The Space Between Us Novels & Stories

Real. And for the first time. that messiness felt beautiful. Because perfection. perfect unity, perfect separation, perfect stability. all led to stillness. But this. this constant adjustment. meant the system was alive. Truly alive. I exhaled slowly. Then said quietly. “The space between us matters.” A pause. Then. “Yes.” Not just the connection. Not just the difference. The space that allowed both to exist together. Without collapse. Without possession. Without fear becoming permanent.

But the space between us filled with something new. Something neither of us addressed. Something neither of us was ready to name.

Stopping it, effortlessly. The space between us shrinks. The tension sharpens. And for the first time tonight, I step forward.

Those nights on the bed, we might have been laying side by side, but there had been a chasm in the space between us. I needed to close that gap, one way or the other, once and for all.

everything continues around us kids laughing balloons popping someone calling for more snacks a camera flash strobing in the distance but none of it lands. There’s something passing between us. Something small, but sharp. unspoken but loud.

The bond doesn’t like our little out burst. It never does when we fight. It reacts like distance is a wound, like space itself is an offense. Every step I put between us pulls faintly, unpleasant. It isn’t pain, exactly. Just pressure. Awareness. A reminder that my body is no longer entirely my own. Ugh, it’s the WORST. I let out a slow breath, the late afternoon air cool against my face, and force my shoulders to loosen, to drop, as if I can physically shrug off the invisible thread connecting us.

“I don’t know if I want it yet. I want the work. I’m not sure I want the distance.” “Then maybe you need to figure out which one matters more,” I said, pouring the water over the tea leaves. We carried our mugs back to the sofa and sat side by side, not touching but close enough to feel the other’s presence. “I think what scares me,” I said after a while, “is not that you’d go. It’s that we’d get used to it. That the space between us would stop feeling temporary and start feeling normal.” “That’s not something I’d let happen,” he said.

⸻ Pushed open the bedroom door. And saw it. ⸻ The empty space. ⸻ The missing things. ⸻ The absence. ⸻ She was gone. ⸻ Aaron stood there— still. ⸻ Then exhaled slowly. ⸻ “She needs space,” he murmured. ⸻ Repeating what he had accepted earlier. ⸻ But it felt different now. ⸻ Because space— felt a lot like distance. ⸻ ⸻ His phone rang again.

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Alright, I will work on it," Daniel frowned. Sarah raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Do you feel uncomfortable being too close to him?" "No..." In fact, occasionally it was the other way around. He would often find himself accidentally standing way too close to Nathan before he became aware of their position and pulled himself back. He was overly comfortable around Nathan, who attracted him like a magnet, and he did not want to be that creep who had no sense of personal space and hovered over people threateningly. He was worried Nathan would be uncomfortable around him. Daniel sighed. "Then, I will discuss it with him."