Chapter 7: Fractured Moments
759 Words
A Familiar Distance
Jamie hadn’t expected the night to stretch this long.
He sat on Alex’s couch, fingers loosely wrapped around the glass of whiskey he hadn’t taken more than a few sips from. The quiet between them was oddly comfortable, yet every now and then, it would shift—crackling like static, waiting for something to break it.
Alex sat on the opposite end, one arm draped over the back of the couch, watching Jamie in that careful way he always had. As if he was still trying to figure him out.
"You still drink your coffee with too much sugar?" Alex asked suddenly.
Jamie huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah. You still pretend to like black coffee?"
Alex smirked. "Gotta maintain the image."
Jamie rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
How many years had passed, and yet they still fell into the same rhythm, the same easy back-and-forth? It was strange how time could stretch and pull people apart, yet some things still remained.
But no matter how normal this all seemed on the surface, Jamie couldn’t shake the feeling that something still sat between them.
Something unfinished.
And Alex knew it too.
That’s why Jamie finally asked, "Why did you ask me to come here, Alex?"
Alex’s smirk faded. He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face.
"Because," he said, voice quieter now, "I needed to know if it was still there."
Jamie frowned. "If what was still there?"
Alex met his gaze.
"Us."
The word hit Jamie harder than he expected.
His fingers tightened around his glass, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say.
Alex had always been blunt, but this? This was something else.
"And?" Jamie finally asked, his throat dry.
Alex didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the ice swirling in his drink, as if trying to find the right words.
"I don’t know yet," he admitted.
Jamie let out a breath, unsure if that answer was better or worse than the one he had been expecting.
---
Flashback: The Last Message
Sixteen years old.
Jamie had been sitting at his desk, staring at the email draft for what felt like hours.
Hey, Alex. Hope you’re settling in. Things are the same here. Boring without you, though.
He hesitated.
Deleted the sentence.
Rewrote it.
Do you think we’ll still be talking in five years? Ten?
Delete.
Rewrite.
I miss you.
His fingers hovered over the send button.
Then his computer crashed.
The screen flickered, went black. When he restarted it, the email was gone.
And so was his connection to Alex.
He tried to remember Alex’s email address.
Tried different combinations.
Tried calling, but the number had changed.
Days turned into weeks.
Weeks turned into months.
And eventually, Jamie stopped trying.
Because at some point, he figured Alex had probably stopped waiting.
---
Back to the Present
Jamie glanced at Alex now, watching the way he swirled the whiskey in his glass.
"Did you ever wonder what happened?" Jamie asked. "Why I stopped writing?"
Alex’s jaw tensed. "Of course I did."
Jamie leaned forward. "Then why didn’t you reach out?"
Alex set his glass down. "Because I thought you moved on."
Jamie clenched his jaw. "I lost your email, Alex. I tried to find it, but—"
Alex let out a dry laugh. "That’s it? That’s why we stopped talking?"
Jamie exhaled sharply. "Yeah. That’s it."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Alex ran a hand through his hair, exhaling a sharp breath. "You have no idea how much I hated you for disappearing."
Jamie’s stomach twisted. "And you have no idea how much I hated myself for it."
Another silence.
Then, softer, Alex asked, "Do you regret it?"
Jamie hesitated.
"Every damn day," he admitted.
Alex’s gaze dropped to the table. His fingers tapped against the glass, his expression unreadable.
"Yeah," Alex murmured. "Me too."
And somehow, that confession felt heavier than anything else.
---
The Weight of the Past
They sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity.
Jamie’s chest felt tight, like there was something else he should be saying.
He set his glass down. "I never stopped thinking about you, you know."
Alex looked up at him, eyes unreadable. "Yeah?"
Jamie swallowed, nodding. "Yeah."
Alex leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Then tell me, Jamie—why does it feel like we’re still years apart?"
Jamie had no answer for that.
Because maybe Alex was right.
Maybe no matter how close they sat, some things couldn’t be undone.
- Writer
