Chapter Eleven: The Things We Pretend Not to Feel
Monday didn't give them mercy.
Ethan felt it the moment he stepped onto campus—that sharp awareness in his chest, the constant sense of looking for someone without meaning to. His eyes searched automatically, instinctively, even when he told himself not to.
Lucas.
He found him near the lockers, laughing with someone Ethan barely registered. The sound landed wrong. Too loud. Too easy.
Something ugly twisted in Ethan's stomach.
Stop, he told himself. You don't get to feel like that.
But feelings didn't listen.
Lucas turned, as if he'd sensed Ethan's gaze. Their eyes met, and the smile on Lucas's face faded—not completely, but enough. Something careful replaced it.
They walked to class together, just like always.
Except it didn't feel like always anymore.
Too Close, Not Close Enough
They sat beside each other, knees almost touching. Almost.
Ethan's leg shifted once, brushing Lucas's.
The contact was brief—barely a second—but it sent heat racing up Ethan's spine. He stiffened immediately, pulling back as if burned.
Lucas noticed.
He always noticed.
Lucas leaned closer under the pretense of looking at Ethan's notes. "You okay?" he whispered.
Ethan nodded too fast. "Yeah."
"You sure?"
"Lucas," Ethan murmured, not meeting his eyes, "please."
The word landed heavier than it should have.
Lucas leaned back slowly, jaw tightening just a little.
"Okay," he said.
But his voice wasn't okay.
Jealousy Has a Name
During lunch, Ethan watched Lucas talk animatedly with Daniel again—the same boy from the library days ago. Daniel leaned in, laughing, touching Lucas's arm casually like it meant nothing.
Like it didn't matter.
Ethan's hands curled into fists beneath the table.
"Why are you staring holes into him?" a classmate joked.
Ethan snapped his gaze away. "I'm not."
But Lucas had seen it.
Later, when Lucas finally sat across from him, there was something guarded in his eyes.
"You've been quiet," Lucas said.
"So have you."
Lucas huffed a quiet laugh. "You started it."
Ethan looked up. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Lucas held his gaze. "You act like you're pushing me away, then get upset when I talk to someone else. It's confusing."
Ethan's breath caught.
"I'm not upset," he lied.
Lucas leaned back in his chair, studying him. "You sure?"
Silence stretched.
That was answer enough.
Cracks in the Wall
After school, rain began to fall—light at first, then heavier. They walked together anyway, jackets pulled tight, steps slowing until they stopped under an awning.
The street was empty. Quiet.
Lucas broke first.
"You don't get to look at me like that," he said quietly.
Ethan frowned. "Like what?"
"Like you're afraid of wanting something."
The words hit too close.
Ethan turned away. "You're imagining things."
Lucas stepped closer, voice low. "Am I? Because it feels like every time I get close, you pull back. But every time I pull away, it bothers you."
Ethan swallowed hard.
"That's not fair," he said.
"No," Lucas replied softly. "What's not fair is not knowing where I stand with you."
Ethan's heart thundered.
"You stand… with me," he said weakly.
Lucas shook his head. "That's not an answer."
The Memory That Slips Out
Ethan laughed suddenly, brittle. "Do you remember that night we stayed up talking till sunrise?"
Lucas blinked. "Yeah."
"You said I was the one person you never had to pretend around."
Lucas's voice softened. "Because it's true."
Ethan looked at him then—really looked. Rain clung to Lucas's hair, his lashes dark with moisture. He looked open. Vulnerable.
Dangerous.
"I don't want to lose that," Ethan whispered.
Lucas stepped closer again, close enough now that Ethan could feel his breath. "Then don't lie to me."
Ethan's chest burned.
"I don't know how to do this," he admitted.
Lucas's voice was barely more than air. "You don't have to do it alone."
For one reckless second, Ethan almost leaned in.
Almost.
A car passed, splashing water onto the pavement, breaking the moment.
Ethan stepped back.
Again.
The Distance After
They walked the rest of the way in silence.
At Lucas's gate, they stopped.
"I'm not angry," Lucas said. "But I'm tired."
Ethan nodded. "I know."
Lucas hesitated. "When you're ready… don't shut me out."
Ethan watched him go, rain soaking through his clothes, regret heavier than the storm.
Night Thoughts That Refuse to Rest
Ethan lay awake that night, replaying the rain, the closeness, the almost.
He admitted the truth quietly, finally, to the darkness:
"I don't just want him as my friend."
Across town, Lucas stared at his ceiling and whispered the same thing.
Neither of them knew how much longer they could pretend.
Something was coming.
And when it did, it would either break them—
Or change everything.
Sleep refused to come.
Ethan lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the rain tap softly against his window. Each drop felt like a second ticking by—another moment wasted, another chance missed.
He turned onto his side and buried his face in his pillow.
Why can't I just say it?
The truth clawed at him. He didn't want Lucas to belong to anyone else. He didn't want to imagine a future where Lucas laughed with someone new, leaned into someone else's shoulder, shared the parts of himself Ethan already knew by heart.
That wasn't friendship.
And knowing that scared him more than anything.
Lucas Tries to Be Normal
Lucas tried to distract himself the next day.
He laughed when people spoke to him. He answered questions in class. He pretended everything was fine. But inside, he felt like he was constantly bracing for something—like standing under a sky that looked calm but promised a storm.
Every time he caught sight of Ethan, something tightened in his chest.
Ethan avoided his eyes more than usual.
That hurt.
Lucas leaned back in his chair during history class, watching Ethan from the corner of his eye. The way Ethan tapped his pen when he was nervous. The way his jaw tightened when he was thinking too hard. Lucas knew him too well for this distance to feel accidental.
If you feel nothing, Lucas thought bitterly, this wouldn't hurt so much.
Group Project Trouble
Fate, apparently, had a sense of humor.
Their teacher paired them together again for a group project.
Ethan felt his stomach drop when he heard their names called.
Lucas looked up, surprised, then slowly nodded. "Guess we're stuck together."
The words were casual, but the air between them wasn't.
They worked side by side in the library that afternoon, close enough to feel each other's presence but careful not to touch. Every time their hands reached for the same book, one of them pulled away too fast.
It was exhausting.
At one point, Lucas sighed softly. "This is ridiculous."
Ethan stiffened. "What is?"
"This," Lucas said, gesturing vaguely between them. "We used to work together without overthinking every second."
Ethan swallowed. "Things change."
Lucas looked at him sharply. "Do they? Or are you just afraid they already have?"
The question lingered.
Ethan didn't answer.
The Almost Touch (Again)
Later, as they packed up their things, Ethan dropped his pen. Both of them bent down at the same time.
Their fingers brushed.
This time, neither pulled away immediately.
The contact was brief but electric. Ethan's breath caught. Lucas's fingers twitched, like he wanted to hold on.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed.
Lucas looked up first.
Something unguarded flashed across his face—hope, longing, fear all tangled together.
Ethan pulled his hand back.
Again.
Lucas straightened slowly, masking whatever he'd felt. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said quietly.
"Yeah," Ethan replied.
But his hands were shaking.
The Conversation Ethan Overhears
On Ethan's way home, he heard Lucas's name.
"…you like him, don't you?" someone asked.
Ethan froze behind the corner, heart slamming.
Lucas laughed softly. "You're reading too much into it."
"Come on," the voice pressed. "You don't look at just anyone like that."
There was a pause.
Ethan's chest burned.
Lucas finally said, "He's important to me. That's all."
Ethan didn't wait to hear more.
He walked away, emotions tangled and sharp. Relief. Guilt. Fear. Longing.
Important.
The word echoed in his mind all the way home.
Breaking Point Thoughts
That night, Ethan opened his notes app again.
He wrote everything.
How Lucas made him feel safe. How he hated the idea of losing him. How every smile, every laugh, every shared memory felt like something more now.
He read it slowly.
Then he whispered, "I'm in love with you."
Saying it out loud made his chest ache—and settle.
Across town, Lucas sat on his bed, staring at his phone, thumb hovering over Ethan's name.
If I don't say something soon, he thought, this is going to tear me apart.
The Promise of What's Coming
The next morning, when Ethan and Lucas locked eyes across the hallway, neither looked away.
Something had shifted.
Neither of them smiled.
Neither of them pretended.
Whatever they were standing on—it was cracking.
And soon, one of them would have to decide:
Keep pretending.
Or finally tell the truth.