Unspoken Goals

Honesty

February 22nd

Sunlight cut through the blinds in thin, golden stripes, painting Abigail's room in fractured light. She sat curled on her bed with a book open in her lap, though her eyes hadn't moved across the same paragraph in over an hour. The words blurred, meaningless, as the same thought spun on repeat in her head, heavy and sharp in her chest.

Juliette's 21st birthday.

Abigail should have been there. She should have been the one waking her up with a laugh, teasing her about finally being "legal." She should've been first in line to hug her, to slip her a small, thoughtful gift only Juliette would understand. Instead, she was three hours away, holed up in her childhood bedroom, surrounded by the same posters, photographs, and trophies she'd never bothered to take down. A room frozen in time, like it belonged to a version of her who had never left, never fallen in love, never ruined everything.

The door creaked open, and Drew leaned against the frame. His hair stuck up in odd angles, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, but his eyes were sharp the moment they landed on her.

"As much as I love spending time with you, Abby," he said flatly, "why are you here?"

Abigail stiffened, fingers tightening around her book. "Can't I just... want to be home? Maybe I want to spend time with you before you go to college."

Drew stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "Nice try. But you've been home almost every weekend since Christmas. That's not like you." His voice softened, but there was weight in it. "And unless I've completely lost track of time, it's Juliette's birthday today. So, what's going on?"

"Nothing," Abigail said too quickly. Her laugh was brittle. "School's just... a lot."

He gave her the look—the one that sliced through every flimsy excuse she'd ever tried on him. Then he sat on the edge of her bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight.

"Be honest with me," he said quietly. "What happened between you and Juliette?"

Abigail's throat tightened. She let out a short, dry laugh, clutching her book like it might hold her together. "Nothing happened."

"Abby." Drew's voice cracked, gentle but firm. "Don't lie to me. Something happened on New Year's Eve. You've been different ever since. And don't think I didn't notice Juliette sitting in the car after she found you that morning—she couldn't even look at us."

The words hit too close. Abigail dropped the book onto the blanket and pressed both hands over her face. Her chest convulsed with the sob she tried to swallow, but it tore free anyway, raw and uneven.

"Abby." Drew's hand found her knee, steady, grounding. "Talk to me. Please."

She shook her head, hot tears leaking between her fingers. "I can't. You'll hate me."

"Try me."

For a moment, all she could hear was her own ragged breathing. When she finally lowered her hands, Drew was waiting with the same steady eyes he'd had since they were kids—patient, unwavering, and safe.

So, she told him.

Everything.

She told him how she had been in love with Juliette for years, long before she ever admitted it to herself. She told him about the kiss at Halloween freshman year, about the kiss on the soccer field that changed everything. About the nights they'd stolen together, the way her chest always ached when Juliette laughed, the fierce joy she felt just being near her. She told him about the fear that had drowned her louder than any love ever could—the voice in her head whispering what people would think, what their parents would say. She told him about the fights, always her fault, and how New Year's Eve had ended everything. How the silence since then felt heavier than she could bear.

By the time she finished, her face was blotchy, her hoodie damp with tears, but her chest felt just a little lighter. For the first time, she had let it all out.

Drew didn't look shocked. He let out a slow breath and shook his head with a small, sad smile.

"I've known for years," he said simply.

Abigail blinked. "What?"

"Yeah." He shrugged like it was obvious. "I always knew your friendship with Juliette was... more. Even before I really understood what 'more' meant. By high school, it was painful to watch the way you two looked at each other. And when Juliette came out to us, I knew it was only a matter of time before something happened between you."

Abigail opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

"I was just waiting for you to tell me," Drew went on. "I don't care what anyone else thinks. And you shouldn't either. Mom and Dad love you. They just want you to be happy. If Juliette makes you happy, that's all that matters."

Her stomach twisted tighter. "It's not that simple."

"It is," Drew pressed, his tone firm now. "You've been running from this for too long. It's eating you alive, and I'm not going to sit here and watch you ruin the best thing that's ever happened to you because you're scared."

She dragged her sleeve across her face, her breath shaky. "You really think Mom and Dad—"

"Abigail." Drew cut her off, exhaling like he'd been holding this in for weeks. "Mom has literally prayed that you two end up together."

Abigail's head jerked up. "Wait—what?"

But Drew only smirked, tugging her up by the arm and steering her toward the door.

Her parents were in the kitchen, coffee cups in hand, the morning sun spilling across the table. Abigail's voice shook when she began, but once the words started, they didn't stop. She told them the same story she'd told Drew—softer, more hesitant—but still the truth. She braced herself for silence, for disappointment, for the shift in their eyes she had always feared.

Instead, her mother's eyes filled with tears, her father reached across the table to take her hand, and both of them said the same thing Drew had.

"We love you. Nothing changes that."

Her shoulders sagged, her whole-body trembling as tears slid freely down her cheeks. For the first time in months, she could breathe.

Drew squeezed her shoulder with a grin. "Now go fix things with her. You'll regret it if you don't."

Abigail laughed weakly through her tears, shaking her head. But when she grabbed her keys, her heart was already leading her back.

---

The three-hour drive felt endless. Every mile stretched taut between hope and dread, her rehearsed words tangling in her head until they didn't feel like words at all. By the time she pulled into the apartment parking lot, her hands were trembling against the wheel.

She climbed the stairs, her pulse hammering louder than her footsteps. She was ready—ready to apologize, ready to confess, ready to finally stop running. Even if she had to say it in front of everyone celebrating Juliette's birthday, she didn't care. She just wanted Juliette to hear her.

But when she pushed open the apartment door, the sight hit her like a punch.

Juliette sat on the kitchen counter, Kenzie standing between her legs, her back to Juliette. Juliette's arms were wrapped easily around her shoulders, their laughter spilling into the kitchen as Marco told some story.

Abigail froze. Her lungs collapsed, her carefully rehearsed words scattering like glass on the floor.

Juliette's eyes flicked toward the doorway, and for a split second their gazes locked. Abigail's breath stuttered, hope clawing at her chest—

But then she saw it. Juliette wasn't waiting for her. She was moving on.

Her throat closed. Without a word, Abigail slipped past them and into her room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

She slid down against it, eyes squeezed shut, and for the first time in a long time, the apartment felt like a place she didn't belong. The walls were closing in, and the only person she had ever loved was already falling for someone else.

[A/N]: Some progress made on Abigail's side but is it too late? 

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