Almost and Always

By the time Middle School ended, the trio still walked home together, still sharing jokes and stories — but cracks had formed beneath the surface.

Cracks none of them were ready to name.

Age 15: First Semester of High School Year

The first day of high school arrived like thunder — loud, fast, and heavy with the scent of something coming.

Skie stood in front of her mirror, her braids bouncing over her shoulders, her lip gloss shining just a little more than usual. She looked older. Sharper. But beneath all of it, she was still that girl who once buried a note in a playground capsule with two boys she loved in very different ways.

She hadn't told Conner the crush on Brian had fizzled out over a year ago. Not because it mattered anymore — but because a part of her knew, deep down, that the silence had already changed them.

Conner met her at the bus stop that morning, his hair pushed back messily, headphones slung around his neck. He looked at her for a second too long, like he wanted to say something, but didn't.

"You look..." he started, then shrugged. "You know. You."

She rolled her eyes. "What a compliment. I'm swooning."

He smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Dylan arrived last, as always. Dressed in a layered hoodie and jeans, clutching a sketchbook like it was armor. He avoided eye contact. The night before, he'd nearly come out to them — texted, deleted, retyped. Then stared at the ceiling for hours, heart racing.

He didn't. 

He couldn't.

Not yet.

The three of them walked to school side by side, but they weren't in sync anymore. It was subtle — the pause between laughs, the hesitations in conversation, the way their shadows didn't quite overlap the way they used to.

Later That Week: The Bonfire

Someone from school threw a back-to-school bonfire by the lake — one of those secret events that half the school showed up to without it ever being "official." Skie, Conner, and Dylan went together, out of habit more than desire.

Flames flickered in the darkness. Music thumped from someone's car speakers. People danced, drank, and made out under the stars.

Skie was sitting on a log when Brian arrived — back from college, older now, broader, and with a girlfriend in town. Skie watched him from a distance and felt... nothing.

Conner sat beside her, close enough that their arms touched. She glanced at him and smiled.

"I don't like how much you don't talk to me anymore," he said suddenly, voice low.

She blinked. "I talk to you all the time."

"Yeah, but not about real stuff. Not like we used to."

Skie looked away. "Maybe we're not kids anymore."

"Maybe I missed it," he whispered.

She didn't say anything. And neither did he.

Not until Dylan burst into tears.

The Breaking Point

They found him near the edge of the lake, away from the crowd, his sketchbook torn and scattered like fallen leaves.

"Dylan!" Skie called, rushing over.

He turned, eyes wide and wet. "Don't—don't look at me like that."

Conner frowned. "What happened?"

Dylan laughed bitterly, wiping at his face. "I'm gay, okay? There. I said it. I like boys. I've always liked boys. And I'm scared out of my f—king mind that if my parents find out, I'll be thrown out or worse. And I didn't tell you guys because I thought maybe you'd hate me too."

The silence after was thick.

Skie stepped forward first, slow and careful, then wrapped her arms around him like she'd done since they were eight.

"Dylan Jung," she said, voice shaking, "you're my favorite kind of chaos. We don't hate you. We never could."

Conner took a moment longer. Then he stepped up too. "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you had to hide that. Seriously. You're still our guy."

Dylan crumbled in their arms.

The three of them stood there under the moonlight, broken and stitched together all at once. For a moment, everything felt right again — raw, honest, and unfiltered.

But things weren't going back to the way they were.

They were moving forward.

Into something scarier, messier, more real.

Adulthood was coming — and they were finally starting to meet it, face first.

____________

High school had a way of turning everything into a stage.

Conner watched her from across the school courtyard.

Skie was radiant — not in the glossy, magazine kind of way, but in the kind of way that made it impossible not to look. The way she threw her head back when she laughed, how she always tucked her curls behind her ear like she was revealing something sacred. That kind of radiant.

And there she was again — with boyfriend number two of the year. Jason Alvarez. Varsity basketball. Tall, tanned, charming. The kind of boy who could get away with anything because his smile was just that unfair.

Jason had his arm slung around her shoulder like she was a trophy, and she didn't even seem to mind. She smiled, but it was the kind of smile you wore when someone expected you to smile, not the kind that reached your eyes.

Jason was laughing about something—probably something stupid—and Skie was doing that thing she always did: nodding, trying to laugh too, trying to match the moment.

Conner couldn't watch anymore.

Conner's jaw clenched as he turned away, slamming his locker shut harder than necessary.

Skie, on the Other Side of That Year

Being Jason's girlfriend came with perks.

People started knowing her name. She sat with the cheerleaders even though she wasn't one. She got invited to parties, and was offered extra fries in the cafeteria line. And for a while, she convinced herself this was enough.

But it wasn't.

Jason wasn't who she thought he was. Behind the grin and swagger, he was controlling, possessive, sometimes cruel when no one was looking.

She didn't tell Conner. She couldn't.

He would've gone ballistic. Or worse,nhe would've looked at her differently.

Spring, Junior Year

Skie found out the truth like a punch to the chest.

Jason. With Kimari. Her own teammate. Her friend.

It happened behind the bleachers after a game. Someone filmed it. Sent it to her. No caption, just a silence that said here's the truth you were trying not to see.

Conner heard the yelling before he saw them. Kimari crying. Skie shaking with rage, fists clenched at her side.

He didn't know what to do.

So he just watched her walk away. Alone.

He hated this.

He hated that he couldn't say what he wanted to say. That he couldn't walk up to her, pull her aside, and just ask if she ever looked at him that way. If she could.

But he knew better.

Skie was soaring now. Popular. Beautiful. Dating his rival, no less — the guy who had laughed at Conner when he missed a crucial goal in gym sophomore year and called him "C+ Conner" ever since.

And what did Conner do?

He joined the football team. Out of spite. Out of rage. Out of this aching, restlessness needs to be seen.

Turned out, he was good. Really good.

By junior year, he was a starter. By senior fall, a star.

But it didn't matter.

Because no matter how many yards he ran or how many people cheered his name, the one person he wanted to notice — really see him — was too busy falling in and out of love with everyone but him.

Meanwhile, Dylan found a stage and finally breathed.

The theater was magic. It gave him a mask and a megaphone all at once. He could disappear and be seen at the same time.

He played shy princes and wicked lovers, wore glitter and eyeliner and fake blood, and for the first time in his life, he felt free.

Nobody cared who he liked as long as he could cry on cue and deliver lines like they were confessions.

And while Skie danced in popularity and Conner drowned in silent longing, Dylan finally started to live — quietly, beautifully, in the shadows.

Spring: Second Year of High School

It came out of nowhere.

Conner was walking past the art hall when he overheard Skie talking to Kimari — the one cheerleader she still talked to after "the incident."

"She said she didn't mean it," Skie said. "But how do you not mean to sleep with your friend's boyfriend?"

Conner froze.

Jason. Of course.

Kimari winced. "I'm sorry, Skie. That's... brutal."

Skie's voices dropped to a whisper. "I thought he loved me. I loved him."

Conner backed away slowly, his heart thudding in his throat.

Skie was single.

Skie was hurting.

And for some reason, that made him break up with his own girlfriend that night — a sweet girl named Amelia who didn't do anything wrong except not be Skie.

When she asked why, he gave her the truth.

"I don't think I've ever really been all in," he said softly. "And I think it's unfair to pretend anymore."

Amelia nodded, tears in her eyes, then walked away with dignity he didn't deserve.

A Week Later

Conner stood outside the theater doors, gripping his phone like it owed him answers. He couldn't go to Skie. Not like this. Not yet. Not while she was still bleeding.

So he went to the one person who'd always known him too well.

"Dylan," he said, slipping into the back of the auditorium.

Dylan was still in costume — some Elizabethan thing with a ruffled collar and smeared lipstick. He blinked when he saw Conner.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Never better...actually, No."

Dylan walked offstage, sat beside him. The room was empty except for the echo of their breath.

"I need to tell you something," Conner said.

"I already know."

Conner's eyes shot to his. "You do?"

Dylan smirked. "You're in love with Skie. Have been since puberty, maybe even before. You wear it like cologne."

"I never told anyone," Conner said, stunned.

"You didn't have to. The only two people who didn't know were you and her."

Conner leaned forward, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands.

"It hurts, man. It really hurts."

"I know."

"I thought when she was single again, I'd finally have a shot. But then I heard her saying she still loves Jason. After everything."

"Maybe she does," Dylan said. "And maybe she's lying to herself because that's easier than facing what's real. People do that. Especially when they're scared."

"What if I tell her and it ruins everything?"

Dylan looked at him, voice suddenly quiet. "What if you don't, and you spend the rest of your life wondering what would've happened if you had?"

Conner didn't have an answer.

All that lingered, was a growing storm in his chest.

Later That Night

He found Skie sitting on the bleachers behind the gym, hugging her knees to her chest. Her eyes were red.

"Hey," he said, climbing up beside her.

She didn't look at him, just sniffled. "I feel so stupid," she admitted.

"You're not stupid" I told her.

"I let him make me into someone I'm not."

"You're still you, Skie. You've always been you.

"I knew Jason was a jerk. I just didn't want to believe it. Why do I keep picking the wrong people?"

Conner sat in silence.

He wanted to say it then. I love you.

But her eyes were too sad.

So instead, he said, "I'm here. That's all. I'm here."

She leaned against him, head on his shoulder.

And Conner stared up at the sky, swallowing everything he couldn't say

She glanced at him. Something passed between them — raw, electric, uncertain.

But she was still healing. And he wasn't going to take advantage of that.

Wishing she already knew.