Side Story (1) - Chapter 3
Fayne pulled on her jacket as they stepped outside the restaurant, the cold air biting into her skin. She glanced over at Milo, who adjusted his worn jacket, stuffing his hands deep into the pockets as they started down the sidewalk. The city around them was alive with the low hum of traffic, the occasional clatter of a passing train, and the distant murmur of people hurrying through the evening. Fayne took a deep breath, letting the chill settle in her lungs as they walked in silence.
"I didn't think you'd actually agree to this," Milo said, his tone even but edged with a hint of bitterness. He kept his gaze ahead, watching the lights of the city blur into a wash of gold and silver. "Didn't seem like your style."
Fayne frowned slightly, her breath visible in the cool air. "Why do you say that?" she asked, a slight tremor in her voice. She knew what he meant, but hearing the skepticism in his voice made it sting even more.
Milo shrugged, pulling his hood tighter over his head. "You've got your priorities, Fayne. Just like you did during the tournament. It's always about other people—Raxian, your mom, school. I get it. But sometimes, it feels like I'm always on the back burner."
Fayne winced at his words, but she couldn't deny their truth. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to find the right words. "I'm sorry, Milo," she said softly, her voice barely audible over the city noise. "I know I hurt you. I didn't mean to, but I guess... I guess that doesn't really change anything, does it?"
They reached a small park, its paths lined with barren trees. The ground was covered in a thin layer of frost, crunching softly beneath their shoes as they walked further from the busy streets. Fayne glanced up at the bare branches above them, wondering if the silence between them would ever thaw.
Milo stopped walking, turning to face her, his expression still guarded but softer than before. The echoes of their conversation from the day before hung in the air, unspoken yet heavy. Fayne sensed that they were standing on a fragile edge—one wrong word, and everything could crumble.
"I've already said I'm sorry," she began, her voice quiet, unsure. "I know that doesn't make up for everything, but... I meant it. And I'm trying, Milo. I just don't know how to prove that to you."
Milo studied her for a long moment, and she could almost see the conflict behind his eyes. He ran a hand through his messy hair, letting out a breath that seemed to carry more than just cold air. "You don't have to keep apologizing," he said finally, his voice low. "I heard you the first time. But it's going to take more than just words, Fayne. Trust doesn't just... snap back into place."
Fayne bit her lip, nodding as she listened. "I get that. I do. And I know it's not fair for me to expect you to just... be okay with everything. I don't want to rush you."
Milo shifted his weight, glancing away as if gathering his thoughts. "Look, it's not like I want to hold this over your head forever," he muttered, his voice wavering slightly. "I just... it's hard to feel like I matter when it's always been about everyone else."
Fayne winced at the truth of his words but didn't interrupt. Instead, she let the silence stretch between them, allowing Milo the space he needed to voice his feelings.
"I've always been the one on the sidelines," he continued, the bitterness in his tone barely hidden. "And I get it—Raxian, the tournament, all that stuff—it's important. But sometimes, I just wish I was more than the fallback, you know? More than just the guy you reach out to when you need something."
The rawness in his words hit her harder than she expected. "You're not just that, Milo," she replied, her voice firmer than before. "You're my friend. You've always been there, and I... I took that for granted. But I'm trying to make up for that now. Not because I feel guilty, but because I want to."
Milo met her gaze again, searching her face for a moment. "I hope that's true," he said, softer now, a note of vulnerability creeping into his voice. "Because I don't know if I can go back to being that guy who's always waiting on the sidelines."
Fayne swallowed, her chest tightening with the weight of his honesty. "I don't want you to feel that way either. I want this to be different. For both of us."
For a moment, they just stood there, the chilly air wrapping around them. Fayne could see the struggle in Milo's expression, the push and pull between wanting to forgive and the hurt that still lingered.
She took a step closer, lowering her voice as she added, "Maybe... maybe we can just take it one step at a time. No expectations. Just... trying to be friends again. Is that okay?"
Milo hesitated, then gave a small nod, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. "Yeah. I think that's okay."
They resumed their walk, the tension between them still present but softened, replaced with the first threads of understanding. It wasn't a resolution, but it was a start.
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They walked side by side, their footsteps echoing softly on the pavement, the distant sounds of the city filling the quiet between them. Fayne tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket, stealing glances at Milo out of the corner of her eye. He still seemed distant, his gaze focused ahead as if lost in thought, but there was a different kind of energy between them now—something tentative but hopeful.
"Do you ever miss it?" Fayne asked after a few minutes, breaking the silence. "The time we used to spend together, before... everything?"
Milo glanced at her, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah, sometimes I do. It was... simpler back then. Before all the tournaments and games got in the way." He paused, watching his breath form little clouds in the cold air. "Back when our biggest problem was whether we could stay up late enough for one more round of hide-and-seek at our parents' parties."
Fayne managed a small smile, the memory warming her even against the chill of the evening. She remembered those nights—how their families would gather, and she and Milo would sneak off to play, exploring the backyard or making up games under the stars. Those were the times when everything felt limitless, before the weight of expectations and competition settled between them.
"I miss those times too," she admitted softly. "The sleepovers, talking about whatever came to mind, like what we wanted to be when we grew up. None of it had to make sense. It was just... us."
Milo's gaze softened as he glanced over at her. "I didn't realize how much I missed it until it wasn't there anymore," he said quietly. "I guess... I miss having someone who knew me before all of this. Before I became 'the coach' or whatever people think I am now."
Fayne nodded slowly, her expression pensive as the city lights cast shadows across the pavement. "I know I can't change what happened between us, but... I'd like to try. Even if it's different now, even if it's not like it used to be."
Milo was silent for a moment, his hands buried deep in his pockets as they walked. Finally, he glanced over, a small, tentative smile touching his lips. "I think I'd like that too, Fayne."
The words were simple, but they carried a weight that made Fayne's heart feel a little lighter. It wasn't a promise to go back to how things had been, but it was a step forward—a shared understanding that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other, even if it wasn't exactly the same. The tension that had lingered between them for so long began to ease, replaced by a quiet, cautious hope.
They continued walking, side by side, the city's lights shimmering around them as the evening deepened. Neither of them knew what the future would hold, but for now, they were willing to take that step together.