Glimpses
1057 Words
There was a quiet shift after the charity walk.
Not the kind that announces itself loudly, but the subtle kind — like the moment when winter starts giving way to spring and you don’t quite realize the snow has melted until flowers are suddenly blooming at your feet.
Elliot and Jace had returned to their usual rhythm — or something close to it. They were texting again, grabbing lunch at the usual spot by the student center, meeting for group projects. But beneath the surface, something had changed. Their silences weren’t awkward anymore. They were thoughtful. Charged. Full of possibility.
For Elliot, it started with a glance.
He’d gone to one of Jace’s basketball practices, mostly out of boredom. He sat in the bleachers with a coffee in hand and watched as Jace moved across the court, all strength and focus and effortless grace. The way he laughed with teammates. The way he wiped the sweat from his brow, flashing a crooked grin at something Coach had said.
Elliot had seen him like that a hundred times before. But this time, he looked... different.
More than handsome. More than athletic.
Beautiful.
And that realization settled in Elliot’s chest with a strange warmth — like a song he hadn’t realized he knew the words to.
—
For Jace, it was a moment at the library.
He found Elliot in his usual spot — corner table, laptop open, surrounded by books, a steaming coffee by his elbow. His glasses had slipped down the bridge of his nose, and he was muttering under his breath as he typed, the world tuned out completely.
Jace had paused mid-step.
It wasn’t new, this image. But something about it struck him — the way Elliot bit the corner of his lip when he was focused, the way he adjusted his glasses without looking up, the way his brow furrowed when he got lost in his thoughts.
He was brilliant.
And cute, in a way Jace hadn’t quite allowed himself to think before.
He sat down across from him, and Elliot barely noticed.
“You’re in your zone,” Jace said, smirking.
Elliot blinked up. “Huh? Oh. Sorry, I didn’t see you.”
“I can tell,” Jace said. “You looked like a mad scientist over here.”
Elliot rolled his eyes but smiled, pushing his notes aside. “What brings you to the temple of knowledge?”
Jace leaned back in his chair. “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”
Elliot’s fingers froze mid-turn of a page. He looked up, caught off-guard.
Jace faltered for a split second. “I mean — see if you were still alive. You’ve been MIA again.”
Elliot let out a small laugh, but something in his chest fluttered.
They went quiet, both suddenly aware of how close they were sitting. How easy it was to fall back into conversation. How their eyes lingered a little longer than before.
—
A few days later, Ava invited them both to a movie night in her apartment. Just the three of them — like old times, she said. No pressure.
But something felt different about this reunion.
Ava picked a romantic comedy, one of those sweet, predictable ones where the best friends fall in love after years of not realizing it. Elliot sat on one end of the couch, Jace on the other. Ava curled up in a blanket between them.
They laughed at the cheesy lines, threw popcorn at each other during the slow parts, and teased the plot relentlessly. But somewhere near the third act, when the two leads finally kissed in the rain, Elliot glanced across Ava — and his eyes met Jace’s.
Jace was already looking at him.
Neither looked away.
It was only for a second. But in that second, something passed between them — a current. A question.
Could it be us?
Later, when they were helping Ava wash dishes, Jace leaned in and whispered, “That movie was ridiculous.”
Elliot smiled. “Yeah. But kind of nice, too.”
Jace met his gaze again. “Yeah.”
—
Over the following week, the moments kept coming. Small, almost forgettable, if not for how deeply they stuck.
A shared laugh that went on too long. A hand brushing against the other on a park bench. A sleepy smile exchanged across a cafeteria table.
One evening, after a late-night study session, Jace offered to walk Elliot back to his dorm.
“You don’t have to,” Elliot said, pulling on his scarf.
“Yeah, but I want to,” Jace replied, hands in his pockets.
They walked in silence through the campus quad, the moonlight catching on the frost-covered grass. Elliot kept his eyes forward, but his pulse was loud in his ears.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jace said suddenly, his voice low.
Elliot looked up. “About what?”
“Us,” he said, glancing sideways. “You and me.”
Elliot’s heart stumbled.
Jace hesitated, then added, “Ever wonder what it would’ve been like... if we hadn’t both liked Ava?”
Elliot nodded slowly. “Yeah. I have.”
Jace stopped walking, and Elliot turned to face him.
“I think,” Jace said carefully, “I was so focused on chasing something with her, I didn’t realize I was running away from something else.”
Elliot’s breath caught. “Like what?”
Jace’s eyes were steady. “Like how I feel when I’m around you.”
The silence between them stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.
It was full.
Elliot stepped a little closer. “Jace...”
“I’m not saying anything has to happen,” Jace said quickly. “I just needed you to know I see it now. I see you. And I don’t want to ignore it anymore.”
Elliot looked at him — at the boy who’d once felt like a rival, then a best friend, now something else entirely.
And in that quiet moment, he smiled.
“I’m glad you said it.”
—
They didn’t kiss. Not yet.
But they stood there for a long time under the stars, the air crisp around them, something unspoken settling between them — soft, electric, real.
They didn’t know where it was going.
But they knew, finally, where it was beginning.
- Writer
