When We Meet Again (In Aisle 5)

Liam

The rain stops just before sunset, leaving the air heavy and the ground slick. I’m sitting on the old swing set behind Noah’s house, rocking just enough to hear the faint squeak of the chains. My hands are cold, but I keep twisting the links anyway until they leave little dents in my skin.

Tomorrow, he’s leaving.

I’ve known for months. We’ve said the word “America” so many times it’s lost all meaning. It’s become this far-off, shiny thing that’s going to take him away from here… from me. I’ve told myself we’ll be fine—we’ll text, call, visit when we can. But I know how distance works.

It’s not just that I’m losing my best friend. I’m losing the one person I…

God. I can’t even say it to myself without feeling sick.

I’m gay. And I’ve been in love with Noah since… I don’t even know when. Since we were kids, probably. Since before I even understood what it meant.

The back door creaks open, and my chest tightens before I even look up. The sound of his footsteps on the porch is as familiar as my own heartbeat.

Then he’s there. Hoodie sleeves shoved up, jeans ripped at the knees, hair sticking up in all directions like he’s been raking his hands through it all day. He looks unfairly good for someone who’s been packing boxes for hours.

“You hiding out here?” His voice is warm, teasing.

“Not hiding,” I mutter, kicking at the dirt. “Just didn’t want to get in the way.”

He sits down beside me. The chains groan under his weight, and our knees bump. My whole body goes still, my skin prickling like I’ve been shocked.

“You’ve been quiet all day,” he says. “You mad at me?”

“No.” I answer too fast, then force out something softer. “I’m not mad.”

But I am scared. Terrified, actually. If I tell him the truth, I could wreck everything. If I don’t, I might regret it for the rest of my life.

“Wanna go for a walk? One last time,” I say, my voice coming out smaller than I meant.

“Yeah,” he says, smiling, and I try to memorise the way it looks because I don’t know when I’ll see it again.

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Noah

Liam’s lying. I can tell.

He doesn’t hide things well—not from me, anyway. He’s always been loud and sarcastic, quick with a comeback. But tonight he’s quiet, like his thoughts are somewhere I can’t follow.

I don’t want to leave either. I keep telling myself America’s going to be great—new friends, new everything—but the truth? Liam’s not there. And that makes the whole thing feel… wrong.

When he suggests a walk, I say yes. Because I want to drag this night out for as long as I can.

We end up in the field behind the park, lying on the damp grass. My jeans are wet at the knees, but I don’t care. The air smells like rain and the sky is scattered with faint stars. Our shoulders brush, and neither of us moves away.

“You think we’ll still be friends when we’re forty?” I ask, only half joking.

“Yeah,” he says, like it’s not even a question.

Good. Because honestly, I don’t know who I am without him.

I turn my head and look at him. There’s something in his face I can’t read—sadness, maybe. I want to ask, but I don’t. Instead, I tell him the truth. “I don’t really know who I am without you.”

His mouth lifts in a tiny smile, but his eyes look glassy in the dark. “I’ll miss you,” he says quietly.

Something in me twists hard. I reach over and take his hand without thinking. His fingers are warm, and he doesn’t pull away.

I tell myself I’ll remember this moment forever.

Even if tomorrow changes everything.

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