Halcyon

Strange how the days pass by, the memories we made faded away with time, life felt so continuous that pauses were totally forgotten. Yet, there we were — two people who used to share everything, now sitting side by side in complete silence.

Leon and Evelyn. Once inseparable. Now, just names that carried a weight neither of them could put down.

The sun spilled golden light over the cliffs as the group of friends unloaded the van. The ocean stretched out endlessly, waves crashing against the rocks below. Everyone buzzed with excitement for the day ahead — hiking, bonfires, and stories under the stars. But for Leon and Evelyn, the day stretched like an endless thread of what-ifs and words unsaid.

They sat next to each other on the ride to the coast. Evelyn by the window, her fingers tapping restlessly on her knee. Leon stared straight ahead, his jaw tense, listening to the hum of conversations around him but hearing nothing. Their shoulders almost touched when the van hit a bump, but both flinched as if burned.

They hadn't spoken in months. Not after that fight — the one neither of them dared to mention. The one that had snapped whatever fragile thread held them together.

On the trail, Evelyn walked with a group of girls, laughing a little too loudly. Leon stayed back, talking with the guys, pretending not to notice her glancing over her shoulder. Every time their eyes met, they looked away like strangers passing on a crowded street.

At the cliff’s edge, the group spread out, taking pictures and shouting into the wind. Leon stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at the horizon. Evelyn sat on a rock nearby, hugging her knees to her chest. They were close enough to speak — to say anything — but the silence between them was louder than the crashing waves.

By the time the bonfire crackled to life, the sky was streaked with violet and gold. Everyone else told stories, toasted marshmallows, and played music. Leon sat on one side of the fire, Evelyn on the other, shadows flickering across their faces. They watched each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

The flames burned down to embers, and the group packed up to leave. As they climbed into the van, Evelyn finally turned to Leon. Their eyes met — a flash of something almost like recognition, like a door creaking open.

Leon parted his lips to speak. Evelyn tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, waiting.

The van door slid shut.

The ride back was as quiet as the morning, except for the sound of tires on asphalt. Evelyn rested her head against the window, her reflection blurry in the glass. Leon stared at the road ahead, gripping the seat beneath him.

They never said a word.

And maybe that was the worst part — that they both wanted to, but neither dared to be the first to break the silence.

Because once they did, they would have to face everything they lost.