Chapter 14: Bluebell

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since Ethan last showed up at the store. Two weeks of me pretending I wasn't glancing at the door every few minutes, expecting to see him stroll in with his usual lazy smirk, reaching for his cherry lollipop like always. But he never came.

At first, I told myself he was just busy. Maybe something had come up. But as the days stretched on, the excuses I made for him started to feel like lies. Maybe I had imagined everything. Maybe I had read too much into those quiet moments between us, the way his eyes lingered just a little too long, the way his voice softened when he said my name.

Maybe he just didn't like me.

The thought sat heavy in my chest, and no matter how much I told myself I shouldn't care, I did. I hated that I did.

Tonight, I walked home instead of taking the bus. I needed the air, needed the time to clear my head. The streets were quiet, the hum of distant traffic fading into the background as I turned the corner toward my apartment. My mind was still tangled in thoughts of Ethan when I saw him.

He was sitting on one of the swings in the small park across the street, hunched over, his arms resting on his knees. Even in the dim light, something about him looked... off.

I should've kept walking. Should've ignored him the way he had apparently ignored me. But my feet moved before I could stop them.

The second Ethan noticed me, his entire face lit up. "Lily!"

Before I could react, he was already on his feet, moving way too fast. He wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug, pressing me against his chest.

I stiffened, caught off guard. He was warm, solid. He held me like he hadn't seen me in years, like he had actually missed me.

And then I smelled it.

The sharp, unmistakable scent of alcohol clung to him. It wasn't overpowering, but it was there, lingering on his breath, in the folds of his jacket.

I pulled back slightly, looking up at him. His eyes were clearer than I expected, but there was still a haze to them, like he wasn't fully present. He wasn't stumbling, wasn't slurring his words, but something about him felt... off.

"You've been drinking," I said, not accusing, just stating the fact.

Ethan let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah."

I frowned. "Are you okay?"

He gave me a tired half-smile. "Been better."

I crossed my arms. "Where have you been?"

Ethan sighed, his gaze dropping to the ground. "Had some things to deal with."

That wasn't a lie. I could tell. But it also wasn't the whole truth.

I studied him for a moment. "And why didn't you answer any of my messages?"

His jaw tensed slightly. He exhaled, shaking his head. "Because I'm not good at this, Lily."

I frowned. "Good at what?"

He gestured vaguely between us. "This... whatever this is."

My stomach twisted. I didn't say anything, waiting for him to continue.

Ethan let out a humorless chuckle. "I told myself I should stop coming to see you. That I should pull back before I—before this turns into something I don't know how to handle."

I swallowed hard. "And?"

He met my eyes, his expression conflicted. "And it didn't work. Clearly."

Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten.

We stood there for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us.

I inhaled deeply. "You don't have to figure everything out overnight. But you can't just disappear on me, Ethan."

He nodded slowly. "I know."

I reached into my bag, pulling out a half-empty water bottle. "Drink this."

He smirked slightly but took it without argument.

We sat down on the bench, the cool night air settling around us. Ethan was still a little out of it, still carrying the weight of whatever had been keeping him away.

Maybe tomorrow, he'd pretend this never happened. Maybe he'd go back to keeping his distance.

But right now, at least, he was here.

We sat there in silence for a long time. The park was quiet, just the distant hum of cars and the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. Ethan stared down at his hands, and I stared at him, waiting—hoping—he'd say something.

But he didn't.

And maybe that was my answer.

I inhaled deeply, sitting up a little straighter.

"Look... if you don't want this—whatever this is—you should just tell me," I said, my voice quieter now.

"Because maybe it's nothing. Maybe I made a big deal out of something that didn't mean as much to you as it did to me. But I have feelings too, Ethan."

His head lifted slightly, his eyes flicking toward me.

"And I can't lie," I continued, my throat tightening. "I was really upset when you didn't show up. When you just disappeared without a word."

Ethan opened his mouth, but I didn't let him speak. I shook my head and pushed myself up from the bench, suddenly restless.

"Give me your address," I said.

He blinked, thrown off. "What?"

I folded my arms, staring down at him. "You're still not completely sober. You need to go home, and I need to make sure you actually get there."

Ethan hesitated, then sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. He muttered his address, and I nodded.

"Come on," I said, holding out my hand.

For a second, he just looked at it. Then, with another sigh, he reached up and took it.

His grip was warm, firm. And for a brief, fleeting moment, I wondered if he felt the same pull I did—if this meant anything to him at all.

Neither of us spoke as we started walking. The silence between us wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't unbearable either. It was heavy, full of things unsaid, but not empty.

And maybe that meant something.

Maybe it meant everything.