Chapter 8:
Elias didn't speak to Rowan the next day. Not because he was angry. Because he was terrified.
He walked through the halls like a ghost—smiling when spoken to, laughing at the right moments. But inside, he was unraveling. The text from Rowan was still unread in the notification center. Not deleted. Just… avoided. Like all the other feelings Elias couldn't afford to name.
In AP English, Mrs. Hargrove announced that they'd be writing personal essays for the next two weeks.
"Pick a moment that changed you," she said. "Something honest. Something raw."
Elias stared down at his notebook.
All he could write was Rowan's name.
Rehearsal that afternoon was tense.
They were blocking Act 3, the moment Romeo defies fate. The moment everything spirals.
"You're holding back," Mr. Kessler said to Elias. "It's not just about saying the lines—it's about meaning them."
Elias nodded. "Got it."
Rowan didn't say anything. Just offered a quiet look that said: Talk to me.
After rehearsal, Elias was gathering his things when Rowan finally approached.
"You mad at me?"
Elias looked up. "No."
"Then why are you shutting me out?"
"I'm not."
You are.
"I just need space."
That's not true.
"I'm fine."
You're breaking.
Rowan exhaled and sat beside him, far enough not to scare him, close enough not to be ignored.
"You know," Rowan said softly, "you don't have to keep pretending."
"I'm not."
"You are. You smile like it's armor. You agree with everyone so no one looks too closely. But I do."
Elias froze.
Rowan continued. "And the thing is, I don't need you to be perfect. I just need you to be real."
Silence settled between them like dust.
"I can't," Elias whispered finally.
"Why not?"
"Because if I am… I lose everything."
Rowan was quiet for a long time. Then, just as softly: "Or maybe you finally start to gain something."
That night, Elias's mom found his rehearsal schedule tucked into his backpack. She lingered on the words stage kiss scribbled in the margins.
"What's this?" she asked.
Elias swallowed. "Blocking notes."
She didn't say anything. Just walked out of the room with a silence that felt colder than screaming.
The next morning, Elias found a pamphlet slipped into his Bible.
HEALING FROM SEXUAL CONFUSION: God's Plan for Restoration.
No one signed it. But he didn't need them to.
At school, he threw it in the trash.
And this time, when someone snickered "Romeo likes boys," Elias turned around and said flatly, "So?"
They didn't have an answer.
Neither did he. But for the first time, he wasn't afraid of the question.
Later that day, Elias found Rowan in the theater, sitting cross-legged on the stage, alone. He looked up when Elias walked in.
"You okay?" Rowan asked.
"No," Elias said.
Then he sat beside him, knees touching.
"I read your text," Elias said. "Every word. I just didn't know how to answer."
"You just did."
Elias nodded.
Then, in the quiet of the empty stage, he leaned his head on Rowan's shoulder.
They didn't kiss.
They didn't need to.
But in that stillness, Elias felt something shift.
A crack in the wall.
A breath he didn't know he'd been holding.
A future he hadn't let himself imagine.
Yet.