At the edge of a quiet park or nestled in the heart of a town square, the gazebo stands like a scene from a postcard—charming, romantic, and timeless. Painted in a soft eggshell white, its woodwork is detailed with delicate fretwork and carved posts that rise to meet a shingled octagonal roof. Ivy or fairy lights often twine up its columns, especially in spring or during events, giving it an extra touch of magic.

A low railing circles the interior, where a few built-in benches curve gently with the shape of the space. The floorboards are weathered but clean, their creaks softened by time and countless slow dances, declarations, or secret late-night talks. In the summer, flower baskets hang from each corner, overflowing with petunias, trailing vines, or sweet alyssum. In winter, it’s often wrapped in garland and dusted with snow, still and peaceful like something out of a dream.

Whether used for small concerts, wedding vows, or stolen moments, the gazebo is a quiet centerpiece—a place where time slows down and everything feels just a little more beautiful.

As creepy as it sounds, Ellie used to swoon over Tyler from afar in high school and often wondered what it’d be like to love him. All the girls wanted him, and all the guys wanted to be him. Tyler was, if not the most popular guy in their high school class and the star of their hockey team and Eleanora Tate was nowhere near popular enough to be on Tyler Harrison’s radar back then. So, when he approached her one night while out with her sister, she was taken aback, of course, but immediately smitten with his sparkling green eyes and infectious smile.

Over time, the smiles and happy times faded, while fights and crying became more frequent in the place they called home. Ellie tried to talk to him before, but he didn't listen and take her seriously until she packed her shit and left, and that's on him. Ellie refused to move back into the apartment until Tyler could prove to her that he changed and it wasn't an act to get her back. Ellie believed him when he said he would change, but he never did. They were always empty promises. She wouldn't accept his word until his actions spoke for themselves.

It'd been harder than anticipated to leave her sister and brother-in-law’s place. They'd been using Ellie moving in also as an intervention. If it were up to Faye, she'd be locked away in her room like Rapunzel. Luckily, Eddie had more common sense and didn't let it happen. But because Faye wouldn't leave her alone, she left later than she wanted to. Tyler was already waiting in the gazebo for her. She hesitated momentarily, double-guessing herself, but ultimately decided to cross the street and go through with the plans of meeting up with him anyway. See, Ellie, this is exactly why you're in this predicament that you're in! You never listen to your gut. Ever! Ellie yelled at herself, but the voice quickly disappeared at the sight of Tyler eagerly waiting for her to get closer.

Everything he did, and she said before, it didn't matter. All Ellie wanted now was to feel what it was like to be in Tyler’s arms again. The closer she got to the gazebo, the quicker she started walking. “I still mean what I said; just kiss me,” Ellie demanded. She touched his face, leaning forward and quickly melting into his body as their lips pressed together for the first time in weeks. It'd almost been a month. She wanted to be stronger, but she could never control her impulses, especially regarding Tyler Harrison.

This was hell. Or at least, that's what Tyler was convinced. Never had a girl ever made him feel the way that Ellie did. He originally thought that he could just get drunk and sleep his way away from his feelings, but he couldn't. From the moment Ellie had left their place to go to her sisters, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. Faye wasn't exactly his biggest fan, and it wasn't like he could blame her - all she was doing was protecting her little sister - but chances were she wasn't doing him any favours in the winning Ellie back department. Tyler spent the first week of her absence throwing himself a little pity party, then came a week of partying and trying to fill the void, but when that didn't work, he spent the next week doing some deep soul-searching until he finally accepted what needed to be done. He needed to become the man that Ellie deserved. It all seemed obvious, and Tyler wasn't a complete idiot, but he was still very young and dumb.

Thankfully, Ellied had agreed to meet him in person so he wouldn't have to worry about Faye inserting herself into their problems. Faye honestly terrified him sometimes. He'd been on the receiving end of her wrath far too many times. Given time, Ellie was on track to be as scary as he sister if she wanted to. If everything worked out, Tyler was already planning on getting tips from Eddie on how he does it.

Not wanting to fuck it up, Tyler showed up to the town's gazebo early so that Ellie knew he meant business. Usually, he ran on "Tyler time": he showed up whenever he felt like it. The meet-up time came and went, and he began wondering, was she giving him a taste of his own medicine? His eyes scanned the surroundings, looking for any sign of her until he finally spotted her in the distance. Fixing his messy hair and pacing anxiously while waiting for her to make her way over to him. Tyler had hundreds of thoughts swirling in his head about how this could go, but he honestly hadn't expected her to kiss him off the bat like that. Tyler immediately wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back. It felt amazing. It felt right. It was everything he needed. It made that void no longer feel so black and empty. Everything was right again.

When it finally felt right, Tyler pulled away from the kiss but didn't let go of her. He looked down into her beautiful blue eyes to make sure she could see how much he truly meant it this time. "I'm sorry. And I promise that I'm going to spend forever making it up to you. Making sure that you know how fucking amazing and special you are."

Ellie wanted to believe him wholeheartedly, but it wasn't easy. He had let her down so many times in the past. “Don’t say it if you don't mean it,” Ellie reminded him softly, looking back into his green eyes. Normally, they sparkled. Not today; Tyler looked exhausted. Honestly, she never thought he'd take her moving out as hard as he did. She thought he'd get over it within a few hours, go out with his buddies, meet a girl, and bring her home. However, that isn't what happened. According to their friends, he’d been heartbroken, but it was hard for Ellie to sympathise with Tyler, who had broken her heart a dozen times before without a care. He was getting a taste of karma and couldn't handle it.

Ellie tried to pull away, but Tyler secured his arms around her with the slightest move. She wanted to smile but kept a blank expression and didn't address it. Instead, she went with it and only shifted her body enough to lean against the railing. After reconciling, Tyler had always been clingy in the past, but this was different. “Have you eaten today?” Ellie asked while playing with one of his brown curls. Despite not feeling sympathy for the hole Tyler dug, she still loved him and knew he hadn't taken care of himself since she moved out, which worried her. She was also trying to avoid the elephant in the room. He wasn't going to like what she had to say.

Ellie stared up at him, a smile appearing on her lips as he stared back. She couldn't believe she was finally back in his arms. It’s all she’d been dreaming about. If it hadn't been for Warden Faye, Ellie would've likely returned within a few days and forgiven Tyler. It's why Faye had been more protective than normal. Faye was tired of Tyler hurting her. She didn't like or trust him, and Ellie didn't blame Faye. However, Faye wasn't trying to understand Ellie’s feelings and was perplexed by how madly in love Ellie was with the moppy-haired kid. So, she thought if Ellie had someone to distract her, she wouldn’t want to see Tyler. It didn't work, and it wasn't going to work. Ellie didn't want to be with anyone if it wasn't Tyler Harrison.

“I want you to know that I don't want to get married right now, or that’s something I expect any time soon,” Ellie started. “I want you to love me. I want to feel secure, and yeah, sometimes I'm going to need reassurance, and I might get a little annoying,” Ellie chose her words carefully because she didn't want to get too caught up in her emotions and cry. She'd done enough crying in the last few weeks. “I just want you to love me, for real, Tyler,” Ellie said as tears filled her eyes. Fuck! Ellie wished she didn't feel things so deeply. “Not halfway, not partially, all the way. Two feet in, not one in and one out.” Ellie needed to over-explain because she needed Tyler to know what she meant. “Otherwise, we aren't going to work, and we should just say goodbye now.” She didn't feel the need to bring up Faye or her match-making shinanigans if Tyler wasn't serious about changing.

"I mean every word of it," he reassured her, not breaking eye contact. He'd always been the heartbreaker; he was never the one to have his heart broken. It wasn't fair to Ellie, but it finally understood how she felt. "I'm a dick, and I fucked up, and I know you've heard this speech a million times, but this time, you're going to see change. I promise." He desperately longed to kiss her again but decided against it. He was in the doghouse, and until he made it up to her, he only got kisses when she wanted them. Instead, he happily held her in his arms and enjoyed the moment while it lasted; he had no idea how long he had until she had to leave him again.

Tyler had to think it over momentarily when asked if he'd eaten. "Earlier," he mumbled. Unless he had something delicious in front of him, food had been the last thing on his mind. However, with Ellie in his arms, smiling at him, everything felt right, and he could go for some food right about now. Before he could suggest grabbing something, Ellie started laying everything out for him. Watching her eyes gloss over while she spoke, Tyler brought one of his hands up to meet her face in case he needed to brush any tears away. "Listen to me. I do love you, and I always will. I am so sorry that it took me this long to realize how much of a jackass idiot I have been. You didn't deserve it. Any of it. Whatever it takes to make it up to you, consider it done. I'm yours and yours only. I'll even wear a shirt that says 'I'm Taken' or 'Ellie's Man, no touching' every time I go out if that's what it takes. Whatever you want, you've got it."

It would take time for her to believe him, but he really was a changed man. However long it took, chances were it would take even longer for Faye to believe it. Tyler couldn't help but wonder again how long he had until Ellie would have to return to her sister's house. "You want to grab something to eat?" he asked, hopeful for more time with her.

“You are a dick,” she mumbled in agreement before looking away momentarily. Tyler was right; she had heard this speech a million times, but this time felt different, like he meant what he was saying. “And if I don't see change, I’m leaving you for good.” As hard as it was to get that out, Ellie knew it needed to be said. Tyler needed to know she was serious. Ellie had always talked about holding him accountable but never followed through with the threats. It also didn't help that he could always talk himself out of any situation and make her melt with something as simple as a smile.

Ellie held onto his wrist as her cheek rested in his palm while Tyler reassured her that he loved her. It didn't take long for Ellie to let her guard down. She didn't know if it was a mistake, but it was the risk she was willing to take. For her, Tyler would always be worth it. “What if it had a giant picture of my face? Would you still wear it then?” Ellie teased, pulling his hand down and intertwining their fingers. His hand always fit perfectly into hers. “You’re mine, and I'm yours,” finally giving him the desired answer and leaning in to seal it with a kiss, which quickly intensified. At that moment, Ellie chose not to say anything about Faye, the matchmaker, because she didn’t want to ruin what was happening. It was only going to piss Tyler off in the end, and she didn’t want to deal with that right now.

“Food sounds good. Faye thinks I went to Stephanie’s, so I have a few hours,” Ellie told him as she guided them out of the gazebo, her hand still holding his, not wanting to let go until necessary. “What were you thinking?” Ellie asked as they approached the crosswalk and hit the button. “We could always go to Baked in Evergreen; they have everything,” she paused as she realised what time of the year it was and made a face. “Nevermind. They’re going to be overrun by the tourists.” And every other eatery in this town. As much as she didn’t want to suggest returning to the apartment in fear of it bringing up the conversation about whether or not she was moving back in, it seemed like the only good option. “We can go to the apartment, and I can make us something to eat, or we can order? I don’t want to deal with big crowds right now.”

The town was small enough that everything was within walking distance. It only took about ten minutes to get from the gazebo to the apartment complex. It was an enjoyable walk. It was almost as if they hadn't fought, which wasn’t uncommon for them after making up.

She knew the moment Asher turned to her in the parking lot.

The flicker of disbelief in his eyes, followed by the tightening of his jaw—it was all there, loud and obvious to her even if he hadn’t said a word. Mason and Rowan had just walked into school like something out of a teen drama finale, fingers laced, her head tilted in quiet defiance. Sera hadn’t been surprised. Asher had.

And then he’d looked at her.

“You knew,” he’d said—quietly, flatly—but it hit harder than if he’d yelled it.

“Let’s skip,” she’d offered, chin lifted, sunglasses already sliding into place. “Unless you’re dying to get ambushed with questions from half the school.”

They didn’t speak on the drive. She watched his knuckles go white on the steering wheel, the way he tapped the turn signal too sharply. The silence between them wasn’t unfamiliar, but it felt heavier today—like something sharp waiting to be unsheathed.

Now, at the gazebo, the world had gone still. No snow like in winter, but the air still held a bite. The benches were dry and sun-warmed, but neither of them sat. Asher leaned against a post, arms crossed, eyes on the ground.

Sera stood a few feet away, arms folded, the sound of birdsong grating against her already frayed nerves.

“You could say something, you know,” she snapped, too brightly. “Or are we doing the brooding lacrosse boy routine all morning?”

He didn’t move.

“Oh, come on,” she said, stepping closer. “You’re mad because I didn’t tell you about Mason and Rowan? What did you expect me to do—text you a play-by-play the second they made eye contact? Send a mass update to the group chat?”

Still nothing.

“I didn’t lie,” she added, sharper now. “I just didn’t offer up information you didn’t ask for.”

Asher finally looked up, and the betrayal in his eyes made her stomach twist.

“That’s rich,” she laughed, bitter and brittle. “You know, for someone who pretends not to care about the social scene, you sure lose your mind when your little hierarchy gets shaken.”

His silence stretched again, which only made her angrier.

“You think Mason being with Rowan threatens you? Is that it?” she pushed, voice rising. “Or is it just that she didn’t ask your permission first?”

Asher’s jaw clenched, but he still didn’t respond, and that undid her.

“God, say something!” she exploded. “Yell at me, accuse me, anything. But don’t just stand there like I stabbed you in the back when all I did was stay out of something that wasn’t mine to control!”

The echo of her words rang out under the gazebo’s roof. A couple of birds took off from the trees nearby, startled.

Sera exhaled hard, trying to calm the tremor in her hands. She hated this part—hated fighting with him, hated the way silence felt like punishment, like he was withholding something from her just to make her squirm. And worst of all, she hated that beneath all the anger, all the defense, she knew he wasn’t wrong.

She had known.

And she’d kept it to herself.

Because deep down, she knew what it meant—for Rowan, for Mason, for them. And maybe she hadn’t wanted to look that truth in the face just yet.

Not with everything else slipping.

Not with the end of senior year barreling toward her like a freight train she couldn’t stop.

He knew the second he saw Mason and Rowan walk in, fingers laced, eyes locked like they were in the last five minutes of some CW season finale. And when he turned, found her already watching him from across the lot, he knew what was coming next.

The look in her eyes said enough. And still, he asked.

“You knew.”

His voice was quiet—flat—but the words came down like a hammer between them. She didn’t deny it. Didn’t look surprised. That almost made it worse.

She’d offered to skip before he even had the chance to react, slipping her sunglasses on like that would hide the damage. He didn’t argue. Just got in the car, turned the keys, and let the silence do what she wouldn’t.

Now they stood in the gazebo—him leaning against the post, arms crossed like armor, her a few feet away, the wind playing with her hair like this was just another pretty day.

He didn’t speak right away.

But when she opened her mouth, he could feel the shape of the excuses before they formed. And that lit the fuse.

“You should’ve told me.”

His eyes stayed on the ground for a second longer, then lifted, locking on hers.

“I’m not mad that it’s him, Sera. I’m mad that you let me find out from everyone else.”

His voice didn’t rise. But it sharpened—every syllable too clean, too controlled.

“You don’t get to play Switzerland when you’re in my bed and sitting across from me every damn day like everything’s fine.”

He straightened from the post, took a slow step toward her.

“I don’t care about group chat politics. I care that you—my girlfriend—knew something that mattered and decided I didn’t need to.”

He searched her face for something. Regret, maybe. Anything real.

“You don’t get to stand there and act like this was about Rowan. This is about you.”

He paused, jaw tightening. The wind pushed harder now, like even the air wanted to break the silence between them.

“You kept it from me,” he said, quieter now. “That’s not nothing. That’s everything.”

His shoulders dropped, something in him caving as he whispered the next part—just for her.

“I would’ve told you. Without you even asking. You know that.”

And he meant it.

He always had.

Asher stepped back, the air between them stretching wider than it had in weeks. He didn’t ask her to explain. He didn’t wait for her to.

He just turned—slowly, like it hurt—and walked away.

Because the silence she’d left him with said more than her words ever could.

Sera watched him turn away, and something cracked.

Not loudly, not dramatically—just a small, hairline fracture beneath her ribs. The kind that didn’t bleed right away but promised to shatter later.

He walked like he didn’t want to look back. Like he was done. And that—that—was what sent her spiraling.

“Oh, sure,” she called after him, voice razor-sharp. “Walk away. Classic. God forbid we have a real conversation that’s not scripted by your moral high ground.”

He didn’t stop. His shoulders tensed, barely.

That wasn’t enough.

“Yeah, just keep going,” she said, louder now, following a few steps behind. “Because obviously I’m the villain here, right? I didn’t give you the Mason and Rowan Early Access Pass, so now I’m suddenly untrustworthy?”

She laughed—bitter, high, hollow.

“God, you’re such a hypocrite sometimes, Asher. You talk like you want honesty, like you want me—the real me—but the second I don’t play perfect girlfriend, you pull this wounded, righteous thing like I’ve betrayed you.”

He turned slightly at that, not fully. Just enough for her to see the flash of hurt in his profile before he masked it again.

And still, she couldn’t stop.

“You don’t get to act like this is about trust. You’re just pissed because I didn’t play into your hero complex. You wanted to be the first to know, the guy everyone came running to with the gossip so you could shake your head and pretend you’re better than all of them. You don’t care that it’s Mason—what you care about is that you didn’t see it coming.”

She wasn’t even sure where the words were coming from anymore. Her voice was tight, trembling under the weight of all the things she wasn’t saying.

Like I’m scared.

Like I don’t think we’re going to make it.

Like every time I look at you lately, I feel the ground shifting and I don’t know how to stop it.

But instead, what came out was:

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d make it about you. And guess what? You proved me right.”

He finally turned then, just slightly—face unreadable.

“Don’t give me that look,” she snapped. “You don’t get to judge me like you’re some kind of saint. You’ve been pulling away for weeks. Acting like we’re fine but flinching every time college comes up like we’re on borrowed time.”

She took a shaky breath. Too late to pull back now.

“Maybe I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to admit that if Mason and Rowan can work, if they can be brave enough to try—then maybe we’re the ones pretending.”

Silence. The kind that pressed against her throat and made her want to scream.

But Sera Vale didn’t cry in gazebos. She didn’t beg.

So instead, she stood there in the April wind, chin high, lips curled, and threw the last dagger with ice in her voice.

“Maybe I didn’t tell you because deep down, I already knew you’d leave.”

And for the first time, it wasn’t about Mason and Rowan.

It was about her.

And him.

And the sharp, quiet ache of almost.

Her voice hit him like gravel under his skin—sharp, stinging, impossible to ignore.

He kept walking at first, jaw tight, hands shoved deep into his pockets like that might hold everything in. But the words followed him. Daggered. Heated. Familiar in the worst way. Sera didn’t raise her voice often, but when she did, it wasn’t for show—it was war.

He heard every line. Villain. Hypocrite. Hero complex.
God, she knew exactly where to cut.

His shoulders tensed, barely.

Not enough.

She knew that, too.

And then she said it—I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d make it about you.
He stopped.

Didn’t turn all the way, not yet. But his spine straightened like a live wire. Like something in him had finally snapped under the weight of it all.

She kept going—words laced with everything neither had dared to say in weeks.

And when she said, “Maybe we’re the ones pretending,” it felt like the wind got knocked out of him. Because the truth of it was there, coiled between every word she’d just thrown at him like confetti made of glass.

They had been pretending. He knew that. He knew it every time he hesitated before texting her back. He stayed at practice a little too long every time to avoid the silence in her car. Every time she asked about next year, he nodded like that meant anything.

But hearing it out loud—from her—shattered something.

And then she said it—the last blow.
“Maybe I didn’t tell you because deep down, I already knew you’d leave.”

That stopped him cold.

He turned fully now, slow, like the weight of what she’d just said required reverence. His face was still, unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes were wounded and exposed in a way that made her armor falter for just a second.

And then—quietly, like it cost him something to say:

“I didn’t pull away because I stopped caring.”

His voice wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t defensive.

It was tired. Hurt. Honest.

“I pulled away because I didn’t know how to hold all of it anymore. The pressure. The pretending. You, me, everything that comes next. Maybe we could ride it out if I didn’t look too closely. Keep being us.”

He paused, eyes still on her but softer now.

“But you’re right.”

That silence again. Heavy. Final.

“We are pretending.”

He swallowed hard, the breeze catching in his throat.

“And I think we’ve known that for a while.”

He didn’t yell. He didn’t fall apart. He just stood there, watching her unravel with that same quiet ache mirrored in his chest.

Then, gently—almost like it was a favor to them both:

“I would’ve stayed, you know. Even if I was drowning. I would’ve stayed.”

And that was the part that hurt most of all.
Because it was true.

But sometimes staying wasn’t enough.

And maybe love, when fractured, couldn’t be patched with a scream, silence, or even the truth.

He looked at her one last time—at the girl who knew every version of him and still didn’t know how to keep him from slipping away.

Then he turned.

And this time, when Asher walked away, he didn’t stop.