The Ghosts Between Glasses

Here's the complete revised story with that change:

# The Ghosts Between Glasses

"To Alex," Chloe said quietly, raising her glass.

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and final. Liam lifted his pint and touched it gently to her wine glass, the soft clink barely audible over the murmur of the Sunday evening crowd.

"To Alex."

They drank in silence. When Chloe set her glass down, her hand was trembling slightly.

Liam watched her, this woman who had once been one of his closest friends and was now almost a stranger. She'd changed in the ten years since he'd last seen her properly. Her hair was shorter, cut into a sharp bob that framed her face. She wore expensive-looking clothes and that careful, polished expression he recognised from his own face sometimes, the look of someone who'd learned to present a particular version of themselves to the world.

The Nag's Head hadn't changed much, though. Same dark wood panelling, same brass fixtures, same faint smell of old beer and furniture polish. They'd chosen this place deliberately, he supposed. Neutral ground. Somewhere that held memories but not too many.

"I can't believe it's been ten years," Chloe said.

"I know."

She was blinking rapidly, trying not to cry. "I keep thinking about that summer. Before everything went wrong. Do you remember that beach? The one with the rock pools?"

"Where Alex found the crab."

"Gerald." Chloe laughed, but there were tears in her eyes. "He cried when we had to put it back."

"He cried at everything." Liam felt something loosen in his chest. "He cried when we finished The Lion King."

"He had the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known."

The laughter faded. Chloe stared into her wine glass as though it contained answers to questions she hadn't worked out how to ask. Around them, the pub was filling up. Someone had put music on, and a group near the bar was singing along tunelessly to Wonderwall.

"How did we get here?" Liam said. "I mean, how did we..." He stopped, started again. "Sorry. That came out wrong. I meant, how are you? Really?"

"Busy. Work's mad at the moment." She took a small sip of her wine. "I'm in marketing. For a tech company."

"Better than teaching, I bet."

"You're still teaching?"

"English. Year nines, mostly." He realised he was shredding a beer mat and made himself stop. "I'm living in Manchester now. Been there about five years."

"With...?"

"Mark. My boyfriend. Yeah."

He waited for the old defensiveness to rise up, but it didn't come. Chloe's face softened.

"That's wonderful, Liam. I'm really happy for you."

She meant it, he could tell. But the sincerity of it made the conversation feel even more stilted, because they both knew they were dancing around the real reason they were here.

Chloe's phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at it, then turned it face down without responding. Her jaw was tight. Liam noticed she was gripping her wine glass hard enough that her knuckles had gone white.

"It's hard to be back here," he said.

"Yes." The word came out sharp, almost angry. Then she seemed to catch herself. "Sorry. I just... I nearly didn't come. I was sitting in my flat this morning thinking of excuses to cancel."

"But you didn't."

"No." She looked at him properly for the first time. "Because I'm tired of running from it. From this. From what we did."

The words sat between them like a third presence at the table. Liam took a long drink of his beer, buying himself time. His heart was hammering. This was why they were here, wasn't it? Not to reminisce about crabs and beaches and simpler times. They were here to face the thing they'd both been carrying for ten years.

"I was terrified at that school," he said. "Every single day. I knew I was different from about Year Eight. I didn't have the words for it yet, but I knew what I was. And I knew what happened to people like me."

Chloe didn't say anything. She was very still, watching him.

"Alex was different too. He didn't know how to hide it. He was kind and sensitive and he cried at everything, and they punished him for it." Liam's voice caught. "And I pulled away from him because I thought if I stayed close, they'd come for me next. I thought they'd see us together and work it out. So I just... I left him. I abandoned him when he needed me most because I was too fucking scared to be brave."

"You were just trying to survive."

"So was he."

Chloe flinched as though he'd struck her. She looked down at her hands, and when she spoke her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I wasn't, though. I didn't have that excuse. I was doing fine. Better than fine. I was popular. I had friends." She paused. "I had Connor."

There it was. The name neither of them had wanted to say first.

Connor Matthews. Captain of the rugby team, effortlessly cruel, the kind of boy who knew exactly how much power he had and wielded it without mercy. He'd made Alex's life a living hell for two years.

"I dated him for eight months," Chloe said. Her voice had gone flat, almost mechanical. "I don't know what I was thinking. That's not true. I do know. I was thinking about myself. About my reputation. Connor liked me, and that meant something. It meant I was safe. Untouchable. I told myself what he did to Alex had nothing to do with me."

"Chloe..."

"But I saw it, Liam. Every day. I saw what he was doing." She was gripping the edge of the table now. "And I just looked away."

Liam wanted to tell her it was okay, that she'd been young, that they'd all made mistakes. But the words wouldn't come. Because it wasn't okay, and they both knew it.

The silence stretched between them. At the bar, someone dropped a glass and it shattered. The noise made them both jump.

"There's something else," Liam said. "Something I've never told anyone."

Chloe looked up at him, waiting.

"I had a thing with Jamie Kershaw. Connor's best friend." The confession tasted bitter in his mouth. "It started in Year Eleven. We'd meet up at his house after school, when his parents were out. It was all secret, obviously."

"Jesus, Liam."

"I know. I know how it sounds." He couldn't look at her. "The thing is, I don't even know if I liked him. I think I just needed someone to see me. To know me. And there he was, this boy who was supposed to be everything I was afraid of, and he was just as scared as I was. Just as desperate to hide."

"How long did it last?"

"A few months. Maybe four or five. We'd talk sometimes, after. He'd tell me about Connor, about the things they did. He'd laugh about it, like it was all just a game." Liam's hands were shaking now. "And I'd laugh too, because I was so pathetically grateful that he wanted me. That someone saw me and didn't run away."

"Did he know? That you and Alex were friends?"

"Had been friends. Past tense. Yeah, he knew." Liam forced himself to meet her eyes. "There was this one time, near the end. Jamie was telling me about something Connor had done. They'd cornered Alex in the changing rooms after PE. Taken his clothes. Made him walk back to the common room in just his underwear. Jamie thought it was hilarious."

Chloe's face had gone very pale.

"And I just sat there," Liam continued. His voice was shaking. "I sat there in Jamie's bedroom and I listened and I didn't say anything. I didn't tell him to stop. I didn't defend Alex. I just... I let him talk. And then I kissed him, because I was so afraid that if I showed any reaction, if I let him see that I cared, he'd realise what I was. Who I was."

"Liam..."

"It gets worse." He had to finish now. He'd started this, and he had to see it through. "A few weeks later, I saw Alex in the corridor. He was on his own, which was rare. When he saw me his face just lit up. Like he thought maybe things could go back to the way they used to be. He started walking towards me, and I..." He couldn't finish.

"You walked away," Chloe said softly.

"I turned around and went the other direction. I pretended I hadn't seen him." Liam's eyes were burning. "The next day at school, Alex didn't even look at me. He'd got the message. I'd made it clear whose side I was on."

"When did it end? With Jamie?"

"About a month before Alex died. Jamie ended it. Said it was getting too risky, that people were starting to talk. I think Connor had made some comment about how much time we were spending together. Jamie was terrified." Liam took a shaky breath. "After Alex died, Jamie wouldn't even look at me. It was like I'd never existed. Six months later, he was dating some girl from the year below. Now he's married. To a woman. Lives about two miles from here. I saw his Facebook a few years ago. He looks happy."

Chloe was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was tight with anger. "He should have to live with it too. With what he did. What they all did."

"Maybe he does. I don't know." Liam felt suddenly, crushingly tired. "Maybe he convinced himself it never happened. Maybe that's easier."

"Is that why you're telling me this? Because it's complicated?"

The question caught him off guard. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you trying to say that we're all victims in our own way? That Jamie was suffering too, so what he did wasn't as bad?" Her voice had an edge to it now. "Because I don't think I can accept that."

"No. That's not..." Liam stopped. Was that what he'd been trying to say? He wasn't sure anymore. "I think I'm trying to say that I was complicit. Not just because I walked away from Alex. But because I was sleeping with one of his tormentors. Because I let Jamie tell me those stories and I didn't say anything. I was so desperate to be wanted, to be seen, that I..." He couldn't finish.

Chloe's expression softened slightly. "You were terrified. You said it yourself. You were trying to survive."

"But at what cost?" The words came out harsh. "I survived. Jamie survived. You survived. Connor's probably fine. But Alex is dead."

The silence that followed was heavy and absolute. Chloe was crying now, tears streaming down her face. She didn't bother to wipe them away.

"There was this one time," she said eventually. Her voice was so quiet he had to lean forward to hear her. "Year Eleven. We were in the common room. Connor and his mates had Alex cornered by the vending machines."

Liam's stomach clenched. He knew, somehow, that he didn't want to hear this. But Chloe had listened to his confession. He owed her the same.

"They were doing their usual thing. Calling him names, shoving him. But this time it was worse. Connor had Alex's bag and he was going through it. Pulling out his things and throwing them on the floor. His books, his pencil case." Chloe's voice cracked. "There was this little notebook. I think it was a diary or something. Connor was reading from it out loud. Making fun of everything Alex had written."

"Christ."

"There were... there were things about me in it. Not love notes or anything like that. Just memories. About when we were kids. About our friendship. Things we used to do." She was gripping the edge of the table so hard her knuckles had gone white. "But Connor took it to mean that Alex fancied me. He started reading it out in this horrible mocking voice, saying Alex was obsessed with me, that he was pathetic. And then he..." She stopped, unable to continue.

"What did he do?"

"He hit him. Properly hit him. Not just a shove. He punched Alex in the face and Alex went down. And Connor kept going. He was kicking him, calling him a freak, saying he'd better stay away from his girlfriend." Chloe's voice broke. "And I just stood there. I stood there while my boyfriend beat someone up for writing about our childhood friendship. For remembering when we used to be friends."

"Chloe..."

"Alex was crying. Begging him to stop. And I was right there, Liam. I was standing maybe ten feet away with my friends. We were all just watching." The words were coming faster now, tumbling over each other. "And I remember thinking, I should do something. I should tell him to stop. I even took a step forward. But then Connor looked at me. He smiled, like he was daring me to say something. Like he was doing this for me. To protect me. And I just... froze."

"You were scared."

"I was scared of him seeing me defend Alex. Scared of what that would mean. That maybe Alex was right to remember our friendship. That maybe I missed it too." She was sobbing now, her careful composure completely shattered. "A teacher came eventually. Broke it up. Alex had a black eye and a split lip. Connor got suspended for three days. And when he came back, I was still with him. I stayed with him for another two weeks. I even let him tell me his version of what happened, how Alex had provoked him, and I just... I nodded along."

Liam reached across the table and took her hand. She gripped it tightly, like someone drowning.

"I broke up with Connor two weeks later," she said. "Not because of what he did. Not really. I told myself it was, but that's not true. I broke up with him because my friends were starting to make comments. About how he was getting meaner. How it was starting to reflect badly on me. I was still thinking about myself. About my reputation. Even at the end."

They sat like that for a long moment, hands clasped across the table. Around them, the pub continued its Sunday evening rhythm. Someone laughed loudly at the bar. The football match on the television ended and transitioned to the news.

"What do we do with this?" Chloe said finally. "With all this guilt? Where do we put it?"

"I don't know." Liam released her hand and took a long drink of his beer. "I think about Alex every day. Not as much as I used to, maybe. But every day. I see kids at my school who remind me of him. The ones who don't quite fit, who get picked on. And I make sure I see them. I make sure they know someone's paying attention."

"Does it help? Doing that?"

"I don't know. I'd like to think so." He paused. "It doesn't undo what I did. But it's something."

"My therapist says I need to forgive myself," Chloe said. "I've been seeing her for about two years now. I talk about Alex a lot in our sessions. About school. About everything."

"Can you? Forgive yourself?"

"I don't know. I don't know if I should." She pulled a tissue from her bag and wiped her eyes. "Sometimes I think the guilt is important. That I need to carry it. That it's the only way to honour what happened to him."

"That's not the same as learning from it, though."

"No." Chloe looked at him. "Do you think he'd have forgiven us?"

Liam considered the question. It was one he'd asked himself countless times over the years. "I don't know. Maybe. Alex was kind. Kinder than we deserved."

"He loved maps," Chloe said suddenly. "Old maps. Do you remember? He had that whole collection."

"He wanted to be a cartographer."

"Or a history teacher. He couldn't decide." A small smile crossed her face. "He was obsessed with the Romans for about six months. Used to bore us senseless talking about aqueducts."

"And his laugh." Liam felt himself smiling despite everything. "That ridiculous snorting thing he used to do."

"He hated it. He was so self-conscious about it."

"But it was brilliant. It was the best laugh."

"He used to do this thing," Chloe said. Her voice had softened. "When he was reading something he really liked, he'd stick his tongue out slightly. Just the tip of it. He never knew he was doing it."

"I'd forgotten that."

"And he always had ink on his hands. Always. Even when we weren't in school."

They were both smiling now, despite the tears. For the first time all evening, they were talking about Alex as he actually was. Not as a ghost, not as a symbol of their guilt, but as a real person. A boy who'd loved maps and laughed too loud and cried at everything and deserved so much better than what they'd given him.

The pub had grown busier around them. Someone had turned the music up. Their booth felt like a small island in the growing chaos.

"Can I show you something?" Liam pulled out his phone and scrolled through his photos until he found the one he was looking for. It was a picture of him and Mark at a beach in Cornwall, both of them windswept and grinning, Mark's arm slung around his shoulders.

"That's Mark. This was last summer."

Chloe took the phone and studied the picture. "You look happy."

"I am. Most of the time, anyway."

"Does he know? About Alex?"

"Yeah. I told him early on. About Alex, about Jamie, all of it. He's been really good about it. Patient." Liam took the phone back and looked at the picture again. "I think that's why I wanted to meet you today. I'm in a good place now, and I didn't want to keep running from this anymore. From what happened. From what I did."

"I'm glad you suggested it." Chloe paused. "I was so scared to come. But I'm glad I did."

"What about you? Are you seeing anyone?"

"Not at the moment. I was, for a while, but it didn't work out." She smiled ruefully. "My therapist says I use work to avoid dealing with things."

"Sounds like a good therapist."

"She is." Chloe picked up her wine glass, then set it down without drinking. "She says I need to forgive myself, but I don't know if I can. I don't know if I should."

"Maybe it's not about forgiving yourself," Liam said slowly. He was working it out as he spoke. "Maybe it's about accepting what happened. Accepting that we can't change it, but we can do better now. Be better now."

"Do you think we are? Better, I mean?"

"I'd like to think so."

Chloe was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "Do you ever wonder what he'd be doing now? If he'd lived?"

"All the time."

"I think he'd have been a teacher. He'd have been brilliant at it. Patient and kind and funny." She was crying again, but softly now. "He'd have made some kid's life bearable. The way no one did for him."

"Yeah," Liam said. His throat was tight. "Yeah, he would have."

They finished their drinks in silence. Through the windows, Liam could see the streetlights flickering on, casting orange pools of light onto the wet pavement. The evening was drawing in properly now.

"I should probably get going," Chloe said, checking her phone. "I've got an early meeting tomorrow."

"Yeah. Me too. Well, not a meeting. But an early start."

They gathered their things and made their way to the door, weaving between the tables and the growing crowd. Outside, the air was cold and sharp, carrying the smell of rain and autumn leaves. They stood on the pavement for a moment, both reluctant to end this strange, painful, necessary evening.

"Thank you," Chloe said. "For meeting me. For being honest."

"Thank you."

She hesitated, then said, "Would you want to do this again? Maybe next year? Same time, same place?"

Liam thought about it. About sitting in this pub in twelve months' time, raising a glass to Alex again. About keeping his memory alive, about continuing to face the uncomfortable truth of what they'd done and who they'd been. It wouldn't be easy.

But then again, the easy thing would be to walk away now and never look back.

"Yeah," he said. "I'd like that."

Chloe smiled, a real smile this time, not the polished, careful one she'd worn when he first arrived. She stepped forward and hugged him properly. When they pulled apart, she was crying again, but she was still smiling.

"Same time next year," she said.

"Same time next year."

They walked in opposite directions, Chloe towards the train station, Liam towards his parents' house where he was staying the night. He didn't look back, but he knew she didn't either.

As Liam walked through the familiar streets of his hometown, he thought about Alex. About the boy with the loud laugh and the love of maps and the kindness that the world had punished him for. He thought about Jamie in his nice house with his nice wife, living a life built on lies and careful forgetting. He thought about Connor, wherever he was, probably not thinking about any of this at all.

He thought about the ways they had all failed Alex. About his own cowardice and Chloe's silence and Jamie's cruelty and how none of it could ever be undone.

But he also thought about Mark waiting for him back in Manchester. About the life he'd built. About the kids at his school who he made sure to see, really see, every single day. About Chloe in therapy, doing the hard work of facing what she'd done. About next year, when they'd sit in that booth again and raise a glass to their oldest friend.

It wasn't forgiveness. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But it was something. And for now, that would have to be enough.