{Continued}

... Gemini stared out the window of his apartment, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and white against the rain-streaked glass. His hands rested on the sill, fingers twitching with restless energy. He hated this feeling—the gnawing uncertainty, the weight of emotions he couldn't seem to push aside.

The café, the bookshop, the way Fourth had looked at him with a mixture of frustration and hurt—all of it replayed in his mind like a film on loop.

"Why can't I just let it go?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

He knew the answer, though. It wasn't just Fourth; it was what Fourth represented. Letting someone in meant opening himself up to the possibility of pain, of rejection, of loss. And Gemini had had his fill of all three.

His thoughts drifted back to years ago—to the last time he'd let himself care this much. A fleeting relationship that had ended in betrayal and left him more guarded than ever. He remembered the promises that had been broken, the way he had blamed himself for not seeing the cracks sooner.

"It's different now," he told himself, though the words rang hollow. But is it?

Fourth was different. He was kind in a way that felt genuine, with a warmth that made Gemini want to trust him. But that only made it more dangerous. If Fourth walked away, it would hurt even more.

Gemini closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Maybe pulling back was the right thing to do. Maybe it was better for both of them.

On the other side of the city, Fourth sat on the edge of his bed, his phone lying face-up beside him. He stared at the screen, debating whether to text Gemini. But every time he reached for it, he stopped himself.

"What's the point?" he muttered, leaning back against the headboard.

The distance Gemini had put between them stung more than he wanted to admit. He wasn't the kind of person to chase after someone who didn't want him, but with Gemini, it felt different. He didn't believe the distance was out of disinterest—there was something else there, something Gemini wasn't saying.

But how long was he supposed to wait for someone who couldn't make up their mind?

Fourth stood and paced the room, running a hand over his jaw. He thought about their almost-kiss, about the way Gemini's expression had shifted in those final moments before pulling away. There had been fear in his eyes, but also something deeper—something that made Fourth want to hold on.

"Maybe I'm just fooling myself," he said aloud. He had always been the optimist, the one willing to believe in people even when they didn't believe in themselves. But optimism could only take him so far.

He stopped at the window, looking out at the rain-slicked streets below. For the first time in a long time, Fourth felt the edges of doubt creeping in. Maybe it was time to put some distance between them. Not because he didn't care, but because caring too much for someone who didn't reciprocate could break him.

A few days later, fate—or perhaps something more intentional—brought them back together. They ended up at a small gathering, hosted by a mutual acquaintance. The setting was intimate, with soft music playing in the background and the murmur of quiet conversations filling the air.

Gemini saw Fourth almost immediately, his heart lurching at the sight of him. Fourth was standing near the corner of the room, laughing at something someone had said, his smile as magnetic as ever.

For a moment, Gemini considered turning around and leaving. But before he could, Fourth's eyes met his.

There was a flicker of something—recognition, hesitation, perhaps even longing. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced by a polite nod.

Gemini swallowed hard and forced himself to approach. "Hey," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him.

"Hey," Fourth replied, his tone neutral.

The small talk that followed felt mechanical, neither of them willing to address the elephant in the room. But beneath the surface, the tension was palpable.

"I've been meaning to—" Gemini began, but Fourth cut him off.

"Don't," Fourth said softly, his gaze steady. "You don't have to explain."

Gemini hesitated, unsure of how to respond. "I just... I didn't mean to hurt you."

Fourth's smile was faint and didn't reach his eyes. "I know. But that doesn't make it any easier."

The words hung between them, heavy with everything they weren't saying.

That night, they went their separate ways, both feeling the weight of the unresolved tension between them.

Gemini sat on his couch, a glass of whiskey in hand, staring at his phone. He wanted to call Fourth, to say something—anything—that might make things right. But the words wouldn't come.

Across the city, Fourth was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He thought about texting Gemini, but he knew it wouldn't change anything. Not unless Gemini was willing to meet him halfway.

Both of them were caught in a painful limbo, their emotions tangled in a web of fear and longing.

The rain started again, its rhythm matching the unspoken ache in their hearts. And though they were miles apart, both Gemini and Fourth found themselves wondering the same thing:

Does he feel the same way?

But for now, the gap between them remained, unbridged by words or action, leaving both men to grapple with their own uncertainties and fears.

That night, the city seemed quieter than usual, as if even the streets were reflecting their unspoken tension. The rain softened to a faint drizzle, a fragile whisper against the windows of Gemini's apartment. He sat cross-legged on the floor, the coffee table littered with crumpled notes, an untouched notebook, and the half-empty whiskey glass he'd been nursing for hours.

Gemini ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. The silence was deafening. Normally, he found solace in it, but tonight, it felt oppressive. His mind kept circling back to Fourth—his expression during their conversation, the way his voice had softened but carried an edge of finality.

He picked up his phone for the tenth time that night, staring at Fourth's name in his contacts. The cursor blinked in the message box, mocking him. He typed and deleted several messages:

"I'm sorry if I hurt you."

"Can we talk?"

"Are you okay?"

None of them felt right. None of them captured the knot of emotions twisting inside him. With a frustrated sigh, he tossed the phone onto the couch and leaned his head back against the wall.

"Why can't I just say it?" he murmured.

But he knew why. Saying it meant admitting that he cared, that Fourth had become more than just a fleeting connection. And that terrified him.

Across the city, Fourth lay sprawled on his bed, the dim light from his bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. His phone was in his hand, the screen dark. He hadn't bothered to check it for hours, knowing there would be no messages from Gemini.

He sighed, running his thumb along the edge of the phone case. Part of him wanted to call Gemini, to confront him and demand clarity. But what would he even say?

Why did you pull away? Was it something I did? Or are you just afraid?

The questions burned in his chest, but he couldn't bring himself to voice them. He wasn't sure if he could handle the answers.

Instead, he rolled onto his side, staring out the rain-speckled window. The city lights blurred together, mirroring the fog in his mind.

"Maybe I'm the fool," he whispered to himself. "For thinking this could be something."

But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself to let it go, he couldn't. There was something about Gemini that had gotten under his skin, something that made walking away feel impossible.

Gemini eventually moved to the couch, staring blankly at the TV, which played a muted movie he wasn't paying attention to. His phone buzzed faintly, and his heart leapt, thinking it might be Fourth.

It wasn't. Just a work notification.

He laughed bitterly at his own disappointment, shaking his head. Get it together, he thought, though the admonishment felt hollow.

His gaze drifted to the window, where the rain painted streaks across the glass. He wondered if Fourth was staring at the same sky, if he was thinking about him, too. The thought brought a pang of longing he couldn't ignore.

At the same time, Fourth was thinking the exact same thing.

He stood by his window, arms crossed, his breath fogging the glass slightly as he leaned closer to look at the skyline. Somewhere out there, Gemini was probably doing the same thing—overthinking, analyzing, retreating into himself.

Why do I keep hoping he'll change? Fourth wondered, his chest tightening. But hope, irrational and persistent, was something he couldn't seem to shake.

The rain slowed to a gentle patter, and with it, Fourth's thoughts quieted. He closed his eyes, letting the sound wash over him, a reminder of the night they'd shared under the umbrella. That brief moment when everything felt possible.

Both men drifted into uneasy sleep that night, their thoughts tangled in what-ifs and missed chances.

Gemini dreamed of standing in the rain, searching for something—or someone—he couldn't find. The droplets soaked through his clothes, blurring his vision, but he felt the weight of someone's gaze. He turned, but the figure was always just out of reach.

Fourth's dreams were no kinder. He found himself walking down a long hallway lined with doors, each one leading to a moment with Gemini. But every time he reached for the handle, the door vanished, leaving him standing alone in the dark.

When they woke the next morning, neither felt rested. The emotional distance between them had manifested in their dreams, leaving both unsettled and longing for something they couldn't name.

Days passed with little communication between them. Their usual haunts felt emptier without the other's presence, but neither made a move to close the gap.

Gemini threw himself into work, drowning in tasks and deadlines to distract himself. But every so often, his mind would wander, and he'd catch himself checking his phone or lingering by places where he might run into Fourth.

Fourth, meanwhile, kept his distance, retreating into his own world of books and music. He told himself it was for the best, that giving Gemini space would make things clearer. But clarity never came.

Instead, they both carried the weight of their unspoken feelings, their paths crossing only in fleeting memories and stolen glances.

And yet, despite the silence, they couldn't shake the sense that this wasn't the end. The rain had a way of bringing things full circle, and both of them—deep down—hoped for another storm to bring them back together.

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☼ the end of chapter 5 ꨄ