“When We Were Almost”
529 Words
It was never supposed to be love.
Just comfort.
But he looked at her like she was the last soft thing in his ruined world —
and she let him pretend he wasn’t already broken.
Chapter One — Rain Doesn’t Always Wash Things Away
She met him in the rain.
Elliot Grey.
The boy with bruised knuckles and a sketchbook full of things he never showed anyone.
June Rivera.
The girl who smiled too easily but cried when no one looked.
They weren’t friends.
They just sat on the same roof sometimes, listening to the sky break open.
One day he said:
“You’re the only person who doesn’t make my head loud.”
She didn’t know what to say.
So she said nothing.
And handed him half her cookie.
That was enough.
Chapter Two — He Only Loved Her on Tuesdays
They made a deal.
No labels.
No promises.
No “I love yous.”
Just Tuesday nights.
She’d sneak out, climb the fire escape, and they’d sit there —
watching stars that barely showed up.
He told her secrets he’d never even written down.
She played him songs that made her chest ache.
One night he kissed her.
Soft. Careful.
Like he was scared she’d disappear.
She kissed him back like she already knew he would.
Chapter Three — The World Always Wants to Ruin Something Soft
People started noticing.
June smiled more.
Elliot started drawing people again.
It was obvious.
But Elliot pulled away.
Every time she held his hand in daylight,
he dropped it like it burned.
“We’re not real,” he said.
“Then why does it hurt when you leave?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
She didn’t cry.
But that night, she didn’t climb the fire escape either.
And he didn’t sleep.
Chapter Four — She Fell First. He Fell Harder.
She tried to move on.
Went on dates. Laughed at stupid jokes.
Wore lip gloss he used to tease her about.
Elliot saw her once — holding someone else's hand.
He smiled.
Then punched a wall so hard, his fingers split open.
He didn’t call her.
Didn’t text.
But every Tuesday,
The roof was empty.
Waiting.
Final Chapter — Almost Was Always Enough Until It Wasn’t
The last time she saw him, it was raining.
Of course it was.
He was soaked. Shaking. Smiling like it hurt.
“I wanted to be better for you,” he said.
“But I’m not.”
She touched his face.
“I never asked you to be better.
I just asked you to stay.”
And he did —
for one more night.
They laid there, skin to skin,
hearts still pretending not to love.
And in the morning, he was gone.
But the sketchbook he never showed anyone?
It was there.
And every page was her.
Epilogue — Warmth in the Ruins
Years passed.
She forgot the boys’ names.
Forgot stupid promises.
But never Elliot.
Not the way he looked at her, like she saved him.
Just by sitting there.
And every time it rained,
She still left a cookie on the fire escape.
Just in case he came back.
The End.
- Writer
