session 222 || aaliyah [ON HOLD]

12

(a/n: from Static's POV)

"Is he your boyfriend?"

"No. We're just friends."

Just friends...

Those words kept playing over and over in my head, the thought echoing like a broken record. Friends. I knew Aaliyah was just being honest. After all, we had a shared history that spanned years, a bond forged in the fires of shared dreams and mutual respect.

Yet, a part of me couldn't shake the disappointment, the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. We had crazy chemistry in the studio, but was that just music, just art? Or was it more?

Our late-night conversations and hangouts had gradually evolved over the past several months, becoming more personal, more intimate. Our stolen glances and lingering touches were no longer innocent, but loaded with unspoken desires. Unconsciously, I had started to crave something more, something real.

However, the harsh reality slapped me in the face. She saw me as a friend, and it was a role I was all too familiar with - a confidant, a fellow artist, a shoulder to lean on. But my heart yearned for more. I found myself caught in the crossfire of my loyalty towards my wife, and the tantalizing unknown with Aaliyah.

These feelings were unexpected, like an intruder stealthily entering a locked room. I knew it was dangerous. Aaliyah deserved better than being caught in a messy triangle. I had taken vows, made promises I intended to keep. But those vows were made when my heart was undivided, when Avonti was my everything...

Now, the distance between Avonti and I seemed to stretch with each passing day, making our shared bed feel like a vast ocean. Was I staying out of love, or was it an obligation and the dread of hurting her?

Aaliyah was my refuge when Avonti went AWOL, my oasis in the storm. Our studio sessions were my sanctuary, where we could lose ourselves in the music. But could we remain oblivious to the magnetic pull between us? I was unsure.

I played it cool, not wanting to make a big deal about it. But as the train rattled along the tracks, I could feel her eyes on me, scrutinizing my reaction. I avoided her gaze, focusing on my phone screen. My mind was a whirlpool of thoughts, and I wasn't ready to dive in. Not yet.

In the weeks since that charged subway ride, I had doubled down on repairing things with Avonti. Date nights, flowers, listening instead of arguing - I was trying to resurrect what we'd lost. Aaliyah said it was just a rough patch, and I wanted to believe her.

But the more time I spent with Avonti, the further I felt from Aaliyah. Our studio sessions grew icy, her playful banter now replaced with tension. She refused to open up whenever I asked what was wrong. Her curt denials left me more confused and frustrated and I was forced to retreat, keeping to myself until the heat cooled.

I couldn't figure out why she was giving me the cold shoulder. Part of me worried she knew how I really felt about her, that "just friends" was slowly becoming a lie, and sure enough, I began to miss how things used to be. Now an undercurrent of resentment flowed beneath our surface interactions.