On the Edge of Love (CarlxAlan)

Chapter 35: Carl

It was after ten when my phone buzzed — one of those long, low rumbles against the nightstand that made my heart skip before I even looked. I hadn't expected to hear from Alan tonight. Not after the way he'd left school, quiet and withdrawn like he was holding everything in.

But it was him.
Alan calling.

I picked up fast, pressing the phone to my ear as I sat up in bed. "Hey."

There was silence on the other end for a second, and then I heard a soft inhale. "Hey."

I leaned back against the headboard. "You okay?"

Another pause.

"I don't know," he said.

I didn't say anything. I just listened, giving him the space he clearly didn't have today.

"I've just been thinking about all of it," he went on. "The video. People at school. Summer. Zane. Everyone kinda... watching us."

My chest tightened. "Yeah."

"I thought I was okay," he said quietly. "But now I'm not sure."

I sat with that, trying not to fill the silence too quickly. His voice sounded small — not like him. Not like the Alan who teased me under cafeteria tables or whispered in my ear when no one was looking.

"I don't think I can do this the way you can, Carl," he said, barely louder than a whisper. "I know you're strong and you don't care what people think, but I do. I care a lot. And I'm scared."

I bit the inside of my cheek. "Scared of what?"

"That my parents'll find out. That they'll hate me. Or worse, they'll act like it's not real, and just keep smiling and pretending I'm someone I'm not." His voice cracked, like he was holding something back. "And I'm scared of people at school turning on us. Of being talked about all the time. I hate feeling like I'm always being watched."

"I get that," I said. And I meant it. "I hate it too."

He was quiet again.

Then: "Maybe we should stop."

The words knocked the air out of me, even though they came softly. Like they didn't want to hurt me — but still did.

"Stop... what?" I asked, already knowing.

"Being together," he said, and it nearly crushed me. "I just— I'm not sure I can keep doing this if it means constantly being afraid. I thought I could, but I think I'm just not like you."

I shut my eyes. "Alan..."

"I'm not saying I want to break up," he rushed. "I'm just saying... I don't know how to be okay with this. Not yet. And I don't want to hurt you. But it feels like I'm going to anyway."

I swallowed hard. "You're not hurting me by being scared."

"But if I pull away, I will."

"Then don't pull away," I said, maybe too quickly. "Alan, I care about you. And I don't need you to be perfect or ready or fearless. I just need you to be honest with me."

He didn't answer right away.

"I'm trying," he said eventually. "But it feels like I'm falling behind. Like you're already out there, being yourself, and I'm still hiding."

I opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling in the dark. "I'm not out there. I'm still scared too. But I'd rather be scared and with you than pretend this never happened."

Silence.

Then, quietly: "I don't want to pretend either."

Something in me loosened, but not enough to relax. We were balancing on a ledge now — this relationship we'd built in secret was starting to see sunlight, and the exposure was threatening to ruin it. Or maybe shape it into something stronger. I didn't know yet.

"I'm not going anywhere, Alan," I said gently. "But if you need space... I'll give it to you. I just want you to know I'm here. Even if you get scared. Even if things suck. I'm still here."

He sniffed — quiet and fast, like he didn't want me to hear it. "Okay."

We didn't hang up right away. We just stayed on the line, letting the sound of each other's breath be enough for a while.

Eventually, he said, "Thanks for picking up."

"Always," I whispered.

And then he said goodnight — gently, like he didn't want to let go but didn't know how to stay.

When I finally put my phone down, the room felt too quiet.

I laid awake for a long time, wondering if love could survive this kind of fear — or if sometimes, fear was what made it real in the first place.