If Only (GxG)

Chapter 36 Home Again

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Alison's POV

Thursday night sleep didn't come. Not really. Again.

I tossed. Turned. Shifted the pillow. Counted the slats of the blinds over and over like maybe I could bore myself into unconsciousness. But my mind wouldn't stop. It circled endlessly—round and round, dragging the worst with it.

What if she was pulling away?

What if I'd done something wrong?

What if she'd already decided, quietly, gently, that I wasn't what she wanted anymore—but just didn't know how to tell me?

My thoughts didn't shout. They whispered. Cold, steady things, soft enough to sound like truth if I listened too long.

By the time the morning sun filtered through the curtains—muted and grey—I felt hollow. Like I hadn't slept at all. Like I'd been holding my breath all night and still hadn't let it go.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, sharp around the edges. The world felt too loud—chairs scraping, pages turning, someone's foot bouncing against a table leg. It all pressed in like noise under my skin.

My chest ached. Like it was made of glass, and someone had been tapping against it all day just to see when it might crack.

Ross noticed. He didn't say anything—just kept giving me those little sideways glances in our shared class, like I was a maths problem he couldn't quite solve. He nudged a biscuit my way at one point, unspoken peace offering, and when I smiled weakly in return, he didn't press.

But Amy wasn't having that.

She caught me at lunch, her brow furrowed as she slid her chair closer, pushing her takeaway container toward me like food might fix the emptiness in my eyes.

"You alright?" she asked, not gently, but not unkind either.

I stared down at my sandwich. I'd unwrapped it an hour ago and hadn't taken a single bite.

"Just tired," I said eventually, managing a half-smile.

It didn't reach anywhere near my eyes. She saw that. Of course she did. But she didn't push.

Not like I was pushing myself, anyway.

That afternoon in class, I could feel it before I even looked up—Blake's gaze.

Not constant. Not obvious. But there. A flicker. A shift. A pressure in the air I'd grown attuned to like weather.

I didn't dare meet her eyes for long. Not when I felt this raw. Not when the inside of my chest felt like something scraped clean.

Still, I caught her looking more than once.

The way her gaze lingered on the dark smudge under my eye. The way she noticed how I kept rubbing the inside of my wrist, a nervous habit I hadn't done in weeks. The tightness in her jaw when I slumped slightly in my chair.

She didn't say anything during class. But I felt it.

The moment the bell rang and everyone began gathering their bags, she spoke. Not loud, but clear. Firm.

"Alison, stay behind a moment."

My name—spoken so gently by everyone else—landed like a thud against my ribs.

My breath caught. I froze in place for a second too long.

My heart leapt—and then dropped. Because part of me had been waiting for this. Hoping for it. Hoping she'd say something. Reach across the void and explain why she'd gone quiet. Why she'd pulled away.