Long before Silas, long before high school hallways felt so isolating, there was Clea.
It was junior high, and Rae was still figuring out the strange edges of herself, where she fit, what she felt, and who she was supposed to be. She had a boy she talked to, someone who liked her in the straightforward way that boys often do. But it was Clea who lingered in Rae's thoughts longer than anyone else.
Clea was her best friend. They shared everything, laughter that spilled like rain, secrets whispered between notebook pages, fingers that brushed just a second too long. On a school trip, Rae watched her under the dim gold of sunset light, hair catching the wind, smile blooming effortlessly. And something stirred.
A quiet awe.A soft ache.A thought she hadn't dared say out loud:"If I were a boy… I would've asked her out right there."
But Rae wasn't, and so the feeling stayed—untouched, folded neatly, hidden between friendship and confusion.
_
Back in the present, the school auditorium had been transformed. What used to echo with announcements and dull assemblies now breathed with color and light, canvases lined up like quiet souls waiting to be seen. It was the art exhibition Rae had dreamt of joining since the first day she stepped into this unfamiliar school.
And there she was, standing in it, a part of it. Her name printed neatly beside her work. She should've felt proud. She should've felt something.
Silas was a few feet away, speaking to one of the teachers, her dark hair pulled back in that loose way Rae had grown used to seeing. The memory of their arguments still buzzed faintly in Rae's chest, those endless disagreements over palettes, themes, brush strokes. They had fought more than they had agreed. Yet here they were, side by side in the same exhibition.
The exhibition wasn't the end. There was still one more piece to finish, a final project due that same day, as if the universe hadn't quite let Rae and Silas part ways just yet.
They agreed to meet in one of the empty classrooms after the crowd had thinned out, the kind of classroom that felt suspended in time, desks slightly crooked, whiteboard still bearing half-erased notes, the faint scent of marker ink in the air.
Rae walked in and stopped short.
Silas was already there. So was a boy. He was perched casually on the edge of a desk, leaning in close as Silas spoke. Something about their posture, the way Silas smiled with her eyes, the way his presence filled the space, made Rae feel like a stranger stepping into someone else's room.
She'd seen him around before, maybe once or twice in the hallway. He had that kind of face, easygoing, familiar. But it was the comfort between him and Silas that made something coil tightly in Rae's stomach.
"Hey," Silas greeted, looking up. Not cold, not warm. Just neutral.
Rae gave a short nod and walked toward the table, setting down her sketchbook. "So, are we doing this?" Her voice was clipped, dry—too dry, maybe, even for her. Silas didn't react. The boy stayed, like he belonged there, like he had a reason to stay. And maybe he did.
But Rae suddenly wished he didn't.
Rae stood there for a moment longer, the weight of the room pressing against her ribs. The boy's laughter mingled with Silas's voice, soft and low, like the kind you only use when you're comfortable. Rae didn't say anything else. She just quietly turned around, walked out, and let the door click shut behind her.
The hallway outside was mostly quiet now, stripped of the earlier energy from the exhibition. Rae wandered until she found a bench near the window, half-shadowed, half-lit, and let herself fall into it, limbs heavy, thoughts heavier. She lay back, eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling like they might offer answers.
Since when were they that close?It wasn't anger, not really. It was more of a silent confusion, the kind that grows when someone you think you know starts becoming someone you don't. Still, as she stared at the fading light filtering through the glass, a faint thought crossed her mind, a quiet relief, like a thread of calm tugging through the storm. At least Silas wasn't completely alone in the world anymore. She had already found someone.
Even if she didn't fully understand what that meant yet.
Rae came back later, after the ache in her chest had quieted into something manageable. The door was still slightly ajar when she returned, and they were still there, Silas and the boy, talking in lowered voices, laughing at something Rae couldn't hear.
She didn't step in right away. Instead, she stood there for a breath too long, then pulled out her phone and quietly snapped a photo, not for any reason she could explain. Just to prove to herself that it had happened, that the closeness she saw wasn't something her mind had made up.
A moment later, the boy stood up, grabbing his bag.
Tobey: (casually, giving Silas a little wave) "I'm gonna head back to the auditorium, text me later, yeah?"
Silas: (with a small smile) "Yeah."
Rae stepped in just as he passed by her, and she caught the faint scent of his cologne, warm and too confident. She didn't waste time.
Rae: (calm, but not soft) "You seem close."
Silas: (a little caught off guard) "What?"
Rae: "That guy. You and him. When did that happen?"
Silas: "What do you mean?"
Rae: "Are you dating?"
Silence. It stretches too long.
Rae: (shrugs, trying to sound offhand)"It's just… people would say that's not something 'just friends' do. You looked... close."
Silas doesn't reply right away.
The tension hung in the air for a moment longer, thick and unspoken. But then, like most things between them, it didn't explode—it just... settled. They both knew they had work to finish. So without saying much, Silas pulled out her sketchbook, Rae grabbed a brush, and they slipped back into the rhythm that had always been there beneath the static: two minds, clashing and syncing at once.
As they worked, the conversation began to loosen. It started with small things—class schedules, teachers they couldn't stand, music they'd been listening to lately. Then it wandered, like it always did, into weirder places. Old childhood memories. Dreams they'd had but never told anyone.
Rae: (still focused on shading the edge of the canvas) "I hate the idea of people coming and going."
Silas: (pausing mid-sketch) "What do you mean?"
Rae: "Just… people who were once everything, and then suddenly they're not even around anymore. Like they vanish. And no one explains why."
Silas: "Someone from before?"
Rae: "Junior high. Her name was Clea. We were close—closer than I realized at the time." (beat) "And then high school happened, and we drifted. I guess I never really made peace with it."
Silas doesn't speak right away, but the silence feels safe. Rae keeps her eyes on the canvas, like looking at Silas might make it too real.
Rae: "Have you ever had a girl crush?"
The air shifted—subtle, but enough for Rae to feel it. The kind of pause where breath gets caught somewhere halfway.
Silas: (after a moment, voice low) "Yeah."
Rae turned her head, eyes narrowing slightly—not in judgment, but surprise.
Rae: "Wait, seriously?"
Silas: (shrugs, still with that little amused smile) "Why do you sound shocked?"
Rae: "I mean... I didn't think you'd admit it. Who was it?"
Silas looked at her sketchbook, as if it might offer an escape.
Silas: "It was a long time ago."
Rae: "So?" (leaning in slightly, eyes narrowing with half-playful suspicion) "Now you have to tell me. Who, what, why."
Then Silas started to talk, quiet at first, like testing the weight of her own voice. But something about the way Rae listened, the way she didn't interrupt or flinch or fill the silence with awkward comfort, made the words come easier.
She told Rae everything. Things she hadn't said out loud before. How there were passing glances and half-formed feelings, moments that never fully landed but stayed with her anyway. How she'd always dismissed it as admiration, until it stopped feeling like that. Until it made her nervous. Excited. Confused.
Rae sat still, not out of shock, but out of something quieter, something close to recognition. She knew what it meant for someone to share this kind of secret. Especially when you were still unsure about everything, about labels, feelings, the way people might look at you differently once it's out. People don't talk like this unless they feel safe.
And for the first time that day, Rae felt something soften in her chest, not because Silas had let her in, but because she had chosen to.
They kept talking. The heavy stuff slowly melted into lighter things, shared jokes, half-finished doodles on the corner of their sketchbooks, and eventually, Silas offered Rae one of her earbuds.
"Want to hear what I've been listening to lately?" she asked, already opening her playlist.
Rae nodded, and soon the soft hum of music filled the quiet classroom. At first, it was just mellow indie tracks, the kind Rae didn't know well but liked instantly. Then came a few names she'd seen online, artists people whispered about in certain circles. Singers who wore queerness on their sleeves.
Rae didn't say anything. Maybe Silas just liked the music. That's what Rae told herself.
Until one song came on. A slow, dreamy voice sang gently into their ears: "I wanna kiss your lips in the backseat of your car…"
Their eyes met.
And immediately, awkward panic.
Rae: (yanked out the earbud, face flushed)"Okay—nope, skip that one. Too weird."
Silas: (already laughing, fumbling with her phone) "Sorry, sorry! I didn't even think—"
They both dissolved into startled giggles, cheeks burning, as if the song had said something neither of them had the courage to yet.
The music kept playing, quieter now, and they stayed there, shoulders almost touching, words running out but silence feeling strangely okay. Time blurred until the light outside dimmed into dusk, the hallway beyond the glass walls emptied out, and it was just the two of them left.
Then a knock.
A flashlight beam cut into the room as the security guard peeked in. His brow furrowed for a second, eyes scanning the scene, two figures alone after hours.
Security: "Hey! What are you two still doing here?"
Rae sat up quickly. The guard squinted at her.
Security: "Wait... are you a boy?"
Silas burst out laughing. Rae, utterly stunned, ran a hand through her short hair and mumbled,
Rae: "No, I'm not."
The guard looked embarrassed, muttered something about locking up, and disappeared down the hall.
And then they just lost it, both of them laughing so hard Rae had to cover her face, Silas wiping tears from her eyes. It wasn't even that funny. But somehow, in that moment, it was everything.