Chapter 35 #2
Matt had stopped trying to work out when it had changed. He only knew Owen had drawn a line between them.
And he was beginning to understand he was standing on the wrong side of it.
“It’s going to be a bit crazy here tomorrow. Jeff and Babs are bringing half the furniture between them, Cyn’s promised to bring food, and Callum has apparently decided I need a playlist.”
It took Matt a second or two to bring himself back into the conversation.
“Sounds terrifying. I’m sorry I’ll miss it.” Matt meant the words lightly, but Owen’s expression softened.
“I’m sorry too.”
Matt shrugged. “I should’ve paid more attention to dates when I booked the train.”
“It’s probably for the best.” Owen’s tone was gentle, almost reassuring. “It’s going to be hectic, and you deserve to celebrate finishing it properly. I’m sure Eric will make a fuss.”
It was exactly the sort of thing Owen would have said before. Sensible, thoughtful, kind.
Once, those things had made Matt feel safe.
Now they seemed to put another inch of distance between them.
He gazed around the garden, taking in everything he’d spent the summer working on. Tomorrow, there would be people here. People sitting around the pool, drinking and eating, admiring the house and the garden.
He wouldn’t be one of them.
For a moment, he wondered if Owen would notice.
Then he almost laughed at himself. Of course he would notice. Owen noticed everything.
He just didn’t want Matt to be there.
The thought landed with enough force that Matt had to look away. It felt mean.
Owen was still talking about something—the weather, perhaps, or how much food Cyn had promised to bring—but Matt was barely listening. He was suddenly far too aware of the strange, almost domestic familiarity that had once made his heart lift whenever he was here.
Only now it hurt.
Owen could still make him smile without seeming to realise that he was breaking his heart.
Matt picked up his mug and carried it into the kitchen, Owen following.
“I’d better go. I’ve got an early train, remember?”
Owen nodded. “Of course.”
Matt hesitated before adding, “Thanks for the coffee.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And…” He caught sight of the envelope Owen had left on the worktop. “The final pay packet.”
Owen smiled. “You earned every penny of it.” Matt picked it up, and Owen cleared his throat. “Actually, if you find there’s more in there than you expected, that’s down to me. Call it a bonus.”
Matt looked at him. “You really didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.” Owen gestured towards the hatch that opened onto the dining room. “You’ve done so much here. Everywhere I look, I see your touch.”
The words should have made Matt happy.
They hurt.
Your touch.
It sounded as though Matt had left something behind. As though the work was what remained now that everything else was slipping away.
Matt managed a smile. “It was a pleasure.”
Owen opened his mouth, and Matt’s heart gave one stupid, hopeful beat.
For a second there, he thought Owen might cross the space between them to pull him close, kiss him properly, and remind him that whatever had changed over the last two weeks hadn’t erased everything that had come before.
Instead, Owen held out his hand.
Matt stared at it, his throat tightening.
It was such a small gesture. Ridiculous, really. They were friends. They’d worked together all summer. There was nothing strange about shaking hands.
Except that it felt like goodbye.
He put his hand in Owen’s. Warm, firm fingers closed around his, and Matt wanted to hold on.
He forced himself to smile. “I’ll see you when I get home.”
Owen’s gaze held his. “Yeah.”
Just that.
Yeah, as though it were obvious. As though of course they’d carry on exactly where they’d left off when Matt came home.
Matt let go, turning towards the door before Owen could see what the moment had done to him.
He’d said yeah as though nothing had changed. Matt didn’t believe him anymore.
He didn’t know what he was coming home to.
For the first time, he wasn’t even sure there would be anything left between them when he got back.
That night, Matt lay awake long after his parents had gone to bed.
The house was quiet around him, but his mind wouldn’t settle.
He thought about Saturday. Owen’s house would be full. He should have been disappointed about missing the party.
Instead, the thought left him feeling empty.
Weeks before, he’d imagined being there, being part of it. Standing beside Owen while people arrived. Watching him finally open the house he’d spent months making his own. Laughing with him when something inevitably went wrong.
Maybe, when nobody was looking, Owen would touch his back. Maybe they’d share one of those private smiles that had become theirs.
Maybe, at the end of the night, when everyone else had gone, Owen would stare at him and say, “Stay.”
Matt closed his eyes.
That was the problem. He’d imagined too much.
Despite Owen never promising anything, despite him being honest from the beginning, Matt had allowed himself to imagine a future in tiny pieces. Another summer. Another afternoon in the garden. Another film. Another Sunday morning. Nothing enormous or even impossible.
Just… more.
After the island, he’d started to believe the rules had changed without either of them needing to say so.
Perhaps it had been exactly what Owen had always said it was: a wonderful weekend, a shared experience, a beautiful memory.
Maybe I took every tenderness and turned it into evidence of something that had never existed.
He rolled onto his side and stared into the darkness.
That wasn’t fair. Owen had never lied to him. That was what made this so much harder. If Owen had been cold, or cruel, if he’d said something unforgivable, Matt could have pointed to it and told himself that was the moment everything had ended.
But Owen hadn’t done any of those things.
He’d stopped reaching first, and somehow that said everything.
Matt pressed his face into the pillow.
He hadn’t wanted to believe it. He’d spent days finding explanations because the alternative hurt too much.
Owen was tired. Owen was busy. Owen was worried about something. Owen was trying to give him space.
But there was only so long a person could keep inventing reasons for someone else’s distance.
At some point, you have to accept what is right in front of you.
Matt swallowed hard.
I got it wrong.
The thought was so simple that it hurt more than all the others.
He’d believed the summer had changed them. Maybe it had only changed him.
He’d fallen in love with Owen. He’d stopped protecting himself against the possibility this could become something real.
And Owen hadn’t. Or perhaps he had, and had decided it couldn’t.
Either way, the result was the same.
Matt was going to Edinburgh. He would hand in his dissertation. He would stay with Eric. He would come home.
And then he would have to learn how to stop looking for Owen in every part of his future.
The hardest thing wasn’t leaving.
It was going to be coming home and pretending he hadn’t expected Owen to be there.