𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 ─── a songfic

as she walks by . . .

it had been nearly two months since we'd begun dating, and harlow had become distant in a way that i was unsure of how to feel about. he wasn't angry ; we never argued, but there was something about the way he moved, the way he spoke, that was different from when we'd first been together.

it was as if something else was always on his mind ; as if someone else was always on his mind.

so, what are you ? caysie asked as we walked along the bay, the sun's blinding rays bouncing off the water's deep blue waves, almost the same color as harlow's eyes. i mean, like . . . just gay ? bi ? something else ?

i kept my eyes on my beat-up converse as we continued down the boardwalk ; harlow had said he'd wanted to meet me here, and caysie had come along both as moral support and to escape the stuffy, claustrophobic feel of our house. pan, i answered her after a moment.

caysie's eyes widened. ohh, that's great, corlan !

mom and dad would have some trouble agreeing with that.

oh, screw them, she said. i mean, they're just – i don't know. they have a one-track mindset. they can't do anything differently, can't deal with change. they think us millennials are too full of ourselves – helpless, selfish, all wanna die, no light inside our eyes.

that last part may be somewhat accurate.

caysie frowned. corlan, did something happen ?

i glanced away. what do you mean ?

you know exactly what i mean, she said sternly, nudging my arm. is everything okay with you and harlow ?

yeah. i blew out a shaky breath. yeah, we're fine. we're great. everything's going well.

i've lived with you for almost nineteen years, corlan grey, caysie said. i can tell you're lying your ass off right now.

i rubbed my forehead, sighing. we're not . . . fighting, i said. there's nothing wrong, really, it's just . . .

just what ? caysie pressed.

i feel like . . . his mind is always somewhere else.

caysie frowned. final exams are coming up soon – i'm pretty sure we're all distracted.

no, i said. no, i mean – his mind is always on someone else. someone.

caysie's eyes widened, and she paused her steps to face me. oh, corlan –

please. i swallowed. just . . . don't.

she took a slow breath and turned to walk again. look, you don't know for sure, she said. i mean, he asked you to hang out here today – things can't possibly be bad. he's a great guy, lan-lan – if he really didn't like you anymore, he would've broken up with you already.

i looked away, not responding.

look, we're here, caysie said. come on, corlan – go see him. enjoy him.

thanks, caysie, i said, more for her benefit than anything as she gave me a quick hug.

of course, she replied. now go.

hey.

harlow glanced up from where he was sitting on his dark red vespa, his hands braced on the handlebars, as if he was preparing himself for something. he swung his leg over the seat and stood, walking closer to me. hey, corlan.

i paused ; something was wrong, and it took me a moment to figure out what it was.

harlow's brilliant smile was entirely absent.

i swallowed. everything good ? i asked warily, not sure if i wanted to hear the answer.

there was a long stretch of silence before harlow said, i wanted to talk to you.

i waited, a sense of dread curling in my stomach.

harlow ran a hand through his caramel hair, his bright blue eyes flicking around, never fully meeting mine. corlan, he said, but that was the only word he spoke, as if he couldn't find the rest of what he wanted to say, as if my name was the only thing he could come up with.

what is it ? i asked, my voice sounding far too small to my own ears.

harlow swallowed hard before finally saying, corlan. we're not . . . serious, are we ?

it took me much too long to process his words ; i heard them but couldn't register them, the world suddenly slowing, as if we were underwater.

what do you mean ? i whispered faintly, unsure if i was imagining this conversation.

harlow ran his fingers through his curly hair again, his gaze dropping to his shoes. i mean, i just – we can't be anything more, can we ? your parents don't even know we're dating – shit, they don't even know you're pan. how the hell can we move on if that doesn't change ?

i couldn't find the words to reply, my breath escaping my lungs as i stared at him, stared at harlow, with his beautiful mouth and slightly crooked nose and perfectly tousled hair, far too good for me – he'd always been far too good for me, and i knew this would happen. in the circumstances, of course i knew this would happen.

i just hadn't realized how much it would hurt.

i still couldn't answer him, because there was nothing i could say, nothing that could make any of this better.

corlan, harlow said again, reaching out to touch my face one more time. we can stay friends, right ? i really like you, corlan, i just . . . his voice trailed off.

' i really like you, corlan ' – not ' i love you, corlan, ' because that couldn't happen, not now, not ever.

when i still couldn't speak, harlow released a shaky breath, his hand falling from my face, as he took a step back. corlan, he said. i hope . . . i hope you understand.

and then he hesitated for a long, silent moment before turning and walking back to his scooter, leaving me standing there, a million words i wanted to say but couldn't on the tip of my tongue, all my hopes and wishes and dreams fading before my eyes.

i wanted to call his name ; to see his blue, blue eyes one more time ; to kiss him one more time ; to tell him i was sorry – but it was too late now, far too late for me to do or say anything.

so i could only watch him as he slid on his helmet, pausing one more time, before driving off on his vespa, his curls of caramel hair golden in the sunlight, his tall frame getting smaller in the distance.

only if you knew much i liked you, i thought, if only you knew how much i loved you.

but he would never know.