Setting: Late evening, campus rooftop, after a party I didn't invite her to.
---
I knew she'd be pissed.
Hell, I would be too.
But what I didn't expect was Vivienne standing there on the rooftop, arms crossed, wind blowing through that long, wild hair, eyes glossed with something that wasn't anger. It was worse.
Hurt.
"Didn't think you'd want to come," I mutter, shoving my hands in my pockets, leaning against the railing. Trying to sound unaffected. Cold.
Typical.
"Right," she laughs — bitter, fake. "Because I've never wanted to be where you are."
Her voice cracks.
That damn noise in my chest again. The one that only shows up when she looks like that.
"I just needed space," I say. "It's not that deep, Viv."
She takes a step closer. "Not that deep? You keep pushing me out and then act like I'm the crazy one for noticing."
Silence.
She breathes hard. Her cheeks are flushed — not with anger, but with whatever's been bubbling inside her all semester.
"You think I wouldn't notice how you smile at other girls but go all stone-faced with me in public? Or how Luca gets more of your time than I do lately?"
"It's not like that."
"Oh? Then what is it like, Damien?" she snaps. "Because I'm tired. I'm tired of pretending this doesn't hurt. Of acting like it's fine just being 'your childhood friend' when I—"
She stops. Too late.
My heart actually stops for real.
"…when you what?" I ask, quieter now.
Her throat bobs as she swallows.
"…when I love you," she says, barely a whisper. "And I have for a long, long time."
The silence after is deafening.
I should say something. Anything.
But I'm not built for this. I've been avoiding this exact moment since the second I realized I cared.
Because once you say it out loud, it changes everything.
And right now, all I can do is stare at her like a damn idiot.
She laughs softly — empty and heartbroken. "Yeah. That's what I thought."
Then she turns, walks away, and for the first time in forever…
I don't stop her.
Not because I don't want to — but because I'm terrified that if I do, I won't let her go again.
---
Vivienne's pov-
I don't remember getting down the stairs. Or crossing the quad. Or walking back to my dorm.
All I know is my legs carried me away from Damien faster than my heart could catch up. And now I'm here. Door locked. Lights off. Face buried in my stupid oversized hoodie that still smells like him.
God.
Why did I say it?
"I love you."
I actually said it.
I hug my knees, curling into myself, because my whole chest feels like it's caving in. It wasn't supposed to come out like that. Not on a rooftop, not after a party he didn't even tell me about, not when he was already looking at me like I was asking for too much just by being there.
I didn't plan it.
I never planned to say it.
But something about the way he looked at me — like I was the problem, like I was being clingy again — just snapped the last thread I was holding onto.
I press my lips together, hard. Fighting the tears like they haven't already made a mess of my face.
It wasn't the silence that hurt.
It was that he let me leave.
He didn't chase me. Didn't call out. Didn't say "me too" or "wait" or even just "don't go."
And maybe that's my answer.
My phone buzzes. It's Ava.
> "Viv?? Are you okay?? You left the groupchat mid-rant."
I don't reply.
What would I even say?
Hi, I just told the boy I've loved since I was fifteen that I love him, and he didn't say a single word back.
Yeah. That'd go over well.
I toss the phone on my bed and wipe at my cheeks.
I should be proud of myself, right? I was honest. I said what I felt. I put my heart on the table.
So why do I feel like it just got crushed under his silence?
I sniff and lie back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his name playing on loop in my mind like a broken record.
Damien. Damien. Damien.
I miss him already.
And I hate that I still hope he shows up at my door.