as if they existed somewhere removed from reality, safe from the scrutiny of the world outside. Their friendship was fragile, yet deep, built in bits and pieces, messages that spanned from surface-level chats about music to late-night confessions that lingered for days.
Tonight, Maxwell was early. He opened the chat window and started typing without thinking.
Maxwell: You there?
He deleted it, nerves taking over. What if Nathan needed space? Some nights Nathan barely replied; other nights he typed paragraphs, words that spilled out of him like he couldn't stop. Maxwell never pushed him, sensing that Nathan came and went on his own terms, needing to maintain a distance he couldn't explain.
Finally, the notification popped up.
Nathan: Hey. Sorry, I was out for a walk.
Maxwell's heart lifted. He could almost see Nathan, wrapped up in a hoodie, hands tucked into his pockets, moving through the dimly lit streets of wherever he called home.
Maxwell: That's good. Fresh air and all. I don't know why I never go out anymore.
Nathan: Yeah, I didn't really want to...just didn't know what else to do with myself.
Maxwell hesitated. They were toeing the line again, the thin space where everything they felt was too big for words. He took a breath and typed.
Maxwell: Do you want to talk about it?
Nathan's response took longer than usual.
Nathan: I don't know. It's hard to explain. Sometimes it feels like everything's slipping, like I can feel myself disappearing.
Maxwell's fingers clenched around the edge of his laptop. Nathan's words were raw, piercing in a way that stirred something in him he couldn't name.
Maxwell: I get it. Sometimes I feel like I'm just watching myself from a distance, like I'm here but...not really here.
Nathan: Exactly. And people notice, right? They ask what's wrong, and I just...freeze. It's easier not to say anything.
Maxwell swallowed, feeling the weight of Nathan's words settle over him. He could picture it too vividly—Nathan sitting quietly, lost in a silence that no one else seemed to understand.
Maxwell: I know what you mean. Like, if you let one word out, it'll all just fall apart.
Nathan: It's like you're in my head. I don't think I've ever told anyone this.
There was a long pause, filled only by the quiet hum of Maxwell's laptop. He wanted to reach out, to hold onto this connection as tightly as he could. He typed slowly, deliberately.
Maxwell: Then let's make a promise.
Nathan: A promise?
Maxwell: Yeah. That we can be real with each other. Whatever it is, good or bad, we can say it. Even if it doesn't make sense to anyone else.
Maxwell held his breath, worried he'd gone too far, maybe asked for too much. But then the reply appeared.
Nathan: Promise.
Maxwell felt a strange relief, a quiet warmth spreading in his chest. He didn't know what this would look like, only that they'd made a pact that felt more solid than any words they'd spoken before.
Their conversations grew deeper after that night. Maxwell started looking forward to their late-night exchanges like they were breaths of air, something he couldn't live without. They talked about their families, skirting around pain and dropping small clues. Nathan mentioned his parents in passing—how they were always arguing, their voices a constant presence in the background. Maxwell wanted to know more but didn't ask, sensing that Nathan would only share when he was ready.
One night, Nathan's messages were unusually short, his words clipped and his responses few and far between. Maxwell felt the distance like a stone lodged in his chest.
Nathan: I'm sorry, I just...today's bad. It's one of those days.
Maxwell: You don't have to apologize. You can just...be. However you are. I'm here.
A long pause, longer than usual. Maxwell sat there, biting his lip, wondering if he'd overstepped. But finally, Nathan replied.
Nathan: Thank you. It's just...it's been getting worse. I don't know how to explain it, but it's like I'm losing control of my mind. Some days I'm afraid of myself.
Maxwell: I get that. More than you know.
Nathan: I don't want to feel like this forever. I don't know if I can.
The words hit Maxwell like a wave. He felt the weight of Nathan's pain so acutely it was as if it were his own. He wanted to reach through the screen, to hold Nathan, to make him feel safe—even though he didn't know if that was possible.
Maxwell: You don't have to carry it alone, okay? I'm here, Nathan. We'll get through it, even if it's just one day at a time.
Another long silence followed, and Maxwell's heart felt like it might break with the waiting. Then, finally:
Nathan: Sometimes I think you're the only real thing in my life. I don't even know what that means, but it's how I feel.
Maxwell lay back, the words washing over him like a balm. He wanted to be there for Nathan, to be something real and solid for him. But a small part of him was afraid—afraid of the weight he was beginning to carry, afraid of the fragile thread they clung to.
But tonight, they were enough for each other. Maxwell typed out a quiet reply.
Maxwell: I feel the same. Like you're this one thing that makes sense.
Nathan's response was short, but the words were heavy with meaning.
Nathan: Goodnight, Maxwell.
Maxwell stared at the screen long after the message faded, feeling an ache that was both painful and comforting. As he shut his laptop, he whispered into the quiet darkness of his room, "Goodnight, Nathan." The promise between them hung in the air, delicate yet steady, something he knew he would hold on to, no matter how hard things became.
Let me know if this continues the story the way you imagined! We can develop Nathan's struggles further or start hinting at what Maxwell is hiding in his own life. Their connection is becoming the lifeline they each depend on, but it's a weight they'll both have to face soon.
