The air in Mark’s bedroom felt thick, charged with a gravity that made every breath feel like a chore. The city lights outside the window blurred into streaks of gold and silver. Mark looked at Melissa, who was still resting her head on his shoulder, and felt the weight of the last few months pressing down on him.
"Melissa," he whispered.
She hummed in response, a soft, contented sound that almost broke his resolve.
"I can't keep the promise," he said.
She froze. He felt the muscles in her shoulder tense instantly. Slowly, she lifted her head, her eyes wide and searching his face in the dim light.
"Mark, don't," she breathed, her voice a warning.
"I have to," Mark countered, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. "I thought I could just be your friend. I thought I could be the one person who didn't want anything from you. But I was wrong. I want everything. I want the bad days, the messy soccer practices, and the speeches. I love you, Melissa."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Melissa didn't cry. She didn't smile. She looked—for the first time since he had met her—completely and utterly terrified. Her mouth opened, then closed. She looked away, her hands trembling as she gripped the fabric of her skirt.
"Oh," she whispered. Just that one word.
To Mark, that "oh" sounded like a death knell. It wasn't an "I love you too." it wasn't even a "thank you." It was the sound of a door locking. He felt a cold wave of shame wash over him. He had pushed her too far. He had become the very thing she asked him not to be: a complication.
"I see," Mark said, his voice cracking. He stood up abruptly, unable to look at her anymore. "I'm sorry. I... I should probably go for a walk. I'll be back later to walk you to the station."
"Mark, wait—"
But he was already out the door. He didn't see the way she reached out for him, or the way her eyes finally filled with tears. He only felt the crushing weight of rejection.
The Empty Halls
The next three days were the longest of Mark’s life.
He didn't go to the Student Council office. He took the long way to class to avoid the east wing. Every time his phone buzzed, his stomach did a somersault, but it was never her.
He felt like he was back in middle school—numb and disconnected—but this time, it was worse. Before, he didn't know what he was missing. Now, he knew exactly what he had lost.
"You look like a ghost, Johnson," Hiro said, catching him by the lockers on the fourth day.
"I'm fine," Mark muttered.
"She hasn't eaten lunch in three days," Hiro said, his voice uncharacteristically stern. "She sits in that office staring at your empty chair. Whatever happened between you two, fix it. The Council is falling apart, and so is she."
"I'm the one who broke the deal, Hiro," Mark said, his voice bitter. "I'm the one she's hiding from."
Running Away
That evening, Mark stood on the rooftop of the school, watching the sunset. He realized he had been a coward. He had confessed his feelings and then fled the moment things got difficult. He had misinterpreted her shock as a 'no' because he was too afraid to hear the real answer.
I told her it was okay to show her weakness to me, Mark thought, leaning against the cold metal railing. But the moment she showed me her fear, I ran away.
He wasn't just running from her; he was running from the possibility that he was worthy of being loved back.
He took his phone out. His thumb hovered over her name. He didn't text her a grand apology. He didn't ask her to love him back. He sent four words:
"I'm in the office."
The Return
He was sitting at his desk, the one she had teased him about for being too organized, when the door creaked open.
Melissa stood there, her hair slightly disheveled, her eyes red-rimmed. She wasn't wearing her "President" mask. She looked exhausted.
"You're late for the budget meeting," she said, her voice small and shaky.
"I know," Mark replied. He stood up, but he didn't move toward her. "Melissa, I'm sorry I walked away. I was scared. I thought I ruined everything."
"You did," she said, finally stepping into the room. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, as if she didn't have the strength to stand on her own. "You ruined the promise. You ruined the easy friendship. You turned my whole world upside down."
She looked up at him, a single tear trailing down her cheek.
"And I've spent the last three days realizing that I hated the 'easy' friendship. I hated the promise. I was so busy being afraid of losing you that I didn't realize I was already losing myself to you."
Mark’s breath caught in his throat.
"I don't know how to do this, Mark," she confessed, her voice breaking. "I don't know how to be a 'girlfriend.' I don't know how to not be perfect."
"Good," Mark said, finally closing the distance between them. He took her hands in his, feeling them tremble. "Because I don't want the President. I just want you."
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