That morning, Pablo arrived on campus earlier than usual.
The air was still cold, the hallways quiet, his footsteps echoing softly.
He sat in the nearly empty architecture studio and opened the folder containing the project revisions that had kept him awake most of the night.
The papers were filled with red markings.
Not mistakes, but corrections.
And somehow, that felt more painful.
“The structure is good, but the personal intention isn’t visible enough.”
The lecturer’s words kept repeating in his head.
Pablo stared at his sketches for a long time.
He knew the personal intention was there.
Too much, even.
And that was exactly what made it hard to explain.
Not everything could be turned into an academic concept.
A few seats behind him began to fill.
Voices of other students slowly appeared.
Pablo took a deep breath and folded his sketches back into the folder.
That day, Blair came to campus with a feeling she didn’t quite recognize.
A kind of alertness.
She saw Pablo from a distance, sitting alone, his shoulders slightly hunched.
Instinctively, she wanted to approach him.
But her steps slowed.
She remembered Brunne’s words.
Being present without trying to fix things.
Blair chose a seat across from him, not too close, not too far.
“Hi,” she said.
Pablo looked up.
“Hello.”
His tone was flat.
Not cold, but closed.
“You look tired,” Blair said.
Blair nodded.
She didn’t push.
Several minutes passed in silence.
Then Blair said, “I’m going to the bookstore later.”
“For work?” Pablo asked.
“Yeah.
Brunne asked for help.”
“Okay.”
The answer was short.
Too short for two people who, just days ago, could talk for hours without running out of things to say.
Blair noticed it.
And for the first time, she didn’t know what to do with the distance between them.
At lunch, Kattie sat beside Blair in the cafeteria, watching her expression quietly.
“What’s going on with you two?” she finally asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You and Pablo.
You look like two people thinking too hard.”
Blair sighed.
“I feel like I’m starting to become the place where he puts everything.”
“And that scares you?” Kattie guessed.
“I’m scared of being the only place.”
Kattie looked at her for a long moment.
“That’s not your responsibility.”
Blair knew that.
But knowing and feeling didn’t always move in the same direction.
That afternoon, Blair was at Brunne’s bookstore.
Her hands moved automatically as she arranged the shelves, but her mind wasn’t fully there.
Brunne watched her from behind the counter.
“You’re starting to carry other people’s weight,” he said suddenly.
Blair stopped.
“Is it that obvious?”
“People who are used to being strong often forget to ask how long they can keep going.”
Blair swallowed.
“I don’t want to be someone who leaves when another person needs support.”
“And you don’t have to be the one who saves them,” Brunne said calmly.
The words lingered in the air.
When Blair closed the shop, it was already dark.
Outside, a light rain fell again.
She walked a few steps, then stopped.
Pablo was standing across the street, waiting under a streetlamp.
“What are you doing here?” Blair asked as she approached. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
“I was passing by,” Pablo said.
“Then I saw the lights were still on.”
They stood facing each other.
The rain made the distance feel smaller.
“Today was heavy for me,” Pablo said finally.
“And I don’t know who to talk to.”
Blair went quiet.
This was the moment she feared and hoped for at the same time.
“You can talk,” she said softly.
“But you don’t have to.”
Pablo looked at her for a long moment.
“Don’t you get tired?”
The question surprised Blair.
“Tired of what?”
“Listening to me all the time.”
Blair shook her head.
“I choose to listen.”
Pablo exhaled, as if holding back something close to falling.
“I’m afraid,” he said honestly.
“That I might depend too much.”
Blair met his gaze.
“I’m afraid too,” she said.
“That I might forget my limits.”
They stood in an honesty that was uncomfortable, but necessary.
“I need time,” Pablo said.
“Not to pull away.
But to sort myself out.”
Blair nodded.
“I understand.”
And it wasn’t a lie.
Pablo smiled faintly.
“Thank you for not chasing me.”
Blair returned the smile, even though her chest felt heavy.
“Thank you for being honest.”
That night, they walked home in different directions.
There were no long messages.
No promises to meet tomorrow.
But something had changed.
The weight was no longer transferred.
Distance was no longer feared.
And for the first time, they both realized that healthy closeness sometimes requires space.