The Gravity of You
Maya's POV
Evengelina(Author)
This is your author here
Evengelina(Author)
This is the first time I am writing in this style
Evengelina(Author)
So it's a bit new for me
Evengelina(Author)
Be patient and read all the story
Evengelina(Author)
It will be fun
Tuesday, 11:47 PM — Maya's bedroom, lights off, phone glowing against her face.
Maya had been staring at Leo’s contact photo for seventeen minutes. It was a candid shot—him laughing at some party, head thrown back, crooked tooth on full display. She’d taken it herself, back when they were just "classmates," before he became the gravitational center of her universe. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. Just say something. Anything. He won't think it's weird. He never does.
Maya(chat)
Hey, you awake?
She held her breath. Three dots appeared. Her heart performed its familiar, traitorous leap.
Leo(chat)
Yeah, what’s up?
Maya(chat)
Nothing. Just thinking about you.
She typed it too fast, hit send before her brain could veto it. Too honest. Too desperate. Dial it back.
Leo(chat)
Haha, that’s dangerous.
Leo(chat)
Because I’ll fall asleep and you’ll keep me up with your theories.
Maya(chat)
Maybe I just like hearing your voice.
There it was. A tiny confession wrapped in casual text, like a grenade disguised as a lullaby. She watched the screen blur as her eyes welled up for no reason. Stupid. You're so stupid.
Leo(chat)
Sends voice note — (2 seconds of him laughing, then saying "Go to sleep, weirdo.")
She played it six times. Each time, his laugh hit her like a warm wave, followed by the cold crash of reality. Weirdo. That's what she was to him. Endearing, yes. But also—platonic. Safe. She replayed it one more time, then locked her phone and pressed it to her chest, as if she could absorb his voice through the glass.
Thursday, 2:15 PM — The campus coffee shop, rain streaking the windows like tears.
Maya had skipped her afternoon lecture to stand in line for twenty minutes. Not because she wanted coffee—she hated the bitter stuff—but because Leo had mentioned, offhandedly, three weeks ago, that the caramel drizzle latte from this specific shop was "the only thing keeping him alive during finals." She ordered two. One for him, one for her to pretend to drink.
She spotted him at their usual table, backpack slung over an empty chair, earbuds in. He was sketching something—he always drew when he was stressed. She approached quietly, set the cup down in front of him, and watched his face transform. First confusion, then recognition, then that lazy, devastating smile.
Maya(FL)
I got that coffee you like. The one with the caramel drizzle.
Her stomach flipped. Angel. If only he knew how many nights she'd prayed to be something more.
Leo(ML)
Seriously, though — you’re too good to me.
She meant it. Every syllable. She would bring him coffee a thousand times if it meant seeing that smile. She would bring him coffee until her fingers burned off.
Leo(ML)
…I’m gonna tell Sarah you said that. She’ll be jealous.
Sarah. His girlfriend of eight months. The woman with the perfect laugh and the effortless ponytail and the annoying habit of being exactly what Leo needed. Maya felt the coffee in her own cup turn to acid.
Maya(FL)
Wait, you told her about me?
She knew the answer. She just needed to hear him say it—needed to watch the blade lower itself.
Leo(ML)
Of course. You’re my best friend. She knows everything.
Best friend. The two words that built her up and broke her down in the same breath. She forced a smile so wide her cheeks ached.
Maya(FL)
Right. Best friend.
Maya(FL)
Yeah. Just tired. Enjoy the coffee.
She stood up, grabbed her bag, and walked out into the rain without her jacket. The cold felt like penance. She didn't turn back, but she knew—she knew—he was already texting Sarah about how sweet his friend Maya was. Friend. The word tasted like ash.
Saturday, 9:03 PM — Maya's apartment, wine glass in hand, three empty bottles beside her.
She'd spent the day scrolling through their old messages. Five years of history. Inside jokes, late-night rants, shared playlists, promises to "always be there." She'd mapped every high and low, every emoji he'd ever sent her, every time he'd called her "bro" or "dude" or "homie." She'd cataloged every wound. Tonight, she was done cataloging. Tonight, she was going to be brave.
Her fingers trembled as she typed.
Maya(chat)
Can I ask you something stupid?
Maya(chat)
Have you ever looked at someone and thought,
Maya(chat)
"If they just saw me the way I see them"?
Leo(chat)
That’s deep. Is this about that guy from work?
Maya(chat)
No. It’s about… never mind.
Coward. Absolute coward. She watched the cursor blink, daring her to finish.
Leo(chat)
C’mon, tell me. I’m your person, right?
Your person. That was the cruelest part. He meant it so purely, so innocently. He had no idea that when she said "my person," she meant my only one. My last one. My always one.
Maya(chat)
What if the person already sees you — but they choose to look away?
Leo(chat)
Then they’re an idiot.
She laughed bitterly. Oh, Leo. You have no idea. She stared at the screen for three full minutes. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard. She could type it. I love you. I've always loved you. Not as a friend. Not as a sister. As someone who would burn down the world just to warm you for a second.
Leo(chat)
You still there?
Maya(chat)
Yeah. Just thinking.
Maya(chat)
How easy it is to love someone who doesn’t love you back.
She hit send before she could stop herself. Then she watched the three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it in her ears.
Maya(chat)
I’m kidding. 😅 It’s a lyric.
She typed the lie so fast it left fingerprints on her soul.
Leo(chat)
Oh. You scared me.
Maya(chat)
Yeah. Wouldn’t want that.
Wouldn't want that. Wouldn't want to burden him with the truth. Wouldn't want to make him choose. Wouldn't want to lose the only thing she had left—his friendship, even if it came in second place. She closed her eyes and let a single tear slide down her cheek. It tasted like caramel. Like coffee. Like everything she'd never have.
Sunday, 3:42 AM — Pitch black, phone on 2% battery, Maya lying on her bathroom floor.
She'd written poetry before. Bad poetry, teenage poetry, the kind you burn before anyone reads. But this—this was different. This was the truth she'd been swallowing for five years. She typed it into their chat, knowing he'd never see it until morning, knowing he'd dismiss it as another one of her "weird late-night rants."
Maya(chat)
I wrote this for you. You’ll never see it, but here it is:
Maya(chat)
You are the sun I orbit,
But I am not your planet.
I am the moon —
Bright only because you exist,
But always, always in your shadow.
I have mapped your gravity,
Calculated every pull,
But you are a star that burns for others
And I am just your satellite—
Full of light, but never the source.
One day I'll drift away,
Escape your orbit, find my own dark sky.
But tonight, I'll stay here—
Cold, distant, faithful—
Because leaving you is a universe I cannot cross.
She hit send. Then she typed two more words, the truest ones of all:
The screen went black. Her battery died. And in the silence of 3:42 AM, Maya finally let herself cry—not for what she'd lost, but for what she'd never had. She cried for every coffee she'd bought, every late-night text she'd sent, every smile she'd faked. She cried because loving Leo was like loving the ocean—beautiful, endless, and utterly incapable of loving her back.
But when the sun rose, she would get up. She would wash her face. She would text him "good morning" like nothing happened. Because that's what moons do. They keep shining, even when the sun isn't looking.
Evengelina(Author)
This is the end of the first phase
Evengelina(Author)
Next you will get to know Leo's POV
Leo's POV
Tuesday, 11:47 PM — Leo's dorm, headphones on, textbook open to a page he hasn't read in an hour.
His phone buzzed. He knew it was her before he looked—Maya had a specific vibration, a sort of anxious double-tap he'd memorized without meaning to. He picked it up, read her name, and felt that familiar knot tighten in his chest. Hey, you awake? She always asked that. As if he'd ever be asleep when she needed him.
He stared at the screen for a long moment. His thumb hovered. He could say he was busy. He could say goodnight. He could do the right thing, the kind thing, and let her off this hook she'd been dangling from for five years. But he didn't. He never did. Because he was selfish. Because her attention felt like oxygen. Because if he was being brutally honest with himself—which he avoided at all costs—he needed her more than he needed to protect her.
Leo(chat)
Yeah, what's up?
He typed it casual. Careless. Like his heart wasn't pounding.
Maya(chat)
Nothing. Just thinking about you.
He read it three times. Each time, it landed somewhere between his ribs and his throat. Thinking about you. She said that so freely, so easily, like it cost her nothing. But he knew—God, he knew—it cost her everything. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly.
Leo(chat)
Haha, that's dangerous.
I can't handle this. Please stop. Please don't stop.
Leo(chat)
Because I'll fall asleep and you'll keep me up with your theories.
A deflection. A joke. His specialty. He could feel her smiling on the other end—that soft, crooked smile she got when she thought he was being cute. He hated that he knew that. He hated that he'd catalogued every version of her face.
Maya(chat)
Maybe I just like hearing your voice.
There it was. The bullet. He pressed his palms against his eyes. He could send a voice note—something short, something stupid, something that gave her a crumb without feeding the monster. He recorded two seconds of forced laughter
Leo(chat)
Go to sleep, weirdo
Leo(chat)
Sends voice note
He listened to it before sending. It sounded hollow. It always did when he lied.
He watched her play it. Once. Twice. Three times—the app showed him. She always played his voice notes on repeat. He knew she did. He never told her he knew. He turned his phone face-down and stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster. You're a coward. You're a coward. You're a coward.
Thursday, 2:15 PM — The campus coffee shop, rain hammering the roof, Leo sketching to keep his hands busy.
He saw her walk in before she saw him. She was soaking wet, jacket forgotten, holding two cups like they were holy relics. His chest ached. She skipped class for this. She always skipped class for him. He pretended not to notice the way her eyes lit up when she spotted him. He pretended not to notice how she'd memorized his order, his schedule, his life.
She set the cup down. He forced a smile so bright it could power a city.
Maya(FL)
I got that coffee you like. The one with the caramel drizzle.
Angel. He used that word deliberately. It was safe. It was religious, reverent, but platonic. It said, I see you, I appreciate you, but I do not want you. He hoped she heard the subtext. He knew she didn't.
Leo(ML)
Seriously, though — you're too good to me.
He meant that. Genuinely. She was too good. Too patient. Too forgiving. She deserved someone who could love her back without the asterisk. Someone who wasn't already tangled in a relationship he wasn't even sure he wanted.
No, I don't, he thought. I deserve to lose you. I deserve to watch you walk away. But I won't let you. He took a sip of the coffee. It was perfect. Of course it was.
Leo(ML)
…I'm gonna tell Sarah you said that. She'll be jealous.
He dropped Sarah's name like a bomb. Not because he loved her—not really, not the way he should—but because he needed Maya to remember the boundaries. Needed to remind himself, too. Sarah was his girlfriend. Maya was his friend. That was the order. That was the lie he lived by.
Maya(FL)
Wait, you told her about me?
Her panic was palpable, even through text. He could picture her face—the way her jaw tightened, the way she blinked too fast. He felt a surge of guilt so sharp it nearly knocked him sideways.
Leo(ML)
Of course. You're my best friend. She knows everything.
Best friend. The cruelest title. It gave her a place in his life, but not the one she wanted. It told her, You are essential, you are invaluable, but you are not chosen. He watched her face fall, watched her force a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Maya(FL)
Right. Best friend.
Maya(FL)
Yeah. Just tired. Enjoy the coffee.
She left. He watched her walk into the rain without her jacket. He didn't follow. He couldn't. Because if he followed, if he wrapped his jacket around her, if he pulled her close and whispered stay—he'd have to admit that Sarah was just a placeholder, and Maya was the real thing. And he wasn't brave enough for that.
Saturday, 9:03 PM — Leo's apartment, Sarah asleep in the next room, Leo wide awake.
He'd been dreading this conversation all week. Every time Maya texted, he felt the floor tilt. Tonight, she was drunk—he could tell from the typos, the oversharing, the raw desperation bleeding through the screen. He read each message and felt his own ribs crack open.
Maya(chat)
Can I ask you something stupid?
Always. He gave her that word so freely. It was a leash, and he knew it. He knew she'd choke on it someday.
Maya(chat)
Have you ever looked at someone and thought, "If they just saw me the way I see them"?
Leo(chat)
That's deep. Is this about that guy from work?
He knew it wasn't. He knew it was about him. He deflected anyway.
Maya(chat)
No. It's about… never mind.
Leo(chat)
C'mon, tell me. I'm your person, right?
Your person. He'd coined that phrase years ago, back when he thought it was harmless. Now it felt like a brand on her skin—property of Leo, never to be claimed.
Maya(chat)
What if the person already sees you — but they choose to look away?
Leo(ML)
Then they're an idiot.
He meant me. He meant I'm the idiot. He meant I see you, I've always seen you, and I'm too terrified to admit that I see you back. But he couldn't type that. So he typed nothing.
He watched each "read" timestamp appear. She was waiting. She was always waiting. He could hear Sarah breathing softly in the other room. He could hear his own conscience screaming.
Leo(chat)
You still there?
Maya(chat)
Yeah. Just thinking.
Maya(chat)
How easy it is to love someone who doesn't love you back.
His heart stopped. Then restarted at double speed. He typed and deleted a response seven times. I do love you. Just not the way you need. I love you too much to ruin you. I love you too little to leave Sarah. I love you in all the wrong ways.
Maya(chat)
I'm kidding. 😅 It's a lyric.
He didn't believe her. He knew that smiley face was armor. He knew she was crying. He wanted to call her. He wanted to drive to her apartment and hold her and tell her the truth—but then what? Destroy Sarah? Destroy their friendship? Destroy everything he'd built on a foundation of lies?
Leo(chat)
Oh. You scared me.
Maya(chat)
Yeah. Wouldn't want that.
He stared at those three words for an hour. Wouldn't want that. She'd rather swallow her love than burden him. She'd rather bleed silently than make him choose. And he—pathetic, selfish, cowardly him—let her.
Sunday, 3:42 AM — Leo's balcony, cigarette he doesn't smoke burning between his fingers.
His phone buzzed. He knew he should leave it. He knew whatever she'd sent would wound him. But he opened it anyway.
Maya(chat)
I wrote this for you. You'll never see it, but here it is:
He read the poem. Then he read it again. Then he read it until the words burned into his retinas. You are the sun I orbit. But I am not your planet. He pressed his forehead against the cold railing and let out a sound—half laugh, half sob.
He'd known. He'd always known. He'd known the first time she looked at him a second too long. He'd known when she remembered his coffee order. He'd known when she typed "thinking about you" and meant I love you. He'd known, and he'd let it continue. Because her love was a mirror, and when she looked at him with those big, hopeless eyes—he felt like someone worth loving.
He scrolled up. Five years of messages. Five years of her giving and him taking. Five years of almost saying something, almost being honest, almost being the man she deserved. He typed a response. Deleted it. Typed another. Deleted that too.
Finally, at 4:01 AM, he typed three words. He stared at them until his vision blurred.
He never sent them. He locked his phone, went back inside, and crawled into bed beside Sarah—who stirred, smiled sleepily, and whispered "love you." He said it back. Because that was easier. That was safer. That was the lie he chose to live.
But in the dark, he could still see Maya's poem. He could still hear her saying delivered. always. And he knew—with the kind of certainty that ruins you—that he would never, ever deserve her. And that was the truest thing he'd ever known.
Evengelina(Author)
Soooooo
Evengelina(Author)
This was his pov
Evengelina(Author)
Next one will be about their meeting
Evengelina(Author)
and confession
Evengelina(Author)
I am thinking if they should confront each other now
Evengelina(Author)
or have them meet each other after years
Evengelina(Author)
I will think about it
Time Jump
Five Years Later — Wednesday, 8:14 PM — A rooftop bar in Chicago, city lights flickering below.
Maya hadn't been back to this city in three years. She'd moved to Portland after graduation, took a job at a design firm, adopted a cat, and spent most of her twenties learning how to be a person who didn't check her phone every three seconds hoping for a name that started with L. It had worked. Mostly. Some days, she didn't think about him at all. Other days, she caught herself ordering caramel drizzle lattes and hated how her hands still remembered the weight of carrying two cups.
Tonight was a work conference. She'd flown in that morning, sat through four panels, and escaped to the rooftop for air. She was scrolling through emails—boring, safe, productive emails—when a familiar voice cut through the wind.
Leo(ML)
"Still stealing other people's coffee orders?"
She turned. And there he was.
Leo stood three feet away, older than she remembered, broader in the shoulders, with the same crooked smile and the same eyes that had once made her feel like the only person in a crowded room. He wore a suit now—well-tailored, expensive—and held a glass of whiskey she knew he'd always hated. He'd changed. But also, he hadn't.
Her voice steadier than she
Maya(FL)
I remember. There's a difference
He laughed. It was the same laugh from the voice note. The one she'd played six times in a row, five years ago, on a bathroom floor. She felt the memory rise like bile and swallowed it down.
Leo(ML)
You look good, Maya.
He said it softly. Like it cost him something.
Maya(FL)
You look like you're about to say something you've been holding for five years.
He flinched. Just barely. But she caught it. She'd always caught everything.
8:32 PM — Same rooftop, two seats facing the skyline, untouched drinks between them.
They'd moved to a corner table. She'd suggested it because her legs were tired. He'd agreed because he wasn't ready to let her disappear again. They sat in that strange silence—the kind that's heavy with everything unsaid.
She started, picking at the label on her beer bottle.
Leo(ML)
Two years ago. She found someone who actually wanted to get married. I wasn't that guy.
Leo(ML)
But it was also the truth. I was never going to marry her. Not because she wasn't great—she was. But because I was already married to someone else.
Her fingers froze on the label.
Leo(ML)
Just let me say this.
Leo(ML)
I've rehearsed it a thousand times. In the shower. In traffic. In every quiet moment when I thought about you and felt like throwing up.
She didn't move. Didn't blink.
Leo(ML)
You sent me a poem. At 3:42 AM. You said 'delivered, always.'
Leo(ML)
I read it so many times I memorized it
Leo(ML)
I typed a response—'I know, Maya'—and I never sent it because I was a coward."
Maya(FL)
You were in a relationship
Leo(ML)
I was a coward because I knew that if I admitted I knew—if I acknowledged what you were giving me—I'd have to give something back. And I didn't think I was capable. So I pretended. I pretended I didn't see you. I pretended you were just my best friend. And I let you walk into the rain without your jacket, and I let you cry on your bathroom floor, and I let you believe you were invisible.
She blinked. Once. Twice. Her voice cracked when she spoke.
Maya(FL)
Why are you telling me this now?
Leo(ML)
Because I saw you tonight
Leo(ML)
And I realized I've spent five years waiting for a second chance I don't deserve. But I'm asking anyway. Not for forgiveness. Just—truth. You deserve that much
9:15 PM — The elevator, descending forty floors, Maya pressed against the mirrored wall.
She didn't speak for the entire ride. He stood beside her, hands in his pockets, watching her reflection. She looked different—sharper, harder, like she'd carved herself out of stone. But her eyes still had that softness. That familiar, terrifying softness.
Maya(FL)
You know what I did the morning after that night?
Maya(FL)
I woke up, washed my face, and texted you 'good morning' like nothing happened.
Maya(FL)
Like I hadn't poured my entire soul into your phone and watched you pretend not to see it.
Maya(FL)
And then I did that for three more years.
Maya(FL)
Every single day.
Maya(FL)
Waking up, smiling, and dying a little more each time
His voice was barely a whisper.
Maya(FL)
You knew that too.
She laughed, but it was hollow
Maya(FL)
God, you knew everything. And you let me.
Leo(ML)
Because I was terrified.
Leo(ML)
Because I loved you too. Just—differently.
Leo(ML)
Worse. I loved you like a coward. I loved you from a distance. I loved you without ever having to risk anything.
The elevator dinged. The doors slid open. She stepped out into the lobby, and he followed, desperate.
She stopped. Turned. Her eyes were wet, but she wasn't crying. Not yet.
Maya(FL)
I forgave you years ago. But I don't trust you.
Maya(FL)
And trust isn't something you can ask for—it's something you build.
Maya(FL)
And you, Leo, have a lot of bricks to lay.
Leo(ML)
I'll lay them. Every single one. I'll show up. I'll be honest. I'll stop running. I'll—
Maya(FL)
You'll start by telling me why you're really here
Maya(FL)
Not Chicago. Not the conference. Why you're standing in front of me, right now, after five years of silence.
He met her eyes. And for the first time, he didn't deflect. Didn't joke. Didn't hide.
Leo(ML)
Because I was in Portland two months ago
Leo(ML)
I saw you at a coffee shop. You were laughing at something your phone said, and you had a caramel drizzle latte, and I realized—I've spent my entire life running from the one person who actually saw me. And I thought, if I don't fix this now, I'll never see her laugh again. And that—
Leo(ML)
That's a universe I cannot cross.
She stared at him. Silence stretched between them like a canyon.
Then, slowly, she pulled out her phone.
She showed him the screen. Just one word.
Leo(ML)
What does that mean?
Maya(FL)
It means I see you. I still see you. And I'm not saying yes. I'm not saying no. I'm saying—brick one. You want to lay them? Start now. Start by being my friend again. The real kind. The kind that doesn't hide.
He looked at her. At the phone. At the word delivered glowing on the screen.
Maya(FL)
Good. Because I'm not writing poetry for you anymore. This time, you're going to have to write your own.
She turned and walked toward the exit. But this time—this time—she didn't walk into the rain alone.
9:42 PM — The sidewalk outside the hotel, streetlights buzzing, a soft drizzle starting to fall.
They stood under a yellow awning, watching the rain paint the pavement. Neither spoke. Neither reached for the other. But they stood close—closer than they'd stood in years.
Leo(ML)
Can I ask you something stupid?
He said, echoing her words from so long ago.
She considered it. Really considered it. The weight of five years. The weight of every coffee, every late-night text, every unspoken confession. The weight of delivered. always.
Maya(FL)
We figure out who we are without the shadows. You stop being the sun. I stop being the moon. We just… two people. Standing in the rain. Trying to build something real.
He nodded. Then he pulled out his own phone.
Leo(chat)
I wrote this for you. You'll never see it, but here it is:
I was the sun—too bright to look at,
But I burned everyone who came close.
You were the moon—quiet, faithful, constant.
And I thought I needed the warmth.
But warmth fades. Light fades.
What lasts isn't the fire—
It's the gravity. The pull.
The way you kept me in orbit
Even when I was too blind to see.
I don't want to be your sun anymore.
I don't want to be anyone's star.
I just want to be the ground you stand on—
Solid, present, finally home.
He showed her the screen.
She read it once. Twice. Three times.
Then she smiled. Not the broken smile from five years ago. Not the forced smile from the coffee shop. A real one. Small, fragile, but real.
She typed one word and turned the phone toward him.
She didn't say I love you. She didn't say yes. She said delivered. And this time, it didn't mean sacrifice. It didn't mean unrequited. It meant I see you. I hear you. I'm still here.
He took a breath. And for the first time in five years, he didn't look away.
Leo(chat)
Delivered. Always.
Evengelina(Author)
This is the end of this chapter
Evengelina(Author)
I now have 3 chapter left
Evengelina(Author)
This story will be completed soon
Evengelina(Author)
Tell me if I should continue or just stop at this?
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