Side Story (1) - Chapter 5
Fayne woke up to the familiar ping of her phone on the bedside table. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she reached over, squinting at the screen as she read Milo's message.
Good morning.
It was simple, but it brought a small smile to her face. They had been exchanging these little messages for a week now—tiny steps toward rebuilding their friendship. She typed back a quick reply, fingers lingering over the keyboard before she hit send.
Morning, Milo! Got any plans today?
A few moments later, her phone buzzed with his response.
Coaching a few games, then probably just taking it easy. You?
She thought about mentioning how she planned to visit her mom's flower shop, but decided to keep it light instead.
Not much, just enjoying a quiet day. Maybe we can catch up later?
Milo's reply came after a slight delay, and she could almost imagine him pausing, considering whether to agree.
Yeah, sounds good.
Fayne smiled to herself, the conversation leaving her with a small sense of warmth. But as she set her phone down, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was still something left unspoken between them.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Across the cities, Milo sat at his desk, staring at the screen where his latest coaching session had just ended. He glanced at the clock—still a few hours before he was supposed to meet Fayne. A part of him had hoped she wouldn't suggest meeting up again, but another part—a quieter, more hopeful part—was relieved that she had.
He leaned back in his chair, the soft hum of his computer filling the small apartment. As much as he appreciated their small messages, he couldn't ignore the doubts that lingered beneath them. It was easier to keep things on the surface, to avoid the messy feelings that came with talking face-to-face.
Milo's mind drifted back to when they were kids—when time with Fayne had felt effortless. They'd spend entire afternoons exploring the woods behind his house or hiding away in the attic, talking about everything and nothing at all. Back then, their friendship had been simple. Now, it felt like every interaction came with a weight of expectation, a pressure to get things right. Those days seemed so far away, like a dream he couldn't quite reach anymore.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his eyes. The room around him was quiet, dimly lit by the muted glow of his monitors. It was his comfort zone, a space where he could control everything—from the temperature to the noise level. But today, he'd have to step outside of that controlled environment.
Meeting Fayne meant more than just leaving his apartment. It meant boarding a train, traveling to her city—a place that was familiar through her stories but still distant. The thought of the train ride was already making his nerves buzz, a low hum of anxiety that he couldn't quite shake. He didn't like being out of his element, didn't like the unpredictability of being somewhere new, somewhere that wasn't his carefully crafted space.
He tried to push the unease aside, telling himself that it wouldn't be that bad. But deep down, he knew it wasn't just about the train ride. It was about facing those unspoken words between them, the history they shared, and the uncertainty of what might come next. It was about hoping for something he wasn't sure he could handle, even as he tried to convince himself that staying distant was easier.
It was easier to focus on his coaching sessions, on the straightforward challenges of strategy and improvement. But even as he told himself this, he knew it wasn't entirely true. Those messages from Fayne—short as they were—had become a small highlight of his day. And that fact left him feeling conflicted. He couldn't deny that a part of him missed the connection they used to have, even if it felt like a risk now.
Milo turned his chair toward the window, watching the cloudy sky through the glass. The city outside felt cold and indifferent, a far cry from the warmth he remembered from those summer days spent with Fayne. He knew that today, he'd have to make an effort, not just to see her but to try and bridge the gap between them. And that meant stepping out into the cold, taking that train ride, and facing the uncertainty head-on.
"I wish it could be like before," he thought, though he didn't know if that was even possible. Part of him wondered if it was better to let things stay the way they were now—distant, but without the risk of disappointment. But another part, the part that had agreed to meet her, whispered that maybe, just maybe, it was worth trying.
Milo glanced at the clock again, his thoughts drifting back to the message Fayne had sent earlier that morning. He hadn't replied right away, unsure of what to say, but the fact that she wanted to see him again meant something, didn't it? He grabbed his coat from the back of his chair, feeling the weight of the decision settle in his chest.
With one last look around his small, comfortable space, Milo steeled himself. The train station wasn't far, but it felt like miles away. He picked up his phone, typing a quick reply to Fayne before slipping it into his pocket: I'll see you soon. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Milo followed Fayne through the quiet streets, the winter air nipping at his face as they made their way toward her family's flower shop. He had heard her mention the shop a few times before—usually in passing, when she talked about helping out her mother. But he'd never actually been there. It had always been this distant place he only knew through her stories, never as something tangible.
Now, as they turned the corner and approached the shop's entrance, he couldn't help but feel a small twinge of curiosity. The building was small and unassuming, tucked between a bakery and a bookstore, with a sign that read Bloom & Vine in delicate, faded script. The window display was filled with winter arrangements—poinsettias, evergreen wreaths, and dried flowers that added a touch of warmth to the cold season.
Fayne unlocked the door, the little bell above it chiming softly as they stepped inside. The air was warmer, filled with the earthy scent of soil and a faint hint of lavender. It was a welcome contrast to the icy chill outside. Milo glanced around, taking in the rows of potted plants, the shelves lined with glass vases, and the hanging dried bouquets that filled the space with a sense of quiet charm.
Fayne glanced back at him with a small, nervous smile. "It's... a little different in winter. Not as much color as spring or summer, but I like how it feels cozy during this time of year." She set her bag down behind the counter and turned to face him, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Thanks for coming here with me."
Milo stuffed his hands into his pockets, feeling the warmth of the shop seep into his cold fingers. "It's nice," he admitted, his voice softer than usual. "I always wondered what it looked like, but... I never really thought I'd see it myself."
Fayne's smile softened, her eyes briefly meeting his before she turned to adjust a vase on the counter. "I guess it's a part of me you didn't really get to know," she murmured. "I never thought about how much I kept it separate from... well, everything else."
Milo nodded, walking slowly through the narrow aisles between the plants. He paused in front of a row of small succulents, tracing a finger over the edge of a pot. "It feels like you," he said quietly, glancing back at her. "Warm. Kind of... peaceful."
Fayne's cheeks flushed slightly, and she turned her attention back to the flowers on the counter, trying to hide her smile. "You're just saying that," she teased gently, but there was a note of appreciation in her voice.
Milo shook his head, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. "No, I mean it. I... I like it here."
For a moment, the tension between them seemed to ease, replaced by a quiet understanding. Fayne picked up a watering can, her movements slowing as she glanced over at Milo. "I thought... maybe it'd be easier to talk here. Away from all the noise, you know?"
Milo nodded, his expression turning more serious. "Yeah. I think... I needed that too."
They settled into the space, surrounded by the muted colors of winter blooms and the soft rustling of leaves. The conversation that followed wasn't easy—there were still unspoken feelings and lingering hurts to work through—but it was gentler, less guarded. Fayne found herself sharing memories of the shop, stories about her mother's love for flowers and how she'd spent countless afternoons here, finding comfort among the petals and leaves.
Milo listened, the tension in his posture gradually unwinding as he leaned against one of the shelves. He shared some of his own stories too—memories that Fayne had never heard before, moments of his life that he'd kept tucked away, even from himself. They spoke about the things that had changed since their childhood, the ways they had drifted apart, and the parts of themselves they were still figuring out.
It wasn't a perfect conversation. There were pauses and silences that stretched too long, moments when they fumbled for words. But it felt real, and for the first time in a long time, they were both willing to try.