The first time I saw him after the holiday, it was raining. I was rushing, jacket pulled over my head, trying not to get drenched. He pulled up right in front of me, and just like that, we were face to face. I wasn’t entirely sure how to react. I was excited, but tried to keep a straight face. I’m not sure if he saw through the facade.
The spark was immediate. His eyes met mine and lingered, scanning, settling. That almost-smile flickered, the kind you feel more than see. He didn’t need to say much; he didn’t even have the words. We met in the most unexpected place. I was there by chance, he was passing by chance, so there was no rehearsal. I saw him fully. We said everything in silence, in the way we held each other’s gaze just a second too long.
Someone was behind him, waiting. He hesitated, torn between staying and moving on. That told me the whole story. He was finally allowing himself to feel, to enjoy this. Finally, he said, “I’ll see you later.”
I nodded and walked away. This time, I didn’t linger. I carried the tension with me like a secret flame, addictive and maddening.
I thought that was it. But later, just as I was ready to leave, he reached out. A short, casual message, barely anything, but it meant everything. An invitation. A moment. A chance.
I decided to surprise him, because that’s when you get the best reactions.
Those five minutes with him felt like hours. Not because of what was said, but because of how it felt. His attention was sharp, deliberate, almost restless. He noticed me. Really noticed me. He spoke gently, savouring the presence of being seen, yet restless to fill the air with words. He jumped from thought to thought, trying to fit everything into the time we had. I laughed at his pace, but secretly, I loved it. It was beautiful to see him in this state. I may have fallen a little more.
There was no hesitation. No pretence. Just presence. As if he had read my Day 17 entry. In that moment, I felt both exposed and completely validated. He affirmed the little things I’d been unsure about, the things I’d written, the details I’d noticed, without pretence. Finally, we were both done pretending. I kept wondering how we had arrived at this place where every second with him amplified everything. Heart racing, I tried so hard not to be obvious.
Time caught up with us. Five minutes, and it was over. But those minutes lingered, heavier than whole afternoons spent with anyone else. They stayed with me, reminding me of something I can’t name, yet can’t release either. He is so addictive.
Sometimes, five minutes can hold more weight than a day. Sometimes, five minutes is enough to remind you of everything you already knew, but had almost forgotten.
Epilogue: When You Are Away
This is where the series finds its quiet close. The words, the waiting, the longing, they were mine to feel, mine to write. Today reminded me why I wrote them: to hold the connection, even in its smallest, fleeting moments.
Now, I’ll let the rest unfold privately, cherishing what I’ve felt, and giving him the space to feel it too. Some things are meant to be savoured quietly, without rush or interference.
When You Are Away was always about the missing. Now, it’s about honouring the moments we share, however brief, and keeping their weight.
Even in silence, even in absence, the pull remains addictive, maddening, alive. It’s the space between the words, the minutes too short, the glances that linger longer than they should. It’s knowing that what we have is undefined, yet entirely real. And maybe, for now, that’s enough.
Not sure how it all started, here is the story of how it all began.
Written by Abii