When the Words Don’t Come

"Sometimes love doesn't fix you. It just sits with you while you learn how to begin again."

Midterms had arrived, and campus felt like a ticking clock.

The quad buzzed with nerves—students in hoodies carrying armfuls of books, study groups camped out in libraries, vending machines emptied by 10 a.m. Yuna could barely hear herself think through the chaos of deadlines and expectations.

She hadn't seen Eli in two days.

Not because of anything bad. Just… life. School. Exhaustion.

But that didn't stop the ache in her chest from growing.

They were still talking—soft texts throughout the day. Quick notes. Little emojis. But something about the silence between them felt different this time. Like a pause that wasn't restful.

That evening, Yuna sat in the library long after the sun went down. She hadn't written anything in two days, and her study notes were starting to blur together.

Her chest felt tight. She stared at her laptop screen, fingers frozen above the keys.

She couldn't focus.

Couldn't think.

She just felt… hollow.

When she finally made it home, she found Mina curled on the couch in sweats, hair in a messy bun, surrounded by flashcards.

"You look like you fought death and lost," Mina said cheerfully.

"I think I'm disappearing."

"Is that your poetic way of saying you're burnt out?"

Yuna dropped her bag. "I haven't written. I haven't studied properly. I haven't even seen Eli in days."

"So… human things."

"I hate feeling like this."

Mina set down her flashcards. "Yuna, you don't have to be poetic all the time. You're allowed to have days where nothing feels beautiful. You're allowed to just be tired."

Yuna collapsed beside her. "I feel disconnected."

"From Eli?"

"From everything."

Mina was quiet.

Then she said, "Text him. Or better yet, don't. Show up. You're braver when you don't overthink it."

Yuna showed up.

At Mocha Moon, just before closing.

Eli was wiping down the counters when she walked in. He looked up—surprised, but not startled.

"Hey."

She stood there a second too long before walking over.

"Hi."

He glanced at the clock. "You okay?"

"I don't know."

He wiped his hands on a towel and rounded the counter. "Talk to me."

Yuna took a slow breath.

"I've been overwhelmed," she admitted. "I don't know why I didn't tell you. I guess I thought you were dealing with enough. And I didn't want to seem like I was falling apart again."

Eli was silent for a beat.

Then: "You're allowed to fall apart. You don't need permission to need someone."

She lowered her eyes. "I didn't want to scare you off."

"You're not a burden, Yuna."

The way he said it—so gentle, so certain—it made her eyes sting.

"But I feel like I'm failing," she whispered.

Eli stepped forward, slowly wrapping his arms around her.

"You're not failing. You're just tired."

She pressed her face into his shoulder.

"I hate when the words won't come."

"Then don't force them. Let them rest. They'll come back."

They stood like that until the café lights flickered off.

Outside, it had started to rain.

Yuna tilted her head back, letting the drops fall against her cheeks.

Eli watched her quietly.

"You know what I'm scared of?" he said suddenly.

She looked at him.

"I'm scared I'll mess this up. That I won't know how to show up in the right way. That I'll do something small, and it'll feel big, and you'll leave."

Yuna stepped closer.

"You think I don't feel that too?"

They stared at each other under the flickering streetlamp, rain soaking into their clothes.

"I don't need perfect," she said. "I just need real."

He took her face in his hands.

"I'm real," he whispered. "And I'm trying."

"Me too."

Then they kissed—slow, steady, rain falling between them like punctuation marks to the words they couldn't say.

It wasn't cinematic.

It was soaked.

Breathless.

Messy.

And real.

Back at her apartment, Yuna dried off, changed into warm pajamas, and opened her notebook again.

And for the first time in days, she wrote:

"Loving you isn't a solution.It's a soft place to landwhile I find my way back to myself."

The next morning, Eli showed up outside her class building with a paper bag and coffee.

"For the burnout monster," he said, holding them out.

She smiled.

"You stayed," she said softly.

"I will."