Page 16 of F*ckboys

The photo is a relic from a seemingly distant past, a time when things were simpler, and we were inseparable. A mix of pleasure and conflict washes over me as I realize he kept the photo all these years.

"Thank you," I murmur quietly, tracing the edge of the picture with my thumb. "It's nice to remember the good times."

"Is that all they are now?" Aksel asks, his voice low and intense. "Just memories?"

The question hangs in the air between us, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. And though I want to answer him, to tell him that there's still a chance for us, I can't find the courage. Or maybe I have the courage to knowhe'll ultimately hurt me, so instead I should protect myself by pushing him away before he gets a chance.

Instead, I just smile sadly and say, "A lot has happened since then, Aksel. It was a different time."

Aksel

I can tell the photo has thrown Fallon. She was clearly surprised I kept it all this time. I was somewhat surprised myself, finding it in the drawer where I keep scant personal mementos from years ago. Sensing the delicate nature of the moment, I reach into my pocket and pull out a small velvet pouch. "I brought you something else, too," I say, trying to maintain eye contact as I hand it to her.

She looks so gorgeous today, casually dressed in the comfort of her condo. Her joggers and tank top are a departure from her usual more edgy style. Her hair is thrown into a messy bun and she's wearing minimal makeup. There's a glow about her, and I can't help but sense that cooking has energized her.

Fallon looks at me with surprise, her eyes cautiously flicking between the pouch and my face, searching for any hidden meaning behind my gesture. She hesitates for just a heartbeat before taking it from me, her fingers brushing against mine in the process. The brief touch sends an unexpected jolt through me, but I keep my expression neutral, waiting for her reaction.

As she opens the pouch, her eyes widen when she sees the amethyst crystal inside. "Aksel, this is… I don't know what to say."

"Say you like it," I reply softly, the tension in the room palpable. "It's a symbol of peace. I remembered you used to collect crystals back in high school."

"Wow, I can't believe you remembered that," Fallon murmurs, her voice full of wonder as she runs her fingers over the rough surface of the crystal. The fact that I've remembered such asmall detail seems to have an effect on her—her eyes glisten with unshed tears, and I can see her wrestling with conflicting emotions.

The exchange becomes slightly awkward as I worry about the impact of both the photograph and the gift. I'm not sure if it's too much, if I'm pushing her too hard by bringing up our past. But the truth is, I want her to remember the good times, the connection we once had, even if it's painful.

"Thank you, Aksel," she finally whispers, cradling the crystal in her palm. "This means more than you know."

I nod, my heart pounding in my chest as I gauge her reaction. I need her to know that despite everything that has happened between us, there is still a part of me that cares for her deeply.

"Fallon," I begin, my voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling inside me. "I know this is all... complicated. We have a past, and it's not something we can just forget about or ignore. But maybe, if we can face it together, we can find a way to move forward."

She looks at me, her eyes searching mine, as if she's trying to determine if she can trust me—if she can trust herself. We both know that navigating this delicate dance of accepting the past while facing the uncertainties of the present won't be easy. But as I stand before her, offering her a symbol of peace and reconciliation, I can only hope that she'll take a chance on what could be between us once more.

She takes a deep breath, as if convincing herself of what to say next. "Well, I guess you might as well stay for dinner," she shrugs. "I made enough to feed at least five people. I'll take some into work tomorrow for Grave and Mia, but there's still way too much."

There's his name. Grave. I wondered when he'd come up in conversation. If only she knew how he came to be her trusted business associate. There's no way I can bring it up to her now,or she'd probably never speak with me again. Instead, I nod as if I'm following along like anyone else would. If I stand any chance of reconciling with Fallon, I need to focus only on her tonight.

"Sure, that sounds wonderful," I say. "Let's eat."

As we sit down to enjoy the meal, the energy in the room shifts. The flickering candlelight casts a soft glow on Fallon's face, and I can't help but be reminded of the times we spent together in the past. The laughter and shared memories that filled our earlier conversation still linger in the air, warming my chest with a sense of familiarity. At the same time, the reason I'm drawn to her is more than the comfort of having known her for all her life. There's something about her present self that has me almost hypnotized.

"Wow, Fallon," I say as I take a bite of the dish she prepared. "This is incredible. You really have come a long way since those high school cooking disasters."

"Thanks," she replies with a shy smile. "I had to learn eventually, right? A particularly useful cooking course in the south of France, a Christmas present from Dad and my brothers, really helped me to get the basics down, and I went from there."

We continue eating, the silence between us broken by occasional bursts of laughter and reminiscing. It's surprising how easily we slip back into the rhythm of our old friendship, yet an underlying tension remains. It feels like we're dancing on the edge of a precipice, one wrong step away from falling back into the chasm of emotions that once consumed us.

As the wine flows, our conversation becomes both more relaxed and more charged. At one point, we both reach for the bottle simultaneously, and our hands brush against each other once more. The contact sends a spark of electricity through me, making me acutely aware of how close we're sitting.

"Sorry," I mutter, quickly pulling my hand back.

"No problem," she replies, her voice barely audible over the sound of my own heartbeat.

The moment lingers between us, heavy and fraught with possibility. The undeniable attraction between us simmers beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment. We continue our dance around the subject, both physically drawn to one another but also emotionally guarded.

As the meal comes to an end, I can't shake the feeling that something monumental is about to happen. The embers of connection, fueled by shared laughter, surprises, and symbolic gifts, illuminate the shadows of our past. The anticipation is palpable, and I know I need to make the first move and open up to her.

"Can I..." I trail off, unsure of how to broach the subject. "Can I ask you something?"

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