The Free-fall (One-shot)

The Free Fall

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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The library hummed with a quiet energy, a subtle undercurrent to its hushed silence. Rows of books stood like stoic sentinels, their stories locked away, waiting to be discovered. In a secluded corner, Ella and Aiden sat across from each other at a small, circular table. Ella's gaze was fixed on her textbook, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her notebook. They both know what they're here for—a psychology project, interviewing each other about fears.

But Ella knows that this project, and this moment, feels like so much more.

"Ready?" Aiden asks, and his voice is softer than usual, maybe sensing the tension in the air. She nods, still not looking directly at him, and she hears the flip of a notebook page. "Alright, so... let's start with something simple." There's a pause, and she catches the way he shifts in his chair. "What's a fear you've had since you were a kid?"

"Hmm..." She taps her pen thoughtfully. She knows he expects her to say something easy, maybe something like "spiders" or "the dark." But today, her mind is on different fears, ones that have haunted her recently, growing louder in her heart with each passing day.

"I used to be afraid of heights," she says finally. It's technically true—she had a bad experience with heights as a kid, but that's not what weighs on her now. Still, her answer is safe, and she can feel his relief as he nods.

"Oh, yeah? I remember I couldn't get near ledges when I was younger." Aiden chuckles, and for a brief second, she's reminded of those small moments they used to share, moments that once felt like promises of something more. "But I got over it. It's weird how some fears just disappear, right?"

"Right," she agrees, though her mind clings to a fear that hasn't left, one that's settled inside her, quiet but persistent. "Some of them linger, though."

He gives her a curious look. "What do you mean?"

Her throat feels dry, and for a moment, she wonders if this is her chance—to speak up, to give voice to everything she's kept hidden. But it's a scary thing, to be vulnerable in front of the person who unknowingly became her biggest heartbreak. Her voice trembles slightly as she says, "Some fears are harder to shake. They're like... shadows."

He leans in a little, his expression more serious now. "Like what?"

And just like that, the door is open.

She hesitates, staring at her notebook, where she's scribbled nonsense words just to keep herself occupied. "You know, I think... I think one of my biggest fears now is falling." Her voice drops to a near whisper, but in the silence of the library, her words hang heavy.

He blinks, tilting his head as if he's trying to understand. "Falling? Like, literally falling?"

"Not literally," she murmurs, clutching her pen. "I mean... falling in love. Or maybe, just... falling for someone who doesn't feel the same way." Her heart hammers as she admits this, the weight of her own words pressing down on her. She can't bear to look at him, but she imagines the surprise on his face, the way he's probably piecing things together.

"I mean," she continues, forcing herself to sound casual, "it's one of those fears that's... easy to overlook, you know? Like, I've seen people go through it. They fall for someone, and then... they're just left hanging."

He's quiet, and she can feel the tension rising. She knows he has questions, but there's a part of him that's afraid to ask.

"I think a lot of people are afraid of love," he says finally, almost as if he's trying to find a safe way to respond. "It's... it's intense. And yeah, you never know if the other person feels the same. But... I mean, have you—" He stops, as if unsure he should continue. "Have you ever... gone through that?"

She laughs a little, though there's no humor in it. "You could say that." Her eyes flick up to meet his briefly, and in that one look, she sees the flicker of understanding, the glimmer of realization. "I thought maybe... someone might like me back. They gave me all the signs, the little gestures, the late-night conversations. But in the end, it was just... mixed signals. Almost, but never quite there."

She lets the words sink in, feeling like she's letting go of a weight she's carried for so long.

There's a new expression on Aiden's face now—one of recognition and guilt. "Ella..." he starts, his voice softer than before. But she doesn't want his pity. She just wants to be heard, to be understood, even if he can never truly understand the depth of her feelings.

"It's just a project, right?" she says quickly, brushing off his concerned tone. "We're supposed to be talking about fears, not... regrets."

But he doesn't let it go that easily. "It sounds like... it was painful."

She swallows, and for the first time, she looks him in the eye, letting him see the hurt she's carried. "Yeah. It was. I was left in free-fall, holding on to... to nothing. I thought... I thought I was something more to him, that maybe I'd be... his."

Aiden's gaze shifts, and she can tell he's piecing it all together, realizing he's the person she's talking about. She can see the regret in his eyes, the way his hand clenches on the notebook, as if he wants to reach out, to comfort her.

"I didn't know," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "I thought... I thought you didn't see me that way."

She laughs again, but this time it's a bitter sound. "You gave me enough signals to think you felt something. The way you'd text late at night, the way you'd wait for me after class, or how you'd look at me when you thought I wasn't paying attention. All those things... I thought they meant something. But then you moved on without a word, left me hanging."

He closes his eyes, letting her words wash over him. "I... I was afraid, too, Ella. I didn't think I had a chance. I thought I was just another guy to you, someone you wouldn't take seriously."

"You were wrong." Her voice is firmer now, stronger. "But by the time you realized that, it was too late. You found someone else, and I was left to wonder... if I'd ever really mattered to you."

He looks down, unable to meet her gaze. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"I know," she says, and she does mean it. "But you did, and I have to live with that." She feels a strange sense of peace, a weight lifted off her shoulders, as if saying these words has finally freed her. "That's what love does, though, right? It's a risk. A free-fall. Sometimes, there's someone to catch you... and sometimes, there isn't."

They sit in silence for a while, the noise of the library fading into the background. She's said what she needed to say, and she's finally ready to let go.

After a moment, she closes her notebook and stands up, looking down at him with a small, sad smile. "Thanks for listening, Aiden. And... good luck with the rest of the project."

He looks up, his face full of regret and something else she can't quite place. "Ella... if I could go back—"

"But you can't." Her voice is gentle but firm. "We both made choices. I have to respect that, even if it hurts." She brushes a stray tear from her cheek, feeling a strange sense of relief. "Goodbye, Aiden."

As she walks away, she feels lighter, like she's finally stepping out of the shadow of her own heartbreak. Maybe she'll always carry a piece of him with her, a reminder of the love that almost was. But she knows now that she doesn't need him to catch her; she's strong enough to pick herself up, to keep moving forward.

Ella didn't glance back as she exited the library. Her days of free-falling were over. Now, she was prepared to reclaim her footing on solid ground.