Elior didn't sleep that night.
Not because of nightmares or restless thoughts alone, but because something inside him had shifted, refusing to settle back into its old shape. Mira's words echoed again and again in his mind, steady and relentless.
Not loving me is already hurting you.
He stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows stretch and shrink as cars passed outside. For years, fear had guided every decision he made—where he stood, how much he spoke, who he allowed near. Fear had kept him safe, or so he thought.
But safety had come at a cost.
And tonight, he finally understood what that cost was.
---
The next morning, he arrived at school earlier than usual. The courtyard was quiet, the air crisp with the promise of rain. He sat on the low wall behind the gym, elbows resting on his knees, heart pounding as though he were waiting for something important.
He was.
When Mira appeared, she slowed when she saw him.
They locked eyes.
Neither smiled at first.
She approached carefully, as if unsure whether he would vanish again.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey," he replied.
They stood there, the space between them heavy with everything left unsaid.
"I owe you an apology," Elior said finally.
Mira folded her arms loosely. "You don't owe me perfection."
"I know," he said. "But I owe you honesty."
She nodded, waiting.
"I keep assuming you'll leave," he continued. "So I leave first. I convince myself it's kindness when it's really fear."
Her expression softened, but her voice stayed firm. "And do you understand what that does to me?"
He swallowed. "It makes you feel like you're fighting alone."
"Yes."
The word landed gently but decisively.
"I don't want to fight you," he said. "I want to fight with you. I just… don't know how."
Mira stepped closer. "You start by staying."
---
Staying turned out to be harder than running.
It meant answering questions instead of deflecting them. It meant holding her hand in public even when his instincts screamed at him to pull away. It meant meeting people's eyes instead of lowering his own.
It meant trusting that her choice was real.
The world didn't make it easy.
Whispers followed them more openly now. People stared. Some smiled knowingly. Others scoffed.
"She could do better," someone muttered once, not even trying to hide it.
Elior heard every word.
That afternoon, they sat beneath the oak tree, Mira leaning against the trunk, Elior beside her. His leg bounced restlessly.
"You're quiet again," she said.
"I'm trying not to be," he replied.
She studied him. "Then tell me what you're thinking."
He hesitated. "I'm thinking that loving you feels like standing in the middle of a storm without armor."
She smiled faintly. "And?"
"And I think I'm tired of hiding indoors."
Her fingers intertwined with his. "You don't have to be brave all the time."
"I know," he said. "But I want to be brave here."
---
A week later, something happened that tested that promise.
The school announced a group project—pairs chosen at random. When the names were read aloud, Elior's stomach dropped.
Mira Vale and Lucas Rowan.
Lucas was everything Elior wasn't. Confident. Attractive. Effortlessly social.
Elior watched as Lucas walked over to Mira, grinning easily. She smiled back politely.
Something sharp twisted in Elior's chest.
The old voice returned instantly.
Of course she'd be better with him.
All afternoon, he barely spoke.
After school, Mira caught up with him.
"You're upset," she said.
"It's nothing."
She frowned. "You promised honesty."
He exhaled slowly. "I don't like the idea of you spending so much time with him."
Her expression softened with understanding. "Are you jealous?"
He looked away. "I don't think I'm allowed to be."
She reached for his face, gently turning it back toward her. "You're allowed to feel whatever you feel. Just don't punish yourself for it."
"I trust you," he said quickly.
"I know," she replied. "But do you trust yourself?"
The question lingered long after they parted.
---
The project forced Elior to confront a truth he had avoided: love didn't erase insecurity. It revealed it.
He watched Mira work with Lucas from afar—laughing, brainstorming, collaborating. Each glance felt like a small cut.
One afternoon, he almost walked away again.
Almost.
Instead, he waited for Mira outside the classroom.
"I need to tell you something," he said when she approached.
She looked concerned. "What is it?"
"I'm struggling," he admitted. "Not because of you. Because of me."
She nodded, encouraging him to continue.
"I'm afraid I'll always feel like I'm competing with the world for you."
She took his hands. "Elior, I'm not a prize you have to win. I'm a person who chose you."
The words steadied him.
"I don't want to push you away again," he said. "Even when I feel small."
"Then don't," she replied simply. "Let me see the fear instead."
So he did.
---
The night of the presentation arrived.
Students filled the auditorium, chatter echoing off the walls. Elior sat in the audience, hands clasped tightly together.
When Mira and Lucas stepped onto the stage, his heart raced.
But as Mira began to speak, she looked at him.
Not briefly.
Intentionally.
Her gaze anchored him.
She spoke with confidence, clarity, warmth. And as Elior watched, something unexpected happened.
Pride.
Not fear.
Not comparison.
Pride that she was his.
Pride that he was standing here, still present, still choosing to stay.
When the applause came, he stood too.
Mira found him afterward, eyes bright.
"You stayed," she said.
He smiled—nervous, but real. "I told you I would."
She hugged him tightly, and he didn't care who saw.
---
That night, as they walked home beneath streetlights glowing softly, Elior felt something new settle into his chest.
Not certainty.
But resolve.
Love would challenge him. It would expose his fears and test his wounds.
But for the first time, he wasn't running.
He was choosing.
And that choice—fragile, imperfect, brave—felt like the beginning of something real.
---