CHAPTER 89: STALLING

Chapter 88

Ciel

I hate this.

Not being able to talk to him. Not looking at him without feeling the weight of everything we’re avoiding. Not the silence that’s been living between us like some stubborn ghost.

We need to talk.

Soon.

But... not now. Nolan’s got online classes. So... later.

At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

*

"Ciel!" Jack’s voice cuts through the house like some chaotic herald of bad decisions.

He tells me to come out to the balcony, but when I step outside, he’s nowhere in sight.

The air is warm, the ocean stretched out beyond the glass railing like it’s mocking me with how calm it is.

A few minutes later, the sliding door opens again.

Nolan steps out.

"Oh. Hey," he says softly, rubbing the back of his neck like he always does when he’s unsure of what to do with his hands. Or himself.

"Hi," I reply. And then the door clicks.

We both turn at the same time.

Jack.

The idiot is on the other side, grinning like the cat that got the cream. And then—he locks the doors.

"Jack." Nolan tries the handle. Nothing.

Jack gives a lazy wave, not an ounce of remorse in sight, and strolls away like he hasn’t just trapped us on the balcony.

I stare at the tiny round table and spot a basket neatly arranged with water bottles, snacks, fruits, and a folded blanket. And beside it, a note.

I pick it up.

"You guys are not leaving until you sort shit out.

– Jack♡

PS: I have everything you need. Food and beverages, a blanket to cuddle if you get cold... let’s just hope none of you will need to use the bathroom. If you do, I hope that’ll make you deal with whatever you have going on faster."

I blink.

The PS is longer than the actual note.

I hand it to Nolan, who reads it, expression shifting from disbelief to outrage in about five seconds.

"The asshole," he mutters.

"Yup," I say simply, because... yeah.

And then it happens.

The silence. The awkward silence.

I drop into one of the chairs, eyes fixed on the ocean stretching endlessly ahead. The breeze is soft, the kind that should feel peaceful, but it just makes the knot in my chest tighter.

I can feel Nolan standing awkwardly behind me, can practically hear his heartbeat thrumming too fast. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other like he’s not sure if he should sit or bolt.

I rest my chin in my palm and exhale slowly.

Jack’s a menace.

But maybe he’s not entirely wrong about this.

We do need to talk.

Eventually.

Nolan finally moves and sits on the other chair, stiff and unsure. He doesn’t look at me. I don’t look at him either.

The ocean is easier.

I grab a bottle of water, crack it open, and mumble, "Well... we’re not leaving until we talk, I guess."

He lets out a short, nervous laugh that doesn’t reach his eyes. "Yeah. Guess not."

"When did he even plan this?" I say with a forced laugh, motioning toward the basket of drinks and snacks on the tiny table.

"Right," Nolan echoes, laughing just as awkwardly.

I take a sip from the water, and Nolan decides on a box of grapes, picking one out like it’s suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

We’re both stalling. We know it.

The breeze from the ocean rolls over us, cool and salty, carrying distant waves against the rocks. It should’ve been peaceful. It used to be, when it was just the two of us out here, talking about nothing until the stars came out. But now it feels... wrong.

"This is stupid," I say at last, my voice quieter than I intended.

"Yeah," Nolan replies, staring at the table. "Really stupid."

***

Nolan

I don’t know how many minutes it’s been. Five? Ten?

I want to escape.

But I can’t.

Fuck Jack.

I plop another grape into my mouth and fix my eyes on the ocean, the waves rolling and crashing like they have all the time in the world. There’s no avoiding this conversation. Not today. Not with Jack’s little trap.

I sneak a glance at Ciel. His hair’s tied up in a loose ponytail, a few strands dancing against his cheek from the sea breeze. He’s so pretty it’s almost unfair.

Just then, he turns his head—our eyes meet—and we both snap our gazes away at the same time.

We exhale in perfect unison.

The ridiculousness of it cracks something in the tension; we both let out a small laugh, the sound awkward but real. It dies down slowly, and then Ciel turns fully to face me, leaning forward a little.

"No escaping this, is there?" he asks softly.

"I guess not," I say, setting the box of grapes down on the table like it’s a peace offering.

"Yeah," he murmurs, his eyes flicking down to his fingers. He’s fidgeting. That’s my sign. I’m the one who needs to start.

"I’m sorry," I say.

His head jerks up, his brows knitting together. "Huh?"

"I’m sorry... for avoiding you these past weeks." My voice comes out rougher than I intended. But it’s honest.

His expression softens immediately. "I can’t put it all on you when I’ve been the same," he says quietly. "I’m sorry too."

"So..." I start, and then trail off because, honestly, I don’t know what comes after ’sorry.’

"So..." he echoes with a small, unsure smile.

"God, this is more awkward than when I accidentally walked in on you masturbating," Ciel blurts.

I flinch like I’ve been electrocuted. "Ciel!"

He bursts into laughter, and I groan into my hands. "You promised not to bring that up."

"I’m sorry," he says between soft chuckles, trying to calm himself down. "It’s just—your face."

I peek at him through my fingers. "You’re evil."

"Are you still embarrassed? It’s been years," he teases.

"Ciel, please," I beg dramatically, covering my face again.

"Okay, okay, I won’t talk about it anymore," he says, though the smirk pulling at his lips betrays him.

I lower my hands slowly, but I’m smiling too—helplessly, stupidly. The tension that’s been strangling us for weeks loosens just a little. It’s not fixed. Not yet.

But this... this feels like us again.