The apartment didn't feel the same the next morning.
It was the same furniture. The same scuffed hardwood floors and flickering hallway light. The same sound of a neighbor's dog barking through the walls.
But something invisible had shifted.
Simon stood in the bathroom brushing his teeth, staring into the mirror like it might offer answers. His lips still tingled. Not just from touch, but from memory.
The kiss.
It hadn't been rushed. Or wild. It had been careful, delicate. A mutual pause from the chaos inside them. But it had changed everything. No matter how softly it happened, it had lit something that couldn't be extinguished.
And now… he didn't know what to do with it.
Elena didn't come out of her room until almost noon. When she did, she was dressed in leggings and a hoodie, hair pulled into a bun, no makeup. She looked younger somehow. Or maybe more distant.
Simon was sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine he wasn't reading. When she passed by, she paused.
"Morning," she said.
He looked up. "Morning."
Neither of them mentioned the night before.
She went into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, and stood by the sink for a long time. Staring out the window like it held something she couldn't say out loud.
Simon stood and walked toward her. Slowly.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
She nodded, still looking away. "Just thinking."
"About last night?"
She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Aren't you?"
He stepped beside her. Close, but not touching. "I haven't thought about anything else."
A beat of silence.
Elena exhaled. "I don't regret it, Simon. That's the problem."
His heart thudded in his chest. "Me neither."
"But I woke up scared. Like the walls were closing in." She turned toward him fully now, her eyes searching his face. "Do you understand how dangerous this is? If Mom or Dad ever found out—"
"They won't," he said quickly.
"Eddie?"
Simon looked away. "I don't care about Eddie."
She leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms. "You should."
A silence stretched between them again, taut and heavy.
"I'm trying to figure out what we are now," Simon said.
She gave him a small, almost sad smile. "So am I."
Then she added, "But we can't let this happen again. We need to stop while we still can."
Simon nodded slowly. But every part of him screamed in protest.
"Okay," he said. "If that's what you want."
Elena looked at him. Her gaze flickered down to his lips. And for a second—just a second—she didn't breathe.
Then she turned back toward the sink.
"I'm going to go out for a bit," she said. "Clear my head."
He let her go.
Even though all he wanted was to follow her and ask her to choose him instead of running.
The hours that followed passed like syrup—slow, thick, suffocating. Simon couldn't focus on anything. Not homework. Not music. Not even the texts coming in from friends about weekend plans or college applications.
He kept checking the door. Listening for her key. Wondering if she'd come back different.
When she finally returned, it was dusk.
She dropped her bag by the door and kicked off her shoes.
Her hoodie was gone. Her cheeks flushed from the cold outside. She looked tired—but calm.
Simon stood. "Did it help?"
Elena nodded. "A little."
He stepped forward. "Can we talk?"
She hesitated. Then nodded again.
They went to the roof.
The sun had already dipped beneath the skyline, leaving streaks of violet and deep orange in its place. A few stars were visible, but barely. The city lights always made it hard to see clearly.
They sat side by side on the old wooden bench, the wind tugging gently at their sleeves.
"I know you're scared," Simon said. "But I can't pretend anymore."
She looked at him.
"I've loved you since before I even knew what that word really meant," he continued. "It was always you. Every time. And I know I'm not supposed to feel this way. I know it's wrong. But it's real."
Elena stared out over the city, her eyes glistening in the wind.
"I used to think I was imagining it," she said softly. "The way you looked at me. The way I'd feel when we were alone. But I wasn't."
She turned back to him.
"I'm not just scared of what people would say. I'm scared of what it makes me. What it makes us."
"It makes us honest," Simon whispered.
She didn't argue.
Instead, she leaned her head against his shoulder again.
And for a long time, they sat that way. Not kissing. Not touching. Just existing together in the space where truth lived. Where shame hadn't quite caught up with them yet.
That night, as they returned downstairs, everything felt too quiet. The streetlights flickered against the curtains, casting faint golden lines across the apartment walls.
Elena stopped just outside her bedroom door.
Simon hovered behind her, unsure if she would speak.
She turned.
"Do you ever wonder what would've happened if we weren't born in the same house?"
He nodded. "All the time."
"Would you have told me how you felt?"
"Yes."
"Would I have kissed you sooner?"
Simon's breath caught. "I hope so."
She leaned forward and kissed him again.
Softer. Slower.
When they pulled apart, she looked at him with eyes full of heat and heartbreak.
"I still want to stop," she whispered. "But I don't know if I can."
Simon swallowed hard. "Then don't."
And just like that, the line blurred again.