Chapter 22 #4
“I’ll walk you out,” I said, standing with him, still avoiding his eyes.
He didn’t respond. He stayed a careful distance from me as he waited for me to open my door, and as we walked through my dark house.
Like he was fighting the same magnets I had just been thinking about.
The ones still embedded in our skin. The ones still begging to pull us back together.
He didn’t speak when I opened the front door either.
And I don’t know why, but I didn’t stop there.
I kept walking—out onto the porch, down the steps, toward Austin’s car.
Finally, when there was nowhere else to go, when I stood beside his expensive car with the night wrapped around us, I turned back to face him.
He had already stopped. Already waiting.
Looking at me like he’d known this moment was coming.
“Thank you,” I breathed. The words cracked something open inside me, and suddenly there was nowhere left for the emotion to hide.
My face cradled as I reached for him, and he didn’t hesitate.
His arms wrapped around me instantly. One of his hands slid up behind my neck, steady and grounding, as I cried into his chest. “Thank you for what you’ve done for me,” I whispered, my tears soaking into his shirt.
“And… thank you for letting me go. I know you’re right. I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”
“Yellow,” I heard Austin say softly against me. “I meant every single fucking word I’ve ever said to you. Don’t ever doubt that, okay? Walking away isn’t fate. It’s the first decision I made without hiding from it. I love you. And because I love you, I see how much you deserve.”
“I know,” I nodded, gripping him tightly one last time. “You deserve the same.”
Finally, we were still. Just holding each other in the dark night.
Like in that moment, he was an anchor, and I was desperately trying to stay chained to him so I wouldn’t drift with the changing tide.
He pulled away first, letting me float free.
His hands settled on my shoulders. His eyes caught mine as he looked down at me.
“This isn’t goodbye forever, Yellow,” he said quietly. “Trust me.”
He leaned in—so gently it felt like he wasn’t moving at all. Without a word, he pressed his lips to mine. They were still, but there was passion. I felt it everywhere. When he pulled away, I took a breath, memorizing his face like I didn’t quite believe him. But for some reason—I did.
“I trust you,” I told him.
And finally, he smiled. A small smile, but a real one.
We held each other’s gaze for another second before he let go.
He watched me as he climbed into his car.
He watched me as he fastened his seatbelt.
He watched me until he drove away. I stood alone on the empty street, unchained and unanchored.
I kept taking deep breaths, like I wanted the night air to cleanse me, though I wasn’t sure of what.
After what felt like hours, but was really only minutes, I turned.
There was weight in that movement, because it felt like turning away from Austin, and from our story.
Instead of walking back toward my house, I wandered into the damp grass beside the street.
In my emotions, I hadn’t thought to put shoes on, and my feet squealed softly at the feeling of the cool blades against my skin.
My mind was still trying to process what had just happened.
Trying to understand that this really was goodbye, and how final it felt at this moment.
It struggled to keep up, leaving me drifting in my own small world beneath the stars.
I was staring up at them, searching for perspective.
I wasn’t sure whose. I wasn’t even sure what kind.
Then pain snapped me back. A sharp sting shot through my foot, pulling a hiss from my mouth.
I bent down quickly, grabbing my foot and bracing myself to see blood.
There wasn’t any. I was fine. I looked down at the ground, searching for the cause, and that’s when I saw it.
The pink rock. The one I had thrown from my window. Pink for my Yellow.
I had finally found where it landed, far from the windowsill it had flown from. I let out a shaky breath as I turned the small stone over and over in my hands, the taste of Austin still lingering on my lips.
Then I slipped the rock into my pocket.
Something to remind you of me.
I nodded to myself, not entirely sure what I was agreeing with. Maybe I was just agreeing with the universe. Finally understanding what Austin and I were meant to be for each other. It was hope, wasn’t it? Hope. Trust.
Hope that when the sun finally shines, it will shine clearer than ever. Trust that what you’re holding onto is worth believing in. And I knew then—I wasn’t trusting fate anymore.
I was trusting in hope. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe there isn’t anything in life but hope. Hope for love. Hope for life. Hope for beauty, happiness, and health. Hope that there is good in the world—and that it’s worth seeing. Hope that there are people who will always see the Yellow in you.