The next day at work, the air felt thick with something unspoken between Tristan and me. The silence between us was suffocating, and I could feel the weight of his presence even when he wasn’t near me. His avoidance, his complete withdrawal from me was doing more than just frustrating me. It was making me question everything. It was hard not to feel like I was losing control, like I was caught in the undertow of something that neither of us had the words to define.
I could tell that Tristan was struggling, though he didn’t let it show. His usual air of confidence, that cool, unshakable persona, was slipping away. He was distant, cold even. It was like the man I’d known, the man who had once kissed me with such intensity, had disappeared. And in his place was this detached stranger who made my heart ache with every interaction.
But I wasn’t going to let it slide. Not again. Not when I had so many questions, so many emotions that needed answers. I couldn’t stand the silence. I couldn’t let this continue without knowing what the hell was going on between us.
It was during lunch when he finally cornered me, his usual arrogance gone, replaced with a quiet desperation. His eyes, usually cold and unreadable, were filled with something more vulnerable.
“Mia,” he said, his voice low, almost reluctant. “Can we talk?”
I met his gaze, my heart hammering in my chest. I had been avoiding this conversation, avoiding him, because I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. But in that moment, I knew I had to confront it. I couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine when I was losing myself in confusion.
“I’ll give you five minutes,” I replied, my voice firmer than I felt. “But I’m setting the terms. We’re going to talk honestly, or we’re not talking at all.”
He nodded, the tension in his posture easing just slightly as he stepped closer to me. He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he seemed to be searching for the right words. But I wasn’t about to wait for him to figure it out. I had too many questions burning inside of me.
“Why are you so distant?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “You’re acting like I don’t even matter, Tristan. You avoid me, ignore me, like... like nothing happened between us.”
He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening. “It’s not that simple, Mia,” he finally muttered. “I’m not used to this. To feeling like this. I don’t know how to handle it. I don’t know how to... how to want you without wanting to destroy everything.”
The raw honesty in his words hit me harder than I expected. It wasn’t an excuse—it was an explanation. But it didn’t fix everything. It didn’t erase the hurt I was feeling.
“You’ve been shutting me out,” I said, my voice shaking with frustration. “You’re the one pushing me away, Tristan. And then you get angry when I try to move on or get close to someone else. You can’t have it both ways.”
His eyes flickered with something like regret, but it quickly vanished, replaced by that familiar mask of control. “I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I don’t know how to handle this... this connection between us. I don’t know how to let myself feel anything without it turning into a fucking disaster.”
I wanted to snap at him, to scream that I couldn’t handle his emotional unavailability anymore. But there was something about the way he said it, the vulnerability in his words, that stopped me. It was like he was admitting something to himself—and to me—that he had been running from for so long.
“I kissed Lucas,” I said, the words heavy on my tongue. “I kissed him because I needed to feel something. I was so lost, Tristan. I was confused, and I wasn’t sure if I was being ridiculous about you. He’s easy. It’s comfortable. But it wasn’t you. And it wasn’t... real.”
I saw his eyes flash with something dark. A mix of jealousy, maybe anger. “So you think kissing him would make me stop caring? Stop wanting you?” His voice was low, almost dangerous, but there was something more behind it. Something that made me realize how little he had been in control of this whole situation.
“I don’t know what I think,” I admitted, my voice quiet, barely a whisper. “I’m trying to understand why I care so much about you, when you can barely even look at me.”
For a long moment, Tristan didn’t say anything. He just looked at me, his expression torn between frustration and something softer that I couldn’t quite place.
“I don’t know how to not want you, Mia,” he finally said, his voice barely audible. “And I hate it. I hate that I feel like I can’t control this. I don’t know how to give you what you need.”
I stood there for a moment, taking in his words. Everything he said sounded like an apology, but it wasn’t quite one. It was as if he was admitting that he was lost, just as much as I was. He didn’t have the answers. Neither did I. But at least we were speaking the same language now.
I took a deep breath and said the one thing that had been on my mind since the moment we’d started this conversation. “We need to stop lying to each other, Tristan. If we’re going to keep doing this—whatever this is—it can’t be built on lies. No more secrets. No more games.”
He nodded, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made my pulse race. “I agree. But I need you to understand, Mia. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be with you without losing myself.”
“I’m not asking you to lose yourself,” I said softly. “But you can’t expect me to wait around forever, either.”
He stepped closer, closing the distance between us. “I’m not asking you to wait,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But I need to figure this out. I need you to give me a chance.”
There was a long pause before I spoke again, my voice quiet but firm. “Then prove it. Show me you’re willing to change. Show me you’re willing to try.” He nodded.
“I don’t know where to begin,” Tristan said, his voice a little rough. He didn’t look at me as he spoke, his gaze focused on the coffee cup in front of him. It was like he couldn’t bring himself to fully face me, even though I was right there.
I leaned forward, my hands clasped together, my eyes steady on him. “You don’t have to say everything right now. But I need to know what you want from this... from us.”
He exhaled a sharp breath, his fingers tracing the edge of his cup. “I’m not sure I can give you everything you need, Mia. Not yet. I don’t know if I can give you all of me.”
I frowned, surprised at his honesty. But I wasn’t about to let him off the hook. “Why not? I’m giving you all of me. Why can’t you do the same?”
He hesitated, then his lips pressed together in a tight line. I could see him struggling with something, something he wasn’t ready to share. He looked away from me, clearly avoiding the depth of my gaze.
“I just... I can’t open up that much,” he finally said, his voice low, almost defensive. “I don’t know how. I don’t know how to do this without... hurting you.”
The words stung, but I tried not to let it show. "You don't know how to care without hurting me?"
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to care or how to love, period. Not like you want me to. I’m... fucked up, Mia. I’ve never been good at this. At being open. I don’t know how to just give you everything. It feels like I’ll lose myself.” I leaned back, taking in his words. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but it was the truth, and that’s what I needed from him. Even if it wasn’t easy.
“Do you even want this, Tristan?” I asked, my voice quieter now, softer. “Do you want us? Or are you just... scared of being too close?”
He looked at me then, his eyes locking onto mine, and for a brief moment, I saw something there, a vulnerability that wasn’t typical of him. “I want this, Mia,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I just don’t know how to give it to you without breaking everything in the process.”
I felt a knot form in my chest at his words. The struggle in his voice was real, but so was the distance. Even as he admitted he wanted this, I could tell he was still holding something back. There was a part of him that refused to be fully honest, to lay it all out on the table. He was still protecting himself.
“So, what are we supposed to do, then?” I asked, my voice shaky with the frustration that had been building all day. “If you want this, and I want this, why are we still so... messed up?”
He finally met my gaze, his eyes dark with emotion, but still distant. “We take it slow,” he said, almost as if reciting a mantra. “We learn how to be with each other without ruining it. We trust each other. We don’t keep secrets. We don’t hide.”
I nodded slowly, considering his words. “Okay. No secrets. But that means you have to tell me what’s really going on in your head, Tristan. Not just the bits and pieces you feel like sharing. All of it.”
He clenched his jaw, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “I’m not good at being that vulnerable,” he admitted, the honesty in his voice surprising me. “I can’t just spill everything out. But... I’ll try. I don’t want to lose you.” I felt a pang in my chest. He was trying, I could see that. But it wasn’t enough yet. Not for me. Not for us.
“And what about Lucas?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “Do you expect me to just... walk away from him?”
Tristan’s expression darkened immediately, his jaw tightening. “He’s not a threat to me,” he said flatly, but his eyes betrayed him. There was something in them, something that hinted at possessiveness. “I don’t care about him.”
I couldn’t help but laugh softly, the tension in the room thickening. “You don’t care about him? Really?” I asked, a hint of disbelief in my voice. “Then why does it bother you every time I’m with him?”
He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m not ready to see you with someone else, Mia,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with something like regret. “It bothers me more than I care to admit.”
I leaned forward, my hands on the table as I met his gaze. “Then don’t let me go, Tristan. Don’t make me chase after someone else just to feel wanted. But you need to open up. You need to stop hiding behind this wall.”
His eyes darkened with frustration, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned closer, the distance between us evaporating. “I don’t know how to do this with you, Mia,” he whispered, almost as if to himself. “I don’t know how to trust without pushing you away. But I’ll try. I’ll try for you.” It wasn’t a perfect answer. Hell, it wasn’t even close to what I wanted. But it was a start.
“Spend the night with me today, Mia.”
***
Later that night, after the conversation, things shifted between us. We had set terms—no secrets, trust, communication. We agreed to take things slow, to build something solid instead of rushing into it like we had before. But in the quiet of her apartment, everything between us started to change.
I was no longer the one in control. Tonight, for the first time, I let her take the lead. She guided me with a steady hand, commanding me with a confidence I hadn’t seen from her before. There was no force, no aggression in it. It wasn’t the usual power struggle we’d danced around in the past. It was different.
She knew what she wanted, and for once, I didn’t try to stop her. I let her lead me, trusting her to make the decisions. And as she did, I realized something: this was real. This wasn’t about dominance or control—it was about respect. It was about listening, understanding, and giving each other space to explore. For the first time, we were equals, taking turns being strong, being vulnerable.
And as the night went on, I found myself opening up in ways I hadn’t before. I let go of the control I had always clung to, and I let her in. I was still distant, still afraid to let her see the deepest parts of me. But for the first time, I wasn’t afraid to try.
I didn’t have all the answers yet. But I knew one thing: for the first time, we were moving forward—together.