On the Edge of Love (CarlxAlan)

Chapter 34: Carl

Coming back to school after Thanksgiving break felt... different. Not because I missed the routine, or because the hallways smelled like industrial lemon cleaner again. It was the kind of different where you're not sure if people are staring at you or if you're just imagining it.

But this time, I wasn't imagining it.

People knew. The video — the one where Alan kissed me near the bookstore downtown — had made it around. We hadn't realized someone was recording, and now it was part of whatever social current kept high school running. A few seconds of quiet affection, played on loop in everyone's hands.

And even though no one had said anything cruel to our faces, the tension was there.

In the way some kids smiled a little too knowingly. Or how conversations paused just long enough when we passed.

Some people gave us nods. Even a few compliments. Others kept their distance.

Alan hadn't said much all morning. We'd walked in together, like always, but he kept glancing around the halls like he was trying to figure out if he was being followed. I didn't blame him. I felt it too — that slow creep of attention we hadn't asked for.

At lunch, we sat in our usual spot. Elie and Haley were already there, chatting about something that had happened over the weekend. Mason was across the table, scrolling through his phone. I sat across from Alan. Our knees brushed once, and neither of us moved away, but it felt... careful. Like we were both waiting to see who'd pull back first.

Elie gave us a soft smile. "So, um. You guys good?"

Alan nodded quickly. "Yeah. Totally."

She tilted her head. "I mean—like, really?"

"We're fine," I added, before Alan could answer too fast again.

Elie gave me a look, the kind that said she knew better than to push right now.

The conversation picked back up in an awkward shuffle of schoolwork and weekend plans. I half-listened, mostly picking at the crust of my sandwich. Alan was unusually quiet, just chewing and nodding at the right times.

About halfway through lunch, Zane sat down. He used to be part of our friend group — especially back in middle school — but we'd drifted in the past year. Still, he dropped into the open seat across from Alan like nothing had changed.

"Hey," he said casually, like we hadn't been avoiding each other for months.

"Hey," I said slowly.

He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "So, I saw the video."

Alan's jaw tensed beside me. He didn't say anything.

Zane looked between us. "You guys really a thing?"

The table got quiet. Elie gave him a warning look. Mason had the sudden decency to pretend he was still deeply invested in whatever was on his screen.

I felt my heartbeat tick up. I could say nothing. Let the awkward silence crush it. Or I could tell the truth.

"Yeah," I said. "We are."

Zane blinked. "Oh."

"Oh?" I echoed.

"I mean... I don't care or anything. Just didn't know."

There was an awkward beat. Alan didn't look up from his tray.

Zane sat with us a few minutes longer, not saying much else, then stood up and left without really saying goodbye.

After that, Alan barely said another word for the rest of lunch.

⸻

We had English together at the end of the day, and I tried catching up with him on our way out of the building. He was walking faster than usual.

"Hey," I said, keeping pace. "You okay?"

He nodded, but didn't slow down. "Fine. Just tired."

"You sure?"

He glanced over, and for a second I saw it. The pressure. The tiredness behind his eyes. The part of him that was slipping into that old habit — pulling back when things got complicated.

"I just didn't think people would care this much," he said finally.

"I don't think they all do," I said. "Some of them are actually supportive. Like Elie."

"Yeah, I know. It's just... it's weird now."

"We don't have to make a big deal out of it."

Alan stopped by the front steps and rubbed the back of his neck. "I think I just need to breathe a little. That's all."

"Okay." I meant it. I didn't want to push.

But it still stung a little.

We said a quiet goodbye before splitting off — he was catching a ride with his sister, and I was heading to the parking lot alone. As I walked, I scrolled through my phone. There were still people posting clips of the video, pairing it with dramatic captions or little heart emojis. Some were harmless. Others felt too invasive.

The worst part was, I didn't really mind people knowing. Not anymore. But I could tell Alan wasn't there yet. And as much as I wanted to pull him in and tell him we'd be okay, I knew he had to get there on his own.

So I let him go.