Beside me | ONESHOTs

Ari: so? ready?

Me: Not even close.

Ari: would it help if I told you I'll be there too?

Me: No. It would just make me more curious to finally figure out who you are. Why won't you tell me, anyway?

Ari: one day. maybe. I'm not ready.

Me: Let's talk about being ready.

Ari: your sarcasm gets better every day.

Me: I have a good teacher.

Ari: is that supposed to be a compliment? thanks.

Me: Interpret it however you want. But seriously, thanks. For trying to support me.

Ari: when did I ever try to do that? I'm more like crushing your dreams of success.

Me: Haha. True. I take all my thanks back.

Ari: oh, come on! we both know I still give you courage, and now you're grinning at your phone, huh? am I wrong, Teo?

He wasn't. How could he read me so perfectly without ever seeing me?

Ari: go get dressed so you're not late.

Me: Fine. Later.

Ari: I'll be waiting with open arms.

Me: Haha.

Getting ready didn't take long. I'd already showered and moisturized before talking to Ari, so all I needed to do was get dressed, blow-dry my hair, and head out. This year's masquerade ball had a historical theme, so I was going as some kind of medieval squire. Honestly, it suited me pretty well—the combination of green and coppery brown, with a few feathers on my mask, actually looked good.

I was nervous about what I planned to do tonight, but the thought of possibly meeting Ari face-to-face for the first time kept me calm—and curious. I wanted to know who was on the other side.

As I walked through the chilly evening streets toward school, my hands were sweaty despite the cold, and my heart was pounding loudly. It felt like I'd lost my voice entirely.

I reached the school entrance, where some upperclassmen were checking tickets. I handed mine over and let the flow of students carry me into the gym, which had been reserved for the event.

I put on my mask and began scanning the crowd of people dressed in a similar style to mine. Specifically, I was looking for blonde hair—the hair of my first, and still very much current, unrequited love.

Maybe I shouldn't say anything to her tonight, but at the same time, those nights spent imagining what it would be like if we were together were eating me alive. I needed to hear her say "yes" or "no" directly. Otherwise, my brain would never stop whispering, What if?

I spotted Miley at the refreshment table, chatting with some guy. I could only hope he wasn't her boyfriend, but judging by his somewhat detached posture, I figured he probably wasn't.

She looked stunning. Even with half her face covered, her smile was impossible to miss.

I bit my lip, swallowed the lump in my throat one last time, clenched my jaw, and made my move.

But her companion noticed me first.

I had no idea who he was. His elaborate costume—a powdered face, red lips, and what looked like a black wig tied in a ribbon at the back—was striking, as if he were portraying an actual historical nobleman. It was bold and unique. I'd never have had the guts to wear something so extravagant, especially when most people didn't take the theme seriously.

He leaned toward Miley and whispered something to her before she turned to look at me.

How?

"Do you need something?" she asked as I got close enough, while her companion slipped into the crowd like a ghost.

Weird.

"Uh…" I began awkwardly but pulled myself together. Sure, I had strong social anxiety, but I wasn't that hopeless. "Would you like to dance with me?"

She pressed her lips together for a moment before they curled into a kind smile. "Sure."

The music shifted to a slower, classical piece—a waltz, no less.

"I love waltzes!" Miley squealed and practically dragged me onto the open floor, eager not to miss a single moment.

Her touch left me breathless. She was touching me. And she loved waltzes, too.

"Y-Yeah. Me too. One of my favorites," I lied. For some reason, goosebumps spread across my skin. Not because of what she said, but because of her touch.

Something suddenly felt… off.

"My boyfriend doesn't really know how to dance, and when he tries, it's definitely not waltz," she began, gushing with a fond smile. "But it's just a little thing." She paused, then gave me a look that was both firm and hesitant. "A friend of mine told me you had something to say to me."

…What?!

A friend? That I wanted to tell her something? Who would—

Ari. It had to be him.

Now my heart raced for a completely different reason—not because I was about to confess to Miley, but because of Ari. She knew him. And he knew her. And that mysterious, tall, magnetic guy was Ari.

"I… I…" I couldn't get the words out. My head pounded, and I couldn't breathe. A realization hit me like a freight train.

She waited patiently, and that's why I couldn't do it.

"I'm sorry, I just… I wanted to tell you that you were my first love. I couldn't graduate without saying it. But that's behind me now. Thanks for the dance," I blurted out and left her standing there in the middle of the dance floor.

I had to get away before my heart exploded.

I didn't stop until I reached a deserted, dimly lit hallway, where I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath. I pulled off my mask and wiped away the tears that had started falling on their own—tears of confusion, disbelief, and a strange sorrow.

What's wrong with me?

I should've been furious that Ari spilled the secret about my confession.

But instead, I wanted to find him immediately and… And what? Ask him who he really was? Was I ready for that?

I slid down the wall, sitting on the cold floor, and closed my eyes.

I should've been angry that Ari meddled in my personal life—but I was the one who let him into my life in the first place.

And maybe I'd let him get too close to my heart.

Was it true? Did I just now realize, during that confession, that I hadn't felt those fluttering, platonic feelings for Miley in a long time? That my heart had instead been burning with a different kind of fire—one I felt every time I messaged Ari?

I was so lost in thought that I didn't notice the quick footsteps echoing through the hall, searching for something. Or someone.

I only noticed the sound of fabric shifting close to me and a deep, gravelly voice that vibrated through the stillness.

"Teo."

One word.

One name.

It made me snap my eyes open and lift my face in shock toward the figure standing over me. A shiver ran through me, and every thought vanished from my head.

He was here.

It was him.

I took a shaky breath.

"W-What do you want?" I stammered. My eyes still stung from the fading tears, and my vision was slightly blurry, but I could make out his eerie, aristocratic appearance—the dark mask, the black outfit, the powdered face, and crimson lips. He looked like a ghostly nobleman.

"I told you I'd lend you a shoulder, didn't I?" he said.

Earlier, it had sounded teasing. Now, it felt hesitant, almost fragile.

I let out a weak laugh and wiped my face. "You never told me you knew Miley personally."

"Does that bother you?" he asked, tilting his head and brushing my hand away to wipe my tears himself—gently, cautiously, almost… eagerly.

"How could it," I breathed, my voice catching. I barely managed not to sigh at how comforting his touch felt.

But his touch unleashed another wave of tears. Why was I crying so much?

Because it was Ari.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment, though his tone carried no real regret.

I tried to glare at him, but I was too tear-streaked for it to look anything but pitiful. "That sounds so genuine. What exactly are you apologizing for? Telling her I wanted to confess? That's no crime."

"That's not what I mean," he said, shaking his head and leaning against the wall beside me.

It was unfair—I was a mess, maskless, while he still hid behind his. His voice sounded familiar, but not enough for me to place it. It was unique, though—if I heard it now without the mask, I'd recognize it instantly.

"Because I'm glad she broke your heart," he said softly.

The irony: I wasn't even heartbroken over her.

"What are you, some kind of sadist?" I laughed, sniffling. I couldn't bring myself to look directly at him, even though I could see from the corner of my eye that he was watching me.

"Of course not. I just mean it takes my biggest rival out of the picture."

I had no words. Should I feel flattered that his flirting seemed more serious now?

No.

I was scared.

Terrified.

Because I remembered the rumors—that I was gay. Had he gotten close to me just because he thought he had a chance, thanks to the gossip?

"You… Why do you think you even have a shot at being close to me? Is it because of the rumors? A bet? Are you messing with me?" I burst out. It was all I could think about, even though it felt awful to accuse him. I could never fully trust people, and even though it was Ari, he was still a stranger—because he'd never told me the truth about who he was.

"No!" he shot back immediately. Then, more softly, "No."

For the first time, I dared to look at him. He didn't look away. In the dim light, I couldn't make out his eye color—but his scent tickled my nose.

Wow.

He smelled amazing.

I noticed his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. His crimson lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but I looked away before he could.

"I don't know… Do I need another reason beyond liking you? And if I were some jerk who made a bet with twisted friends, wouldn't I act more like a stalker? Probably not, in my opinion. Besides, the rumors about you started long after you caught my attention, so they have nothing to do with my feelings."

"You're still crazy," I muttered. A corner of my mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. Somehow, those few words chipped away at my strange anxiety.

His lips curved into a smile, and he gazed into my eyes. His face was so close I could feel the faint warmth of his breath.

"Thanks for the compliment."

"And now?" I exhaled, my voice tight. "Now are you ready to tell me who you are?"

"No. I just came to check that you weren't about to drown yourself in a toilet or something."

"Because of a broken heart?"

He nodded silently.

I stared into the void ahead. The darkness around us felt like an intimate bubble. "I ran away from her."

"I noticed," he hummed.

I rested my chin on my knees and glanced at him. "Were you so nervous you had to keep staring at me the entire time?"

"If I said yes, would you think it was romantic?"

I was glad for the darkness. I didn't want him to see the blush creeping across my face.

Why did that make me happy?

That he felt that way?

Until recently, I didn't even realize I was okay with being infatuated with a guy. It didn't bother me that he felt something romantic toward me. Not even the thought of us sharing something intimate.

In fact, I even wanted him to touch me. To hold me.

"When will you tell me who you are?" I sighed, sounding slightly annoyed, burying my chin further into my knees.

"When the time is right."

"And when's that? You're never going to be ready to tell me. Not today, not later. And what then? After graduation, you'll vanish, and I'll never know who you are? Fine," I huffed. "If you don't want to, don't."

Silence fell between us. Just our breathing. Nothing else. Grave-like silence. Did I ruin it with my complaining?

A deep inhale. A swallow.

"It's not that I don't want to. I'm scared of your reaction," he finally said, his voice deeper than before, tinged with emotion.

"Why? That I'd reject you?"

He shrugged and stared ahead. "You're basically the only person I'm honest with. And if you found out how people perceive me and that I've never corrected them, yeah, I'm scared. Selfishly scared. That I'd lose how you feel about me. But mostly, I'm terrified you'd hurt me in a way that couldn't be undone. When people spread lies about me and hate me for them, it's easier than if someone who knows the truth rejected me for a lie."

"What if I didn't reject you? Because who you are to others doesn't mean you'd be the same to me, right?"

He smiled sadly. "I know you're like that. But let's say… I'm still scared. But I'll tell you. I promise."

I laughed quietly, shaking my head at him. "You're hopeless."

His sad smile turned into a softer one, almost serene.

"Yeah," he said suddenly, a strange glint in his eyes.

What the—

"You're right—I'm hopeless. And no, I don't plan to change that."

He was acting strange.

Creepy.

I didn't understand why it felt that way.

Confused and slightly alarmed, I straightened. "What do you mean by that?"

He smirked, a twisted, predatory kind of grin.

And then—

Then my brain short-circuited. His scent hit me full force, and I felt the sticky texture of red lipstick on my lips.

What the…?

He was kissing me.

Ari kissed me. Holy shit.

There was a slight pressure against me as he feverishly claimed my lips with his own. The kiss became slicker and louder as his lipstick smudged and melted.

It was surreal. Like it was happening outside of me, but the electric tingling all over my body and the pounding in my chest anchored me in reality.

Just as quickly as it started, the kiss ended. His warmth vanished. His presence pulled away.

"I'm hopeless because I'm realizing just how crazy I am about you, Tate."

He stood and walked away. Like it was nothing. Like the past five minutes hadn't just happened. Like I was still alone.

Except now, my tears weren't falling from despair, and the ache had turned into a burning heat and blushing cheeks.

I covered my mouth with my hand.

Because I had just been kissed by Aristotle.

note:

y'know... it's kinda annoying how Ari's name is in english Aristotle - it sounds almost like a turtle. In czech it's Aristoteles.. hah (funny fact: this week I had lecture about Aristoteles (I'm on philosophy major)