A few weeks passed so quietly that Noah almost failed to notice how much his life had changed.
There was no single moment he could point to and say that everything had become different then.
Nothing dramatic happened.
There were no declarations made beneath a perfect sky, no sudden decision that changed the direction of their lives forever.
Instead, Elias simply became part of everything.
He was there in the mornings, waiting at the corner with his hands in his pockets and his usual expression of impatience whenever Noah arrived more than two minutes late.
He was there between classes, leaning against Noah’s locker and pretending he had somewhere more important to be.
He was there at lunch, stealing food from Noah’s tray despite ordering exactly the same thing for himself.
And when the day ended, he was there too.
Sometimes they walked home together.
Sometimes they went somewhere neither of them had planned to visit.
Sometimes they sat in Noah’s room for hours, talking about nothing until the evening disappeared without either of them noticing.
There were days when they barely spoke at all, and Noah discovered that silence felt different when Elias was the person sharing it with him.
It wasn’t empty.
It wasn’t something that needed to be filled.
Sometimes, simply having someone beside you was enough.
At first, Noah hadn’t realized how quickly Elias had become woven into the shape of his days.
It happened so gradually that there was no clear beginning to it, no exact moment when Noah could look back and say that this was when it started.
One morning, he simply found himself waking up and reaching for his phone before doing anything else.
Another day, he noticed that he had started taking the longer route to school because it gave him a few more minutes with Elias.
Eventually, it became normal for him to leave an empty space beside him whenever he sat somewhere, because some part of him automatically expected Elias to fill it.
And Elias always did.
There were mornings when Noah barely spoke at all.
He would arrive at their usual corner still half asleep, his hair a mess and his jacket hanging carelessly from one shoulder, while Elias stood waiting for him with a coffee in his hand and an expression that suggested Noah had personally offended him by taking too long to get there.
“You’re late,” Elias would say.
“I’ve been awake for twelve minutes.”
“That isn’t an excuse.”
“It absolutely is.”
“You should learn how to wake up earlier.”
“You should learn how to mind your own business.”
Then Elias would hand him the coffee.
Noah had never once asked why.
The first time it happened, he had simply taken the cup without thinking.
Elias had looked almost disappointed by the lack of reaction.
“You’re not going to ask?”
“Ask what?”
“Why I got you coffee.”
Noah had taken a sip before answering.
“Because you’re in love with me?”
Elias had stared at him for several seconds.
Then he had reached for the cup.
“Give it back.”
Noah had pulled it away.
“No.
You bought it for me.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Too late.”
“You’re stealing my coffee.”
“You gave it to me.”
“I was clearly confused.”
Noah had laughed, and Elias had shaken his head, trying to look annoyed despite the smile he was failing to hide.
After that, the coffee became another part of their routine.
Noah never admitted that he liked it.
Elias never admitted that he remembered exactly what Noah liked to drink.
Neither of them needed to.
The days moved forward, carrying them through the familiar rhythm of school.
Classes became assignments, assignments became tests, and tests became something they complained about until they were finally over.
Noah and Elias continued finding ways to avoid doing work whenever they were together, which was unfortunate considering that both of them had begun receiving increasingly concerned comments from their teachers.
One afternoon, they were sitting at a table in the library with books open in front of them.
At least, Noah’s books were open.
Elias had somehow managed to turn his notebook into a collection of meaningless drawings.
Noah looked across the table.
“Are you going to do anything?”
“I am doing something.”
“You’re drawing.”
“It’s creative work.”
“We have an essay due tomorrow.”
“I work best under pressure.”
“You panic under pressure.”
“I panic creatively.”
Noah stared at him.
Elias smiled.
“You’re going to fail.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You haven’t written a single word.”
“I have ideas.”
“Where?”
“In my head.”
Noah leaned forward slightly.
“That’s where they stay.”
Elias laughed quietly.
Noah returned his attention to his own work, trying to ignore him.
For almost five minutes, the only sound between them was the turning of pages and the occasional tapping of Noah’s pen against the table.
Then Elias spoke.
“Noah.”
Noah didn’t look up.
“What?”
“Do you think we’d still be friends if we’d met differently?”
Noah stopped writing.
He slowly raised his eyes.
“What does that mean?”
Elias shrugged, looking down at the page in front of him.
“I don’t know.
What if we’d met somewhere else?
What if we weren’t in the same class?”
Noah considered the question.
“I think we’d find a way to annoy each other anyway.”
“That’s romantic.”
“You asked.”
Elias smiled.
“No, seriously.”
Noah leaned back in his chair.
He looked at Elias for a moment.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t?”
“No.
Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“You’re asking me about something that never happened.”
“I know.”
“Then how am I supposed to know?”
Elias rested his chin against his hand.
“You could try.”
Noah smiled faintly.
“Fine.”
He thought about it for a moment.
“What if we met somewhere else?”
“Anywhere.”
Noah looked toward the large windows of the library.
Outside, the afternoon was slowly fading, and students crossed the grounds in small groups, unaware that Noah was sitting there trying to imagine a life in which he had never met the person sitting across from him.
“I think you’d still talk to me first,” he said eventually.
Elias raised an eyebrow.
“Why?”
“Because you talk too much.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“That’s rude.”
“It’s true.”
Elias smiled.
“And then?”
Noah looked back at him.
“And then I’d probably think you were annoying.”
“You did think I was annoying.”
“I still do.”
Elias narrowed his eyes.
Noah smiled.
“But I’d keep talking to you.”
The teasing expression on Elias’s face faded slightly.
Noah looked down at his notebook again.
“I don’t know why,” he continued quietly.
“I just would.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Noah tried to focus on the words in front of him, but he could feel Elias looking at him.
Then Elias said, almost under his breath, “Me too.”
Something in Noah’s chest tightened.
He didn’t look up.
He was afraid that if he did, he would see something in Elias’s expression that he wasn’t prepared to understand.
The bell rang a few minutes later, interrupting the moment before either of them could say anything else.
They packed their things and left the library.
That evening, Elias went home with Noah.
By then, Noah’s mother had stopped asking whether Elias was coming over and instead began asking when he was coming.
Noah had once complained about this, only for her to point out that Elias ate more of her food than anyone else in the family and had therefore become an unavoidable part of the household.
Elias found this deeply amusing.
“I told you she likes me.”
“She likes feeding people.”
“She made my favorite.”
“You’ve never told her what your favorite is.”
Elias smiled.
“Exactly.”
Noah looked toward the kitchen.
Then back at him.
“You’re scary.”
“You’re jealous.”
“Of my own mother?”
“No.
Of her favorite child.”
Noah shoved him lightly.
Elias laughed and stumbled backward before catching Noah’s wrist.
The movement was quick and playful, but neither of them immediately pulled away afterward.
Noah’s hand remained in Elias’s.
For a moment, they simply looked at one another.
Then Noah’s mother called from the kitchen.
“Are you two coming?”
Elias let go.
Noah hated how quickly he noticed the absence of his hand.
Dinner was loud and warm and completely ordinary.
Noah’s mother talked about something that had happened during the day.
Someone complained about the food even though they continued eating it.
Elias told a story that became increasingly exaggerated every time Noah tried to correct him.
By the end of it, Noah was laughing so hard that he could barely breathe.
Elias looked at him from across the table.
Noah didn’t notice at first.
When he finally did, his laughter faded.
“What?”
Elias shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“No.”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
Elias smiled faintly.
“I just like seeing you happy.”
The words were quiet.
Noah wasn’t sure anyone else at the table had heard them.
He didn’t know how to respond, so he looked down at his plate.
But his mother had noticed.
He knew because she smiled into her glass.
Noah decided not to acknowledge either of them.
Later that night, Elias followed Noah upstairs to his room.
They had no particular reason to go there.
There was no plan and no conversation they needed to have.
Noah closed the door behind them, and Elias immediately dropped onto his bed as though it belonged to him.
“Get off.”
“No.”
“You have your own house.”
“Far away.”
Noah looked at him.
“It’s fifteen minutes away.”
“Exactly.”
“That isn’t far.”
“It feels far.”
“Only because you’re lazy.”
Elias smiled.
“I prefer selective with my energy.”
Noah laughed quietly.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I know.”
Noah sat down at his desk and opened one of his notebooks, though he had no intention of doing any work.
After only a few moments, he realized Elias was watching him.
He turned around.
“What?”
Elias was lying on his side with his head resting against Noah’s pillow.
“You really do say that a lot.”
“Say what?”
“What?”
Noah stared at him.
“Are you bored?”
“Maybe.”
“You could go home.”
“I could.”
“But you won’t.”
“No.”
Noah turned back toward his desk.
A few seconds passed.
Then Elias said his name.
“Noah.”
“What?”
“Come here.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“You’re lying on my bed.”
“Exactly.
It’s comfortable.”
Noah shook his head.
But after another moment, he stood anyway.
Elias smiled as he approached.
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”
“I knew you’d come.”
“You’re annoying.”
“And yet.”
Noah lay down beside him, leaving a small space between them.
Elias immediately noticed.
“You’re very far away.”
“We are literally on the same bed.”
“You could be closer.”
Noah looked at him.
“Is that your professional opinion?”
“Yes.”
Noah rolled his eyes, but he moved closer.
Their shoulders touched.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The silence in the room was different from the silence Noah experienced when he was alone.
This one wasn’t empty.
Elias’s breathing was beside him.
Noah could feel the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of their clothes.
Somewhere downstairs, the television was still playing quietly, and from outside came the occasional sound of a car passing along the street.
Elias turned his head toward him.
“You ever think about the future?”
Noah kept looking at the ceiling.
“Sometimes.”
“What do you think about?”
“I don’t know.
College.
Leaving school.
Finding a job.”
“That sounds boring.”
“Sorry my future doesn’t entertain you.”
Elias laughed softly.
“You know what I mean.”
Noah did.
“What about you?”
Elias was quiet for a moment.
“I think about us.”
Noah turned his head.
Elias was looking at him now.
There was no teasing in his expression.
“What about us?”
“I don’t know.”
“That was helpful.”
Elias smiled slightly.
“I just wonder what we’ll be doing.”
“In ten years?”
“Yeah.”
Noah thought about it.
“Hopefully not homework.”
“Good answer.”
“Maybe we’ll live somewhere far away.”
Elias’s expression changed.
Noah noticed.
“What?”
“You remember.”
“Of course I remember.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere far away.”
Elias smiled.
“How far?”
Noah looked directly into his eyes.
“So far away.”
For a few seconds, neither of them moved.
Then Elias reached toward him and gently touched his face.
Noah’s breath caught.
The gesture was slow, almost uncertain, even though they had kissed before.
Elias’s thumb moved lightly against Noah’s cheek.
“Ten years,” Elias said quietly.
Noah smiled faintly.
“What about it?”
“Promise me we’ll still know each other.”
The words were meant lightly.
Noah knew that.
But something about them made his chest tighten.
“Of course.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
Elias studied his face.
“What if life gets in the way?”
Noah frowned.
“Then we’ll find each other again.”
The words came out before he could think.
Elias’s expression softened.
“You promise?”
Noah held his gaze.
“I promise.”
Elias smiled.
Then he leaned closer.
Their kiss began gently, familiar but never ordinary.
Noah had started to understand the small differences between every kiss, the way Elias sometimes smiled against his mouth when Noah said something stupid beforehand, the way his hand would pause at Noah’s waist as though silently asking permission even when permission had already been given a hundred times.
Noah moved closer.
The space between them disappeared.
For a little while, the future did too.
There was no school waiting for them the next morning.
No college applications.
No years stretching ahead in directions they couldn’t see.
There was only Noah’s room.
The fading evening.
And Elias beside him.
Noah rested his forehead against Elias’s after they pulled apart.
“Ten years,” he whispered.
Elias smiled.
“Ten years.”
Noah closed his eyes.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Elias’s hand remained against Noah’s face, warm and gentle, while Noah listened to the sound of his breathing and tried to imagine what it would feel like to remember this moment years from now.
The thought came to him without warning.
Not because anything was wrong, and not because he believed the moment would ever end, but because he suddenly wanted to preserve it.
Every detail.
The warmth of the room.
The soft, fading light.
Elias’s fingers against his skin.
“You’re thinking too much again,” Elias murmured.
Noah opened his eyes.
“How do you know?”
“Your face.”
“My face tells you everything?”
“Almost.”
Noah smiled.
“That’s dangerous.”
“I like dangerous.”
“You wouldn’t know dangerous if it walked into the room.”
Elias laughed softly.
“Probably true.”
Noah watched him for a moment.
Then his expression became quieter.
“Elias?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever get scared?”
The question seemed to surprise him.
“Of what?”
“Losing people.”
The smile disappeared from Elias’s face.
For a second, Noah wished he hadn’t asked.
Then Elias looked toward the ceiling.
“Yes,” he said.
The answer was so quiet that Noah almost didn’t hear it.
“Everyone does.”
“Not everyone thinks about it.”
“I think about a lot of things.”
Noah turned slightly onto his side, facing him.
“Like what?”
Elias was silent for a moment.
“Like how weird it is that you can spend every day with someone and still never really know how much time you have.”
Noah felt a strange chill move through him.
The room was warm.
Elias was beside him.
There was absolutely nothing to be afraid of.
Yet the words settled somewhere deep inside him.
“You’re being dramatic.”
Elias smiled faintly.
“Maybe.”
“You are.”
“Fine.”
Noah studied him.
“Why are you thinking about that?”
Elias shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
But Noah could tell that wasn’t entirely true.
He wanted to ask again.
Instead, he reached for Elias’s hand.
Their fingers intertwined.
“Then don’t think about it tonight.”
Elias looked at him.
“No?”
“No.”
“What should I think about?”
Noah smiled.
“Me, obviously.”
Elias laughed.
“There he is.”
“Who?”
“The guy who thinks everything is about him.”
“It is.”
“I’m beginning to regret liking you.”
Noah squeezed his hand.
“Too late.”
Elias smiled.
Noah smiled back.
The conversation slowly changed after that, moving away from questions neither of them wanted to answer.
They talked about the dance again, about college, about places they wanted to see someday.
Elias wanted to travel without making plans, arriving in a city and choosing where to go only after he got there.
Noah thought that sounded irresponsible.
Elias thought Noah’s need to plan everything was tragic.
“You’d make a list before we left.”
“I would not.”
“You absolutely would.”
“I’d make a rough plan.”
“A list.”
“A rough plan.”
“With times.”
“Maybe.”
Elias laughed.
“You’re hopeless.”
“And yet you’re still here.”
“Unfortunately.”
Noah smiled.
“Liar.”
Elias looked at him.
“Yeah.”
The answer came more softly this time.
Noah’s smile faded.
For a few seconds, they simply looked at each other.
There were so many things Noah wanted to say.
He wanted to tell Elias that he had never felt this comfortable with anyone before.
That he had started to notice the smallest details about him without even trying.
That he could now recognize the sound of Elias’s footsteps outside his room and the rhythm of his messages before even reading them.
But saying things aloud made them feel fragile.
As though words could somehow expose them to the possibility of being lost.
So Noah said nothing.
Elias didn’t seem to mind.
Perhaps he understood.
Perhaps there were things he wasn’t saying either.
Eventually, Noah’s mother knocked on the door and told Elias that it was getting late.
Elias groaned.
“She’s trying to get rid of me.”
“She has a point.”
“You’re supposed to defend me.”
“Against my mother?”
“Yes.”
“No chance.”
Elias sat up slowly.
Noah did the same.
For a moment, neither moved toward the door.
Then Elias looked at him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Noah smiled.
“Obviously.”
“You never know.”
Noah’s expression changed slightly.
The words were harmless.
Elias probably didn’t even notice them.
But Noah remembered the conversation they had just had.
You never really know how much time you have.
Noah pushed the thought away.
“Tomorrow,” he said.
Elias smiled.
“Tomorrow.”
They stood, and Noah walked him downstairs.
At the front door, Elias put on his jacket slowly, clearly taking longer than necessary.
Noah leaned against the wall and watched him.
“You know you could just stay.”
Elias looked at him.
“Your mother will throw me out eventually.”
“No, she won’t.”
“She likes me too much to risk ruining our relationship.”
Noah laughed.
“You’re impossible.”
“I know.”
Elias stepped closer.
This time, when he kissed Noah, there was nothing hurried about it.
Noah felt Elias’s hand settle gently against his side, drawing him closer, and for a few quiet seconds, everything outside that hallway disappeared.
Noah rested his hand against Elias’s chest and felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his palm.
When they pulled apart, Elias didn’t move away.
“Goodnight, Noah.”
“Goodnight.”
Elias looked at him for another moment.
Then he smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No.”
“You’re doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“Thinking something and not telling me.”
Elias laughed quietly.
“Some things don’t need to be said.”
Noah looked at him.
The words stayed with him.
Then Elias opened the front door and stepped outside.
Noah watched him walk down the path.
He remained in the doorway until Elias reached the sidewalk.
Elias turned back once.
Noah was still there.
They smiled at each other.
Then Elias continued walking.
Noah closed the door only after he had disappeared from view.
That night, lying alone in his room, Noah thought about everything they had said and everything they hadn’t.
He thought about promises, about ten years, about somewhere far away.
He thought about the strange fear that had appeared in his chest when Elias spoke about losing people.
And then he thought about how easily he had ignored it.
Because Elias was still there.
Because tomorrow was waiting.
Because when you were young, tomorrow felt like something you were guaranteed.
Noah turned toward the window.
A few stars were visible between the clouds.
He looked at them for a long time before finally closing his eyes.
He didn’t know that years later, he would remember this night not because of anything extraordinary that had happened, but because of how ordinary it had been.
Elias had kissed him goodnight.
Elias had promised to see him tomorrow.
And Noah had believed him.