Chapter 10: Silent Longing

The University of Bellview buzzed with the impending energy of the weekend, and students swarmed the main quad.

The music from someone's portable speaker filled the air, melding with the murmur of conversations and the distant laughter.

Declan found himself sitting on one of the aged stone benches, a sketchbook in his lap.

His fingers danced across the page, delicately shading an image, the soft strokes of his pencil creating a face that was all too familiar.

Amara.

His sketch captured her in a candid moment — her bright green eyes alight with mischief, her wavy auburn locks caught mid-motion as if dancing to a silent tune.

He remembered that day vividly. They had been at a local park, her laughter echoing through the trees, their shared joy encapsulating the essence of their bond.

His phone buzzed with a message. It was from her.

"Hey! At the dance studio. Come by?"

His heart quickened.

There was always an unspoken promise of shared secrets and laughter whenever they met.

He quickly packed his things and headed to the studio.

The studio's wooden floor gleamed under the overhead lights, the large mirror reflecting the room's emptiness, except for Amara.

She flowed gracefully, her body swaying to a rhythm only she could hear.

Watching her felt like being privy to something deeply personal, an intrusion into her sacred space.

Yet, the beauty of her movement held him captive.

She spun around, catching his reflection and halted, surprise registering on her face before melting into a warm smile.

"You're early,"

She panted, walking over.

He chuckled,

"And you're lost in your world."

She grinned, bending to catch her breath.

"Always. You know me."

That was just it. He did know her, better than anyone else, but the depth of his feelings was a well-guarded secret.

They settled down, her head resting on his shoulder, their fingers entwined.

They fit together so seamlessly that passersby often mistook them for a couple.

"How was your day?"

She murmured.

"Usual. Classes, sketches, and more sketches. Yours?"

She sighed,

"Tiring. Dance is exhausting. But also exhilarating. It's a paradox."

He looked down, brushing a stray hair behind her ear, the touch lingering a second too long.

"Everything about you is."

She chuckled, the sound vibrating against his chest.

"Cryptic much?"

He smiled, pulling her closer, relishing the feel of her in his arms,

"Always, for you."

They remained like that, wrapped up in their bubble, oblivious to the world outside.

Time seemed to slow, and all that mattered was them, their shared moments, their silent understanding.

But as the sun dipped, casting the room in a soft, orange glow, the shadows it brought intensified Declan's inner turmoil.

She looked up at him, eyes searching his face,

"You've been distant lately. Everything okay?"

Declan's heart clenched.

How could he explain the ocean of emotions within him, the depth of his longing, without risking what they had?

"Just...caught up with things,"

He evaded.

She sat up, eyes narrowing.

"You know you can tell me anything, right?"

He looked away, avoiding her gaze.

"I know."

She cupped his face, making him meet her eyes.

"Promise me you won't drift away."

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I promise."

Declan knew his feelings were bordering on obsession, and he needed to keep them in check.

The sheer intensity of it all often scared him.

He was so deeply entrenched in their shared history, every moment, every touch, every laugh.

His room was a testament to their bond — ticket stubs, trinkets, and candid photographs of Amara captured in various moods.

He looked at her, taking in her beauty, her vivacity, her spirit. But more than anything, he saw the trust in her eyes, the implicit faith she had in him.

She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"I'm glad you're here, Dec. You ground me."

Little did she know, she was his anchor too.

They left the studio hand in hand, their steps in sync, their hearts beating to a shared rhythm.

The weight of Declan's unspoken feelings was heavy in his chest, but for now, he'd savor the warmth of her hand in his, the promise of many more shared moments, and the silent hope that one day, he'd find the courage to voice the depth of his love.

...

POV: Amara Valentine

The university's dance studio had always been Amara's sanctuary. It was where her thoughts unfurled, letting her body express what words often failed to convey.

As she twirled and leaped, the world outside ceased to matter. But today, the energy felt different, and she couldn't pinpoint why.

As the rhythm carried her, a familiar warmth brushed against the corners of her mind. Declan.

Their shared moments, the depth of their friendship, the comfort he provided—everything seemed to seep into her dance.

When she halted and saw him, her heart skipped. There was a raw intensity in his eyes, an unspoken understanding.

"You're early,"

She remarked, her voice betraying a hint of shyness she didn't expect.

She loved how he saw her. Not as the spirited, outgoing Amara everyone else knew, but the deeper layers she hid—her vulnerabilities, her passions, her fears.

With Declan, there were no facades. She could be real.

Resting her head on his shoulder was an action as natural as breathing.

The beat of his heart was a rhythm she knew by heart.

The shared silence was punctuated by the weight of unspoken words.

"How was your day?"

She ventured, breaking the quiet.

His reply was generic, detached.

A pang of worry gnawed at her.

The distance she felt from him lately was unsettling.

For all the people she knew, the parties she attended, and the laughter she shared, Declan was her anchor.

She looked up, searching for a clue.

"You've been distant lately. Everything okay?"

He hesitated, and that pause spoke volumes.

Her heart raced. They had faced challenges before, and navigated the ebbs and flows of life, but the foundation of their bond was trust. She needed him to confide in her.

As he avoided her gaze, she took his face in her hands.

"Promise me you won't drift away."

His response, though reassuring, left her restless.

There was an uncharted territory in his eyes, a depth she hadn't explored.

She wondered if the Declan she knew was showing her all his facets.

She kissed his cheek, trying to bridge the gap, hoping her touch would communicate what she couldn't put into words.

He had always been her confidante, her protector.

The one who would pull her into his lap during late-night movie marathons, let her sleep on his chest after heartbreaks and be the voice of reason amid her chaotic life.

They exited the studio, fingers entwined, the world outside fading into a soft blur.

Amara's mind raced with questions. What was he not saying? Did he have doubts about their bond? Or was there something else he was wrestling with?

She stole glances at him, trying to decipher the enigma.

For the first time, she wondered if she knew Declan as intimately as she believed.

Their deep bond was undeniable, but perhaps there were layers, secrets, and desires he kept shielded.

As they walked in silence, Amara made a silent promise to herself. She'd peel back the layers, dive into the depth of their bond, and unearth the secrets Declan held close.

Their friendship was too precious, and she'd fight to preserve its sanctity.