Saffron takes a side step closer to her and in an unsure tone goes “soooo…you two are dating huh” he looks over at Nate in the distance “…but it’s only for the cameras” he begins scratching his head, looking confused “…but you did kiss him before.” He turns to her “Do you like him for real??”
A silence takes over for a second
“Don’t get me wrong! It’s not my business! …but you look at him like you do” (f1 au)
⟡ ݁. ⊹ ₊ ݁ unprompted ✦ @elllano ₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡
She should not be here. The air feels too tight in her lungs, too aware of the space she occupies; caught between what was and what is. It would be easier to slip away, to fold into some quiet corner where no one expects anything of her. It would be easier to vanish. But she does not.
Instead, she lingers at the edge of the track casually, watching Nate ready himself for training. She keeps careful distance, mindful and small, as if even her shadow might give Atlas reason to push him harder. She tells herself she’s only being practical. Sensible. Following the plan. It has nothing to do with the way her gaze softens when Nate laughs at something a teammate says, or how her shoulders relax when she sees he looks well.
She almost startles out of her skin when Saffron speaks.
❝Saffron?❞ Her voice catches, wide eyes lifting to meet his. The panic fades quickly, he’s harmless, warm in that bright, unassuming way. But his question lingers heavier than she expects. ...Do you like him for real?
She turns her face away at first, as if the answer might spill out visibly if she isn’t careful. Silence stretches between them. She hides inside it for a moment, because quiet is safer. But her cheeks warm anyway, blooming pink, and she knows she has never been very good at hiding the gentler things.
Her gaze drifts back toward the track, toward the familiar shape of her glimpse of sunshine beneath the morning sun.
❝I do,❞ she says at last. The smile that follows is small and tremulous, but real. ❝ I really like him. ❞
There is something almost reverent in the way she says it, no drama, no grand declaration. Just a simple truth she carries carefully in both hands.
Then her eyes flick back to Saffron, suddenly earnest. ❝But you can’t tell him. Please. You can’t talk about it with anyone.❞ True, some others already know. Secrets like this rarely stay perfectly contained, no matter how gently they’re held. But the more it’s spoken aloud, the thinner it becomes. The easier it is for a passing ear to catch a single piece and twist it into something dangerous.
It isn’t shame. It’s caution. It’s the understanding that feelings, once spoken too loudly, can be twisted into something sharp.
She draws in a small breath, now is not the time for long winded explanations. Now is not the time to explain the past, the hurt, the way affection doesn’t disappear just because it’s inconvenient.
❝ It’s complicated, ❞ she murmurs, not dismissive, not evasive, just tired in that quiet way that comes from holding too much history in a fragile heart.
