June stared at Everest’s reflection through the rear view mirror. She could feel his gaze settle onto the back of her seat; out the window and into the soft wind; on the ground where she’d left a plastic water bottle to crumple and wither away; really, anywhere but on her.

Over and over again, June tried catching his eyes. Over and over again, Everest evaded her attempts.

Finally, fed up, she sighed and opened her mouth.

“Are you ever going to speak to me?” She asked.

This time, Everest’s stare wandered until it was upon her, but it was different from any other stare he’d given her before. This one was colder. More aloof. As if she was staring at someone she knew nothing about.

A stranger.

“Well?” She prompted, internally wincing as his icy blue eyes pierced through her own warm browns.

“Are you ever going to let me?” He asked her dryly.

June gaped at the road in front of her. Beyond the windshield, the sky was colouring in hues of soft oranges and yellows. It looked like a canvas of something beautiful. Something that couldn’t be destroyed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She asked.

Everest snorted. “What do you think it means?”

June looked from Everest’s tense posture to the road in front of her, then back to Everest again. Suddenly feeling exhausted, she deflated. “What do you want me to say, Ev? What do you want me to do?”

He remained silent for a few moments before asking aloud, “You ever think about what things would have been like if we hadn’t met?”

All the time, she wanted to say. But that seemed too cruel — seemed too insignificant for what they are; were — so instead she asked, “You want me to drop you off at Fred’s?”

Everest nodded. June turned right.

It was only after a few minutes of silent driving that June spoke again.

“Ev?” She asked quietly.

“Yeah?”

“What’s going to happen now?”

This time, it was he who looked at her through the rear view mirror, and where she would have previously found softness and butterflies and hope, she only found indefinite grief.

He didn’t need to answer her. June already knew.

It was only after — after she’d dropped him off and he looked at her for what might have been the last time, his gaze filled with something akin to a question not even she had the answer to — that June thought about Everest. Really, truly thought about him.

He’d been her first love because he was her only one.

He’d smile at her softly whenever he caught her staring. Hold her hand through the warmth of his. Give up his blanket in the middle of the night for the sake of her own comfort. Love her unconditionally. Equally, intimately, unconditionally.

And yet.

Still, beautiful things break apart. Still, the sky continues to weep and the colours fade. Still, June comes.

Still — over and over again — she reaches for Everest.

—

/r/itrytowrite