On the Edge of Love (CarlxAlan)

Chapter 13: Alan

I couldn't shake the dream.

It had been two days, and it was still there—lingering in the back of my mind, replaying in flashes when I least expected it. The way Carl had touched me, the warmth of his hands, the press of his mouth against mine. The way it felt so real—like something I wanted instead of some weird subconscious fluke.

And the worst part? It hadn't felt weird.

Not in the dream.

Not when I woke up, my skin too hot, my heart pounding.

Not even now.

I kept telling myself it didn't mean anything—that dreams were just dreams. But that was a lie, and I knew it.

Because even awake, I still wanted to kiss him.

I tried not to think about it at school. I forced myself to focus on anything but Carl—on homework, on football, on pretending everything was normal. But it was getting harder to ignore the way my stomach twisted when I saw him, the way my eyes found him in the hallway without me even trying.

I was starting to understand that the feelings weren't new. They'd been there, buried under years of friendship, disguised as something else.

I just wasn't sure what to do about them.

Because if I admitted them—if I let myself feel them—then what?

It was late afternoon when I found myself pacing in my bedroom, staring at my phone like it might give me answers. I had been thinking too much lately, and it was making my head spin.

I didn't like uncertainty. I liked control. But this? This was messy.

I thought about what would happen if I actually did something about these feelings. If I kissed him again—really kissed him, awake this time, knowing what it meant.

Would we start dating? Would people know? Would we have to tell them?

What would they say?

My chest tightened.

I wasn't ready for that.

I wasn't sure I'd ever be ready for that.

But I couldn't keep running from it either.

I grabbed my phone and texted Carl before I could talk myself out of it.

Me: Can you come over?

Carl: Yeah. Be there soon.

He showed up twenty minutes later, and I let him in before I could lose my nerve.

"Hey," he said, slipping off his shoes. He sounded normal—calm, casual—but when I really looked at him, I could tell he was a little nervous too.

I didn't blame him. I had been acting weird lately.

I led him up to my room, shutting the door behind us. He sat on the edge of my bed, waiting, watching me like he knew something was coming.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to find the right words. "I, uh... I've been thinking a lot."

Carl raised an eyebrow. "That's usually dangerous."

I huffed out a breath, barely smiling. "Shut up."

He tilted his head, something softer in his expression now. "Thinking about what?"

I exhaled. My hands were clammy. My chest felt tight. I wished I had some kind of script, but there was no easy way to say this.

I sat down next to him, staring at the floor. "Us."

Carl didn't say anything right away. But I felt him shift beside me. "Okay."

I swallowed hard. "I don't know how to do this."

He was quiet for a second. "Do what?"

I shut my eyes. "Be with you."

The words felt big. Heavier than I meant for them to be.

Carl's breath hitched just slightly. I heard the way it stuttered, how he hesitated before speaking.

"...Do you want to?" he asked carefully.

I opened my eyes, turning my head to look at him. He was closer than I realized. Close enough that I could see the worry in his expression, the hope he was trying to keep in check.

I nodded. Slowly. "Yeah."

Carl's lips parted, like he was about to say something, but he didn't. He just watched me, waiting for more.

I gripped the hem of my hoodie. My voice was unsteady when I finally spoke again.

"I just—I don't know how this works," I admitted. "I don't know what people will think. What my parents will think. What our friends will think. What if they—I don't know—treat us different?" I shook my head, frustration bubbling in my chest. "I hate that I care, but I do."

Carl's expression softened.

"Alan..." He trailed off, like he was picking his words carefully. "I'm scared too."

I looked at him, caught off guard.

He gave me a small, sad smile. "You think I don't worry about that? What people will say? What my parents will think? What the team will say?" He exhaled. "I've been thinking about it for years."

That hit me harder than I expected.

Carl had already been living with this fear. Holding it, carrying it in ways I never even noticed.

I looked down, guilt gnawing at me. "I don't want to hurt you."

Carl nudged my knee with his. "You're not."

I swallowed. "I don't want to mess this up."

His voice was quiet, but steady. "Then don't."

I let out a shaky breath. "I just—I don't think I can do this publicly. Not yet."

Carl nodded, like he understood. "Then we won't."

I looked at him again. "You're okay with that?"

"I like you, Alan." His voice was soft but certain. "That's not changing. We don't have to tell anyone. We can just... be, however you need to."

I felt something in my chest unclench.

Carl was giving me room. Space to figure this out, to breathe. He wasn't pushing, wasn't demanding anything I wasn't ready for.

I didn't realize how badly I needed that.

I exhaled slowly, some of the tension in my body fading. "...Okay."

Carl smiled, just a little. "Okay."