Lingering between us

“The silence night”

Ethan stood in the middle of the room for a moment after the door clicked shut. No background noise. No Milo humming off-key. No distractions.

And no Nathan.

He checked his phone out of habit.

No new messages.

He swallowed.

He didn’t have any classes that day — rehearsal had been the only thing on his schedule. The rest of the hours stretched in front of him like empty staff lines waiting for notes.

He grabbed his hoodie and headed out.

The evening air was cool, tinged with the smell of street food and traffic. The sky was painted in deep orange fading into indigo. Ethan shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked toward the small café a few streets away — the one he and Nathan used to visit after long practice sessions.

He hesitated outside the door.

It felt strange coming alone.

Inside, the café buzzed with low conversation and the soft clink of cutlery. Ethan ordered something simple — rice and grilled chicken — barely tasting it as he ate. His thoughts drifted.

Nathan had leaned so close earlier in rehearsal.

Close enough that Ethan had caught the faint scent of his cologne — clean, subtle, familiar.

Close enough that Ethan had almost said it.

Stay.

He exhaled slowly.

“Pathetic,” he muttered to himself, pushing food around his plate.

He replayed the moment in the rehearsal room — the way Nathan’s voice softened when he said, Trust yourself this time.

Did he mean it like that?

Or was Ethan just reading into everything?

He paid for his meal and stepped back outside. The sky was darker now, streetlights flickering to life one by one.

He walked slowly.

Too slowly.

As if stretching time meant he wouldn’t have to return to the quiet dorm room.

When he finally reached home, the hallway lights buzzed faintly overhead. He unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Still quiet.

He dropped his bag on the chair and collapsed onto the couch, staring at the ceiling.

This was the dangerous part.

The silence.

Because in silence, his mind got louder

Ethan sat on the edge of his bed, the dim glow of his desk lamp casting long shadows across his notebook. The day’s rehearsal replayed in his mind like a loop he couldn’t escape — Nathan correcting the phrasing, the subtle brush of his sleeve when he leaned over the sheet music, the way he watched Ethan sing as if the world didn’t exist beyond that moment.

His chest tightened, a confusing knot of warmth and unease. Why do I… feel this way? Ethan thought, biting his lip. He’s my best friend. We’ve known each other forever. But… why does my heart skip every time he looks at me? Why do I keep imagining things — holding his hand, sitting closer, even just hearing his voice a little too close to my ear?

He closed his eyes, trying to push it away. “It’s ridiculous,” he whispered. “I’m just… overthinking. Maybe it’s just admiration. Maybe it’s just… music. Nothing more.”

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

“Hey,” Milo’s voice called gently. “Can I come in?”

Ethan hesitated, then nodded. Milo stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning casually against the doorframe, but his expression was serious — the kind Milo reserved for rare, important conversations.

“You look like you’re plotting world domination,” Milo said lightly, though his eyes were warm and knowing. “Or… something else.”

Ethan groaned, burying his face in his hands. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated?” Milo repeated, tilting his head. “Come on, spill it. You can tell me anything.”

Ethan hesitated, swallowing hard. “It’s… Nathan. I… I think I like him. More than just… as a friend. But… I don’t know what that even means. I’m scared. I don’t want things to be weird. I don’t want to lose him.”

Milo’s expression softened. He leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee. “Ethan… first of all, it’s okay. It’s not weird. And you’re not broken or wrong or anything like that. People… fall for people, even their best friends. It happens. It’s messy, it’s confusing… but it’s normal.”

Ethan peeked through his fingers, uncertainty still in his eyes. “But… what if he doesn’t feel the same? What if I ruin everything?”

Milo shook his head gently. “Look, you can’t control how he feels. You can only be honest with yourself. And right now, you need to figure out what you actually feel. Because keeping it bottled up? That’s what ruins things — not being brave enough to admit the truth, at least to yourself.”

Ethan exhaled, the tension in his shoulders loosening slightly. “I just… I’ve never thought about liking someone like this. And it’s scary because it feels… everything. I can’t stop thinking about him. And… when I sing his songs, or when he’s standing there next to me… it’s like my chest is on fire.”

Milo smiled gently, a hand brushing against Ethan’s arm in reassurance. “Then it’s real. That’s your heart talking. And honestly? That fire? That’s not a problem. That’s… part of being alive. You just have to be honest with yourself about it. Accept it. Don’t beat yourself up for feeling something beautiful.”

Ethan closed his eyes, letting Milo’s words sink in. For the first time in hours, maybe even days, he allowed himself to breathe without guilt. He could admit it — even if only in the quiet of his room, with Milo as witness — that he liked Nathan. That it wasn’t just admiration.

Ethan seized this opportunity to open up to Milo about his feelings towards Nathan

Ethan stood near the window, arms crossed tightly over his chest as if he were holding himself together.

“Milo,” he said quietly.

Milo looked up from his phone immediately. He knew that tone. “Yeah?”

Ethan hesitated. His throat felt dry. He turned slightly, but not enough to fully face him.

“Can I ask you something?”

Milo sat up straighter. “Of course.”

There was a long pause.

Ethan swallowed.

“Is it… normal,” he began, voice barely above a whisper, “for a man to have feelings for another man?”

He emphasized the word, like it weighed something heavier than the rest of the sentence.

Milo didn’t react dramatically. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t look shocked.

He just watched Ethan carefully.

Ethan finally turned around, eyes conflicted.

“I mean,” he continued, voice trembling slightly, “I’m a man. He’s a man. That’s not how it’s supposed to work, right? I shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t look at him and—” He cut himself off, frustrated. “I shouldn’t feel anything.”

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t cold.

Milo stood up slowly and walked closer.

“Ethan,” he said gently, “who told you that?”

Ethan frowned. “What?”

“Who told you a man can’t love a man? Who decided what’s normal for your heart?”

Ethan looked down. “It just feels… wrong. Like I’m broken or confused. Like maybe I’m forcing something that shouldn’t exist.”

Milo’s voice softened even more. “You’re not broken.”

Ethan let out a shaky breath.

“But I’m a man,” he said again, almost stubbornly. “I’m supposed to like girls. That’s how it’s always been.”

“Supposed to?” Milo repeated quietly. “Since when does your heart follow rules written by other people?”

Ethan’s hands clenched slightly.

“I didn’t choose this,” he admitted. “I didn’t wake up and decide to like him. It just… happened. Every time he looks at me, every time he stands too close… I feel it. And I hate that I feel it.”

“Why do you hate it?” Milo asked softly.

“Because he’s a man,” Ethan whispered.

Milo stepped closer, standing directly in front of him now.

“And so are you,” Milo said. “That doesn’t make your feelings less real. It doesn’t make them wrong. It just makes them yours.”

Ethan’s eyes glistened faintly in the low light.

“I’m scared,” he admitted. “What if this changes everything? What if people see me differently? What if he sees me differently?”

Milo didn’t hesitate this time. He placed a steady hand on Ethan’s shoulder.

“Listen to me,” he said firmly but gently. “You are still Ethan. The same guy who sings like he’s pouring his soul out. The same guy who overthinks everything. The same guy who cares too much and loves too deeply.”

He squeezed his shoulder slightly.

“Liking a man doesn’t erase who you are. It doesn’t strip away your identity. It doesn’t make you less of a man.”

Ethan’s breath hitched slightly at that.

“You’re not less of a man because you love differently,” Milo continued. “If anything, you’re stronger for being honest about it.”

Silence filled the room again, but this time it felt warmer.

Ethan finally asked that had been burning in his chest.

“So… it’s normal?”

Milo smiled softly.

“It’s human.”

Ethan blinked.

“People love people,” Milo went on. “Sometimes it’s messy. Sometimes it doesn’t fit into neat little boxes. But it’s not unnatural. It’s not shameful. And it definitely doesn’t make you broken.”

Ethan’s shoulders slowly relaxed.

“And if he doesn’t feel the same?” Ethan asked quietly.

“Then it’ll hurt,” Milo admitted. “But that hurt won’t be because you’re wrong. It’ll just be because love is complicated.”

Ethan let out a long breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“For what it’s worth,” Milo added with a small teasing smile, “if I ever catch you calling yourself ‘not normal’ again, I’m confiscating your microphone privileges.”

A small laugh escaped Ethan’s lips.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

Milo shrugged lightly. “That’s what best friends are for. You don’t have to fight your heart alone.”

Ethan looked toward the window again, but this time the night didn’t feel so heavy.

He was still scared.

Still confused.

But he didn’t feel broken anymore.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the first step.