36. Eli
CHAPTER 36
ELI
The apartment wasn’t any quieter than usual, but it felt different. Off. Like the air itself was heavier.
I used to feel Niall’s presence even when he wasn’t in the room—the way he took up space without trying, the sound of his heavy footfalls, the clink of weights when he worked out in the living room. The low, gruff responses when I tried to make conversation. The accidental brushes in the kitchen that neither of us acknowledged, but we pulled away from, either.
But now? Now, it was like he was purposefully shrinking away, pulling himself back into some unreachable place. And maybe that was on me. I was the one who’d backed off first. The one who’d stopped trying. The one who couldn’t stand feeling like a secret.
I wasn’t mad at him for not being ready. I got it. I did. But knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.
My phone was warm in my palm, too familiar in a way I hated—like a reminder of all the times I’d ignored messages, let friendships slip away, made myself unreachable because it was easier than dealing with the fallout.
I flicked through my apps mindlessly before my finger hesitated over a familiar icon. A group chat I hadn’t touched in over a year.
The messages were still there, frozen in time, full of inside jokes and chaotic plans that never quite happened. The last message was from me. A half-assed excuse about being busy. A message that went unanswered. Not because my friends didn’t care, but because, by then, they already knew. Knew Chase had pulled me away. Knew I wouldn’t answer if they reached out.
A tight knot formed in my chest. I used to talk to these people every day. They’d been my safe space, my people. And I’d let them go without a fight.
My chest tightened. I almost backed out. Almost locked my phone and shoved it away like I had a hundred times before.
Instead, I tapped the chat before I could overthink it, staring at the screen like it might bite.
I hesitated for another beat, then typed.
Me: Hey.
It looked pathetic on its own, so I added to it.
Me: I know I’ve been MIA. I’m sorry. I should’ve reached out sooner.
The read receipts popped up immediately. Then the typing bubbles. One disappeared. Came back. Disappeared again. My stomach twisted.
Then—
Sasha: HOLY SHIT. He lives.
Milo: Call the press.
Zoe: I thought you died.
Me: Wow, okay. Good to see you guys too.
Christon: No, seriously. Did my phone glitch and pull up a message from 2023? Or did Chase finally murder Eli and steal his identity?
I blinked at the screen. Then, against all odds, I laughed.
Me: No murder. Just a really shitty relationship decision that turned into two shitty years.
A beat passed before another message popped up.
Milo: So… you’re saying you’re single now?
Me: That’s what you got out of that?
Sasha: I think what Milo means to say is: thank god. That guy sucked.
Zoe: Yeah, we weren’t gonna say anything at the time, but since you’ve had a moment of clarity?—
Christon: He was an asshole, bro. Straight up. He isolated you. We tried, but it was like you didn’t even see it happening.
My throat tightened. I hadn’t seen it happening. Or maybe I had, but I’d been too worn down to stop it. Either way, I’d let it happen.
Me: I know. And I’m sorry. For disappearing. For being a shitty friend. You guys didn’t deserve that.
The chat went quiet for a second. Then?—
Zoe: You WERE a shitty friend.
Milo: 100%.
Christon: Trash.
Sasha: Absolute garbage.
I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head.
Me: I’m not asking for a free pass. Just… I want to fix things. If you’ll let me.
Another pause. Then:
Christon: Well, we’re not sending you a ‘Congratulations on Dumping Your Toxic Ex’ fruit basket or anything…
Sasha: (I thought about it tho.)
Milo: (Same.)
Zoe: But yeah. We missed you, goofball.
Me: Okay, damn. I get it. Y’all don’t have to go that hard.
Zoe: But you’re OUR shitty friend. So. You know. We’re here.
The knot in my chest loosened just a little.
Me: I promise to keep in touch this time.
Sasha: You better. Otherwise, I will hunt you down.
Milo: Seconded.
Zoe: Thirded.
I didn’t doubt it.
Me: Thanks. For real.
Sasha: Don’t thank us yet. You’ve got like a year of drama to catch up on.
Christon: And you owe us ALL a drink when you’re back in Cali.
My fingers hovered over the keys before I typed:
Me: I’ll be there for Christmas break. Let’s make it happen.
The chat exploded with plans, half-jokes, and demands for details. I let myself sink into it.
Several minutes later, I set my phone down, exhaling slowly. The silence of the apartment pressed in again, but it didn’t feel as suffocating. Everything wasn’t fixed. But this, with my friends back home? It was a start.
I stretched my legs out on the couch, letting my head fall back against the cushion. The tension that had been coiled in my chest for weeks didn’t magically disappear, but something had shifted. Like a door that had been jammed shut, finally cracked open.
My phone buzzed again, this time with an incoming call. The word flashed across the screen— Unknown .
I stared at it, a familiar unease crawling up my spine. Anytime I got one of these, I was always in two minds. Was it some spam caller? A prank? Or someone I actually knew who just hadn’t switched off the caller ID block?
I should let it go to voicemail.
But some part of me hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen before I finally swiped to answer.
“Hello?”
Silence.
I clenched my jaw. “Who is this?”
A beat of silence. Then, “Wow. Didn’t take long for you to forget me.”
My stomach turned. “Chase.”
“Bingo.”
A rush of irritation burned through me, sharp and immediate. “How the hell did you get my number?”
Chase sighed, like I was the one being difficult. “You changed it, yeah, but I have my ways.”
Of course he did.
“And my address?”
“Relax. I didn’t show up at your door, did I?” His voice was smooth, practiced, like we were old friends catching up. “I just heard through the grapevine that you transferred to Michigan.”
I exhaled through my nose. “Whatever this is, I’m not interested.”
“Come on, Eli,” he said, a lilt of amusement in his tone, like I was being dramatic. “I just wanted to say hi.”
“You said it. Bye.”
“Wait.” A pause. “I don’t know why you’re shutting me out.”
I laughed, cold and humorless. “Seriously? After everything?”
“I’ve changed. People change. Can we at least be friends?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. This was classic Chase. Twisting things, rewriting history to make himself the victim.
“You didn’t want to be my friend when we were together,” I said evenly. “You wanted to make sure I only existed in a way that made sense to you.”
“That’s not true.”
“No? You told me I wasn’t really bi. That it was just a phase. That if I was with you, then I was gay, and I needed to stop pretending otherwise. Do you know how fucked up that is?”
Chase sighed. “I was young. I didn’t know better. But I do now.”
“Good for you. But that doesn’t change the way you made me feel.”
Silence stretched between us. Then, softer, “You really hate me that much?”
“No,” I said, and it was the truth. “I don’t think about you enough to hate you.”
Another silence, heavier this time. “Eli, can we ju?—”
I hung up.
I stared at my phone for a moment longer before setting it aside. The past was still there, still trying to claw its way back in. But I wasn’t giving it an opening.
Not anymore.
I was done letting Chase take up space in my head.