The Truth Sounds Like Silence

I wish I could say things went back to normal the next morning. That I woke up and didn't immediately think of the way Tyler's breath caught in his throat when I came in his hand. That I didn't dream about the way his fingers curled around my wrist like I was something breakable.

But I did.

I wake up tangled in sheets that smell like regret and shampoo and him.

And he's not there.

For a moment, I think I made it up. That I imagined the entire thing. That the almost kiss, the whispered words, the hesitation, all of it was just some fever dream cooked up by a very confused teenage brain.

Then I find the sweatshirt. His sweatshirt. On my chair.

I sit up, heart tripping.

Right. So it did happen.

But now what?

I drag myself through the morning. Shower. Clothes. Teeth. Except every brushstroke against my tongue feels too slow, like I'm waiting. For him to knock. For him to barge in which is something that is normal to him.

He doesn't.

I don't see him until the kitchen.

He's there first, leaning against the counter, holding a mug like it might give him answers if he stares at it hard enough. His hair's still damp. Shirt wrinkled. But his face..his face is unreadable.

Tyler looks at me for two seconds. Then looks away.

And just like that, I'm a ghost.

"Morning," I say, cautious.

"Hey," he mutters.

Hey.

After last night, all I get is hey?

"I slept okay," I say, because sarcasm is safer than emotion. "Thanks for asking. You?"

He sips his coffee.

Cool.

I want to throw something.

I want to smash something too.

But instead I reach for a banana and try not to scream.

He finally speaks. "So, uh... about last night."

I held my breath.

"What about it?" I say, too fast.

"I just..I didn't mean to make things weird."

Oh.

Weird? That's what this is now?

He fidgets, doesn't meet my eyes. "It's just.. I guess I got caught up in the moment. You looked... I mean, it was intense."

"No shit," I mutter.

He flinches.

"It's not like I didn't enjoy it," he says quickly. "I did. You..God, Ben, you drive me crazy."

My heart lurches.

"But?" I ask, because of course there's a but.

"But maybe we rushed it."

I stare at him. My mouth is dry. "You mean you regret it."

"No! Not..." He rubs the back of his neck. "I just think we should talk. Before it happens again."

Before.

Again.

That one word sinks into me. Both a promise and a threat.

"We talked," I say quietly. "With our hands."

He almost laughs. Almost. But doesn't.

And I realize he's scared. Not of me. Not of what we did. But of what it meant.

So I do what I always do.

I shut down.

"Fine," I say. "Let's pretend it didn't happen. Easier that way."

He opens his mouth. Closes it again. "Ben.."

"Don't," I snap. "Let's just get through breakfast without a therapy session."

He swallows hard. Nods.

We eat in silence.

Again.

At school, Dan immediately senses my murder aura.

"Who died?" he asks, flopping into the seat next to me.

"Me. Emotionally."

"Did Tyler do something stupid?"

"Define stupid."

"Break your heart, run over your cat, or call you 'bro' after a handjob?"

I sigh.

"Jesus," Dan mutters. "He did the bro thing, didn't he?"

"He wants to talk."

"Oh ooh."

I let my head fall onto the desk.

Dan pats my back like I'm a war victim.

"You gonna be okay?"

"I don't know."

Later that day, Tyler corners me in the locker hallway.

"Can we talk? Please?"

I glance around. Too many people. Too many eyes.

"My room. After dinner."

His shoulders drop, relieved. "Okay."

I nod once and walk away.

After dinner, I pace around my room.

Why did I agree to this?

I don't think I can handle another talk.

He knocks.

I let him in. But I don't sit.

"I've been thinking," he says, sitting on the edge of my bed. "About what you said. About pretending it didn't happen."

"And?"

"I don't want to pretend."

I fold my arms. "Could've fooled me this morning."

He winces. "I panicked. You make me nervous and..."

"Cool. Glad I'm such a terrifying presence."

I say not letting him finish whatever he was about to say.

"That's not what I mean." He stands now too. "this means something, doesn't it?"

I hesitate.

"Ben."

I bite my cheek. "Of course it does."

Relief washes over his face.

"But I'm scared," I admit.

He steps closer. "Me too."

There's a long silence.

Then I ask it.

"Who's Brayan?"

His face drains of color.

"I found a note. Slipped under the door."

He doesn't speak.

"It said, 'You don't know the truth about Brayan.' And then..." I pull the paper from my drawer and show him "it said to ask you."

His hands shake as he takes it.

"I...I was hoping this wouldn't come up yet."

"Too late."

He looks up at me. And in that second, he's not cocky Tyler. He's vulnerable Tyler, if that makes sense.

"You remember when we were kids?" he asks. "You had a friend. Someone older. Who used to walk you home."

I freeze.

"Brayan," I whisper.

"He was my brother."

The world tilts.

"What?"

"My half brother. From my dad's side. He didn't live with us, but he came around sometimes. I didn't know he knew you."

My throat goes dry.

"What happened to him?"

Tyler closes his eyes. "He died."

The word cracks in the air like thunder.

"How?"

"Suicide. A few years ago."

I can't breathe.

"I didn't know you knew him until I saw that picture on your dresser. You and him. I recognized his hoodie."

I sit down, hard.

"I tried to forget," I whisper. "He was the first person who ever made me feel safe."

Tyler kneels in front of me. "Ben, I swear, I didn't know. Not until recently. And then when I found out, I didn't know how to tell you."

Tears burn behind my eyes. "Why would someone send a note like that?"

"I don't know. But Brayan... he had secrets. Maybe someone's trying to stir up the past."

I press my hands to my face. "Everything's a mess." it's like the universe is against my peace of mind or something.

He touches my knee, gentle. "Not everything."

I look at him.

And for the first time, I see it,real fear in his eyes. Not just for me. But for us.

He pulls me into a hug.

And I let him.

That night, I don't sleep.

My mind spins with images. Brayan's smile. Tyler's confession. The note.

Who left it?

Why now?

And what truth about Brayan don't I know?

As I stare at the ceiling, I hear a creak.

Then the door to my room opens.

Tyler.

He closes it softly behind him.

"I couldn't sleep," he says.

"Me neither."

He sits on the bed beside me.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," he whispers.

I nod. "I know."

We sit in silence.

Then he lies back, beside me. Our shoulders touching.

Nothing else.

But somehow, it's more intimate than anything we've done.

And in that silence, something else blooms.

Not lust.

Not confusion.

But the terrifying, slow realization That this might be something real.