Imagine A World

Shane was convinced he’d never been in this much pain before. Sure, being a professional athlete came with all the aches and pains you’d expect but nothing had felt like this before. He was certain his ribs were at least bruised, if not broken, and he was sure if he had to face another staircase his legs would collapse beneath him.

They’d just played the Raiders, and so it should come as no shock to anyone that he’d fought a little harder on that ice than in any other game. Thankfully, Montreal had won, but, as Shane winced at another step out of the cab, he was relatively certain it might not have been worth all this pain.

On top of that, the snow was coming down faster and heavier than Shane had seen in Montreal for a while, the streets were empty, the roads littered with parked cars and Shane’s apartment building waiting for him like a glaring ‘welcome home’ sign.

He hadn’t spoken to Ilya since the last time they’d played - in Boston a few months ago. They’d argued that night, Shane had left and Ilya had stayed in bed, barely uttering a goodbye. They hadn’t texted since, neither of them finding much of a valid reason to be the first to break the silence. Even when they’d played today, they’d played, they’d stared each other dead in the eyes in the centre of the ice and not uttered a word.

Shane had opted to act like it didn’t bother him. It was easier that way. But, even still, he found himself glancing down at the illuminated screen of his phone as he dragged himself up towards his apartment. He found his thumb hovering over the abandoned chat to ‘Lily’ - the last message an ‘on my way.’ text Shane had sent before he arrived at Ilya’s room. He paused at the door to his apartment, thinking momentarily how easy it would be to send a simple text.

He opens the door, locks his phone and stuffs it into his pocket. And, when he looks up, he blinks to make sure the sight in front of him isn’t one conjured in his imagination.

Blonde curls, sun-kissed skin, long legs sprawled out over the length of the couch, ankles crossed over the armrest.

Ilya.

“Hollander.”

Same tone, same tongue wrapping around the word, same curl of his lips as soon as the word is spoken.

“What the fuck are you doing here Rozanov?” Shane snaps, almost surprising himself at how harsh the words sound.

“Flight got cancelled.”

“And what you thought you could-“ Shane stops himself, glancing back at the door to the apartment, “Wait how the fuck did you even get in here?”

“You gave me the code to the building.”

“And into my apartment?”

Ilya waves a single metal key from his fingers, widening his eyes as if to tell Shane the answer was obvious.

Shane had forgotten his keys once, locked himself out for hours until he could get someone to let him in. Never again. He kept a key under the door mat for emergencies. Not for Rozanov. Never for Rozanov.

“You went looking for my key?” Shane scoffs, “You’re unbelievable.”

“Well you didn’t hide it so well, should be more careful.”

“I don’t expect people to be trying to get into my place,” Shane returns, setting his jacket and his bag down onto the chair, pausing momentarily as the rage surges through him once more, “And you didn’t answer my question, what are you even doing here?”

“I did answer you,” Ilya shrugs, “Flight cancelled.”

“And what? Boston can’t afford hotels anymore?” Shane questions.

“I have hotel.”

“Okay so why aren’t you there?”

“Because…” Ilya pushes himself up from the couch, taking a few teasing steps towards Shane, a smirk tugging at his serious features, “I wanted you.”

His hands reach for Shane’s hips, dipping his head so his lips ghost over the skin of his neck.

“No,” Shane clenches his jaw, pushing Ilya away with the last ounces of energy he had left in him, “You don’t get to do that.”

“What? You don’t want me?” Ilya doesn’t appear hurt, just more like he was certain Shane was lying.

“You haven’t spoken to me in months!” Shane scoffs, his voice raising involuntarily, “And what? You expect to just show up at my house and act like everything’s normal?”

“It’s an apartment.”

“What?” Shane snaps, “It’s an apartment? Is that your fucking response? You’re fucking impossible, do you know that?”

“Hollander I-“

“No, enough! Okay? Enough. I’ve had a shitty day, I just want to go to bed and I want you to go. To Boston, to some shitty motel in Montreal, you could go to fucking Texas for all I care.”

“You had a bad day? You won the game, pretty sure I’m having a more bad day.”

“That’s not-“ Shane shakes his head, dragging his hand through his hair, still a little damp from the shower he’d taken before he’d left his team, “Can you just go, please?”

“You’re asking me to leave?”

“Was that not obvious?” Shane clenches his jaw, walking over to the kitchen and tugging open the refrigerator.

He had half of one shelf full of ginger ales - perfectly aligned with the labels facing out. He takes one from the front and pulls the others forward to keep in line. When he turns back around, Ilya is stood on the other side of the kitchen island, his hands resting on the marble surface in front of him.

“Tell me you want me to leave.”

“Have I not told you enough times already?” Shane rolls his eyes, cracking open the can as an excuse to avert his eyes away from the intense focus of Ilya’s.

“Tell me.”

“I want you to go.”

Ilya nods slowly, dragging his fingertip along the smooth surface as he trails the perimeter of the island between them, slowly bringing his steps around to stand in front of Shane, “Tell me again.”

Shane swallows thickly, clearing his throat, “I’m not in the mood, Rozanov.”

Ilya reaches out his hands, gripping at Shane’s waist in the way that reminded him how well their bodies fit together. But, this time, Shane winces at the contact, retreating away from him as if his hands were burning to the touch.

“You’re hurt.”

Ilya knew. In the expression on Shane’s face, the way his jaw clenched, his eyes tightening as if grimacing, his shoulders drawing up like he wanted to cower away. He knew that face, that body, more than anyone.

“I’m not I’m-“ Shane clears his throat, “I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt, it’s your ribs?” Ilya feels the worry course through him, like it had electrified all of his instincts.

“I’m fine,” Shane rolls his eyes, turning around to back away from Ilya, wincing at the sudden movement.

“Ah yes you seem fine,” Ilya scoffs, “What is wrong?”

“Nothing, you don’t need to worry I-“

“Hollander.”

Ilya grabs the material of Shane’s t-shirt, pulling him back to stop him from retracting any further away. When he feels the first signs of Shane’s defeat, Ilya softens. He reaches out the other hand, fingertips at the hem of Shane’s top, slowly dragging the material up, holding it at his chest.

“Fuck,” The word escapes his mouth as nothing more than instinct, “It’s bad, no?”

Shane watches the way Ilya’s eyes trace the dark bruises across his torso, the way they wrap around his ribs, blotching in patterns down towards his hips and up to his chest.

“They’re not broken?” Ilya glances up momentarily, like it was near impossible to tear his eyes away from the bruises.

Shane shakes his head softly, “I don’t think so.”

Ilya brushes the skin gently, shaking his head, “I didn’t know you got hit so badly.”

“I’m okay,” Shane near whispers the words, “Or I will be.”

Ilya looks up, guiding his other hand up Shane’s arm, slowly, softly. Eventually, his hand settles onto Shane’s cheek, and he feels himself relax a little at the feeling of Shane leaning into him just slightly. He draws the two of them together, their lips meeting for the first time in longer than Ilya would ever want to think about. Their lips connect like the same two puzzle pieces on that first night in Shane’s hotel room - just older now, more sure of themselves, more sure of each other. Ilya draws his hand around to the back of Shane’s head, in the way he did when he wanted to close every nonexistent inch of space between the two of them - when he wanted to be sure that nothing stood in their way.

Shane pulls away first. Far sooner than Ilya ever would’ve wanted. He hopes, for a moment, that the disappointment isn’t evident on his face. And then, for another moment, he has to wash away the fear that he’d done something wrong. Ilya had never considered himself to worry about much - or at least just to worry about himself - but that seemed to change when it came to Shane Hollander.

“I don’t-“ Shane speaks lowly, his eyes dropping to the floor, “I don’t want to-“

Ilya pulls back slightly, his eyes flicking through the features on the face in front of him.

“I just I don’t think I can-“

“Hollander, I didn’t come here just to fuck you.”

Shane’s taken aback, the words so certain and sure and so different from his own tone, “You-“

“I mean yes if you weren’t hurt I’d be making up for the last six months but I-“ Ilya shakes his head, “I wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me?” Shane swallows thickly, trying to stop the corners of his mouth from curling up into an obvious smile.

“Yes.”

He can’t hide it then. His lips curl into a smile, that soft way that only ever seemed to come out when it was Ilya he was looking at.

“You’ve had food?” Ilya asks, his thumb brushing the soft skin of Shane’s cheek.

The boy in focus shakes his head.

“Go rest. I will make us food.”

“You don’t have to-“

“Go.”

And Shane obliges.

———

Only a little while later, Ilya walks through to the lounge carrying two bowls of food - some sort of rice and salad concoction littered with shades of green and neatly chopped tomatoes.

“You have no normal food in this house.”

“Apartment,” Shane grumbles, pushing himself up onto his elbows from where he’d been laying across the couch.

Ilya taps his legs for Shane to move them enough for him to sit beside him. As soon as Ilya settles onto the seat, he reaches an arm out to scoop Shane’s legs back over his lap, resting an arm atop them.

For a moment, Shane watches him, blinking back the fatigue in his eyes to remind himself that this was real - this was the most domesticated the pair of them had ever been. In fact, Shane wasn’t even sure that in all the times Ilya had been to his place that he’d ever sat on the couch before.

“Stop looking. Eat your food.”

The two of them eat in silence then, Ilya pushing the unimpressive food around his bowl like he was hoping it would help him find some more flavor. He gives up with only a few forkfuls to go, setting the bowl onto the table in front of both of them. His hands return to settle onto Shane’s calves, gripping at the muscles, kneading the skin like he was desperate for any contact he could get from the boy beside him.

“It’s the longest it’s been,” He breaks the silence, glancing over to Shane as he finishes his food.

“What do you mean?” Shane shifts against the arm of the couch, going to reach to set his bowl down and wincing at the strain.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Ilya shakes his head, taking the bowl from him quickly before he can stretch any more.

Shane smiles softly, settling back against the couch, “What did you mean? What about the longest it’s been?”

“I-“ Ilya glances over, pausing just briefly like the sight of Shane had made him lose his train of thought, “It’s the longest we’ve gone without talking.”

“Yeah, it is,” Shane nods, “Six months.”

“I’m sorry,” Ilya loses his breath over the words, “I just… I couldn’t…”

“Hey,” Shane reaches a hand just far enough to touch Ilya’s arm, “You don’t need to say anything.”

Ilya moves his hands to take Shane’s in both of his, cupping the hand in his grasp like the touch itself was precious, “I should have texted you.”

“You mean in the last six months or, you know, instead of breaking into my apartment?”

Ilya smiles a little, “Maybe both, probably both.”

“Probably.”

“I’m sorry,” Ilya whispers the words, more settled in them this time.

Shane shakes his head, “Don’t apologise.”

“Okay,” Ilya nods, “We should go to bed.”

“We?” Shane shifts against the couch, “You’re staying?”

“Ah so you want me on the streets?”

“No I just-“

“It’s snowing, we won’t be able to fly in the morning,” Ilya shakes his head, “I will stay with you.”

“Okay,” Shane smiles around the word, feeling like a weight had lifted from his chest.

Ilya squeezes his hand, lifting Shane’s legs from over his, reaching out both hands to pull Shane up from the couch.

“It’s okay I can get up,” Shane groans shifting against the couch.

“Give me your hands.”

He takes the offer, letting Ilya pull some of his weight up from the couch, drawing him up to stand in front of each other. As soon as Shane is stood, Ilya’s hands move to his waist, following behind him in slow steps towards the bedroom.

The entire apartment was immaculate. Cleaned meticulously, everything returned to its designated place. Even in Shane’s bedroom, Ilya wasn’t convinced anything had ever been placed any differently. Today, instead, Shane tugs the shirt from his torso and tosses it to the floor with a wince, he groans as he bends down to pull off his joggers, cursing to himself at the pain. The joggers too are tossed to the ground.

“This is not like you,” Ilya points to the clothes on the ground, “Who is this?”

“I’ll move them in the morning,” Shane waves him off, disappearing into the en-suite.

By the time he comes out, face cleaned, teeth brushed, his clothes are folded up and placed on top of the dresser on one side of the room, as neatly as Ilya could manage. The boy responsible is sat on the edge of the bed, stripped now to only his boxers, his own clothes in a somewhat neat pile beside Shane’s. They trade places, Ilya into the bathroom as Shane retreats to the bed - another moment of domesticity that was relatively fleeting between the pair of them.

Shane flops against the cushions, removing the ones from Ilya’s side that he would complain about having there. He tucks an arm under his head on the pillow, hissing through the pain that the stretch brings.

Ilya comes back out soon after, climbing into his side of the bed readjusting the covers around him - something he’d inevitably complain about in the morning when he told Shane he’d been too hot in the night.

“You feel better?”

“No,” Shane grumbles, turning his head just slightly to face Ilya, “Your stupid team broke my stupid ribs.”

“Ah so you’re blaming me,” Ilya narrows his eyes, “You didn’t say this before.”

“Well you’re the captain.”

“Well you shouldn’t be skating into my players,” Ilya shrugs, “You should be scoring more goals.”

“Fuck off.”

Ilya’s lips curl into a smile, leaning far enough over that his kiss is drawn to Shane, their lips meeting in sweet connection. And then down to his chin, his neck, his collarbone. There was something about Shane’s chest - Ilya was sure he kissed it just as much as he kissed his lips. He kisses further down, littering kisses across the bruises on his skin, careful to hold himself up far enough that he doesn’t press too much weight onto the boy below him.

He draws his kisses back up then, back over the spots he’d missed, back to the other collarbone, the other side of Shane’s chin, and back to his lips, now curled into a smile after the Russian boy’s actions.

“I’m glad you came,” Shane whispers the words as Ilya drops his head onto the same pillow as him.

“You are?” Ilya turns his head to face the boy, their noses nearly touching.

Shane nods, “I am.”

“Okay,” Ilya whispers the word, his lips wrapping around his accent, “I’m glad I did too.”

He reaches out an arm and pulls Shane into his chest, letting his head rest atop his heartbeat, both wrapped in the scents of each other. And that’s how they remain, settled in each others embrace, limbs tangled, heartbeats syncing into the same steady rhythm.

———

Ilya is up before Shane, a rare occurrence. The snow had settled, and he’d woken up to a text from the team assistant to say they’d get a flight out this afternoon. He had changed back into his clothes, stuffed his keys and his phone back into his pocket and trailed around to Shane’s side of the bed - sticking to his unspoken promise that he’d never leave without saying anything.

He kissed at the sleeping boy’s forehead, gently, softly, watching as he stirred from his slumber.

Shane blinked open tired eyes, groaning and moving as if trying to bury himself amongst the sheets.

“I have to go,” Ilya says softly, “I have a flight.”

Shane hums, his eyes still half closed.

“See you in Boston,” Ilya smiles, running a hand through the messy hair at the side of Shane’s head.

“Wait,” Shane pats at his hand, “I’ll see you out.”

Shane drags himself out of bed, stumbling over to his folded clothes and tugging his t-shirt back over his head, rubbing a hand over his eyes as if trying to draw the focus back into them. Ilya follows out behind him, towards the front door of the apartment he’d snuck into last night.

“I should probably give you this back,” Ilya mentions, resting the spare key into the palm of his hand.

Shane takes it from him, “Yeah, thanks.”

They pause just beside the door, like neither of them want to be the one to admit that they’d like this to last just a little longer.

“You know…” Shane pauses against the wall, look in down at the floor, “Never mind.”

“Tell me,” Ilya encourages, stepping in front of the shy boy, close enough to feel like they were breathing the same air.

Shane stays looking at a spot on the lower than Ilya’s eyes, the gaze all too intimidating for this early hour, “The key… it’ll still be there next time you’re in Montreal.”

“Is that right?” Ilya feels his lips curve into a smirk, “You want me sneaking into your apartment again?”

Shane shrugs, “You… I… yes.”

Ilya grins, “Then maybe I will.”

Shane feels his cheeks heat up, still unwaveringly bashful even in the presence of the boy who knew every square inch of him.

“And maybe you won’t be so injured next time.”

Shane looks up then, nodding softly, “Maybe.”

Ilya leans forward to kiss him quickly, “Goodbye Shane.”

“Goodbye Ilya.”

And he leaves then, jogging down the flight of stairs that would take him towards the front door - hoping at this hour that nobody would be outside.

“Conrad just pick up the fucking phone,” You mutter to yourself, staring at the screen that reminded you of your three missed calls to him.

You were sat on the steps outside the building of Dr Jordan’s office, the concrete cold beneath you. There was a chill in the air now, one that only came for a few months in California. But it felt colder this morning.

You go to stand up from the steps, sighing deeply as if accepting defeat. And then, as if he’d known, the screen flashes up and Conrad’s name appears. No contact photo.

“Conrad,” You exhale into the microphone, pressing the cold phone to your cheek.

“Don’t worry about me, okay?” He clears his throat, “That’s all I’m calling to tell you.”

“Wh-“ You shake your head, sitting back down onto the step, “Conrad I spoke to Dr Jordan and-“

“And there’s nothing she can do,” He interrupts, “So just forget it.”

“Can you stop being such an asshole for five minutes please?” You sigh, “Or at least let me speak?”

He’s silent.

“Thank you,” You pause, pursing your lips together, “Send me your location. I’ll come to you.”

“You don’t have to-“

“It wasn’t a question, Conrad.”

And, obligingly, he hangs up the call and sends you his address, an apartment block a short drive away. You call an Uber and sit with your knee wobbling in the back seat, desperate for the drive to be shorter than it was.

You text him as soon as you arrive and he buzzes you up to his apartment, ten floors up on the towering building.

You knock on the door and he opens only seconds later.

“You didn’t need to come here,” He says, closing the door behind you.

“I know,” You swallow the lump in your throat, pulling off your shoes in the hallway, “I’m not here because I need to be.”

His apartment felt as if it had been washed with one single colour palette - grey, white and black spanned as far as you could see. And everything seemed to have its place, in pristine condition as if nobody even lived there. And yet it felt incredibly fitting for him.

You walk through, down the hallway and into the lounge - a grey couch against one wall, a white coffee table in front with a couple of books stacked up, a table beside the couch with a photo of him and who you could only assume was his brother and Mom. You could see the warmth in his Mom, the brightness of her smile, the way it extended to her eyes. Conrad takes a seat on the couch, leaning back against the cushions. He looked the most casual you’d ever seen him - wearing grey sweats and a t-shirt, a change from when you’d seen him only hours before.

“I spoke to Dr Jordan,” You clear your throat, wrapping your arms around your torso as if you felt bashful stood in front of him.

He doesn’t speak, looking down at his legs.

“I told her what really happened at the party,” You explain, “I mean, I told her why you did what you did.”

His face barely moves, like your words are washing over him, falling on deaf ears.

“She told me that you didn’t explain any of it, that you just told her that you hit him,” You swallow, “Why didn’t you tell her?”

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” He shrugs his shoulders, folding his arms, still not looking at you.

“It would. I mean, it has, she’s going to speak to the Dean and make a case for you,” You explain, “You know, Conrad, not everybody at this school is against you, as much as you might think they are.”

“Come on, this isn’t summer camp, they couldn’t give a shit if I’m here or not.”

“Right, yeah, because your professor wouldn’t be trying to help you settle in, or find you friends, or give you a project to get you extra credit or be trying to find a way to keep you here,” You nod sarcastically, “Yeah, they would be doing all of that if they didn’t give a shit.”

“And what about you?” He looks up then, his words feeling harsh, his gaze less so.

“What about me?”

“Why the fuck do you care?”

You clench your jaw, taking in a deep breath, “I don’t know what answer you want me to give. But maybe I care because I’m not a total asshole.”

He parts his lips as if he’s going to speak and no words come out.

“Just… speak to Dr Jordan, she’ll help you,” You gather your thoughts, composing yourself, “I don’t need to do this.”

“Okay wait-“ He stands up from his seat, like he’s hoping it will stop you.

“No, I’m not doing this Conrad,” You hold your hands up as if you’re keeping him away from you, “I don’t need to do any of this. I’ll tell Dr Jordan we can split the research - I’ll do my bit, you can do yours. They’ll figure out a way to keep you in school and we’ll both get the extra credit from it and that’s enough.”

“Come on I-“

“It might come naturally to you to treat the people around you like shit, Conrad, but I have no reason to be one of those people.”

He sighs deeply, and you tighten your fists into balls to stop your hands from trembling. And then, as if you’d never even been there, you turn around and walk back out of the apartment, grabbing your shoes on the way as if this were some sort of walk of shame.

Part of you wished you’d never come here in the first place, and the other part wondered if this was what you needed. It was easy to let this short time make you think of Conrad as this brooding, mysterious stranger that you had to break down walls to get to. But it wasn’t that at all. He was cold to his core in a way you weren’t prepared for, he was convinced of the worst, and armed for it too. You didn’t need to have a reason to stay and put up with that. In fact, it already felt like it had been too long.

Before you can think on it any longer, your phone pings, echoing around the walls of the elevator. A text from Peter.

P: Hope everything’s okay with your friend. Let me know when you’re free!

You respond instantly, offering to meet him at the coffee shop just off campus. He agrees, saying he’ll see you there. And your chest feels a little lighter, your shoulders relaxing.

———

Peter is already there by the time you arrive, sat at a table in the window - you liked to watch everybody pass by and he knew that.

“Sorry it took longer than I thought to get here,” You say, hurrying over to him.

He stands up to pull your chair out for you, taking your jacket to hang it over the back. You smile to thank him.

“Where were you?”

“I-“ You pause, looking over at the softness of his face, the warmth of his eyes, “I was with Dr Jordan. Just figuring out this research thing.”

You weren’t sure why you didn’t want to tell him that you’d gone to Conrad’s. But in that moment your instinct was to lie and you’d acted on it without thinking.

“But you’re okay? Everything’s good?” He pauses, that furrow in his brows as he sits down opposite you.

“Yeah,” You exhale, like the weight had just fully dissipated from your shoulders, “Better now.”

“Good,” He smiles, that kind of smile you were sure could get him out of any trouble, “I ordered you a drink.”

“You did?”

He pushes one of the cups in front of him over to you, “Hot cocoa, all the toppings.”

You giggle, looking down at the swirl of whipped cream and marshmallows dotted across, “This is exactly what I needed. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” He half-whispers, soft, sweet, gentle, “So what’s going on with your friend? He seemed pretty stressed earlier.”

“Yeah,” You exhale, setting the cup back down onto the table, your hands wrapping around it, “I’ve done what I can to help, I don’t know if it’s enough but it’s…”

“Hey,” Peter reaches a hand over and rests it on your forearm, a reassuring gesture, “I can see the cogs turning in your head, don’t beat yourself up over this.”

You smile, taking in a deep breath, “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

You laugh, “Alright, let’s talk about anything else, please?”

“Of course,” Peter rests his arms onto the table, folded in front of him, “So I did have a question for you earlier. But we got interrupted before you could reply.”

“You did,” You breathe in deeply, “Ask me again.”

“Why? So you can break my heart?” He places a hand to his chest as if his heart was already breaking, his lips curling into a smile.

“Just ask me again,” You nudge his leg under the table.

He pauses momentarily, his eyes flicking between both of yours, “Will you go on a date with me?”

For as long as you’d been at Stanford, Peter had been the face you’d look for in any room. When Sara was off being social or the crowd felt too big or the late hour had drained you of any social battery, you could find that single face and feel like the weight of it all had just melted away. And right now, you looked across from him at this table and felt that same comfort radiating from him once again, echoing in the heat of your cocoa, in the way he held contact with your eyes like they were the only thing in the world he needed to see. And that’s why you say;

“Yes.”

“Yeah?” Peter’s face brightens, his lips widening into that signature smile.

“Of course I will,” You chuckle, “Did you really think I was going to say no?”

“I don’t know I just-“ He holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m just really glad you said yes.”

“So, does that mean this counts as our first date?” You lean forward, resting your elbows onto the table, your arms bent to place your chin on top of your linked hands.

“This? A coffee shop and cocoa?” Peter exclaims, his voice curling around the high pitch, “No, nowhere near.”

“Then what? Extra lacrosse practice?”

“Come on, I’m about to blow your mind with how romantic I can be,” He assures you, “You won’t know what’s hit you.”

“Okay,” You half-whisper, lips curling into a smile, “Then I’ll be waiting.”

———

There was something inherent that came with being a college student - the attempt at being productive and doing work that ended up with you watching multiple episodes of a show you’d already seen, or scrolling on your phone until the low battery notification flashed on screen. It was just part of college life. And you were currently knee deep into the latter, scrolling through photos of people you knew from college, and the ones from high school you hadn’t seen since you graduated.

“Hey! You’re back!” Sara exclaims as she walks through the door, closing it abruptly behind her, “I feel like I’ve barely seen you.”

“Because you’re always busy,” You remind her.

“You’re one to talk,” She points out, dropping down onto your bed.

You turn around in the seat at your desk to face her, stretching out your legs to rest them on the mattress, “Peter asked me on a date.”

She squeals, grasping your ankle, “You’re kidding! He kept that one a secret!”

“He only asked me today,” You explain, “We went out earlier and he asked me then.”

“And you said yes?”

You take a deep breath, “I did.”

She furrows her brows, “Why don’t you sound excited about that?”

“No, no,” You drag a hand through your hair, “I am excited it’s just… it’s just been a long day.”

She nods but the uncertainty in her face doesn’t fade, “Where’s the date? When’s the date?”

“I don’t know,” You shake your head, “He said he’ll plan something so I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.”

“God I better get my speech ready for the wedding!” She rolls onto her back, dangling her head over the edge of the mattress to look at you from a strange upside down angle.

“Oh come on you can’t think like that,” You roll your eyes, standing up from the chair to go and lay beside her.

“Of course I can! If you two start dating that’s literally it for life, you’ll end up together.”

“I’m not thinking about that yet, that’s way off,” You shake your head, resting your head onto her shoulder.

“We should go to Vegas for your bachelorette,” She jabs at your side, taunting you now.

“Shut up or I’m not going on the date,” You grumble and she scoops her arms around you, wrapping the two of you in each others embrace.

You felt a pit build in your stomach at the thought of forever. The idea that one date could be the last first date you went on. That one kiss could be your last first kiss. You’d never thought about it before. Any first date you’d been on had been relatively harmless, playful, meaningless. But the idea of going on a date with Peter felt like there was already a weight added to it that you hadn’t really considered. There was a responsibility, a looming bigger picture - as if the inevitable was finally upon you, and that could very well be it. And if it wasn’t, was it worth ruining a friendship over?

The more the thoughts swirled your mind, the deeper the pit became. And you wondered why, in the moment, it had felt so easy to say yes.

———

The perks of being on a sports team were that parties and their invites came around more often than needed. You weren’t even sure whose birthday it was today but you knew it was someone’s and you knew, on Sara’s word, that you were obliged to go.

You wore black tall boots, the kind you knew you’d regret in the morning, and a jacket baggy enough to make up for your lack of inspiration on an outfit, and you got there when the crowd was already flooding through the rooms of whatever house had been chosen to host. This was a house of medicine students, who always seemed to band together, so it came with a certain fresher appearance than those occupied by the fraternities. It was stuffy and cramped and you felt a weird uncertainty in your chest when you thought about the last party like this you’d been at.

“I’m going to grab a drink,” You squeeze Sara’s arm as the group you’d been chatting to starts discussing a class you didn’t talk.

She pauses her focus on the conversation, telling you to come straight back, and you push through the crowd to break out into the kitchen, grateful for having enough space to at least feel like you weren’t surrounded. You pour yourself a beer from the keg, taking a swig and then refilling what had been drank from the solo cup. You’d been here long enough now that the alcohol had taken full effect, softening the edges of the world, lowering your inhibitions to a level that made you still aware, easing any nerves that came from the social setting. You could feel it coursing in your veins, and yet you still trusted your gut to know what came next was real, not a figment of your imagination or a concoction of your intoxicated mind.

You hear him before you see him.

“Come on!”

An exclamation of defeat, irritation, a laugh that followed.

You turn around, to the doors that led out to the yard, a beer pong table set up on the grass. A few guys on either side.

One of them, Conrad.

He has a solo cup in his hand, a black polo shirt and jeans, his hair the same as it always was falling around his forehead. He laughs as someone on the other team misses, his eyes leading him astray to land on you - dressed in black leather from your jacket and boots, the bright red of the solo cup standing out against the dark canvas.

Without so much as a falter, Conrad steps away from the table and towards you, his actions met with disappointment and disapproval from the guys he’d been playing with.

“Conrad Fisher playing beer pong? There’s a sight I never thought I’d see,” You smirk, pausing then, “Actually, scratch that, Conrad Fisher at another party, didn’t think I’d see that either.”

“Yeah well,” He flicks his gaze between both of your eyes, “I guess I’m taking your advice, putting myself out there or whatever.”

“Clearly,” You nod, “You fit right in.”

“The alcohol helps,” He points out, holding up his cup to you, “A lot.”

“Yeah,” You look down, suddenly feeling bashful under his intense gaze.

“Dr Jordan told me that I’m in the clear,” He comments, eyes still not tearing away from you, “She said they’ll be looking out for anything else I do but for now I’m safe.”

“Right,” You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I’m glad.”

“You know I-“ He pauses, waiting until your eyes are on his, “I’d do it again.”

“Come on Conrad I-“

“I’m serious,” He persists, “Seeing that guy… the way he… I mean you just… what I’m saying is I don’t regret it. If we went back to that night, I’d do the same thing again, consequences and all.”

You inhale sharply, as if his words had knocked all air from your lungs, “What happened to the lone wolf guy?”

“You must just have that effect on people.”

You feel the heat rise in your face, as if he’d forced a surge of adrenaline through your body. It was something in the way he looked at you, his eyes a little softer with the alcohol coursing through his veins, his demeanour more relaxed than you’d seen him before. And yet there was such certainty in his words it made you question how much of an effect the alcohol really had. But his eyes were still on you, and the adrenaline in your body hadn’t faded yet.

“I just-“ Conrad pauses momentarily, his lips softening into the shadows of a smile and then returning to his neutral expression, “Do you want to get out of here?”

You’re taken aback, half expecting him to be joking. But you find yourself acting on instinct when you say;

“Sure.”

You both discard your drinks onto a table of other abandoned ones, and you follow Conrad round the back of the house towards an exit at the side He opens the gate and steps aside to let you through first. You send a quick text to Sara to tell her you were leaving and that you were okay.

“Texting your boyfriend?” Conrad nudges your shoulder when he notices your eyes focused on your phone screen.

“No,” You roll your eyes, tapping your phone against the other hand like you weren’t sure where to put your hands, “Just telling Sara.”

“Sara,” He nods, “Your roommate?”

“Yeah I-“ You pause, “Sorry, I forget you’ve not actually met any of my friends.”

“Just the one guy,” Conrad reminds you, his hands stuffed into his pockets, “Paul?”

“Peter,” You correct him, glancing over to see the slight smirk on his lips, “You knew that.”

“I’m not good with names,” He holds his hands up as if defending himself, “He’s the jock, right? But not football or anything… is it hockey? No, volleyball?”

“Conrad,” The word comes out of your mouth instinctively, laced in a warning tone as if you’d turn back in your steps at any moment.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” He nudges your shoulder again, “I know you play lacrosse.”

You don’t respond then, both of you falling into the silence of each other’s steps, the path away from the party empty of any other people passing by. Conrad turns down one corner and you follow, suddenly aware that you were following him somewhat blindly.

“Where are we actually going?” You ask him, your steps beside him not faltering.

“I wanted to take you somewhere.”

He says the words so nonchalantly, as if this were the simplest idea he’d ever had. As if you and him came so naturally to him he hadn’t thought to question it.

You narrow your eyes, “On our own… down a quiet road… in the dark… should I be scared?”

Conrad chuckles, “Are you scared of the dark?”

“No,” You roll your eyes, “Should I be?”

“No.”

You furrow your brows at him, trying your best to force your uncertainty. But, when you looked at him, there was a coolness in his eyes that just made you sure he was right - there was nothing to worry about.

“My place is down this way,” He explains, nodding his head in the direction you were walking.

“I-“ You feel the words leave your throat, the idea of him taking you back to his seeming to dawn on you in the moment. Call it naivety, or acting before you thought, but you’d not really considered the thought that he might want to take you back to his.

“We’re not going back to mine,” Conrad mentions, like he could see your words before they’d been spoken, “I just know a good sp.”

“Is that what you spend your time doing?” You say, feeling the anxiety in your chest ease off, “Just finding spots to take people to?”

“I don’t take people to them,” He reminds you, walking a couple of steps ahead so that he could turn around to face you, walking backwards to keep in rhythm with your steps, “I take you.”

And so, you follow him. You walk the rest of the way down the street, turning once more and then feeling a little more familiar with the surroundings as you near his place - the same streets you’d passed when you’d been there only days before.

“This doesn’t look like we’re not going to yours,” You point out as he scans a card to let him into the apartment building.

Conrad laughs softly, and you follow him inside and over to the elevator. He presses the button for the top floor, both of you stood in gentle silence as the elevator carries you up. You follow him one last time up a flight of metal stairs, the kind that squeak and creak under your every step. Conrad pushes at a fire exit door and breaks the two of you out onto the rooftop of the building, thick concrete walls at hip height trailing around the perimeter, the California buildings glowing in the view ahead of you.

“Are you even supposed to be up here?”

“What else do I pay rent for?” Conrad shrugs, walking over to the edge and placing his hands on the wall, looking over the edge and down to the floor beneath.

“Everything looks so small from up here,” You comment, glancing over the edge before turning your back to the view, resting against the wall.

Before you can overthink it, you push yourself up on your hands and hop onto the wall, your back to the view.

“Jesus-“ Conrad reaches out a hand for you but stops himself when he sees you sat there, “Can you maybe not scare me like that?”

You giggle, turning your gaze to him beside you, “I promise I won’t fall.”

“Thank you,” Conrad nods slowly, as if he was calming the racing of his heart.

He looks over to you, his eyes softening at the sight in the way that just seemed to come naturally when he looked to you. It was as if he could feel his heart softening too, his normally cold attitude seeming to warm just enough for him to notice. He was more and more aware of it - the effect you had on him.

“It’s so clear tonight.”

Your words break him from his thoughts, and he follows your gaze up to the sky above you, velvet black littered with dotted sparks.

“I really wish I knew all of the constellations,” You mention, eyes remaining focused on the stars above you, “I only know the basic ones. Do you know any?”

Conrad, for a moment, is sure he’s entranced by you. His eyes on you instead of the sky, as if you held all of the starlight in your eyes alone.

He snaps himself out of it quickly, glancing up before you have a chance to notice him staring, “That one’s Cassiopeia, it’s opposite the big dipper,” Conrad mentions, moving his finger in the W-shape to point out the stars to you.

“So you’re a space nerd too,” Your lips curl into a smile, mapping out the stars he’d pointed out.

“Yeah,” Conrad exhales, “I was a nerd about everything when I was a kid.”

“Okay, tell me another space fact Fisher.”

“Um,” Conrad lets his eyes trail back to you, like it was impossible to avoid, “Constellations are actually an illusion.”

You furrow your brows, “What do you mean?”

“They’re not real clusters. The stars that make them up are actually light-years apart, so they only look close from Earth,” He explains, his eyes scanning your face as he speaks.

He pauses for a moment then, as if considering if the next words should be kept to himself.

“My Mom she-“ He pauses again, swallowing the lump in his throat, “She used to tell me that maybe love was the same. Maybe it’s just separate souls that line up just right for someone’s heart to see a pattern.”

You tear your eyes away from the sky then and let them fall back to him, smiling softly, “You know, she might have been onto something there.”

Conrad smiles, “Yeah, yeah, I think she was.”

You hum in agreement, and Conrad leans slightly closer to you, as if the two of you were magnetised. For a moment you feel your heart stop, paused as it swells, words failing you and breath seeming to too. He reaches up a gentle hand to your face, tucking behind a lock of hair that had fallen onto your cheek, pushing it up and behind your ear, his fingers lingering there. His eyes flick between each of yours, his lips parting just slightly.

“I-“ The word escapes your lips before you have a moment to think, seemingly the only word you can say as all air seems knocked from your lungs.

Conrad inhales sharply, as if the sound of your voice had brought you back to himself, made him realise where and who he was, stepping back just enough for you to notice, “It’s getting cold, we should probably go inside.”

You clear your throat, “Right, yeah, I should probably be getting home anyway.”

He nods, reaching out an instinctive hand to help you down from the ledge, though you’re hyperaware of the fact that he doesn’t look at you whilst he does it.

“Do you want me to call you a cab?” Conrad offers, holding the fire escape door open for you to go back into the building.

“No, no, it’s okay, I can do it,” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself as you both descend the staircase.

And then both of you fall into silence, you step into the elevator and press the button for the lobby, Conrad presses the button for his floor. You stay staring at the doors, he stares at the floor. When you get to his floor, his steps falter momentarily.

“See you next week?”

He says the words as more of a question than a certainty.

“Yeah,” You exhale, swallowing, “Sure.”

The doors start to close then, but you’re convinced he wanted to say more, his lips parted as if more words were preparing to spill just a moment too late. You take in a deep breath, and let the elevator take you away from him, and whatever confusing feelings his presence seemed to bring.

———

You hadn’t seen Conrad since that night, and you’d not heard from him either - though you also hadn’t made the effort to reach out.

Sara had asked you relentless questions about where you’d disappeared off to that night and you’d felt strange as you lied to her in response - you told her you’d just felt sick and gone home early. It felt easier than trying to explain what had really happened. Both nothing and everything all at once.

You were now in your dorm getting ready for your first date with Peter. You were supposed to be leaving in ten minutes and you were currently stood staring at the inside of your closet as if the entire thing was empty. At first you’d opted for the outfit you always went for when you weren’t sure but something told you that you wanted to wear something that didn’t just feel normal. Because this wasn’t normal. It was your first date with Peter, something it seemed everyone had been waiting for since you’d first became friends. And maybe you had been too.

Just a little bit of you.

More now.

You grabbed for a dress you’d owned for a while and never worn, and stuffed a few essentials into a bag too small to be particularly practical. You slipped on shoes just comfortable enough to wear them all night, and before you could overthink any other decision, there was a knock at the door.

“Sara did you forget your keys ag-“ You stop mid-sentence as it isn’t Sara on the other side but instead Peter.

He towers in the door frame, wearing a white shirt and black trousers, and a black jacket, a bouquet of red roses held in his hands.

“I thought I was meeting you there!” You beam, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks at his display.

“And where would be the romance in that?” He shakes his head, “These are for you.”

You smile, breathing in the scent of the flowers as he handed them over, “They’re beautiful, thank you.”

He grins, watching your movements as you set them onto your desk, “You look…”

You turn back to him, readjusting your dress as if you were suddenly more aware of yourself than you’d ever felt before.

“Wow,” He exhales, his cheeks flushing.

“Thank you,” You smile bashfully, “Will you tell me where you’re taking me yet?”

He narrows his eyes as if deep in thought, “Will you hate me if I say no?”

You shake your head, “I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

“Noted, noted,” Peter nods, his lips curling into a smile, “Come on.”

He extends his elbow to you as a gesture for you to link your arm with his, his smile widening as you do.

———

Peter drives the two of you out of town, your music playing through the speakers in his Jeep, a grin on his face that doesn’t seem to subside as you sing along to every word. He eventually pulls off into the parking lot of a small restaurant overlooking a lake, fairy lights dotted around in strings as if floating candles littering the air around the quaint building.

“How did you find this place?” You beam as Peter walks around to open the passenger side door.

“I have my ways,” He winks, letting you link your arm with his as you walk towards the door.

He holds it open before you have a chance to.

The man at the front desk leads you through the restaurant and past every filled table there, out to the back where he led you through a set of doors that took you out onto a terrace. There, amongst only a couple of other tables, was one empty one closest to the water, a flickering pillar candle occupying the centre.

“Thank you,” Peter nods politely to the man, pulling out one of the chairs to let you sit down.

A breeze brushes through the air, pricking goosebumps onto your skin.

“Are you cold? You can take my jacket,” He pauses before he sits down, hands already pausing around the shoulders of his jacket.

“No, no,” You shake your head, “I’m okay,” You rub your hands together in front of the candle, “This is perfect.”

Peter obliges, sitting down in the seat adjacent to yours, both of your views looking over to the water, though he couldn’t seem to find a reason to look away from you.

“So do you bring all of your dates here?” You grin, already knowing the effect you’d have by toying with him.

“No, definitely not,” He rolls his eyes at you.

“Are you sure?” You narrow your eyes, “What was that place you told me you always used to go to in high school? Carbon… Cardo…”

“Cardona’s,” He sighs deeply, “And that’s not what this is.”

You giggle, “You’re so easy to annoy.”

“To you, maybe,” He reminds you, “You always do know how to get under my skin.”

You smile bashfully as he looks over to you. Peter was always looking at you, holding eye contact in conversation, or following your moves when he watched one of your games, searching for you in a crowded room. But this time felt different. In the low light, the chilly breeze, the flickering candlelight on his face, you were sure there was something new in the way he looked at you. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. But the kind of look that seemed to shoot a fluttering of butterflies through your stomach.

“What do you think you’re going to order?” You ask him, trying to clear whatever nerves had settled in the air between you.

“How about…” Peter taps his hands on the menu in front of him, “I guess yours and you guess mine.”

“Oh you’re so on, Kavinsky.”

———

You weren’t sure a first date could ever feel like this. Well, maybe they could, but they’d never felt this way to you. So effortless, so natural, not once having to think about the next topic. You spoke as if you knew everything and nothing about each other all at once. A perfect blend of the way you spoke to a friend and a complete stranger. He made you laugh, he laughed at your words too, he smiled in the way that drew crow’s feet to his eyes, and a warmth to his cheeks. You split desserts and he let you have the bigger half on both of them, wiping chocolate from your face when the sauce got onto your cheek.

It felt like two hours of the most perfect date you could imagine. One you’d re-live over and over again if you could.

“Oh we can split the-“

You’ve not even finished the sentence as Peter hands his card over to the waiter, thanking him as he disappears back inside.

“Thank you,” You say bashfully, “You didn’t have to.”

Peter shakes his head, “I know.”

“I’ll get the next one,” You offer, smiling gently.

“The next one?” Peter raises his brows, “So there’s going to be a next one?”

“Don’t you want there to be?”

“No, no, I do,” He smiles warmly, faintly at first and then it grows over his features, brightening his entire face.

The waiter comes back with Peter’s card and the check to sign, thanking the both of you before he disappears again. Peter stands up, pulling his jacket from his arms to hand it over to you, slipping it over your shoulders.

“Thank you,” You smile, wrapping the jacket around yourself, letting the sleeves hang long and baggy over your arms.

“You’re welcome,” Peter nods, placing a gentle hand on your back to let you step ahead of him to leave the restaurant.

You take a path down the side of the terrace, one that led down to a little dock poking out over the water, spotlights lined up along the edges of the wooden planks, lowly illuminating the space.

“So did you have a good night?” Peter nudges your shoulder as he walks beside you.

You look up at him, unable to hide the smile from your face, “I really did, it’s been perfect.”

“I’m glad,” Peter half-whispers, both of your steps slowing as you reach the edge of the dock.

The sky was cloudy above, the moonlight creeping through around the edges of passing clouds, casting shades of gray across the sky.

“I think I would eat that dessert every day if I could,” You comment, hands resting on the wooden barrier in front of you, “Seriously, that’s like on my death row meal now.”

Peter chuckles, “Okay so the key to your heart is good dessert? Noted.”

You turn around to look at him, giggling, “Maybe a little, yeah.”

Peter’s face darkens a little, deep shadows in the light of the moon. His hand reaches up just slowly, drawing up to your cheek to push back a curl that had fallen across your cheek. In the moment, you feel the space between you close just slightly, enough to notice. Your breath catches in your throat.

And yet something, like a flash, like the last flicker of a dying candle, a bolt of electricity, you picture Conrad.

The other night.

The way his hand had brushed your cheek.

How close he’d been to you.

The look in his eyes.

The electricity that had been coursing through you.

And, before you can think of what you’re doing, you feel yourself draw away. Not by much. But enough for Peter to notice.

He clears his throat, his cheeks turning red as if he’d just been caught doing something he shouldn’t be.

“I-“ You go to speak but you can’t find the words.

“Come on, let’s get back to the car,” Peter takes a breath, composing himself so quickly like nothing had happened.

He places a hand back onto your back, maybe just a little higher than it had been before, and the two of you walk back towards the car without another word exchanged between you. He opens the door to let you into the passenger side, he hands the aux cable over to you, smiling as he does. And the two of you drive back just in the same way that he’d taken you there.

But, this time, you don’t find yourself singing along to whatever song you’d put on shuffle. Instead, you feel a clench in your heart, a slight pain in your head. Your entire mind and body circling over what you’d just done.

Why had your mind gone to Conrad? And why had you pulled away?

————

You fell somewhere in between. You’d started here last fall, now in your second year. You were majoring in english literature, playing lacrosse when you weren’t in class, somewhat settling into a good balance of college life. You lived in dorms with the same girl you met in first year - Sara. She was honest and direct and told you what you needed to hear, more like a sister now than a friend.

“Are you even listening?” She claps in front of your face, her sat on your bed, you sat at your desk.

“No,” You shake your head, “Sorry, I’ve just got this essay to finish before tonight and I-“

“And you’ve read it and re-read it fifteen thousand times, it’s perfect!” She stretches over a leg to kick you gently, “I wouldn’t tell you it was if it wasn’t.”

“Right, okay,” You half-close your laptop, making a mental note to just read it one more time, “I’m listening.”

“Okay, Ethan says the boys’ team are having a party tonight after the football game so we kind of have to go,” She comments, scrolling on her phone.

“Have to?”

“Yes! We have to,” Sara encourages, “I’m sure Peter would want you there.”

“Can you not say his name like that?” You roll your eyes.

“Like what?”

“Like that!” You nudge her, going to sit beside her on the bed, “We’re friends.”

“And all I’m saying is that maybe he’d also like to not be just friends,” She shrugs, “Would that be so terrible?”

“So, this party,” You clear your throat, “After the game?”

She looks at you with narrowed eyes, the kind of disappointment in you not saying everything she wanted you to say, “Yes, so we better get ready.”

———

You’ve met up with the girls, trailing across the parking lot to meet the guys, Sara on the phone to Ethan trying to figure out where he was in the mass of people.

“Okay okay I see you!” She hangs up, ushering you all over to wherever she’d spotted them.

The girls and boys lacrosse teams were naturally friends - bonding over shared losses, celebrating wins, and inevitably glad to have built-in friends in an otherwise overwhelming school.

“There you are!” Ethan extends his arms, “Late as always!”

“Blame Ellie she had to go back and get a different bag,” Sara wiggles a finger at her teammate, “Otherwise we’d have been dead on time.”

“You’re never on time,” Ethan rolls his eyes, “Come on, we need to find enough seats all together.”

The groups merge together, all trailing in the same direction towards the stadium. You end up towards the back of the group, a familiar figure falling into rhythm beside you.

“Hey,” Peter smiles, his arm nudging yours, “I like what you’re wearing.”

“Thanks;” You smile bashfully, smoothing a hand over your cardinal red shirt, one that Lea had cut up to look much more fashionable than it had when she’d first got it.

You and Peter had been friends for as long as the two of you had been at Stanford. You’d first met in your first freshman lacrosse practice - when you’d been so nervous you were sure you wouldn’t even make it out there. He’d been loud and confident and sure of himself and you believed him when he told you everything was going to be fine, that the team would be lucky to have you. He didn’t even know you then and yet he’d said it like he’d never been so sure of anything in his life. You’d been friends ever since. And it seemed like everyone around you was waiting for that to be something more.

“Come on, Dylan told me there’s seats around this bit,” Ethan waves everyone in one direction, up towards the steps leading up to one of the stands.

You all follow behind him and Sara, forever keeping their traits as captains in and out of games, and they lead you to two rows still with enough seats left.

Peter steps back to let you in before him, Sara on one side of you and now him pausing at the seat on the other side.

“I’m going to get a drink do you want one?”

“You know it would be great if you offered that to all of us Kavinsky,” Sara speaks up from beside you, eyeing him suspiciously.

“You know when you next score Sara I’ll get you that drink,” Peter taunts, “But something tells me I might be waiting a while.”

“I had one bad game!” She scoffs, slumping back into her seat, arms folded over her torso.

Peter looks back down at you, his features bright, “Drink?”

“I’ll have a coke, please,” You smile, “Thanks Peter.”

“Thanks Peter,” Sara mimics beside you.

“Do you mind?” You raise your brows at her and she raises her hands as if accepting defeat.

All of the pre-game traditions begin as both teams run out onto the field, everyone rising from their seats to hurl their support at the Stanford Cardinal. The energy seems to electrify, the way that made you remember why you even bothered coming to these games. Before you know it, Peter is squeezing past people in the row to get back to you, two big soda cups held in his hands.

“Thanks!” You grin, “That’s a lot of soda.”

“Yeah, I figured getting one was easier than me having to go out again,” He beams, tapping his cup against yours, “Did I miss anything?”

“Nope, just a few chants and a-“

Just then, another chant begins and Peter joins in enthusiastically, shouting some version of the words in unison with everyone else. You giggle as you watch him, him turning to you with a wide smile as he shouts along.

“I don’t even think you’ve got all the right words,” You point out, “Actually I don’t think you’ve got any of the right words.”

“Who cares about the words? It’s about the passion!” He grips a hand to his chest dramatically, “Where’s your school spirit?”

“Must’ve left her at the last game that you guys lost,” You nudge his side.

He fakes a gasp, “Are you mocking me?”

You narrow your eyes as if you have any reason to consider your answer, “Yes, Kavinsky, yes I am.”

“How dare you,” He shakes his head.

When you look back to the field, his eyes stay on you, smiling a little at the sight of you smiling beside him.

———

“Sorry I’m late Dr Jordan, I thought I had way longer to get across campus than I did,” You grimace, hurrying into her office.

She’d been your professor for this year and last and she’d taken a particular liking to your writing. From the second assignment you’d ever handed in, she had been convinced that you could go far and she was determined to push you just enough to get there.

“That’s quite alright,” She waves a hand in your direction, “It gave me time to have a coffee and wake myself up.”

“Late night?” You ask, taking a seat in the chair across from her.

“Early morning,” She says simply, clasping her hands together, “I actually have a favor to ask of you.”

“What’s that?” You frown, dropping your bag down to the floor at your feet.

“Well, as you know, my husband is a professor here too. He has a student in his class who transferred just this year and, well, it seems to be taking him a little while to get settled into campus and college life. I was just wondering if you would be able to show him around?”

“Show him around?” You narrow your eyes, “Like to get to his classes or?”

“No, no,” Dr Jordan shakes her head, “He’s moved here from Boston and I just think it would be good for him to have a friend here. So, I figured I would go to one of my most trusted students.”

“Sure yeah I can-“

Before you can finish your sentence, there’s a knock at the door.

“That’s probably him now,” Dr Jordan stands from her chair, walking over to open the door, “Hello!”

You hear the voice before you see him, “Hi, Dr Graham told me to come to this office? I’m not sure if I’m at the right place.”

“You must be Conrad,” Dr Jordan smiles politely, stepping aside from the door to welcome him in, “Come in.”

Then, the boy steps through, tall, golden skin, golden hair flopping in curtains on his forehead. He had a crisp blue shirt on and beige trousers, a navy rucksack slung over one shoulder. You almost felt a little underdressed now in your leggings and sweatshirt.

“This is one of my lovely students,” Dr Jordan offers him your name, “She’s going to help you settle in a little more with college life and all the rest.”

“That’s great Dr Jordan, ma’am but I really don’t need someone to-“

“I am aware of what you think you need, Conrad,” She takes her seat on the opposite side of the desk, “But we have years of experience with students here to confirm that they always end up having a better time when they have both a social life and a focus on their academics. You seem to be doing well with your academics, I see no reason why we can’t also help you to find a social life here in California too.”

“I-“ He goes to protest but stops himself, sighing through his nose, “Great, thanks Dr Jordan.”

“Well, I just have to wait for Dr Graham to get here, how about you two go for coffees or something?” She suggests, “I can see you both back in my office after, myself and Dr Graham have a great idea for a project that we’d like you to both work on.”

“Sure, I’ll come back in a bit,” You nod politely, scooping your bag up from the floor.

The boy, Conrad, steps aside to let you out first, following out behind you with the door closing behind him.

“There’s a coffee place just around the block it’s a-“

“I meant what I said in there,” Conrad turns around to stop you, his tone cold and blunt, “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Wh-“ You half-laugh to ease the tension, “I think they were just trying to help you out, you know, be nice?”

He smirks a little, “And you think you can do that?”

“No, I think they asked me to so I will,” You return, trying to keep your voice as level as you can, “If you want to be solitary at college or whatever then that’s your call, but not a single part of that means you need to be such an asshole about it.”

He pauses, his cold facade seeming to falter for the faintest second, in the time it takes you to blink.

“I’m going to pick up the coffees,” You explain, “You can come with me, or you can sit and wallow in your own self pity. But either way we’ll go into that office and do whatever project they’re asking of us because I’ve spent a year making a good impression around here and I won’t have you and your grumpy face ruining that.”

He doesn’t respond, instead stepping aside to once again let you go past him, following behind with a fading reluctance in his steps.

You walk in silence to the coffee shop, walking a little quicker than you normally would. He steps ahead to open the door for you when you both get to the door, and you thank him under your breath as you step inside. There isn’t a queue, so you order your drink and one for each of the professors, stepping aside to let Conrad order.

“Just a black coffee please,” He says to the barista, pulling his wallet out.

“Oh no I can get-“

He taps his card before you can protest.

“Thanks,” You smile awkwardly, your arms folded over your chest.

Both of you step to the end of the counter, feet shuffling around the lack of conversation. You pull out your phone to see a text from Peter.

P: movie tomorrow night? can’t believe you’ve never seen the big lebowski!

“I’m not always grumpy.”

You look up from your phone to see Conrad looking over at you, “What?”

“At the office, you called me grumpy, I’m just saying I’m not always grumpy.”

“Right,” You inhale, tucking your phone back into your pocket, “I think the jury’s still out on that one.”

He smiles bashfully, looking down at his feet again.

“Plus, I didn’t say you were grumpy,” You point out, thanking the barista as she sets down a tray of your four drinks onto the countertop, “I just said that your face was grumpy.”

“Oh yeah, big difference,” He rolls his eyes, taking the tray from you before you can tell him not to.

He manages to get a hand to the door before you do too, holding it open with his foot to let you out first.

The two of you walk back to the offices in silence but this time it feels like a slightly more comfortable one. His longer legs still manage to match in rhythm beside you, both of you with slightly less tension in your shoulders. He holds open the door to Dr Jordan’s office and you step inside, smiling at him to offer somewhat of a thanks.

Dr Jordan and Dr Graham sit both on one side of the desk, and you and Conrad take the seats opposite them, handing out coffees and settling into your seats.

“So, we have an idea that we would like for you two to get started on,” Dr Graham begins, “Conrad, I’ve been really impressed by you in my biology classes so far and I know about your passions for medical school and beyond.”

“Yes sir,” Conrad clears his throat, adjusting in his seat.

“And we’re also aware of how brilliant your writing is coming along and how you’re also interested in publishing some work,” Dr Jordan points out, “I am working on a new book idea and I would love if you two could help me out for it. It’ll be based on two students in medical school at Stanford. And we would like if you two could do some research, give us a bit of an idea of what the lives of the characters would look like, specific places, specific scenes.”

“I would love to,” You nod eagerly.

“Conrad, you can primarily help with the medical side of things - the jargon, the mindset, diagnoses - things like that,” Dr Graham waves a hand towards his student, “We can work out some extra credits for you both, and I’m sure it would be great for both of you to put on your resume.”

“Sure, yeah,” Conrad says, “Would this mean we have to… work together?”

“Well, it’s up to you, but I think you’ll both learn a lot more from the experience if you work alongside each other,” Dr Graham nods, “And it’ll be really great for you to see the social side of Stanford, Conrad”

“Right,” He sinks back into his seat and you glance over, feeling your jaw clench.

Did he really want to make it out that you were so bad to spend any time with? He barely knew you. In fact, he didn’t know you at all. If you were to ask him to tell you something about yourself the most he could say would be your coffee order. Would this mean we have to work together?! Asshole.

“Brilliant!” Dr Jordan clasps her hands together, “Well, I’ve got your emails, I’ll send you over what I’ve got so far and what I’m expecting from the two of you. But just enjoy it! Find some new places, research some new topics, use this to your advantage!”

“That’s great,” You smile, “Thank you for the opportunity.”

She dismisses the both of you and you and Conrad step back outside, both looking to each other as the door closes behind you.

“You’re an english major,” He nods, “I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“And you want to be a doctor,” You point out, adjusting your bag on your shoulder, “I guess we’re both learning something new about each other.”

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” He narrows his eyes a little, “And if we’re going to be working on this project maybe we should try to… not be on the wrong foot.”

You scoff, taking a sip of the coffee in your hand, “Look, I get the whole loner act. Okay? But, like I said before, I’m not letting your attitude ruin my progress here. This is a really good opportunity. And if you want to get to medical school eventually, my advice is that you take every opportunity you can get. So we’ll do the fucking project, you’ll get the full Stanford experience, and that’s all. You don’t need to spend any time with me that you don’t want to.”

Conrad inhales deeply, nodding slowly, “Okay.”

“Okay,” You nod, “Give me your number and I’ll text you.”

———

The following morning you agree to meet Conrad at the coffee shop. You’re there earlier than he is, sleep deprived and already dreading whatever you’d be met with. He walks in on time, dressed in a pale blue shirt and beige slacks.

“Was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” You clear your throat as he walks over, taking dropping his bag into the seat opposite you.

“I’m not even late,” He points out, “Why are you so early?”

“I don’t sleep much,” You comment, pulling open your laptop.

“Do you want a drink?” Conrad grips his hands onto the back of the chair.

“Yeah I think I’ll just get the same as-“ You go to stand up.

“Same as yesterday,” He confirms, nodding, “I’ll get these.”

Before you can protest, he walks over to the counter and orders from the barista stood waiting. You take in a deep breath, feeling the awkward tension in your chest ease off slightly. Just enough.

Conrad comes back over with two coffees in his hands, setting them onto the table in front of you. You reach into your pocket and push across a five dollar bill to him.

“Is that a tip?”

“It’s for the coffee,” You say.

“I said I’d get them.”

“And you don’t need to,” You say simply, “Now, can we start working?”

“Sure.”

You look down at your laptop screen as he sits there taking a sip of his coffee, not making a move to do anything else.

“You don’t want to get out a notepad? A book? A laptop?” You shake your head as if searching for any sense in him.

“I think I’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” You click your pen, “Dr Jordan said she wanted to research osteosarcoma, so, what do you know?”

“Osteosarcoma. It’s the most common primary malignant bone tumour in children and young adults. It usually starts in the cells that form new bone which makes it more common in areas of fast bone growth. Most frequent sites are the femur, tibia and humerus. The five year survival rate is 60 to 80 percent but it drops significantly if metastasised.”

You pause as you look at him, your lips parting as if to speak. But, instead, you clear your throat and type down the few things you remembered of what he’d said.

“Anything else?” Conrad asks, taking another long sip of his coffee.

“Okay you can be smart but you don’t need to be such an asshole about it,” You roll your eyes, “You were doing well until that.”

Conrad doesn’t speak, but he nods slowly as if he’s accepted your irritation. He watches as you type, not making a move.

“So we need to research the-“

“It’s because of my Mom.”

You pause at his interruption, a furrow settling between your brows, “What is?”

“Why I know that stuff,” He clears his throat, adjusting in his seat.

“She’s a doctor?”

“No,” He smiles softly, looking down, “She… she passed away earlier this year.”

Your lips part, “I- I’m so…”

“It’s okay,” He shakes his head, “She had breast cancer, and then it came back and we tried a lot of treatment but… it just stopped working.”

You swallow the lump in your throat.

“When she was sick I just felt like I couldn’t help. I didn’t know what to do or how to do it. So I just started researching as much as I could. I mean, I’d stay up for hours just going through pages and pages of stuff about cancer and the different types and the treatments and the trials and… I mean, it didn’t make any difference. Sure, I knew more about what was happening to her, but it didn’t mean I knew how to make it better.”

You know not to speak, there’s a look in his eyes that tells you he needed to say this.

“And then we lost her and I just-“ He half-laughs, the tears in his eyes contradicting the instinctive response, “I’d learnt all of this shit and it didn’t even matter. I knew about gliomatosis cerebri and chordoma and blastic plasmacytoid dendritic cell neoplasm but I… I didn’t know how to say goodbye to my Mom.”

You feel the lump in your throat constricting around any words you could say, “I don’t-“

“Anyway,” Conrad clears his throat, “Where were we?”

“I-“ You shake your head, “We don’t need to-“

“What was the other stuff she wanted us to research?” He clears his throat, pulling his laptop out from his bag.

And whatever darkness had grown in his words seems to dissipate from the space around you, floating and catching on the air to settle down onto his shoulders. It stays there, sinking in as if burrowing into darkness that already sat there. And then enough time passes that conversation rises again and you discuss another part of the research and you never really find the time to mention his Mom again. But there just seemed to be a look in his eye, that you only ever caught at a certain angle - a reminder of the darkness and its weight.

———

Peter comes over to your dorm that night, carrying bags of snacks and cans of soda, and a grin that stretches across his whole face.

“Is this your attempt of convincing me to watch your movie?” You laugh, letting him into the empty room.

“Sara’s not here?”

“No, she’s out with Ivy tonight,” You explain, wiggling your brows, “A fourth date, I’d say that’s the most serious Sara’s ever been about dating.”

Peter chuckles, “Yeah, yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Come on, I’ve set my laptop up already,” You encourage him to come inside, dressed in your baggiest pair of sweats.

“Well, thank you,” He exaggeratively bows his head to you, stepping into the room and kicking off his shoes, he flops down onto the bed, shuffling along far enough to make room for you too, both of you sitting with your backs against the wall.

“Okay, remind me what the movie’s called again?” You ask, your fingertips hovering over the keyboard.

“So uncultured,” He mutters jokingly under his breath, batting your hands away to type the title into the screen.

He clicks on the movie, settles back against the wall and looks at you as if incredibly proud of his actions. Peter rustles to open the bags of snacks, reminding you that it was imperative that you did it all now before the movie began.

“Did you have a good day?” He whispers as the movie buffers momentarily.

“I did, yeah,” You nod, “How was yours?”

“Better now,” He returns, smiling softly.

You smile back, going to respond when you hear your phone ping on the desk beside you. A text from Conrad.

C: Research tomorrow? I can meet you in the library.

“Sara?” Peter asks, raising his brows when he sees how focused you were on the screen in front of you.

“Oh, um,” You shake your head, “No, no, just this guy. My professor paired us together to do this project.”

“Cool,” Peter nods, “Who is he?”

“He’s-“ You pause, looking over to him, “He transferred here this year.”

“Does he seem nice?”

Your phone pings again.

C: I promise not to be grumpy

Peter watches closely as your lips curl into a smile at the message on your phone. Your eyes focused on the screen, your ears too closed off to respond to him. He clears his throat and presses play on the movie again, shuffling against your mattress, his eyes doing everything in their power to remain focused on the movie in front of him, fighting everything to not glance over at you again.

———

The following morning, you step out of your dorm block, earlier than you’d planned on meeting Conrad. And yet he already stands across from you, leaning back against a tree opposite the door.

“Are you stalking me?” You cock a brow, walking down the steps to approach him.

He looks up at the sound of your voice, a tray of two coffees held in his hands, “Take it as a peace offering.”

You narrow your eyes as you walk over to him, “A peace offering?”

“An apology?” His eyes flick between yours like he’s trying to search for the right answer, “A… it’s a coffee, okay? Just take the coffee.”

You smile, taking yours from the holder, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” He nods, “You wanted to go to the library?”

“Sure, yeah,” You return, glancing around the campus around you, “It’s still pretty quiet, have you seen much of campus?”

“No,” Conrad shakes his head, smiling softly, “I normally go from my classes to the library to home.”

“Then, let’s take the scenic route.”

He falls into rhythm beside you, the two of you now not just comfortable in the silence between you but somehow finding a specific comfort in it. You didn’t know a lot about Conrad - apart from his coffee order, his pessimism, and the way that he closed his eyes when he didn’t want to say something. You walk him through the long route that led through campus, pointing out the buildings that you recognised, and guessing on the ones that you didn’t know. You point out where they host events in the summer, and where they set up the big Christmas tree. Conrad nods along, listening to every work you said, consuming information like it was his breakfast for the early morning. Slowly, as the sun rises, more and more people start spilling onto the paths around campus, tainting whatever privacy you’d had in those moments.

“Okay I recognise this bit of campus at least,” Conrad comments as the two of you near the library.

“You’ve seriously got to get out more,” You joke, walking up the stairs ahead of him.

He hurries behind you but you get to the door before he does, holding it open for him. Conrad looks at you with that sigh of defeat on his face, thanking you and stepping inside.

“Here, I normally sit over th-“ You stop yourself as you catch sight of a familiar face walking over towards you.

“Hey!” Peter grins, his arms extended widely, his voice too loud to be welcome in the library.

“Peter,” You smile, stumbling a little as he engulfs you in his arms, “What are you even doing up this early?”

“You know I actually do study believe it or not.”

“Yeah, I don’t believe it,” You laugh and he keeps one arm around your waist.

“Who’s this guy you’ve dragged out with you so early?” Peter nods towards Conrad who stands with one hand on his coffee, the other tucked into his pocket.

“Peter this is Conrad, Conrad this is Peter.”

“Hey, nice to meet you man,” Peter extends a hand to him.

“Thank god you’re not going to hug me,” Conrad jokes, shaking his hand in return.

“Practice tonight?” Peter looks down at you, “Food after?”

“Sure,” You nod, “Sounds good.”

“Alright then I’ll let you get back to…” He glances over at Conrad, “Catch you later.”

He walks back in the direction he’d came from, glancing over his shoulder at you once more before he disappears.

“Boyfriend?” Conrad asks as the two of you walk towards the stairs that led to the next floor.

“Wh- no, no, no boy, just a friend,” You clear your throat, feeling heat rise in your cheeks, “We’re both on the lacrosse teams.”

“I didn’t know you were on a team,” Conrad raises his brows, “Lacrosse, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah,” You smile, “It’s how I got my scholarship here.”

“I’ve never watched lacrosse before.”

“Then you’re missing out,” You nudge his arm, “Ever thought of joining a team? There’s all different levels and stuff.”

“I used to play football in high school but I quit in my senior year,” He explains, “I don’t really think I was ever made to be a jock.”

You giggle, setting your coffee down onto a table for two, one that overlooked the library through a glass panel, making everything appear small and distant, “I don’t think all jocks are as bad as you think.”

“No?” He cocks a brow, “Jury’s still out.”

You roll your eyes, “Such a pessimist.”

He sits down across from you, leaning back in his seat as if he’s studying you, his eyes feeling focused and intense. You look away, feeling that flush in your heart that came when nerves fluttered by.

“Alright, Dr Conrad, what do we need to start researching?” You pull out your laptop, “I figured we could start with the-“

“Fisher,” He interjects, leaning forward in his chair to rest his arms on the desk.

You look up, a furrow between your brows.

“My last name, it’s Fisher,” He reiterates, reaching for your laptop and turning it around to face him.

“Okay,” You laugh a little, “Dr Fisher, go ahead.”

———

You and Conrad meet up the day after, and the day after that, and the day after that. You show him new places on and around campus, he researches the medical side of the plot and you write up the notes, getting him to repeat himself when he uses the big technical terms you’ve never heard of. Then you’d go your separate ways and see each other the following day, something similar to friends but not quite sure if you were there yet.

“So, I have a suggestion,” You begin as the two of you pack up your things to leave for the day, on the table that you now frequented as if it were your own.

“You do?” Conrad raises his brows, bag slung over his shoulder.

“A friend of mine is having a party tomorrow night, and I think you should come,” You say, looking up as if anticipating his reaction.

“No,” He exhales, a glimmer of a smile on his lips.

“No?” You half-laugh, “That’s it? You can’t even come up with a fake excuse?”

Conrad sighs, “I don’t do parties.”

“You don’t do them? Or you just haven’t been invited to one here yet?” You cock a brow.

He narrows his eyes at you, “Both. I just don’t like parties.”

“But you haven’t been to one at Stanford yet! And I think we’d be technically failing this assignment if I didn’t take you to at least one party whilst we were doing this and I-“

“Hey!”

You’re interrupted by the sound of Peter walking across to you, a red stanford hoodie over his torso, his arms stretched wide to engulf you.

“I thought you had class all day,” You smile, returning his hug.

“Yeah, well, we got out early,” Peter pulls away from you, “I thought I’d find you here.”

“And you found me,” You return, “And you’ve already met Conrad, right?”

“Yes, yeah, we met,” Conrad nods, his lips pulling into a hint of a smile.

“Yeah how’s it going man? You’re keeping her busy, huh?” Peter says, looking down at you and then back to Conrad.

Conrad smirks, looking down at his feet, “Well, we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Peter doesn’t respond, turning to you instead, “You’re coming to the party tomorrow, right?”

“I am,” You return, “I’m also in the process of trying to convince Conrad to come too.”

“Yeah, right, yeah, you should come along man, it’ll be fun,” Peter grins, “Bring whoever you want.”

“Oh no I’m-“

You cock a brow at him and he looks over to you, sighing through his nose, dropping his shoulders.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll try to make it.”

You grin widely and he rolls his eyes at you, stuffing his hand into his pocket.

“You want to go grab some food?” Peter suggests to you, “I feel like I’ve barely seen you this week.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m free now,” You smile, “Where were you thinking?”

“Oh I get to pick?” Peter places a hand to his chest with a gasp, “You never let me pick!”

“I absolutely do!” You push his arm, “You just always tell me to choose anyw-“

You stop as Conrad coughs faintly, drawing your attention back to him. You smile, oddly bashfully, feeling nerves settle into the gesture.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You smile, inhaling deeply.

Conrad nods, adjusting his backpack over his shoulder, “Yeah, tomorrow. Um, have a good night you too.”

“Thanks man, and I’ll see you tomorrow for the party?” Peter extends his hand to clasp with Conrad’s.

“Yeah,” Conrad clasps his hand, his eyes flicking to you, “See you then.”

He turns and walks away and Peter turns back to you.

“Let me guess…” He narrows his eyes at you, “You want pizza.”

“Who wouldn’t want pizza?” You giggle, picking up your bag and slinging it over your shoulder.

You both walk across campus, and Peter tells you about his day and how he’d been at lacrosse practice ridiculously late the night before. He asks you about yours, about the game you’ve got coming up next, about the family thing you were going home for in a few weeks. He orders your pizza without even needing to ask which one you’d want - and he already knew to order a different one for him so that you could swap a slice.

“So how’s this whole project thing going?” Peter leans forward in his chair when he asks you, his elbows resting on the table.

“It’s-“ You stop, settling down your pizza slice and wiping your hands on a napkin, “It’s pretty good. We just do a lot of research, write up what it’s like to be a student here, it’s pretty easy.”

“What’s it like spending so much time with Conrad?” He swallows, his eyes flicking between yours.

You shrug, trying to give off some level of nonchalance, “He’s… he’s better than when I first met him.”

“Yeah, Sara told me he was a total asshole.”

“He wasn’t-“ You stop yourself, “Yeah, yeah, he’s not like that anymore.”

“Good,” Peter nods, “Because you know I’ll set the team on him otherwise.”

“You’ll set the lacrosse team on him?” You roll your eyes.

“Hey!” He kicks your leg beneath the table, “Those sticks would hurt if we hit him hard enough.”

“Okay, okay,” You raise your hands as if in a sign of peace, “I believe you. But, thankfully, you don’t need to be doing that.”

“Okay,” Peter smiles a little, warmly.

His eyes linger on you when you look away, a blush creeping into his cheeks, his breath caught in his throat.

———

The following night, you and Sara arrive to the party with the boys team and the rest of the girls, all of you piling through the door into the frat house. The boys start clasping hands and shouting greetings to all of the people they recognised and the rest flock towards the kitchen to find a drink. You pause momentarily, glancing back towards the door.

“Are you coming?” Sara shouts for you over the music.

“Um,” You glance back once more, “Yeah, I’m coming now.”

She pours you a drink with far too much spirit, dragging you through the crowd to where there were at least enough familiar faces around. You hug a couple of the guys you hadn’t seen, your eyes flicking to the door once more. And then Peter extends a hand to you, his lips curling into a smile. He pulls you across the circle to him, his hand moving to your waist.

“May I have this dance?” He grins down at you, his hair somewhat styled more than it normally was, his usual hoodie swapped out for a t-shirt and a jacket.

“You may,” You giggle, letting his hand move back to yours, stretching them above your head to let him twirl you around.

He sways your hands back and forth, singing along to the song blasting through the house.

“I’m surprised you even know this song,” You say to him, leaning up onto your tiptoes to speak into his ear.

“Hey! I know good music,” He defends, feigning his disgust, “I listen to your playlists.”

You laugh, “Glad I could be a good influence on you.”

He narrows his eyes, “Sometimes.”

“Come on man I need you for beer pong!” Ethan grasps both of Peter’s shoulders, “Stop flirting and get focused!”

Peter mouths an apology to you as he’s pulled away and through the doors that led outside.

You find yourself looking around the room again, stepping forward a few steps and then stopping yourself like you were waiting for something that wouldn’t arrive. You glance back and find your group seem to have dissipated into the house, no longer where you’d left them and no longer in sight.

“Hey,” The word is prolonged, slurred, the kind of sound that makes your body tense, “You’re the chick from the lacrosse team right?”

A hand on your waist.

You turn around, stepping back away from the touch. A boy you didn’t recognise stood in front of you, too close in the packed out room.

“Yeah,” You swallow the lump in your throat, smiling bashfully, looking down at your feet.

“I’m glad you came, I’ve been hoping I’d see you.”

“Um, yeah, I should really get back to my friends,” You glance back over your shoulder but the boy grabs your hand before you can retreat.

You pull your hand away quickly, his grasp too tight, suffocating.

“Come on, don’t play hard to get,” He smirks.

“Can you please just let me go to find my friends I-“ You turn around again, your eyes frantic in your search around the room, your breath starting to feel panicked in your lungs.

“Don’t hide that pretty face,” His fingers moves to your chin, forcing your face back to face him, his hand gripping your waist.

And then, in that moment, everything seems to freeze. You feel your entire body tense up, your jaw clenched, your body retracting away from him in whatever way it could, a sickness churning in your stomach at the feeling of his hands on you.

But before another thought can pass your mind. It happens. His body shoves back. A fist colliding with his jaw. A barrier between you and him. Raised voices, raised tensions. You stumble back, caught by the arms of a girl behind you. A clearing ahead. The boy now knocked to the floor, looks up with wild eyes at the figure towering above him. You knew that hair. Golden, skin even more so.

Conrad’s fists remained clenched at his side, shouting words that seem incomprehensible when they meet your ears.

And then, surrounded by the mania of it all, he turns back to you, the fury in his eyes softening as if a switch had been flipped. He goes to step towards you, hands still balled into tight fists, but the tension in his shoulders seeming to relax as if the calm was slowly washing down his body. But, just before he can, another figure comes in between the two of you, his back to Conrad, his eyes and his everything solely focused on you.

“Hey, hey, are you okay?” Peter’s hand comes to rest on your arm, gentle, cautious, his eyes flicking between each of yours, sharing in the panic.

“Um-“ Your voice feels hoarse, words catching in your throat before you have a moment to comprehend anything, “I don’t-“

“Come on, do you want to get some air?” He offers, his voice warm in the already sticky air.

You nod and he scoops his arm around your shoulders, guiding you through the building crowd. Your eyes flick across past Peter, to the one pair of eyes you wanted to find. His lips parted, his shoulders dropped, his hair messy and wild. And then Peter guides you one more step forward and you lose him all together.

The air hits like a cold sting to your skin, a wince passing your lips.

“Here,” Peter pulls the jacket from his arms, wrapping it over your shoulders with a ghosting touch.

“Thank you,” You smile softly, holding the material over you, inhaling the scent of his fresh aftershave.

“You doing okay?” He frowns, the kind that settles an unwavering worry into his features.

“Yeah I’m-“ You shake your head, “I didn’t even know who that guy was.”

“He’s an asshole, that’s who he is,” Peter assures you, “He’s in the same frat as Ethan’s buddy from class and he’s a total dick.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around you.

“Do you want to get out of here? We can walk home,” Peter offers gently.

“No, no, you can go back in, I’ll be okay,” You nod encouragingly, “I can call an uber or something, the boys will be waiting for you.”

“I don’t care about them.”

He says the words so surely you have no choice but to believe him.

“Come on,” He tilts his head as if directing the two of you, his hand settling onto your back.

It was strange, really. A touch to your skin had felt so sickening just moments ago. And now, Peter’s felt like it struck a comfort into you that you couldn’t explain.

“So I started watching a movie last night,” Peter begins, his arm shifting up to loop around above your shoulders.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” He nods, slowing his steps enough to walk in time with you, “But I stopped watching it because I thought you’d like it too.”

“Really?” You laugh, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“But it does mean I’m going to need us to put it at the top of the list,” He points out, “Because I got like twenty minutes in and I’m already hooked.”

“Okay, okay,” You smile, “I’ll sacrifice my next movie choice and let us watch that instead.”

“You’re too good to me,” He places a hand dramatically to his chest.

And just like that, the weight on your shoulders seems to lighten a little, the tension on your chest releasing just enough to make it easier to breathe.

The two of you go to the crossing, passing over to the other sidewalk. From that angle, you glance over your shoulder towards the house, the front door still open, spilling light out onto the darkened street. A figure emerges from the door, a hand dragging through their hair. And, in that moment, you feel a strange tug in your chest. It could’ve been anyone. But, then, there was only one person you could’ve wanted it to be.

———

Peter had stayed at your dorm for long enough that night to watch the movie with you, chatting the whole way through, so much so that you’d had to rewind scenes to figure out what on earth was going on. He’d made you laugh, made you almost forget why you’d come home so early. Then he’d squeezed your hand, told you that he would only be a call away, and left to go back to his own dorm. You’d fallen asleep and woken up to the moonlight spilling through the curtains you’d forgotten to close the night before.

It was early. 5:30am.

Sara wasn’t home, her bed still unmade from the night before, clothes sprawled across it from her many attempts to find an outfit from the party. You lit up the screen of your phone to see a couple of messages flash up.

Two from Sara, one from Peter.

P: Hope your night got a bit better by the end! See you tomorrow <3

S: hope ur ok - just text me if you need me! that doctor guy could have a serious career as a boxer

S: staying at ethan’s, love u

You lock your phone again, dragging a hand over your face. There was a tightness in your chest that you hoped you’d already got rid of from the night before. But it remained. And, with it, it seemed to remind you of everything you’d hoped you’d have forgotten. You could feel his hand on you again, the way he’d gripped your face, the way he’d kneaded the flesh on your waist. The look in his eyes, the smell of alcohol on his breath. The way it had churned your stomach last night seemed to have the same effect this morning.

You pulled yourself out of the comfort of your sheets, suddenly feeling restrictive around your form. Your legs dangled over the side of your dorm bed, shoulders hanging low, one hand gripping onto the edge of the mattress, the other gripping at the material of your pyjama top over your chest like it would relieve any of the clenching agony.

Your phone lights up with another notification. Conrad.

C: let me know when you’re awake

You feel your breath catch in your throat, in a strange way that seems to make you feel just a little lighter.

You reply to tell him that you are and the three dots appear to tell you he was replying within an instant.

C: i’m outside

You take in a deep breath, staring down at the words.

And without a second thought or a reply, you’re changed, stuffing your phone and keys into the pocket of your baggiest hoodie, and walking down to meet him with no real idea of what you’d say.

You weren’t sure when things had changed with Conrad. But this didn’t feel like going to see the same boy that you’d met in your professor’s office. This felt weighted, like something had shifted.

His range rover was parked right out the front of your building, gun metal grey glistening in the low light of the night. He sat with one hand on the steering wheel, glancing up when he sees you walk over.

“Hi,” He clears his throat as you climb into the passenger seat, his grip adjusting around the top of the wheel.

“Hi,” You return, resting your hands on your lap.

“Is it okay if I take you somewhere?” He asks, looking at you like he was waiting for something to break.

“Sure.”

He nods, adjusting in his seat, his hand moving down to shift the car into drive.

That’s when you see it. A spray of purple blotchy bruises over the bumps of his knuckles, some patches darkening, others lagging behind.

His eyes flick to you, and then down to his hand, as if he’d realised what you’d seen.

“It looks worse than it is.”

You don’t say anything more, and Conrad pulls away from the dorm block and down towards the route that took you out of campus. At this hour, the roads were still quiet, a couple of trailing cars and nothing more.

You don’t make the move to speak first but find yourself hoping that he doesn’t either. You liked the quiet.

Conrad drives with his eyes glancing to you every so often, through the rearview mirror, when he went to make a turn, any chance he could to steal a look over in your direction.

And the silence is only broken when he eventually pulls up into a small gravel clearing, no other cars around, not a single other sign of humanity.

“Have you brought me here to kill me?” You ask, following suit as he climbs out of the car.

Conrad looks at you over the top of the bonnet, narrowing his eyes like the thought still needed to process, “I don’t think so.”

You roll your eyes, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Come on,” He encourages, tilting his head in the direction of a small path through the trees.

You follow behind him, just a step behind, through the trees and down towards a small dock overlooking a big body of water. It was getting to that hour of the morning where everything is slowly starting to wake up, the light just trickling over the horizon, the early birds waking up to their alarms.

Conrad walks over to the edge of the dock, presses both hands down onto the barrier and hoists his legs over, letting them dangle into the water, his body teetering on the edge.

“Come up here,” He encourages, reaching out a hand for you.

You eye him suspiciously, instead taking a seat on the bench adjacent to him, wrapping around the corner of the dock. He rolls his eyes at you, and the silence falls again. Conrad looks down at the water, across to where the sun was poking out over the horizon. But your eyes remain focused on him, his dark silhouette against the background, his shoulders hunched a little to keep his balance over the barrier.

“Have I put you off ever going to a party again?”

Conrad smiles at your words, his eyes remaining on the water, “Maybe for the rest of this year at least.”

“You know the fights that usually break out are normally when two of the frat bros get too drunk,” You point out, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Yeah, well, I hadn’t had a drink so I guess I can’t use that excuse.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Would you have rather I didn’t?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Conrad pauses, taking a deep breath, the kind that draws in through his shoulders, “I just… you had this look on your face and I- maybe I shouldn’t have done anything but I just acted before I could think.”

You swallow the lump in your throat.

“Stuff like that happens all the time its-“

“That doesn’t make it okay,” Conrad interrupts, stopping himself, “Sorry I just- I saw how scared you were. You shouldn’t feel like that.”

“I know.”

“And I’m-“ He sighs deeply, “I’m sorry if I scared you too.”

“You-“ You pause, shaking your head, “What do you mean?”

“I-“ Conrad pauses too, glancing over at you, “I’m not the best at handling myself sometimes, and I know I can have a short fuse and I act out and- I just should’ve made sure you were okay before I… I just don’t think before I do.”

“Maybe,” You exhale, “But I’m glad you did.”

“Yeah?” Conrad laughs a little, “Your boyfriend swept you out of there so quick I didn’t even get a chance to talk to you.”

“Peter’s not my-“ You stop yourself, looking down at your feet, “He was just trying to help.”

“Got it,” Conrad nods slowly, “Come on, the sun’s coming up.”

You stand up and step to stand at his side, leaning your arms onto the wooden railing of the dock. The sun was just kissing the horizon line, spilling over onto the water to brighten everything in its path. Neither of you speak, basking in the new light and the silence it brought. Conrad doesn’t look at the sunrise, however, his eyes instead shift towards you, the way your face seemed to brighten as the sun grew. He took in a deep breath, feeling the dull throb that hadn’t left his hand since last night, the bruises darkening. And he knew, in that moment, he’d do it again.

———

On Monday morning, you’re scheduled in for another meeting with Dr Jordan, to ‘discuss your progress’. Though, you were almost fully certain that your professor actually just wanted to find out if you and Conrad disliked each other a little less than the last time she’d seen you. Peter had met you from your morning practice, walking across the campus with you. He had on a burgundy Stanford hoodie and matching sweatpants, his backpack slung over his shoulder, his hair messy and still damp from his shower.

“Are you coming to the game tonight?” He asks, his arm brushing yours as you walked.

“I’m thinking about it,” You nod, sifting through your bag to pull out the books you needed, “It just depends how much work I get done today and I still need to-“

Peter, without a second thought, takes the books from your arms, holding them in one hand beside his leg.

You smile softly as a way of thanking him, “I just have so much reading to do and this research and… I’ll think about it.”

“Well, think harder,” Peter nudges your shoulder, “Everyone’s going. But it won’t be the same if you’re not there too.”

“You say that about everything.”

“Yeah, and I’ve never been wrong,” Peter shrugs exaggeratively, “I think you just need to accept it at this point.”

You giggle, feeling yourself slow your steps a little to know that you could stay with him for a little longer. “

“So I do have a question for you,” Peter begins, pausing momentarily in a way that showed you a flash of nerves - something you rarely, if ever, saw from him.

“What’s your question?”

“Would you still be this busy on Friday night?”

“Friday? I… I don’t think I have anything planned.”

“Then how would you feel about going out for dinner with me?” Peter inhales as if the words had knocked all air from his lungs.

“Dinner? Like with all of us or…”

“Um, no,” Peter scratches the back of his neck, “Like just us two.”

“I-“ You shake your head like you’re trying to figure out if you’re hearing him properly, “Like a date?”

“Do you really want me to say it?”

You giggle, “I just don’t want to get the wrong impression!”

“Yes, okay, yes, like a date. I’m asking you on a date,” He stops in his tracks just a step ahead of you, turning around in front of you to face you, “Will you go on a date with me?”

“Ye-“ You pause then, seeing the door to the professor’s building fly open and an all too familiar face come hurrying down the steps.

Conrad.

There was an anger, stress, worry, in his eyes that seemed to radiate through his entire body, like he was burning up. He rushed down the steps, knocking into a couple of guys as he did. Peter turned around at the commotion, following to where your eyes landed.

“Hey what-“ Peter frowns, “Everything okay man?”

Conrad stops then, his eyes ablaze, his hands trembling a little like a tell that this fury came laced with unwavering worry too. He glanced to you, his features softening for just a split second, “Your fucking frat brother is trying to get me kicked out of school.”

“What?” You shake your head, “Conrad what are you talking about?”

“He told the school whatever fucked up version he has of what happened at the party and now they’re trying to get me out,” Conrad spits.

“Woah, woah, look man I barely know that guy but I-“ Peter glances towards you and then back to Conrad, “We can talk to him, we can do something I don’t-“

“Yeah you can do something,” Conrad snaps, “You can stay the fuck away from me.”

“Conrad wait!” You go to reach out for him, retracting your hand like it was moments away from being scorched.

He glances back at you, the fury in his eyes still burning in the space between you. And then he steps away, and you and Peter are left stood in the cold air that remained in his absence.

“Do you seriously think this is going to work?”

Jeremiah looks up from the paper held in his hands, frowning at his brother, “Why wouldn’t it?”

“Are you seriously asking that?” Conrad half-laughs, “Soulmates, Jere? This can’t be real.”

“Of course it’s real!” Jeremiah defends, “It worked for Taylor and Steven, and I’m pretty sure Laurel and John are getting back together because of it.”

“Yeah, because some stupid system told them to,” Conrad points out, pouring the coffee into the two cups in front of him, “Doesn’t anyone realise they had reason to split up in the first place? And now some ridiculous system has told them that they’re meant to be together and suddenly they decide to believe it?”

Jeremiah watches as his brother walks over to him, setting the coffee cup in front of him and then taking the seat at the end of the table, “You’re seriously not going to do it?”

“No, no, I am,” Conrad nods, “Mainly because I’m being forced into it, but still, I’ll do it.”

“Do you think it’s going to be Nicole?”

“I-“ Conrad clears his throat, “Maybe. I guess that’s what the test is for.”

The ‘test’ referred to a new company that had opened in New York - one that claimed to be able to match people to their soulmates. Not in the dating app kind of way, not in any kind of way that had been done before. Through science that nobody really seemed to understand as much as they should do, whoever went would be connected up to a system, and given a name. It was as simple as that. You connected to whatever science or magic or whatever the hell it was, and then they gave you the name of the person the universe told you that you were destined to be with. Taylor and Steven had gone a few weeks back and been given each other’s names and they were convinced it was a sign from beyond that they were destined to be together, that they’d both found the one. It was strange to Conrad - why did they need the system to tell them something they could’ve been sure of already?

Jeremiah had signed Conrad up to it before he’d had the chance to protest. And, when he did protest, Nicole was quick to encourage him. She hadn’t done the test yet but she was more than certain she already knew what Conrad’s answer would be. They’d only been dating for a couple of months, and yet she was so unwaveringly certain that they were meant for each other that sometimes she was sure enough for the two of them.

“Do you think yours will be Belly?”

“God, I hope so,” Jeremiah scoffs, “Then I’m definitely asking her for a second chance.”

Conrad takes a deep breath. His mind was telling him if she wanted to give you a second chance, wouldn’t she have given it already?. But, instead, he agrees with his brother and takes a long sip of his coffee, looking at the waiver he had to sign before they went there next week.

Jeremiah and Belly had split up two years ago, after the wedding hadn’t exactly gone to plan. She’d gone to Paris, he’d finished college, they’d still not rekindled anything. Conrad didn’t need soulmates to exist to tell him that they shouldn’t be together. There was a reason the wedding hadn’t worked out. And he was sure that both Jeremiah and Belly were happier for it.

And then there was him. Everyone was anticipating his answer - to know if it was Nicole or not. After their brief fling all of those summers ago, they’d been dating now for a couple of months and Conrad was increasingly aware of the fact that it would be the only relationship he’d been in since you. In fact, he was almost certain that was why everybody was convinced it was going to work - because it was the first person he’d actually given a chance to. Maybe that was a sign. Maybe it would be her name on his result. Maybe that would be all the confirmation he needed to realise that he had moved on. Something that, at one point, he was certain he could never do.

———

They drove to New York the following week, leaving early despite Jeremiah’s protests against the early hour. Conrad had offered to drive, leaning against his car as he waited for his brother to eventually leave the house.

He heard the clatter before he saw anything, followed by a string of curses. A voice he’d recognise anywhere.

“Here, let me help with that,” He’d hurried over to you, walking along the sidewalk with two big cardboard boxes held in front of your torso - one of which was now spilt over the ground.

“Oh, thanks,” You look to him, throwing a few things back into the box as he collected the rest.

“No problem,” Conrad says, just to find something to say, both of you standing up together.

“My car’s just over there,” You point in the general direction and he follows in step beside you to walk over.

He helps you load the boxes into the car, watching and reacting to every move you make.

“Going somewhere?” He clears his throat as you close the trunk.

“Um, yeah, I just need to drop some things off at the venue,” You comment, wrapping your arms around your torso.

You and Conrad had been dating for one single summer before he moved to California. It had been a long time coming, you’d known each other your whole lives - your family owned the house just next door to the Fishers’. And in that summer, you were convinced that something you’d waited such a long time for had to be worth it. And then he’d left for California and, without giving it a chance, told you that it was over. He told you the distance wouldn’t work, and that was it. You’d always thought he could’ve been right. But it had killed you that he’d never even considered the possibility that you could try. You’d seen him since then, in the six years, when you’d all been in Cousins at the same time, but it was never the same. You’d started dating Will the summer after, the boy whose family were a few doors down in Cousins. And you’d been dating ever since. He’d asked you to marry him last year. And you’d said yes.

“Right, yeah, the wedding,” Conrad scratches at the back of his neck, “How’s all that going?”

“It’s-“ You swallow the lump in your throat, “A little hectic but it’s okay.”

“No wedding in Cousins, then?” He smiles a little, briefly, fleetingly.

“Um,” You laugh awkwardly, “No, no, we figured the club was just a bit too close, and Will wanted to get married closer to home.”

“You always said this place felt like home,” He points out, hands tucking into his pockets.

“Right, yeah, when I was eighteen maybe,” You clear your throat.

“Right,” Conrad inhales sharply, “Well I-“

“Conrad!” Jeremiah yells from their driveway, “You ready to go?”

Conrad glances over his shoulder, back to his brother, then back to you, “Good luck with it all, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You smile faintly, “Thanks. And, hey, the invite is still there, there’s space for you guys if you’re free.”

“Right, yeah, yeah of course,” He returns your smile, stepping away before his heart let him say anything more.

He’d felt like his chest had ignited at the sight of you, but as Conrad walked away, he could already feel the flame dying out. You were still with Will. You were still getting married. And he was still wishing he could go back to that one summer.

The brother’s sat their tests that day - ten minutes apart from each other. They stopped for food, and then they returned home, back to Cousins. Conrad wasn’t exactly sure what he expected from the test. They’d asked him for his name, age, height, weight, another few pointless questions that they’d typed his answers to, and then they’d attached a bunch of wires, not once explaining what each one was for. The rest he had blanked out for, woken up ten minutes later, and been told that everything was done. The boys had been given their results, a single piece of paper folded into an envelope.

“You didn’t open yours yet?” Conrad glances over at Jeremiah, sat in the passenger seat with the paper on his lap.

“No,” Jeremiah grimaces, “I kind of get why you were dreading it now.”

“And you agree this is a stupid idea?” Conrad raises his brows, looking at his brother through the rearview mirror.

“Maybe,” Jeremiah rolls his eyes, “Will you open mine?”

Conrad turns on the blinker and pulls into a lay-by at the side of the road, shutting off the engine, “Give it here.”

“Can I open yours?” Jeremiah snatches the paper from Conrad before he has the chance to dispute, ripping it from the envelope and pulling out the answer.

Conrad pulls Jeremiah’s paper from the envelope, there, in red letters at the bottom of the page, was the name of his brother’s so-called soulmate, “I don’t-“

“It’s not Belly, is it?” Jeremiah winces as if the acceptance had been like a stab to his heart.

Conrad looks up at his brother, takes a deep breath, and shakes his head, “I don’t recognise the name. Ellie Jenson?”

“I really thought it was going to be her,” Jeremiah drags a hand across his face, “I thought that would solve everything.”

“Right,” Conrad nods, “But, come on Jere, it’s just a stupid fucking test. You’ve probably never even met this girl, how could they possibly know if she’s your soulmate?”

“Yeah?” Jeremiah scoffs, “Look at your answer and tell me this shits not real.”

He pushes the paper into Conrad’s chest, snatching his own paper from his brother’s hands.

Conrad frowns, looking down at the sheet. In the same box, in the same red color, the unmistakable lettering, your name. He blinked. Like he’d look again and it would change. He brushed a finger over the letters, convinced they would erase. But they didn’t. There, on the paper, ink as permanent as the marks you’d left on his heart, it was your name.

“You still think this shit’s not real?” Jeremiah looks at his brother, leaning his head back against the chair.

“I-“ Conrad goes to speak but it’s as if all of the air has been knocked from his lungs, “I don’t-“

“It’s real man,” Jeremiah closes his eyes, as if his head was pounding, “Swallow your pride and believe it.”

———

When he’d arrived back in Cousins that night, Conrad had felt himself falter on the drive past your house. He’d dropped Jeremiah at home, and then got out of the car, and walked back in the direction he’d just driven. He walked past your house - lights off, doors shut up, no signs of life. From this side, he could see the room he knew was yours, a large bay window that you would sit in to read. He could see the kitchen, where the two of you had burnt dinner, distracted by a song playing on the radio and him teaching you how to dance. He felt his stomach drop, the thought of those memories being made with his soulmate.

Soulmate.

Why did the word seem to hold so much weight now? Conrad wasn’t completely sure if he’d always believed in soulmates. But he certainly hadn’t believed that a random test would be able to give him the answer. But now that the answer was your name, he felt powerless to not believe it. Every bone in his body wanted to think that the test was real. Every bone in his body was glad it was you.

His feet then carried him past Will’s house, a few doors up. And that’s when he heard you again.

“I don’t need you to agree with me, I’m asking you to listen to me,” You’d spoken, hurt laced into your words.

Conrad knew the pain in your voice. He’d heard it when he ended things.

“I am fucking listening to you!”

He could feel his feet falter in their steps, desperate to go over to you as soon as he heard you spoken to like that.

“You don’t need to raise your voice at me Will I’m just trying to tell you how I feel and I-“

“I don’t give a shit how you feel! We’re getting married on Saturday! Isn’t that enough for you? What the fuck else do you want from me?”

Conrad could see your silhouette in the window, the way you’d flinched at the words as they were spoken. And then the front door flung open, and you came hurrying down the steps, tears in your eyes, arms wrapped around your body like you were protecting yourself.

He’d stepped back, watched you disappear down the other side of the house, the sound of your crying catching on the breeze between the two of you.

Without a second thought, he followed you.

He only caught up with you when you got to the beach, the wind sweeping the sand, swirling it into the air.

“Hey!” He called out, his word lost on the wind, “Stop! Are you okay?”

You glance over your shoulder, “What the fuck are you doing here Conrad?”

He jogs to catch up to you and you turn to face him, “I saw you… I saw you leave… I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You sniff, “I don’t need you keeping tabs on me.”

“Oh no I wasn’t-“ Conrad pauses, “What happened?”

“Nothing, Conrad,” You shake your head, “Can you just leave me alone, please? It’s been a long day.”

“What happened with Will?”

“Fucking hell,” You mutter under your breath.

“Hey, come on, I-“ Conrad reaches out a hand to touch your arm, a warm gesture, but you flinch away at the sign of the contact.

He draws his hand away as if your skin were white hot.

“What did you think I was going to do?” Conrad swallows the lump in his throat, “You flinched, why did you flinch?”

“Because I-“ You stop yourself, “Look, I appreciate you giving a shit, and I get if you want to make sure I’m okay, but I’m fine, okay? Can you just leave me alone now?”

“Why did you flinch?”

“Just drop it, Conrad.”

You go to walk away from him again then and he follows.

“Conrad I don’t need you to save me,” You turn around to snap at him, hands flying to his chest, “Whatever you think this is, it isn’t.”

“Then just tell me why you’re marrying him!”

You stop, stumbling back like he’d taken you by surprise, your lips part like you’re finding the words to say but nothing comes to mind, “What do you want me to say?”

“I-“ Conrad exhales, “Do you really think he’s meant for you?”

“Meant for me? I love him, he loves me, I don’t care what’s ‘meant for me’,” You shake your head, “And if this is your fucked up way of telling me that I’m meant for you? Then you’re more heartless than I thought, Conrad.”

You push past him then, storming back in the direction you’d been, adrenaline powering the pace of your steps, getting as far away from him as you could manage. You could feel your lungs gasping for air, tears in your eyes that you were yet to let fall, a weakness you didn’t want him to see.

Conrad remains frozen in his spot, tears in his eyes, cooled on his cheeks by the harsh wind, seeming colder in your absence. He could feel his lungs screaming for you, his heart pounding in hopes that you could hear it, his hands trembling around the folded piece of paper he’d kept tucked into his pocket. The one that read your name. He clenched his jaw as he folded it once more, tucking it into one side of his wallet, hoping at least a small part of him could forget the pain the words had caused.

———

Conrad’s up earlier than Jeremiah the next morning, sat at the kitchen counter staring down at a bowl of cereal he was yet to take a spoonful of.

“Morning,” Jere grumbles as he walks in, dragging a hand over his face, “You look cheery.”

Conrad looks up, forcing a fake smile, and then looks back down at his uneaten food.

“Dude, did you seriously use the rest of the cereal?” Jeremiah rolls his eyes, evidently unimpressed.

“Here, you can have it I haven’t had any,” Conrad pushes the bowl towards him, “I’m not hungry.”

“Well, I’m eating my feelings,” Jeremiah jokes, taking the bowl and the seat beside his brother.

Both of them sit in silence for a while, the house empty and feeling emptier still in the absence of any energy.

“That soulmate thing was a stupid idea,” Jeremiah grumbles, “I’m seriously supposed to believe they know I’ll end up with a girl I’ve not even met yet?”

“Maybe,” Conrad shrugs, “You might meet her soon.”

“And what? Tell her ‘hey I’m actually your soulmate so I guess this has to work’,” Jeremiah scoffs, “Easy enough.”

“Wouldn’t it be good to go into a relationship knowing you’re supposed to be with them?” Conrad points out.

Jeremiah sighs deeply, the kind of sigh that Conrad knew meant ‘you’re probably right but I don’t want to tell you that you’re right’. He then glances over to his older brother, shoulders hung low, dark circles under his eyes, “Have you told Nicole that it wasn’t her?”

Conrad takes a deep breath, exhaling as he says, “No.”

“Have you spoken to who you need to speak to? To tell her it was her?”

Conrad feels his chest twang with the pain of the night before, “No,” He stands up from the counter then, “And she’s marrying another guy this weekend, she doesn’t need to know.”

“Are you kidding?” Jeremiah laughs, “That’s exactly why she needs to know!”

“Jere come on,” Conrad sighs, dropping his shoulders even lower, “You think she wants to know that the guy that broke her heart is actually the one she’s meant to be with?”

Meant to be with.

“Maybe,” Jere shrugs, “You’ve changed, she’s changed, everyone was always convinced you two would end up together and they were right!”

“Nobody was right,” Conrad points out, “She might be my soulmate, but people end up without their soulmates all the time. She’s going to end up with Will and I’ll… I’ll be fine.”

“Are you coming to the wedding?”

“Mom would hate if I didn’t,” Conrad sighs, “I’d hate it too.”

“You’re going to hate it even more to see her marry someone else,” Jeremiah reminds him.

Conrad’s phone buzzes then and he looks down to see a text from Nicole, asking him to meet her at a coffee shop in town, “I’ve got to go.”

Jeremiah watches as he leaves, wondering then if his mind would ever change. Jere’s greatest fear had been confirmed yesterday - that Belly wasn’t his to love - but he’d also seen Conrad’s greatest fear confirmed too - not only that you were meant for him, but that you were meant for him when you were sworn to someone else.

———

Conrad knew he was being distant with Nicole. A couple of times now she’d had to repeat what she was saying to actually get him to listen. Neither of them had mentioned the test - well, more like Nicole hadn’t mentioned it and so Conrad hadn’t needed to answer.

“Are we going to the wedding, then?” Nicole asks, hands clasped around a hot latte, “I think like all of Cousins are invited.”

“Oh, um,” Conrad clears his throat, shifting in his seat, “Together?”

“Yes, Conrad, why wouldn’t we go together?” She cocks a brow.

“I don’t know I guess I just thought-“ Conrad shakes his head quickly, “Sure, yeah, we can go. I’m just going to go to the bathroom.”

He excused himself quickly, dashing to the bathroom, pressing a hand to his chest to lessen the tension there that had built since the thought of you had returned to his mind. Conrad couldn’t let Nicole see him like this, he couldn’t let anyone see him like this. Completely broken, completely devastated, over the loss of a relationship he’d lost long before yesterday. But yesterday’s result had made him realise he hadn’t just lost you when he did. When he ended things and moved to California. He’d lost you every day since. Every day that he’d woken up and not been beside his soulmate, every text he’d sent from the airport and it hadn’t been to who should be told that his plane was landing or taking off, every good day and every bad day that had passed where you hadn’t been on the other end of the phone. He’d lost his soulmate on every one of those days. And all of that grief had flooded back to him last night, washing over him now like it would drown him at any given chance.

When he returns to the table, Nicole eyes him as he walks over. She sets the coffee cup down onto the table, pushing it forward enough that she can rest her elbows just behind it, hands clasping, her chin leaning forward just slightly to rest on top of her hands, eyes focused solely and intensely on the boy in front of her, “So, when are you going to tell me what your result was?”

“Wh-“ He shifts in his seat as he sits back down like the wood was on fire beneath him, “My result?”

“Your result. Who was it?”

Conrad sighs deeply, his head tilted a little, “Nicole do you really need some stupid test to tell you that we should be together?”

“No, I need you to tell me.”

“I-“ Conrad half-laughs, “I don’t need a test to tell me who to be with.”

“Right,” She nods slowly, shifting to lean back in her chair, “But who did it tell you?”

“I didn’t know the name,” Conrad swallows thickly, clearing his throat, “Jere didn’t know his either.”

“So you don’t care that it wasn’t me?”

“I think it’s a stupid test and I don’t need to care about the result,” He shrugs as nonchalantly as he can manage.

“Right,” Nicole smirks a little, reaching into her lap and tossing his wallet onto the table, the piece of paper folded on top of it, “And that’s why you’re lying to me, is it?”

The words leave his body, his mind emptying, his eyes solely focused on the sight of your name on the paper like it was the first time he was seeing it.

“It might not be me,” Nicole pauses, her bottom lip trembling a little, “But you’d be stupid to not let it be her either. You fucked things up with her once before Conrad and you’ve still never forgiven yourself. Don’t do it for a second time.”

And then, composed, assured, certain, she gathers up her things, fixes her bag over her shoulder, takes in a deep breath, and stands up from the table. Conrad doesn’t watch her leave, just hears the sound of the bell ringing at the door. Instead, his eyes remain focused on the paper she’d left, and the girl he couldn’t get out of his head.

He left then, in the same direction as Nicole, though less composed, less assured, than she had been. He stuffs his wallet into his pocket, his steps rushing him back across town to get back to the house.

He’d stopped when he got to the street, slowing down in his steps past his own house, past that and to the house next door. The curtains opened, a single window cracked open in the kitchen. Someone was home. His feet carried him to the door before his mind could stop him, and his hand was knocking before his heart could tell him otherwise.

The door opens. And you’re on the other side.

“Conrad,” You exhale, like the sight of him again had knocked the air from your lungs.

“Hey,” He inhales sharply, “Sorry, I was just walking home and I- I guess I thought you’d be at Will’s.”

“Yeah,” You nod, “He’s out golfing with the guys, I figured I’d come home for the day.”

He smiles, “You always said home was better than any other house.”

“Yeah,” You purse your lips, “I think everyone feels that way in Cousins.”

He stops, his hands tucked into his pockets, one hand wrapped around the wallet that still held your name, “Sorry, I should leave you to-“

“Actually, whilst you’re here,” You pause, “Any chance you could figure out what’s wrong with the light in the kitchen? I keep trying to get it to turn on and it’s not working.”

“Yeah, yes, yeah,” Conrad pauses as he rushes over the words, “I can do that.”

“Thanks,” You smile, the kind of smile that narrows your eyes, lifting the apples of your cheeks.

He follows you into the house, a place that had once felt so familiar. He’d spent every summer as a kid going between his house and yours - you’d be in their pool for the morning, come back to your house for lunch, go to the beach for the afternoon, and be home for Susannah’s cooking in the evenings. In your younger years, you’d build forts from his yard to yours, and connect a string between two cups to see if you could talk to each other from your rooms. As you grew into teenagers, you’d sneak off to parties together and spend the rest of the night until sunrise on the beach. That summer that you’d dated he’d spent half of his nights here, like the two of your found it impossible to not be in each other’s company. You’d both waited so long to get to that point, you wanted to make the most of every second of it. When he’d ended things, you’d thrown that back at him - you’d convinced yourself the only reason he wanted to be with you so much was because he knew it was all temporary. Conrad hated the idea that part of that might be true. Had he always known it was going to end? Had he always known he was going to lose you? He’d waited so long to be with you, he’d spent his whole life thinking it would never happen, and then he’d ruined things before they had a chance to work. And broken your heart in the process.

“I think you just need to-“ Conrad pauses, twisting and moving the new bulb in the light, “Okay try that.”

You flick the light on at the switch and it illuminates above his head, drawing out the golden flecks in his hair.

“We have light!” He grins down at you from where he stood on one of the kitchen chairs.

“Thank you,” You chuckle, “You made that look easy.”

He lowers himself down carefully from the chair, “I’m just hoping I don’t break another one of these chairs.”

“Another one?”

“You don’t remember that?” His words aren’t particularly hurt but his face falters momentarily, like his heart had just cracked a little at the idea of you forgetting a moment with him, “We were making pancakes and I tried to flip it and I-“

“It hit the ceiling,” You chuckle, “And instead of waiting for it to fall you-“

“I climbed onto one of the chairs and it broke underneath me,” He watches you as you laugh at the memory, your hands covering your face.

“You were in such a panic trying to fix it before my Mom came in,” You giggle, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so scared.”

“Hey,” He points the screwdriver in his hand at you, “She’s always been scary.”

“Yeah well she’d never do anything to you, she always liked you,” You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, can’t imagine she feels that way now. Wouldn’t blame her for hating me,” Conrad inhales deeply, setting the dining chair back into its place.

“She doesn’t hate you,” You shrug, pushing away from where you’d been leaning against the door frame, “I don’t either.”

Conrad walks over to you, following you into the lounge as you drop down onto the couch, “You did, as some point you did.”

You pause as if you’re thinking, watching as he sits down onto the other end of the couch, “Yeah, for a little while probably.”

Conrad doesn’t reply at first, “I think I hated me too.”

“Yeah,” You half-laugh, “You had a tendency to do that.”

Conrad looks over at you, his face softening, his heartbeat seeming to slow like you’d washed some peace over him, “So I ha-“

Before he can finish his sentence, your phone starts buzzing between the two of you, a photo of you and Will flashing up on the screen.

“I better take this,” You say, answering the call, “Hey!”

Conrad can just about hear Will on the other end of the phone, his words a little slurred as he says, “Are you home?”

“I’m at mine, yeah,” You say, smiling to Conrad as you stand up from the couch, “I just wanted to come home for the day, why?”

Conrad can’t hear his replies then but he sees the slight shift in your face.

“Well yeah but I’ve been doing wedding stuff all week I just thought I could have a day of not-“ You sigh, your arms wrapping around your torso, “I will do it, I’ve got plenty of time to do it.”

Conrad watches you as you talk, his chest clenching a little in the desperation to reach out to you.

You walk a few steps further away, “Okay but you’re away all day I just figured I could have a day off from things too and-“

Conrad can’t hear the words, but he hears the change in volume, he watches the way you flinch against the phone.

“Okay, yeah, okay, I’ll do it tomorrow,” You take in a shaky breath, “Can you please just enjoy the rest of your day? I’ll be back before you get home and we can-“

He hangs up then. And you draw away from the phone, staring down at the screen with a tremble in your hand. You don’t turn around to Conrad straight away, feeling a pain tugging at your chest, a shame that seems to flood over you.

When you turn around, he’s standing up in front of the couch, eyes solely focused on you.

You don’t speak, your hands still trembling slightly, tears brimming in your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Conrad rushes around to the other side of the couch, wrapping his arms around you tightly, pulling you in against his chest.

You feel yourself cry against his chest, your mind running a million miles a minute. You shouldn’t be crying, and if you were you shouldn’t be crying to your ex-boyfriend, you shouldn’t be crying about your fiance, and if you were you shouldn’t be crying mere days away from your wedding. You shouldn’t be crying. And you shouldn’t be crying to your ex boyfriend. You shouldn’t be crying about your-

“He shouldn’t be making you feel like this.”

Conrad presses pause on your thoughts momentarily, pulling away from you, his grip firm and comforting on your arms.

“He shouldn’t hurt you like this,” He shakes his head, “You’re marrying him, you should be everything to him.”

You still can’t speak, your words tangled amongst the lump in your throat.

“He shouldn’t scare you, or shout at you, or make you cry,” Conrad persists, “He shouldn’t make you feel like you’re too much.”

You sniff, letting out a shaky breath, “It’s not always like this he’s just… he’s just stressed and it’s been a busy few weeks and…”

“You shouldn’t be making excuses for him,” Conrad points out, “You shouldn’t. Okay? Ever.”

You feel yourself retract from him, wrapping your arms back around your torso, “It’s not like that, okay? You’ve just seen a few days of it that’s not what he’s like and-“

“Why do you keep defending him?” Conrad persists, his emotion rising and yet his voice remaining level.

“Because he loves me, Conrad,” You snap, “And sometimes that’s enough.”

“He’s not-“ Conrad stops himself, breathing shakily, “What if he’s not the only person that could love you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What if he doesn’t need to be it? What if he doesn’t need to be who loves you?”

You don’t speak, instead watching as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and a folded piece of paper along with it.

“What’s this?”

“I-“ Conrad’s breath catches in his attempt to speak, “Jere convinced me to do that stupid soulmate test. And at first I thought it was pointless and then I- well…”

You unfold the sheet, looking down at your own name in front of you, “Soulmates?”

“Yeah,” Conrad exhales, “I didn’t believe it but somehow this weird system knew that we’re supposed to be together and-“

“You think this means we’re supposed to be together?” You purse your lips, looking up at him.

His lips curl into a soft smile, his eyes lighting up momentarily.

“This doesn’t mean shit Conrad,” You push the paper into his chest and he catches it with one hand, the paper crumpling against his grip, “If we were supposed to be together, we would be.”

“But-“

“No! No buts, Conrad!” You snap, “If this was meant to be you wouldn’t have ended it six years ago, you would’ve fought for this, we would’ve made it work.”

His eyes flood with a wash of tears, ones that don’t spill to his cheeks.

“Will wants me, he loves me, he fights for me,” You snap, “I don’t need a name on a piece of fucking paper to tell me not to marry him. I’m marrying him Conrad, that’s all.”

Conrad hasn’t stopped looking into your eyes the entire time, his lips parting to speak but his heart hoping that his eyes said what his mind couldn’t.

“I want you to get out of my house,” You fold your arms, your words cold, “I want you to get out and I don’t want you at the wedding.”

“Come on I-“

“Out!” You raise your voice then, trembling under the adrenaline.

And he obliges.

———

The wedding comes around all too soon, tomorrow in fact. And you were suddenly hyper aware of how much of the rest of your life could be determined by tomorrow. One single day that you’d remember for the rest of your life.

You were sleeping at your own house tonight, keeping the tradition that the two of you stayed apart. Your Mom was staying too, your bridesmaids. They’d spent the whole night telling you how excited you must be for the day ahead, how much Will loved you, how beautiful you’d look in your dress. But now, as you sat at the end of your bed staring up at the dress hanging from the closet, all you could think was how much you couldn’t picture yourself in it. You couldn’t imagine the flowers in your hands, the shoes on your feet. You couldn’t imagine the words passing your lips, vows to seal a lifetime promise. You couldn’t imagine any of it. When you tried to picture Will waiting at the end of the aisle, it felt distorted and fading and, eventually, non-existent.

The thought didn’t panic you, didn’t make you cry, didn’t make you scared. You just felt empty. There was nothing. No twinge of pain in your chest, no tears brimming your eyes.

You just got up, slipped on your nearest shoes and walked out of the house, the crisp air hitting you even more than the wake-up call had. You trailed the same path you’d taken all of your life to get down to the beach, turned left and walked until the buildings started to disappear beside you, fading into the outskirts just beyond Cousins that gave view to the perfect sunrise - the same way you’d always gone.

But the spots already taken.

By the boy who first took you there.

He hears the sand before he looks up. And he’s glad you can’t notice how his chest pauses in the hope that it was you. How it seems to beat again when his eyes are on you.

Neither of you speak. You sit down beside Conrad, drawing your knees up to your chest, your eyes looking out to the horizon whilst his remain on you.

“There hasn’t been much good surf this summer,” You clear your throat, “This looks like some of the best we’ve had.”

“Right, yeah,” Conrad shakes his head like returning to reality, “Always at the wrong time.”

“I always think it’s funny when the sea’s calm,” You sniff, “Like you could be treading water and everything could seem fine and manageable but you just know it’s not going to last. There’s all of this power there and it could change in the blink of an eye and… and then you’re out at sea and you’re drowning and nobody’s coming to save you.”

Conrad watches you intently, spilling out the words like they were mapping out your own life.

“I think I’m tired of treading water,” You take in a shallow breath, “I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

His lips part, words failing.

You look over to him then, for the first time, “I’m not going to marry him.”

“Right,” Conrad inhales deeply, “What made you change your mind?”

“I did,” You shrug, “I think that’s enough.”

“Of course it is,” He nods, shaking his head after.

“Then I guess I can give you this now,” You reach into the pocket of your hoodie and pull out a folded piece of paper.

Conrad unravels it, the same letter of results he’d been given last week. Only, where your name was printed onto his results, he now looked down to see his own name.

“You took the test,” He exhales, as if his words are ghosting over the page.

“About three weeks ago,” You nod slowly, “I don’t know what I expected to get but, well, you can see for yourself.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You don’t respond.

“I mean, do you believe it?”

You pause as if you’re thinking, breathing deeply in the way that rises your shoulders, “No.”

It’s like you can feel his heart break beside you, “But mine was-“

“I know. I know we got each other’s names. And I believe that means this stupid test thinks we’re made for each other or whatever the fuck,” You pause, “But I dont need your name on a piece of paper to tell me I’m supposed to be in love with you.”

He looks at you, a soft furrow between his brows, an unmissable sadness on his face.

“I needed you to love me six years ago, Conrad. I needed you to love me in the six years since. I don’t need you to love me because some fucked up system told you to,” You shake your head, “You think you took that test and just realised everything you should’ve known back then?”

“No, come on, it’s not like that it’s-“

“It’s exactly like that Conrad!” You half-laugh to ease the pain, “You can keep acting like you know we’re meant to be together but do you know or are you just believing it now that something else is telling you?”

He doesn’t respond.

“I don’t need you to believe what’s on that paper. I need you not need someone else to tell you who to love.”

You stand up then, leaving the paper in his hands. You clench your jaw to stop your bottom lip from trembling and you walk away from him, knowing if you look back you probably couldn’t find it in you to take another step away

———

You don’t marry Will the following day. You find him in the morning, you tell him that you don’t want to be with him. You don’t mention Conrad or the test or last night. You don’t need to. Conrad might be one reason you’d have to not marry this man but there were a million more before and after him. You’d called your guests and told them there wouldn’t be a wedding, you’d watched your Mom confused and questioning if she really knew her daughter, you let the venue complain that they’d have to charge a fee for the cancellation.

But none it seemed to matter. You felt numb to it all. And, sat in your house in Cousins, all you wanted to do was clear away everybody else and hold your own company for a while.

They’d all left the following day, all with lives and jobs and homes to get back to. You’d stayed, in the days where you should be going on your honeymoon. You didn’t know if Will had left Cousins too, you’d avoided going that way past his house. In fact, you avoided everywhere in general - if you turned one way on the street you’d pass Wills, and the other way took you past Conrad’s.

And then, three days into your welcomed loneliness, a knock at the door. By the time you get to the door, though, there is nobody in sight - just a single envelope sat on the welcome mat, your name scrawled on the front.

You glance around, catching sight of nobody.

And then, your fingers tear the paper, door still open like you were hoping for something to return, and you pull out what’s inside - the letter from the test, the one with your name on, the one Conrad had been given - and on the back, his handwriting.

I don’t need a piece of paper to tell me that I love you. I don’t need a test or a soulmate to convince me that we are supposed to be together. But when I got this result I felt like I was that same 18 year old kid again who was just so excited to finally get to kiss you and hold you and be with you. I felt like the guy who first grabbed your hand and pulled you all the way to the beach just to watch how the moonlight was hitting the waves. I felt like the guy that snuck into your house when your parents were home just to get to be with you for a few more hours.

I didn’t need the test to tell me to love you, I just needed it to remind me that I always have. I always will. And if it takes me another six months, six years or the rest of my life to prove that to you then I will do it.

A lifetime would be worth it to get to love you for even a day, and I am only sorry I didn’t realise that when I should have done.

It isn’t just my soul that belongs to you, it’s my heart, my mind, my everything.

Yours, Conrad

Sometimes, when you thought about your life, you were certain you’d never get to a point where things felt normal again. In fact, you weren’t even sure you’d get to a point where normal returned to your vocabulary. Your entire life had crumbled in front of you, the kind that seems to fall into a million pieces, some lost, some destroyed, only some feeling salvageable. You’d lost your entire family. In one day, you’d lost them all. You’d been whisked away from home, at fifteen, and moved to Boston to live with your Mom’s childhood best friend Susannah and her family. The Fishers.

You still remembered the first day you met them, Susannah picked you up from Boston airport, hugging you for so long that the two of you were the last two to leave the arrivals gate. She took you for food, though at that time you struggled to find anything you wanted to eat. Food had lost its taste where life had lost its colour.

She’d driven you back to their place then, where Adam and the boys were waiting. They’d come outside as soon as they heard the car, like Susannah had told them to be on their best behaviour.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Adam had extended his hand to you, shaking yours in a gesture that felt strangely corporate compared to his wife.

The boys had hung back just a little. Jeremiah had his hands in his pockets, and then he’d extended them to engulf you in a hug. He smelt of mint and lime and he apologised into your ear when he hugged you. It wasn’t that it was bad for people to apologise. But you just weren’t sure what they were apologising for. For you losing your family? Having to move? For feeling like your entire life was starting over? Why did people feel like they needed to be sorry for that? Instead of questioning it, though, you’d thanked him and offered him your most sincere smile.

Conrad didn’t hug you. He, instead, walked over to the car and took your large suitcase out of the trunk, setting it onto the sidewalk. He wheeled it inside and took it upstairs without a second thought. He didn’t offer you some long speech about how much you’d been through, he didn’t give you that sympathetic look you were sure you’d seen on every face since the accident happened. He simply helped you without a second thought. A small gesture in the shittiest week of your life.

You’d felt completely out of place in their house in Boston. It was like waking up in someone else’s life. You had to transfer to their school, start all of your classes from points you didn’t know about, meet a hundred new people and try to be somewhat friendly to each of them so that you didn’t lose your chances of making any friends in this entire place.

You weren’t sleeping, either. In fact, you weren’t sure you’d slept for more than a couple of hours since everything had happened. One night, when everybody else was already asleep, you’d crept back downstairs and through to the kitchen. Another thing about this house? You still didn’t know where everything was kept. In an attempt to get anything, you’d open five different cupboards. And now was no different. You were stretching up onto your tiptoes to reach a glass from one of the top shelves, your fingers barely grazing the side of it. You hadn’t heard the door to the yard open, or the footsteps that had walked in just after.

“Here.”

You flinched at the word, looking over your shoulder to see Conrad walking up behind you, his silhouette barely illuminated by the moonlight outside.

He steps behind you, “Let me get that,” And reaches up to take the glass from the shelf for you, lowering back down to place it into your hand.

“Thanks,” You swallow the lump in your throat.

He smiles softly, stepping back from you just a moment later.

“Why do you guys keep everything so high up?”

He chuckles, leaning back against the kitchen counter, “I have no idea, tall family I guess.”

You nod and go over to the sink, filling up the cup, the sound filling the silence between you.

“Why are you awake?” You ask him, taking a sip.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I couldn’t sleep… I mean, I can’t sleep.”

Conrad nods slowly, “Do you want to see why I was awake?”

You frown a little, “See?”

“Come on,” He gestures his head in one direction and you follow after him, confused more than anything and yet still following him without question.

He takes the two of you outside, walking down to the bottom of the yard, where there was just enough of a view to see a clearing in the sky.

“There’s a meteor shower tonight,” He explains, “I think the light’s just low enough that we could see something but… I haven’t had much luck yet.”

As he looks up at the scattering of stars, you glance over to him, the way the moonlight reflected in his eyes. You turn your head back in that direction, mimicking his own intense focus on the clearing.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been looking, both in silence, when it happens. One, two, shooting stars dash across in front of both of you, so quick you’d miss it in a blink.

“Did you see that?” Conrad’s hand falls to your back in his excitement.

“I did,” You grin, “I’ve never seen two like that!”

“You must be the lucky charm,” He nudges your shoulder, looking down at you with a smile.

His hand falls from your back then, like he’d only just realised where it was, and he clears his throat, looking down bashfully. You’d smiled, thankful that he felt just a little bit awkward like you did.

The next morning, you’d come down to make your breakfast, opening the cupboard you always went to first in the hopes that something you needed would be in there. It was different that morning, though. Sat at the cupboard just perfect for your height, there were two cups, a mug, a plate and a bowl. There was a small blue paper note stuck to the front - ‘things that are more your height’. You glanced over your shoulder to see Conrad eating his cereal at the table, smiling down at the bowl in front of him when he felt your eyes on him.

After your first week at the school, you were struggling. Conrad had seen you one day still getting lost on the way to find your classes, he could see the panic in your eyes, and the weight on your shoulders that hadn’t lifted since you’d first moved in with them. The next morning, tucked into the first page of the textbook for your first class of the day was a folded piece of paper - it was scrawled with each class you needed to get to, a way to get to the classroom, and a note about the subject or the teacher. Math - corridor behind the canteen, purple door, Mr Lewis hates when anyone’s late. You felt more settled after that, you got to your classes on time, you started making friends with a few people in your classes. Sometimes you’d sit with Jeremiah and his friends at lunch, your group somehow intertwining with his. When you saw Conrad in the corridors, he’d always smile at you, his eyes catching yours even mid-conversation with the football team. He’d always make sure he smiled.

You ended up at a house party one night, one of Jeremiah’s friends’ birthdays. It seemed like everyone who was anyone at the school was going, your year, Conrad’s year, everybody. Susannah hadn’t protested much when you’d all mentioned that you were going - you thought she was just glad that you were making friends at school. The boys had told you she would’ve protested more if you weren’t also going. They were convinced she liked you the most.

You all walked the few streets it took to get to the house, dispersing into your separate groups as soon as you were through the door. Conrad went to the football team, Jere went to find the birthday boy, and you settled with the girls that you spent the most time with, the ones that had welcomed you to their lunch table on your first few days. They poured you a drink and you pretended to not hate the taste.

Somewhere in the night, you were all dancing in the lounge to a song you only vaguely recognised, it was stuffy and you could feel yourself getting hotter and hotter, more conscious of every body that bumped into you, every time your skin felt stickier. You’d pushed yourself through the crowd, telling the girls you’d be back soon, as you broke through to outside, catching your breath in the cool air.

“Hey.”

A voice you didn’t recognise.

You look over to see a guy you didn’t know stepping out of the house behind you, “It’s hot in there, huh?”

“Uh, yeah,” You smile awkwardly, “Just needed some air.”

“Me too,” He nods, “I’m Danny.”

“Danny,” You return, not making any effort to offer him your own name, “You go to our school?”

“No, no, my cousin does,” He explains, “But maybe I’m missing out if girls like you are going there.”

You try not to grimace at his attempt at flirting, “Right.”

“Can I get you another drink?”

“No, no, I’m fine thank you.”

“Come on, it’s a party, you’ve got to loosen up,” Danny steps forward, towards you.

In that moment, you’re aware of his towering frame over you, almost looming over you. He snuck one arm out and slid it around your waist, and you could feel yourself freeze at the contact, like your entire body was in a panic mode.

“Hey!”

A voice you knew. A voice you could pick out of a crowd.

You look up to see Conrad striding across the yard towards the two of you. He’d abandoned whatever beer pong game he was playing with the team to come straight across to you.

Danny moved his arm away, but made no effort to step away from you.

“What are you doing man?” Conrad’s voice was harsh, his tone warning, you’d never heard him like this before.

“We’re just chatting, buddy, shouldn’t concern you,” Danny sneers.

“Well it fucking does concern me when you’re chatting to my girlfriend,” Conrad presses a hand to the boy’s chest, pushing him enough to knock his balance, the boy stumbling back from you.

“Woah woah alright man, no harm done,” Danny raises his hands as if in surrender, “You have a good night.”

“Yeah, we will,” Conrad steps forward as if making absolute certain that the boy backed away, watching him as he disappears back into the house and out of sight.

Only then does Conrad turn to look at you.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” You wrap your arms around your torso, “I just- sorry, I didn’t-“

“Don’t apologise,” He shakes his head, his tone so different from what you’d heard from him just before, “That guy was just an asshole.”

“Yeah,” You smile a little, a shiver running down your spine.

As if on instinct, Conrad tugs the jacket from his shoulders and wraps it around you, “Want to walk home? I’ll text Jere to tell him we’re going.”

“Yeah, I think so. But you can stay, your friends are waiting for you,” You gesture over to where the team were eyeing whatever Conrad was doing.

“I don’t care about them,” Conrad reminds you, not once tearing his eyes away from you now, “You want to leave?”

“Yeah,” You smile and he returns your expression.

The two of you walk out through a gate in the yard, Conrad holding it open to let you through. You walk down the driveway and round the corner to walk the streets that would take you home.

And, oddly then, the feeling hits you. This was home now. These streets, this school, these people, this family - it was where you were, where you would be. You’d be going to other parties with these same people, and maybe hating them a little bit more or less. You thought, then, that you wouldn’t mind more parties if you would walk home with this boy after each one.

He walks beside you, hands in his pockets, matching his longer legs to your steps to not walk too fast beside you.

“So, how do parties here compare to parties at your old school?”

Conrad never really asked you too much about your life before you moved in with them, about your family, about your real home. Every so often you would mention something and he would listen intently, like he wanted to make sure he could understand just a little new part of the old you. But he never tried to pry, he never overstepped, he never approached you with that excessive sympathy you got from other people.

“Well, I’m pretty sure it was one of the smallest high schools in the states,” You joke, “So it was normally the same fifty faces, drinking the same drinks, listening to the same music, and then all walking the same way home. This was… a little different than that.”

“I don’t know,” Conrad shrugs, “There were a few more than fifty but we still drank and danced and… we’re walking home now.”

“Yeah,” You nod, “Yeah, you’re not wrong. Although, Fisher, I don’t think I saw you dancing.”

“You didn’t?” He fakes his surprise, “Well, you’re missing out.”

“Is that right?”

“I’ll have to show you one day,” He jokes, his arm bumping against yours as you walk.

You giggle, the kind that brings a heat to your cheeks.

There would be a one day. This place was yours now. And these people that came along with it.

And, somehow, along the way, Susannah managed to pick up the pieces of you, with you. She helped you glue yourself back together, and figured out ways of managing the pieces that you’d lost. Those big, looming, dark empty spaces in your life seemed to lighten, soften, shrink. Susannah treated you like one of her own, caring for you, loving you, worrying about you just as a mother would. She’d made you realise you didn’t need to be alone. And, in fact, you could find love and comfort once more when it had at some point seemed impossible.

When her and Adam went through their problems, Susannah never wavered. Even when she was sick. She still put you and the boys first, like it was all she knew how to do.

You knew what was going on, even when she didn’t want you to. Your classes had finished early one day, and Conrad had football practice cancelled. He offered to drive you home and the two of you had got back earlier than planned. You’d both stopped at the door when you heard them arguing. You felt Conrad tense up beside you, his jaw clenching, his knuckles turning white on their grip on the door handle. Just when you’d thought he’d heard enough, like he was about to burst through and shout and scream at his Dad until he was blue in the face, he’d loosened his grip on the door, turned around and started walking back to his car.

“Are you coming?” He’d called over to you.

Without a second thought, you’d agreed.

The two of you had driven silently around the town, stopping at a book store and strolling through the aisles in quiet company. You didn’t ask him if he was okay. You didn’t need to. You just needed to be there.

You’d returned home a couple of hours later, walked in as if it was for the first time that day, and never spoke of it again. Conrad didn’t bring it up and neither did you. Susannah got better and balance was restored. You never did quite look at Adam the same way though. But Susannah hadn’t changed. For everything she’d been through, you still watched her do everything to help the boys, to be there for you, to keep the family together.

So, when she got sick again, you weren’t prepared for what you saw her go through. Things had already been bad with Conrad - he became more distant, he dropped out of football, he stopped coming home for dinner, stopped bothering in general. By the summer, when all of you knew about Susannah, he felt like a completely different person. The bad days started to become more frequent than the good ones, the medication list got longer and longer, the new year came around and Susannah was accepting that she wouldn’t get any better. Conrad was at college now, but he came home at every chance he got. You and Jeremiah spent every day helping out Susannah, doing what you could, letting Jere cry on your shoulder when he needed it. You’d grown closer over the years, the closest you’d ever felt to having a brother. And, now more than ever, it was family that you needed.

There was one weekend, Conrad came home late on the Friday night. Everyone was already asleep, and you were downstairs on the couch when the front door opened.

“Hey, I didn’t think anybody would still be up,” He begins when he sees you, a duffel bag held in one hand, his jacket held in the other.

“Yeah, just couldn’t sleep,” You say, smiling at him tiredly.

He drops the things in his hands and walks around to come and sit beside you, “How’s she been this week?”

“Um,” You take a breath and it catches in your throat, “She’s been okay.”

“Yeah?” He frowns a little, “You’ve got a look in your eye. What’s happened?”

You look at him for a moment longer, taking in another breath more shaky than the last, “She started… I was sat with her the other day and she started to talk to me about my Mom.”

Conrad shuffles in a little closer, without thinking about it.

“She was telling me all these stories about them growing up together and when my Mom moved away and how they’d write these letters to each other,” You feel your bottom lip start to tremble, “I just-“

“Hey,” Conrad reaches out and wraps his hand around yours, squeezing tightly, “It’s okay.”

You feel tears brimming at your eyes, spilling onto your cheeks, “I just… when I moved here I didn’t… I didn’t expect to lose Susannah too, you know? And I know I shouldn’t think like that, I should be thinking about you guys because she’s your Mom and-“

“Nobody’s telling you that you shouldn’t think like that,” Conrad encourages, “Nobody, okay?”

You look at him through blurry vision, sniffing back your tears, “It’s horrible seeing her like this, Conrad. I feel so useless.”

Conrad shifts closer to you again, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him, “You’re not useless. I’ve seen the way my Mom’s face lights up when she sees you. You just being here is enough.”

Somehow, when Conrad speaks, it feels easy to believe him. He has a way of convincing you of things you weren’t sure of.

He stayed there, despite his own fatigue, with his arm wrapped you, running a hand over your back to comfort you, only pulling away when you made the first move to retreat. He could’ve stayed like that forever if you needed him to.

Susannah passed before summer started. The day was dark, the funeral even darker.

You’d argued with Conrad, the night of the funeral. And you hated how that was what you remembered most from the day. You remembered the look on his face, the venom in his words, the way you could feel how cold his heart was.

He was down at the dock of the beach house when you saw him. You had his suit jacket in one hand, a hot cup of cocoa in the other. Something had just told you to go out there, to not leave him on his own.

“I thought you might need these,” You say softly, reaching out your arms to offer him the jacket and the drink.

“I’m not cold,” He says, his eyes focused on a single spot in the water.

“Okay,” You take a deep breath, taking a seat on the bench beside him.

You set the items down in the space between you, wrapping your arms around yourself as a breeze swept over the water.

He grabbed a hand around the jacket, passing it over to you without once looking towards you, “You probably need that more than me.”

“Thanks,” You smile bashfully, slipping it over your shoulders, catching a waft of his lingering cologne on the neck.

You stay in silence with him for a moment longer. And then the air shifts.

“You didn’t need to come out here,” Conrad clears his throat, “If you’re like checking on me or whatever, you didn’t need to.”

“Oh no I didn’t-“ You pause, figuring the worst thing you could do is lie to him, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“And I don’t need you to,” He shifts in his spot, “I’m fine.”

“Right,” You take a deep breath, going to stand up but stopping yourself, “I just… don’t shut people out, Conrad. It’s the worst thing you can do to yourself.”

“And how would you know what’s good for me?” He snaps, the words landing harsh and cold in the space between you.

“I-“ You exhale shakily, trying to keep your composure beside him, “There are people who care about you, okay? Your friends, your family… they-“

“What the fuck do you know about my family?” He spits, “What do you know about any of this?”

Your heart cracks then, sinks, gives up. It takes you right back to just a few years before. Your own family. Susannah promising to be there for you.

You stand up from the seat, tears in your eyes, a lump in your throat, a tremble in your hands.

“Wait I didn’t-“ Conrad stands up from his seat, sighing deeply, “I didn’t mean that, I just-“

“I might not be your family,” You turn around to face him, the words trembling over your tongue, “But Susannah was family to me. When I lost everything, everyone, she had me. And I don’t think losing her should make you turn into somebody you’re not.”

His shoulders drop, his lips parting like he was finding something, anything, to say.

“This might not be you. But you don’t get to push everybody away trying to figure out where the real you has actually gone,” You clench your jaw to stop the tremble in your bottom lip, pulling the jacket from your shoulders and shoving it into his chest.

You turn around and walk back up towards the house, trying to erase the mental image of the tears in his eyes as you’d walked away.

He stayed in Cousins when you all returned to Boston. And then moved to California a couple of weeks after - deciding to go there early to ‘settle in’ before the school year started.

The weeks that followed left you sitting in an unwavering grief that only seemed to resurface everything you’d been feeling when you first moved to Boston. Jeremiah went to college that summer, and you didn’t hear from him as much - he was busy making friends at his frat house and . You’d long ago stopped making an effort with Adam - you couldn’t ever see past what he’d done. Susannah was gone. Conrad was on the other side of the country. And you? You felt just as alone as you did when you’d first come here. A place that had started to feel like home now left you wondering what had brought you here in the first place. Sure, you had your friends, the few that hadn’t gone to college too far away, but that wasn’t why your Mom wanted you here. She wanted you here for the Fishers. And now you had none of them.

The first call from him came just after halloween, when the nights were getting colder and darker and that winter chill was starting to whisk through the air. You’d thought you were seeing things, at first - you were certain that it couldn’t be him. And, if it was, what had happened? Before you can consider it any longer, the call rings through, and your phone flashes up with a notification to tell you that you had a missed call from him. And then, thirty seconds later, a voicemail.

“Hey, um, I’m guessing you’re busy, or not, maybe you’re not, I don’t know. But I just wanted to check in, catch up or… I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to hear your voice… um… yeah. So call me back, if you can… or you want to.”

You didn’t call back right away. And then, back at your apartment, mindlessly stirring a pot of vegetables, hair damp from the shower, you’d called him back.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” You felt your breath catch in your throat, like you were hearing a voice from beyond, “Conrad.”

“Hi,” He inhales, “I didn’t know if you- well, I called you I just-“

“Yeah,” You interrupt, “Yeah, I got your message.”

Both of you fall silent for a moment, like you couldn’t think of anything to say.

“How’s California?”

“It’s-“ He stops, “It’s good, yeah. Busy, a little stressful, but good. How’s Boston?”

“Same as always,” You swallow the lump in your throat, “Nothing’s really changed.”

“Jere told me you got a promotion?”

“Oh, um, yeah,” You clear your throat, “Nothing exciting.”

“I mean, a promotion’s pretty exciting,” He reminds you, “I remember how much you wanted to work for that company.”

You don’t say anything.

It had been months since you’d spoken to Conrad. Since the night of the funeral. When the thought crossed your mind then, all you could see was the hurt in his eyes.

“I heard a song you might like today,” He says, “I can send it to you, if you want.”

“Um,” You swallow, “Yeah, sure.”

Neither of you say anything. This felt weird. Like reuniting with someone you thought you’d lost. He was thousands of miles away and yet it was like you could feel a piece of your old friend coming back to you.

“Hey, is it okay that I called you? I know we haven’t spoken in a while,” He says, the words nervous like he’s in a panic to get them out.

You pause for a moment. What should you say? Should you tell him no, it wasn’t okay. Should you be mad at him? Should you be upset it’s taken so long?

Instead of any of that, you simply say;

“Of course it’s okay. I’ve missed talking to you.”

“Yeah you too,” He exhales like he’d been holding a breath in, “It’s nice to hear your voice again.”

You could pocket the words. The way he spoke. The way he made you believe him.

“Fuck,” You mutter under your breath, the water from your boiling vegetables spilling over the top of the pot, “I have to go but I’ll-“

“Oh, yeah, sure, yeah, no problem,” Conrad clears his throat, “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Wait Conrad,” You pause, pinching the bridge of your nose like you were doubting if the next words should come out of your mouth, “Will I hear from you again?”

“If you want to.”

“I do.”

The next call you got from him was that weekend. He was doing his grocery shop and you were sat in a coffee shop in the city. He asked you about the book you were reading, any new movies you’d watched. You ask him about his classes and he tells you about a guy from his group. You don’t bring up

Another few days go by and you call him the next time. You’re cooking dinner, he’s just finishing his classes for the day. He’s supposed to be going out with friends that night and he’s persistently reluctant. You convince him eventually and he tells you he’ll call you when he’s back. He sticks to his word. You talk on the phone whilst you’re already in bed and he’s just getting back into his apartment.

“So you’re glad you went?” You say, snuggling under your bed covers.

“I am,” He exhales, “I even suggested we ‘do something again soon’.”

“Wow, look at you go,” You giggle, “You actually have a social life again.”

“Yeah, and what about you?” He says, his phone set down on the countertop, him sat on one of the stools, his chin resting on his hand.

“What about me?”

“How did you spend your Friday night?”

“I-“ You pause, considering lying to him and choosing against it, “I got asked on a date.”

“You did?”

“And I didn’t go.”

Conrad pauses for a moment, “You didn’t?”

“I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

You take a deep breath, “I just… where would I even start? We met at the store, he doesn’t know me. What am I supposed to say to him?”

Conrad doesn’t respond.

“He doesn’t know anything about me. He’d ask about my family and I wouldn’t know what to say, oh and then the family that took me in? Now they’re all gone because they have their own lives and I was never supposed to be a part of that and I just live in the city they used to be in and… that’s it.”

“Is that really how you feel?”

You can hear the hurt in his voice.

“I-“ You start, “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. Tell me,” He picks up his phone then, turns it off of speaker, presses it to his ear like he wanted to be closer to you.

“Come on, I was fifteen when I came here, I’d lost everyone, everything I ever cared about. I moved a thousand miles away to a family I hadn’t ever met before and just had to… what? Become a part of their home? And then everything happened with Adam, and then we lost Susannah and you and Jere moved on and… I’m still here. And I’m not ready to move again because I don’t know where I’m ever going to find somewhere that I actually belong and I… that’s all a bit much, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” He is quick to say, “I… I didn’t know you felt like that. I think I was so ready to get away from home when I got accepted to Stanford that I… I didn’t think about anyone but myself. And I’m sorry.”

You feel tears brim in your eyes.

“I saw something that reminded me of you today,” He says gently, timidly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it was a quote from ‘what we owe to each other’,” He explains, “To value someone is to recognise that they have a kind of importance that gives us reason to treat them in certain ways.”

Your breath hitches in your throat.

“I didn’t treat you how I should do, I mean, I haven’t,” Conrad persists, “I should’ve done more, I should’ve been there more. I should be, still now I should be.”

“You didn’t need to-“

“My Mom told us from when you first moved in that we needed to be there for you. And at first I didn’t know how to do that, I didn’t know how to be there for someone that had been through something so couldn’t even imagine. And then I met you and I realised it didn’t matter that I didn’t know what to do, but what mattered is that I wanted to figure it out,” Conrad explains, “When my Mom was sick, she made me promise to not lose you, and not let you feel like you’d lost everybody all over again. And I’m sorry I ever made you feel like that wasn’t the case.”

Your words get stuck in your throat, tears on your cheeks.

“But, you know, you’re wrong about something,” He points out, like he knew to speak when you couldn’t, “When you moved in with us, that’s not the first time we met.”

“It’s not?” You sniff, wiping a hand under your eyes.

“No, it’s not,” He half-laughs, “When we were kids, I think I was about five or six, your Mom flew over and she brought you with her. It was the first time they’d seen each other in years and it was this really hot week so we drove to Cousins and spent the weekend at the beach house. We were running around by the pool outside and you fell over and cut open your knee. I ran inside and got everything I could find to help you, I brought out bandaids and bandages and wipes and this big teddy bear for you and I’m pretty sure I did a terrible job at patching you up. But I remember seeing you smile at something after and I realised that was the first time I helped someone and felt good for doing it. I told my Mom that week that I wanted to be a doctor.”

“I-“ You sniff, “I can’t believe I don’t remember that.”

“If you ever think you weren’t supposed to be a part of my life, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

After that night, Conrad called every day. Sometimes when he’d just woken up, or when your lunch break aligned with a split in his classes, when you finished work or when he was walking home, when both of you were cooking dinner. Days and weeks passed and you’d spent every day waiting for his call, or waiting for when you could call him.

“I think I might go to Cousins this weekend,” You say to him, stirring a spoon around your coffee, looking over to him on facetime.

“Yeah?” Conrad says, his head popping back into frame as he was folding his laundry.

“Well your Dad gave me a key when we got everything sorted with the house,” You explain, “If it’s okay with you and Jere I thought I might just spend a few days there.”

“Of course it is,” Conrad says, “I don’t want to speak for Jere but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“Thanks,” You smile, “I can check on everything, see if there’s anything that needs doing.”

“You know it’ll be cold there, you’ll have to get the fire started,” He points out.

“I know how to… or I can learn how to start a fire.”

“Just please don’t burn our house down.”

Our. You liked the idea that he thought a part of you belonged to that house too, the same way it had done for them for their whole lives.

“I’ll try not to,” You roll your eyes, “What are your plans?”

“Study, go for a run, study again,” He nods slowly, “Non-stop, I know.”

You giggle, “How do you manage to make California sound boring?”

“Because I’m a raging pessimist,” He points out matter-of-factly.

“That’s not true.”

“Yeah, to you, maybe.”

You smile warmly, the way you only seemed to do with him.

It was strange, really. The past months you’d spent all of this time invested in someone you were simply seeing through a phone screen. But when you saw him you saw the same boy that had taken your suitcase inside, you felt the same boy that had shown you the meteor shower, you heard the same boy that saved you from boys at parties. You saw someone who had made a place feel like home. You saw someone who didn’t make you feel weak, but made you feel like you could be capable and strong all by yourself, maybe with a little helping hand. When you spoke to him, it felt like the closest thing you’d had to home in a long time.

You wondered when that feeling had changed. When he’d stopped just being Susannah’s son, or the oldest Fisher brother, and started occupying a space in your heart, your mind, your soul.

“Hey, are you going to Cousins in the morning?” He interrupts your train of thought.

“I was going to, yeah,” You nod, “Is that okay?”

“Of course,” Conrad shakes his head, “Hey, I’ve got to go, okay? I’ll talk to you later?”

“Sure,” You frown a little.

He hangs up then, somewhat in a rush.

You go about the rest of your evening, you finish your dinner, you shower, and you’re asleep without hearing another word from Conrad. You get up the following morning, you pack a bag quickly and are just about to step out of your apartment when he calls again.

“Hey, I was just about to leave I-“

“You haven’t left yet?” He says, his voice breathless, a little fatigued.

“No…”

“Could you make a quick detour to the airport?”

You feel your stomach drop, your heart pausing momentarily.

“You’re-“ You exhale, half-laughing like you can’t quite believe what you’re hearing, “Yes.”

“Okay, then I’ll see you soon.”

You can feel your heart racing on the entire journey to him. Like you were meeting someone for the first time, and reuniting with a long lost friend after so long, and seeing an old friend and meeting a new crush and everything else rolled into one single reunion. You’d driven a little quicker than you should do. You’d found your way to the airport pick-ups. And there, amongst a sea of unfamiliar faces, was him.

He had a small suitcase beside him, a blue sweater, light wash jeans, his hair longer than the last time you’d seen him, sitting more over his forehead than it had before. But he was still him. The boy you’d been seeing on the phone.

When he sees your car, he smiles, the kind of smile that meets his eyes, the kind of smile you’d seen when he was younger. This time, more matured, more sure of himself.

“Hi,” You say, stepping out of the car, “You’re… here.”

“I’m here,” He grins, opening his arms a little like he was showing you he was real.

“Um,” You half-laugh, “Come here.”

You pull him into you, wrapping your arms around his torso. He holds you too, hands splayed across your back. Your heads rest on each others shoulders, him crouching down to meet your height.

“Here, I can drive,” He offers, pulling away from you.

“Um,” You say again, “Yeah, okay.”

He loads his case into the trunk, beside your bag, and climbs into the driver’s seat, you into the seat beside him.

Neither of you speak first. Your playlist plays out through the speakers, the shuffle turning to a song that Conrad had suggested. He drives the route he knew like the back of his hand, every so often glancing over to you.

It was like you were nervous in each other’s company. Like you didn’t know this version of each other. You knew the versions from when you’d lived together, as kids, naive and uncertain. Now? You didn’t feel like those same people. And the Conrad you’d gotten to know over the phone was someone completely new, and yet still somehow the same boy that had moved glasses down to your height.

By the time you reach Cousins, the nerves in your chest had intensified. You were suddenly insanely aware of the fact that this would be the first time you and Conrad had ever been alone together. Nobody else in the house, nobody else anywhere. Just you and just him.

He steps out of the car, pulling his keys from his pocket, walking up towards the door. He was returning home. For the first time since he’d lost his Mom, he really felt like he was home.

You take out your bag and his suitcase, carrying both towards him.

He turns around to you, “Oh you didn’t have to get my-“

“Just repaying a long overdue favor,” You joke, setting down both bags onto the floor.

Just as you’re about to turn to face him, you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, turning you in towards him. You catch your hands on his chest, his hand moving to your waist, the other moving up to your cheek, drawing your face to his. And before a single thought can cross your mind, his lips are on yours. He kisses you like he’s sure of himself, and yet his hand on your waist still feels nervous and unsure. You move one hand down from his chest to his hand on your waist, gripping around it to shift his hold to your back. He remains sure of himself then, his hand pressing against your lower back, pulling more of you to him like he wanted to erase every inch of space between you.

Both of you only pull away when you’re breathless, holding onto each other like you were holding each other up.

“I-“ Conrad begins, his eyes scanning your entire face, “I didn’t come here just for that I just… I couldn’t wait.”

You smile a little, your chest rising and falling to catch up with your racing heart, “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“You…” He stops himself, “You were convinced that you didn’t belong with us, or that you wouldn’t belong anywhere, or with anyone. But I… part of me has always been convinced I was meant to meet you. First when we were kids, when you made me realise I wanted to be a doctor. And again when we were older and you made me want to care for someone, be there for someone, make their life better. You might’ve not felt like you belonged in Boston, or in Cousins, or wherever else, but I think you belong in my life. No, I don’t think, I know you do.”

All words seem to escape you, and yet looking into his eyes then you believed him.

“I thought I could go to California and escape everything that had happened, start up a life that didn’t exist here,” He shakes his head, “And yet the one bit of home I couldn’t go without… was you.”

You could think of a thousand things to say in response, tell him that you felt the same, tell him how much you’d needed his company since he’d been gone, tell him every time in the years you’d known him that he’d made you feel like you needed him in your life, like you were meant to us he met him. But, instead, you move both of your hands to his jawline, pulling his lips down to yours once again, unwaveringly certain, like you’d been waiting for a short eternity to do so.

—

The two of you were sat on the couch that night, his arm wrapped around you. And it still felt surreal. To be this close with him, this intimate.

“When did it change for you?” Conrad asks you, pausing the movie the two of you were watching.

You look up at him, furrowing your brows, “What do you mean?”

“Well, I know you didn’t like me when you first moved in, when did it change?”

“I did like you,” You frown.

“No I mean like this,” He gestures between the two of you, “When did it change?”

You pause as if you’re thinking for a moment, “I guess I hadn’t really thought about it, it just sort of happened. Do you know when it changed for you?”

Conrad nods, “Yeah, yeah I do.”

“Tell me!” You sit up beside him, looking between his eyes that look down at you so intently.

“No Im not telling you,” He chuckles, “If you don’t have a moment you don’t get to find out mine.”

“Oh come on!” You hit his chest.

He catches your hand there, pulling your hand up to his lips to kiss his knuckles, “No. I’m not telling you.”

You narrow your eyes, “You’re the worst.”

“Hey, at least I have a moment,” He reminds you, “You don’t even have one.”

“I’m not talking to you anymore,” You shake your head, dropping back down beside him.

“No?” He jabs at your side, glancing down at the watch on his wrist, “Not even if I show you something?”

“Show me what?”

“Come here,” He encourages, standing up, stretching out his hand to you.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Come on,” He persists, pulling you up from the couch.

He leads the two of you outside, dark already blanketing the view of the water around Cousins. Conrad laces his fingers with yours, taking you down towards the dock.

“What are we-“

“About here is perfect,” He says, stopping the two of you halfway down the length of the dock.

He turns to face you, his finger dipping underneath your chin to tilt your gaze up to the sky.

“Venus and Jupiter should align tonight,” He explains, looking at you as you look at the sky, “We should be able to see it from here.”

“Which ones are they?” You scan around, looking for the brightest stars you can see.

Conrad glances up too - his hand, still laced with yours, guides upwards in the direction of two bright spots in the sky directly next to each other, one smaller than the other, “You see those two right there?”

You look over to him, the shadow of the low light on his cheekbones, his eyes darker and yet still holding their warmth.

“You’re not looking at the-“

“The meteor shower,” You interrupt him.

“Wh-“ He turns to you, furrowing his brows a little, “No no it’s not a meteor shower today it’s just the-“

“No, I know that,” You shake your head, “I’m telling you. The meteor shower. That was when I knew. I couldn’t sleep, I hadn’t been sleeping, and you showed me the meteor shower and that’s when I knew.”

Conrad smiles softly at your confession, “So you’re attracted to nerds?”

“Maybe,” You giggle, “Or just one.”

He leans down and kisses you gently, tucking your hair behind your ear as he pulls away.

“So? Can’t you tell me yours?”

He narrows his eyes at you like he’s thinking it over, “The first time I made you laugh.”

You feel your heart swell.

“I remember when you first moved in it was like you’d lost all of this light in you,” He explains, “You’d been here for a few days, and my Mom ordered pizzas and told you to pick a movie and we were all sat in the lounge and you sat next to me. The movie started and I made some stupid joke about the guy and you laughed, this kind of laugh that lit up your eyes. And I knew then I wanted to see that same look every day if I could.”

You take a deep breath, your tears brimming your eyes.

“And then I kept it to myself for a few years because my Mom specifically told us not to fall for you,” He jokes, his hand smoothing over your cheek, “Couldn’t help it, I suppose.”

“You fell for me?” You swallow the lump in your throat.

“Come on, honey, we’re going to be late,” Conrad opens the back door of his Range Rover, to where his daughter Maeve was already unbuckling herself from her seat and clambering down, “Look at you! You don’t even need me anymore!”

He scoops her up into his arms, resting her on his hip as he grabs for her backpack too - a bright blue one with sea creatures scattered across it in different shades.

“Are you excited for your first day?” He asks her, slamming the car door behind him and locking the car.

He carries her over to the sidewalk and sets her down.

“Am I going to make new friends?” She asks him, wide green eyes gazing up at him with a slight worry in them.

“Of course you are!” He beams, squeezing her hand in his to reassure her, “You’re going to meet new people, play with a bunch of cool toys, and you get to meet your new teacher.”

“What if they are mean?” She pouts, her steps faltering a little as they near the gate to her kindergarten.

“Hey, hey,” He stops both of them, crouching down in front of her, “You’ve got nothing to be worried about, okay? You’re going to have the best time, I promise. And, if anyone’s not kind to you, what do you do?”

“I tell my teacher and I tell Daddy,” She sniffs, her lips still downturned in their concern.

“Exactly,” Conrad smiles softly, smoothing his hand over the two braids he’d managed to put into her hair - something he’d taught himself from a Youtube tutorial and a lot of practice, “Are you ready?”

She nods and he kisses the tip of her nose quickly, revelling in the sound of her giggle that follows. He opens the gate and they walk the rest of the way to the building, the door opening before they have a chance to do it.

“Hey there!” The woman at the door beams brightly, and the entire space between them seems to warm in her presence, “You must be Maeve Fisher, is that right?”

Maeve nods bashfully.

“Well, I’m your new teacher,” You explain, crouching down to Maeve’s height, “And, Maeve, I am very excited to have you in my class. Are you excited for your first day?”

Maeve hugs into her father’s leg a little more, her nerves creeping back again.

“We’re a little nervous, aren’t we Maeve?” Conrad runs a hand over her hair, looking over to the teacher.

You stand back up, extending her hand to him, “You must be Maeve’s father?”

“Yeah, Conrad,” He shakes her hand, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” You smile, returning your own name, “And, don’t worry, it’s normal for them to be nervous on their first day. It’s a big change, and a lot of big feelings. But I promise I’ll do whatever I can to make sure she settles in well.”

Conrad smiles, the worry in his chest easing with how reassuring the woman managed to be. She must’ve been around his age. Beautiful, too. The kind of beauty he could tell extended far past her appearance too - like her smile was a reflection of the brightness in her heart. In that moment, he was sure more than ever that Maeve would be in safe hands.

“And you’ll send updates? They told me something about an app so I downloaded it and-“ Conrad pauses, “And I sound just as nervous as she is.”

You chuckle, “Yes, I aim to send at least one update during the day for each child but if there is anything you’re not sure about you can text, you can call. I know how scary it must feel to be leaving her so, believe me, you’re also more than allowed to be nervous.”

He sighs, visibly relaxing, “I should be getting to work.”

“Maeve, is that okay? Are you okay if you come with me so we can let your Daddy get to work?” You crouch down in front of her again.

“My Daddy’s a doctor,” Maeve mumbles bashfully, stepping a little out from beside his leg.

“A doctor?” You raise your brows, an expression of excitement on your face to encourage her, “That’s a very cool job!”

Conrad looks down at you, smiling gently.

“Well, I’m sure he’s got lots of people to go and help. So do you want to come inside with me and meet the other children?” You extend a hand to her, “And then you’ll see your Daddy later today?”

She nods, letting go of her father’s hand to hold yours instead.

“Here’s her bag,” Conrad says as you stand back up, “There’s spare clothes in there, her jacket, a rainsuit, her lunchbox… pretty much anything I could think she might need.”

“Well, thank you for coming prepared, Dr Fisher,” You chuckle, “Cool bag, Maeve! I love dolphins too.”

She smiles a little, the furrow between her brows disappearing as she relaxed.

And, just like that, you both turn around and Maeve starts chatting away to you about how she liked sharks and jellyfish. You reply with enthusiasm to every word she spoke, smiling brightly. And, just before you turn the corner, Maeve looks back and waves wildly at her father. Conrad is sure he feels his heart shatter a little. There she was, walking into her first day of kindergarten. The first day of her entire life where he wouldn’t be there to see it all. He’d spent all night worrying about it. But it had all happened so quickly. And seeing the way you’d taken her under your wing, made her feel so welcome, he was certain that was one less thing he needed to worry about.

As he got back into his car, he found his thoughts momentarily drifting away from his daughter. And instead to the woman who’d held her hand. Those eyes, that smile. The heart that wrapped it all together.

———

The day flies by and Conrad finds himself leaving work earlier than planned so that he can get the car parked in plenty of time to pick Maeve up. There are already a flooding of parents waiting around the door, couples stood together anxiously waiting for their kids to come outside. Conrad stands awkwardly by himself, hands stuffed into his pockets, waiting at the back behind the rest of the group.

One by one, kids start to run out with another teacher in tow, making sure that each one got to their parents. As more families got reunited, Conrad found himself feeling increasingly anxious to be brought back to his daughter. And then, as more and more families start to disappear to return home, you round the corner with Maeve’s hand held in yours.

As soon as she sees him she grins widely, letting go of your hand to run outside to her father. He crouches down instantly, letting her little arms engulf him in a big hug. He feels his heart settle, as if a piece of himself had been returned to him.

“Hey, darling,” He smiles, “How was your day?”

“I got to play shops!”

“You did?” He beams, pulling away from her to look at her bright eyes, “Was it fun?”

She nods energetically, “And we read books and Miss Teacher is the best at reading books.”

He narrows his eyes at her, looking over to where you stood just a step behind, “She always says I’m bad at doing the voices.”

“Ah,” You laugh, “It comes with a lot of practise. And a willingness to completely embarrass yourself.”

He laughs, scooping Maeve up into his arms to settle her onto his hip like a piece of the puzzle he’d been missing all day, “She got on okay then?”

“It’s already a pleasure to have her in my class, Dr Fisher, Maeve was wonderful all day,” You smile sweetly, “She shared with other children, she helped me to tidy up the toys, she’s incredibly smart for her age.”

He feels his heart swell, a pride for his daughter he was sure would only continue to grow, “That’s really great to hear.”

“And we’re ready to do it all again tomorrow, isn’t that right Maeve?” You smile to the little girl, her eyes like a reflection of her father’s.

She nods excitedly, “Yes Miss Teacher!”

“Here’s her bag,” You hand him over the backpack, “Oh, and just one more thing Dr Fisher, just for our records - will it just be yourself picking up Maeve? Just so that the school know who to expect.”

He settles Maeve down onto the floor and she busies herself by trying to fix the large backpack onto her back, “Um, yeah. It’s just me. Maeve’s Mom isn’t…” He looks down as if making sure she wasn’t focused on him, “Well she’s not in the picture.”

You nod, “No problem at all. And, from what I can see, you seem to be doing a more than good job with her by yourself, Dr Fisher.”

“Thank you,” He inhales, “We get by.”

“Well, then I’ll see you both in the morning,” You smile, waving to Maeve.

“Yeah, yeah, bright and early,” Conrad squeezes his daughter’s hand, turning around to start walking away.

He stops in his tracks then, pausing momentarily to look back at you.

“And, please, call me Conrad.”

———

Over the next weeks, Conrad and Maeve both settle into their routine. He drops her off on time every morning, always with the same backpack just as full as the day before. She comes with more and more enthusiasm every day, excited to see you, to see her friends, to get back to a new day of kindergarten. He feels his heart swell at the sight every day, and break a little to accept that his daughter was becoming increasingly okay with being away from him. He arrives on time to pick her up every day until one single day, in December. Work had ran late, traffic hadn’t been on his side, and by the time he’d shown up, every other family had already left.

He’d hurried to the door, the lights still on. He stepped into the corridor, passed the coat hooks now empty from all the children that had already been picked up, apart from one hook still holding a blue backpack with sea creatures all over it.

“Look at that!”

He heard your voice before he saw you, warm, welcoming, relieving.

“Your Daddy’s going to love it!”

“Will he come back soon?” Maeve responded and Conrad felt his heart break a little at the sound of the worry in her voice.

Then, you look up from where you were sat at the desk with Maeve. You smile warmly at him, your shoulders relaxing.

“Well, he’s already here!” You smile and Maeve turns around excitedly.

“Daddy!”

She jumps down from her seat, running over to him faster than her legs can keep up with, bundling herself into his arms.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, honey,” He says softly, holding a hand to the back of her head, “I’m so sorry.”

She doesn’t speak, burying her head into his neck like he’d been missing for a short eternity.

“I am really sorry,” He sighs to you, standing up in his spot, “I tried to get out of work earlier but one of the other doctor’s wasn’t in and then I got stuck in traffic on the way home and then-“

You shake your head, “Conrad, don’t worry. Everyone’s been there.”

“I just-“ He sighs deeply again, “I feel awful.”

He sets Maeve down to the floor and she runs off to go and play with the toys you’d left out for her, picking up where you’d left off. She grabs a teddy bear and places a fake stethoscope to its chest. Conrad’s eyes follow her momentarily before they turn back to you.

“I promised I’d never let work come before her. And then today I just lost track of time and-“ He drags a hand over his face, “I felt sick driving over here.”

“Conrad,” You reach out to touch his arm, “Don’t beat yourself up, honestly.”

You notice then, the contact you’d made, and you pull your hand away bashfully.

“Sorry,” You smile shyly.

Conrad smiles back, taking a deep breath as if he’d visibly relaxed, “Thank you for staying with her.”

You shake your head, “Anytime, honestly.”

He seems to calm then, returning to himself.

“Actually, whilst we were waiting, Maeve made a little something for you,” You explain, taking a piece of pink paper from the table, “She told me this is your house, and this is you and her.”

He holds the artwork in his hands, smiling warmly at her attempt of drawing the two of them. She’d drawn him with a teddy bear in his hand - what she thought he used to make everyone feel better at the hospital. And she’d drawn a teddy bear in her own hand too, matching the one in his.

“Maeve told me when she grows up she wants to be just like her Daddy,” You beam, “She told me it didn’t matter that you were late today because you were saving lives.”

He chuckles gently, “Yeah, yeah, she has a habit of telling people that’s what I do.”

You laugh, “Well, I believe her.”

He looks up at you, his eyes softened with a brim of tears, “Seriously, thank you so much. Maeve tells me everyday how much she loves ‘Miss Teacher’.”

You grin, “Well, I’m glad. But you don’t need to thank me, Maeve’s the kind of kid that makes this job the easiest job in the world.”

He looks over to his daughter, in the middle of telling the teddy bear that he would feel better in the morning, “Maeve, darling, let’s get going. We need to leave Miss Teacher to actually get home at some point tonight.”

She stands up and runs over to you both, reaching for his hand instantly.

“I’ll walk out with you,” You mention, grabbing your bag and your coat.

Conrad waits for you at the door to the classroom as the three of you then walk out to the playground, empty as the dark started to settle over the school. You lock the door behind you, walking out with them towards where Conrad parked his car.

“Is your car nearby?” He stops to ask you.

“Oh, well, normally,” You drag a hand through your hair, “But I had to drop it at the garage earlier today so I’d planned to get a lift with another teacher. But the garage is closed now… and I’ve just realised my house keys are in that car,” You grimace, looking down as if embarrassed by your own mistakes.

“Well no I-“ Conrad stops himself, “I mean, I could drive you somewhere if you want.”

“Oh no I couldn’t ask you to do that,” You shake your head.

“You’re not asking,” He reminds you, “I offered.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“Maeve?” Conrad scoops her back into his arms, “Do you want to go on a little adventure to drop Miss Teacher home?”

She nods eagerly, “Are you coming in my Daddy’s car?”

“If that’s okay with you,” You smile gently, “That would be very kind of you.”

“You can come with us,” She smiles, letting Conrad carry her around to her side of the car, locking her into her seat.

You climb into his passenger seat, the car looking like it had been freshly cleaned. It smelt of pine and cherry.

“Sorry about the smell,” Conrad grimaces a little as he clips in his seatbelt, “I let Maeve pick an air freshener when I got the pine one because she wanted one for her seat as well and now it just… I don’t think the two go well together.”

You chuckle, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Here, do you want to put an address in?” He presses the screen of his car to direct you to the map, “There might be some weird stuff in there, Maeve likes to sit in the front and press the screen sometimes when we get home.”

You smile, “Yeah, um, I’m actually not sure where to go.”

Conrad looks over to you, “Is there someone who’s got a spare key?”

“My sister does,” You nod, “She’ll finish work later tonight.”

“You can come back with us,” Conrad suggests, “I mean, you can at least stay until she finishes or you figure something out.”

“Oh, no, I really wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be,” He assures you, “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.”

“That would be great, then, thank you.”

“Okay the other thing you need to be aware of,” Conrad begins, switching to his music on the screen, “Maeve only lets us listen to one band in the car.”

“Band?”

“She loves the beatles,” He grins proudly, “And they’re, apparently, all we’re allowed to listen to.”

“I’m good with that,” You laugh, looking back to her in the back seat, “How did that come about?”

“Well,” Conrad begins, swinging the car out of the parking space, “I used to, very badly, sing Blackbird to her when she was a baby. And then when she was maybe two she started learning some of the words. And then one day when she was a bit older I asked her what she wanted to listen to in the car and she asked for ‘the birdy song’ so we started listening and just never stopped.”

“That’s so sweet,” You beam, “I love that song.”

“Good taste,” He eyes you through the rearview mirror, “Maeve, are you going to show Miss Teacher how you sing your favourite song?”

Maeve starts singing loudly from the backseat, not missing a single word. And Conrad smiles proudly at the wheel, laughing every time her voice rose loudly over the words.

He drives into the streets of Cousins, The Beatles still sounding through the speakers, Maeve still attempting to sing along to all of the songs she knew, Conrad helping her out over the words she wasn’t sure of.

———

Their house was right near the water, grand and towering and somehow still instantly homely.

“Wow, your house is beautiful,” You say to him as you all get out of the car, Maeve hurrying ahead to get to the door.

“Thank you,” Conrad nods, “It was my Mom’s house, and I wanted Maeve to have the same childhood I’d had here every summer. So I figured why not just leave here year round?”

You smile at his response, thanking him as he lets you in ahead of him.

The house smells like fresh laundry and amber. To the right, as soon as you step in, there’s a huge playroom set up for Maeve - a big powder blue dollhouse, an easel, a chalkboard, a big doctor’s playset, trucks and cars, dolls and teddy bears, everything she could possibly imagine.

“She’s been pretending to be a teacher,” Conrad points out as he pulls Maeve’s shoes off, setting them onto a shelf, “I’m her only student.”

You smile warmly, your heart swelling.

“Come on Maeve, let’s go get your dinner ready.”

As if in domestic bliss, you, Conrad and Maeve all go through to make dinner. You help her color in a picture of fish and coral whilst Conrad quickly cooks up pasta for her on the stove.

He brings over a bowl and a bright orange spoon, checking the temperature of it on his own lip before letting her eat.

Both of you entertain her as best as you can, encouraging her until she finishes the whole bowl.

“Well she’s better behaved when Miss Teacher is here,” Conrad leans back in his chair.

You smile, “It comes with the job.”

“We should probably start getting you ready for bed,” Conrad comments to his daughter, wiping her mouth with a cloth.

“Can Miss Teacher read my book to me?” She pouts at him, a look you were sure he could never refuse.

He looks to you and back to her, “Maeve I think she’s done enough work already today. You’ll have to deal with Daddy reading you your book.”

“Oh come on,” You shake your head, “I mean… I’d be happy to if you don’t mind.”

“Wh-“ Conrad smiles softly, “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

You nod and stand up as he lifts her from her chair, setting her onto his hip.

You follow him upstairs as Conrad takes her to the bathroom, getting her ready for bed. You hear her giggle loudly at whatever he said or did, like the two of them were wrapped in complete adoration for each other. He brings her back into the room, setting her down into the plush bed, tucking her in tightly with a beige plushie dog tucked in beside her. You settle down into the seat beside her bed, taking the book they were halfway through and starting to read as Conrad pulls the door almost closed behind him.

By the time you finish the chapter, Maeve is already asleep, her breaths deep and even. You creep out as quietly as you can and back down the steps, hoping they remain silent beneath your feet.

When you get back into the kitchen, Conrad is stood over the stove stirring food around a pan.

“She’s asleep,” You say quietly, stepping over to him.

“Thank you,” He smiles softly, “I’m making some dinner if you want some.”

“Oh you don’t have to-“

“I know,” He interrupts you, “But you didn’t ask, I offered.”

You laugh gently, “Thank you.”

He nods, scooping some food into a bowl for you, and handing it over.

You smile, taking a spoonful and near enough groaning over the taste, “This is ridiculously good.”

He tilts his head, watching you, a soft smile on his lips, “You’re ridiculously welcome.”

You chuckle, taking a seat at the table as he follows you over with his own bowl of food, sitting at the head of the table, at the corner with you.

“Thank you for doing this,” You say, “Not just the food, but… well, you know.”

Conrad shrugs, “Come on, you took care of Maeve, you read to her, that’s worth a hell of a lot more.”

You smile, “She’s a really great kid.”

“You know something?” He swallows, “That’s the first night of her life I’ve not read to her to go to sleep.”

“Really?” You raise your brows.

He shrugs, “It’s always just been the two of us. From the first night we were in the hospital I read her a chapter of the book I was reading. And then I guess I just read every night since.”

“I don’t want to pry but-“ You stop yourself, “What about Maeve’s Mom?”

“Um,” He clears his throat, “She just wasn’t ready to have kids. I don’t think she realised it until Maeve was already born.”

“That must’ve been really hard on you.”

“I’m just happy she left when Maeve was too young to remember it,” He takes a breath, “As horrible as that sounds, I’m just glad Maeve doesn’t really know how to miss her Mom, if that makes sense.”

“Has she ever asked about her?”

“Just once, yeah,” He nods, “The first day she went for a playdate with this girl that lives down the street. She came home and asked me why that girl had a Mom and a Dad and she only had a Dad.”

You furrow your brows, like you could feel the hurt radiating from him, “What did you say?”

“I told her that every family was different, and that ours was just me and her now,” He nods slowly, “And I told her that I loved her and that was it.”

“Do you think-“ You stop, “Sorry, I don’t want to overstep.”

“You’re not,” He assures you.

“Do you think she’ll ever… I mean, would you ever want her Mom to be in her life?”

“When Maeve was younger, like when we had the sleepless nights and she wasn’t eating or when she got sick or she cried and cried… I used to think like she’s never going to deserve her, you know? Like I’m the one doing all of this and she’s not allowed to change her mind and decide she wants this,” Conrad shakes his head, “But now I just think… she’s her Mom. And Maeve’s like the easiest kid in the world to love, who wouldn’t want to love her? If her Mom ever changed her mind then… I don’t know, I’d be reluctant, I’d probably be pretty protective, but I couldn’t deny anyone the chance to have someone like her in their life.”

You feel tears brim in your eyes, “You’re a really good Dad, you know that?”

“Maeve likes to remind me every so often,” He smiles jokingly, “But thank you.”

You smile, finishing off the rest of your food.

“What made you want to be a teacher?” He leans back in his chair.

“Well, I started babysitting when I was in college just to get some extra money and people kept telling me I was a natural with kids,” You explain, “And I just… there’s something so beautiful about getting to somewhat be a part of helping kids to grow up, to learn, to figure themselves out and how the world works. I couldn’t think of doing anything else with my life.”

“It really is like you were made to be a teacher.”

“You think so?” You smile softly, “I’m glad.”

Both of you fall silent for a moment.

“So, how easy is it to date as a teacher?” Conrad asks.

You laugh a little, “I spend my evenings doing arts and crafts for the kids and planning lessons to teach them phonics. I don’t remember the last time I went on a date. What about you - as a doctor and a father?”

Conrad chuckles, “The last person I dated was Maeve’s Mom.”

“Nobody since?”

“Nobody,” He shakes his head, “I can’t imagine trying to explain all of this to them. When I’m not working, my whole life is about Maeve. I’d never want to bring someone into her life that was just going to leave again.”

“I think that’s a really good way to think,” You encourage, “But do you ever think you’ll be at a point where you put yourself first again?”

Conrad pauses for a moment, “I couldn’t imagine putting anyone before Maeve.”

“I know what you mean, sometimes I’m sure I’ll never find someone that I could put before the kids in my class,” You nod, “They’re always going to come first.”

Before he can speak again, Maeve’s voice calls out faintly for her father. He smiles at the sound, getting up from his chair without a second thought and going up to her.

“Hey darling,” He smiles, “Can’t sleep?”

She shakes her head, snuggling against the pillow, “I lost Rosie.”

“Oh don’t worry, she’s just here,” He picks up the toy dog from the floor, tucking her back under the covers with Maeve.

He perches on the edge of her mattress, running a hand over her hair.

“Go back to sleep honey,” He leans down and kisses her forehead softly.

“Daddy?” She says as he pulls away, “Can Miss Teacher come round every night?”

He chuckles lowly, “You like her, huh?”

“She’s my favourite lady.”

“Yeah,” Conrad nods, “She’s pretty great.”

Maeve’s eyes flutter closed then, her head snuggled against Rosie the dog.

Conrad looks down at her, realising then that this was the first dinner guest he’d ever had round that wasn’t his father or Jere or Steven or Laurel. This was the first time he’d welcomed anyone into the routine him and Maeve had that he’d always held so sacred. And somehow you’d fit into it all so naturally, so simply. That was the first time he’d opened up to anyone about Maeve’s mother, being a single father, how he felt about it all.

And part of him was sure he wanted to see you again.

He stepped back out of Maeve’s room, and back down the stairs to you.

When he gets there, you’re fixing your jacket over your shoulders, your bag slung over one arm.

“You’re going?” Conrad swallows the lump in his throat.

“Yeah, um, my sister just got here, she said she’ll drop me home,” You explain, “Thank you so much for tonight, you really saved me.”

He shakes his head, walking with you towards the front door, “You don’t need to thank me. Although I’ll now blame you if Maeve complains tomorrow night that I don’t read her books well enough.”

You giggle and the sound relaxes the nerves in his chest.

“Well, I’ll see you next week, then. Monday morning,” You smile, going to open the front door.

Conrad stops, his hand reaching for the door before yours, pausing with his hand on the door knob, “I wanted to ask you…”

You frown, eyes looking up at him where he stood so close to you.

“Sorry,” Conrad flinches, taking a step back, “I just wanted to ask… my brother’s in town next weekend. I don’t know if you have plans but maybe… well I was thinking I could ask him to stay with Maeve on Friday night and we could… I mean if you wanted to we…”

He sighs then, like he’s giving up on the idea all together.

“Conrad,” You place a hand to his arm, your thumb smoothing over the skin, “I would love to.”

“Oh,” He inhales sharply, “Right, yeah, okay, sure.”

You chuckle gently, “Then I’ll see you on Monday?”

“Yeah, bright and early.”

———

For the rest of the week, seeing Conrad at drop-off and pick-up feels you with nerves like you were a kid with your first crush.

Until Friday rolls around and he’s driving to your place to pick you up, on time and smartly dressed.

He drives you both to a restaurant in town, opens your car door for you and lets you step through the restaurant door first.

He pulls out your chair when you get to the table, smiling bashfully as he sits down opposite you.

“This restaurant is beautiful,” You glance around, watching as he takes the menu in his hand.

“Yeah, I saw it when it opened and I thought maybe it would be a good place for a date. And this is the first date I’ve had since,” Conrad smiles softly.

You chuckle, “Yeah, well, I’m honoured.”

He looks down, a flush of red on his cheeks.

“You know, I have to say,” You pause momentarily, “I don’t… do this. I don’t date my students parents or anything I just… well, I just don’t want you thinking this is normal for me.”

Conrad shakes his head, “I wasn’t thinking that.”

“I’m not even sure if this is a good idea or not but-“ You laugh a little to ease your embarrassment, “Well, I couldn’t say no to you.”

Conrad smiles, taking a deep breath, “Then, for tonight you’re not my daughter’s teacher, and I’m not your student’s father, we’re just two people on a date in a nice restaurant and that is all.”

“Deal,” You return, “So, are you a beer or a wine guy Conrad?”

The two of you talk through a shared bottle of wine, through appetizers that you put in the middle of the table to share, and entrees you make each other try. You talk about your childhoods and the random things you were obsessed with as kids, you talk about how you spent your summers and films you loved and albums you’d grown up with. You talk through so much you feel like you’re starting to know his entire life, the things that light up his eyes, the things he kept close to his heart. And he listens to you, like, really listens. He asks questions, he tilts his head and nods when you respond. You find yourself melting into your time with him, like the entire night could go by and you wouldn’t have realised that even a minute had passed.

And then his phone starts to buzz on the table, from where he’d placed it screen down in the middle.

“Sorry I should-“ He stops as he picks it up to silence it, “It’s Jere, my brother.”

“Go ahead,” You encourage him, “Answer it.”

“I mean I-“ He purses his lips, “It’s just if it’s something with Maeve then I-“

“Conrad, honestly, answer it. It’s okay.”

He takes a deep breath and picks up the call, “What’s up Jere?”

You can’t hear his brother on the other end of the phone but you see the shift in Conrad’s expression.

“Did you read her the book on the nightstand?” Conrad asks, offering you an apologetic smile, “No, no, not that one, we already finished that one.”

You smile gently, thanking the waiter as he comes to collect your empty plates.

“Okay, yeah, yeah, I-“ Conrad stops, “Just give me a minute, Jere. Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

He hangs up the call and looks over to you, his shoulders dropping.

“Maeve won’t sleep. I think she’s just overtired now but he said she’s crying and she won’t settle, she just keeps asking for me.”

“Then let’s go back,” You encourage.

“I-“ Conrad sighs, “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is,” You promise him, “She needs you.”

He takes a deep breath before agreeing with you, calling for the check and promising you he wanted to cover it, you thank him and both gather up your things, out of the restaurant and to his car in moments. He drives back a little quicker, not excessively so but enough to make you aware that he’s worried. When you get to the house, his brother is already waiting at the door with Maeve on his hip.

“I’m so sorry man I tried everything,” Jere winces as Conrad hurries over, “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Hey darling,” Conrad beams to his daughter, swooping her into his arms, “You’re up late, aren’t you? Should we get you to bed?”

He holds her against his chest, her tired head resting on his shoulder, carrying her towards the stairs.

“Should we go find Rosie? I bet she’s tired too,” Conrad says to her as they disappear up and towards her room.

Jeremiah looks back to you bashfully as you close the front door behind you, “You must be the girl my brother was very excited to go on a date with?”

You chuckle, “Yeah, yeah, I think that’s me,” You say, offering him your name, “And you’re Jere, right?”

“That’s the one,” He nods, “I’m really sorry to have ruined your night, I just… I don’t know how Conrad does it.”

“How do you mean?”

“Single parenting,” Jeremiah half-laughs, “I couldn’t even do it for one night.”

“Oh come on,” You shake your head, “It just comes with a lot of patience and a lot of practice.”

“Yeah,” Jeremiah exhales, “Conrad was always just so reluctant to ask for help, even from when he first had her, he did everything by himself. This is like the first time I’ve looked after Maeve that wasn’t just to help him out whilst he was working.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Jeremiah looks over to you, “Conrad never does anything for himself. This is the first time since even before he had her that I’ve seen him actually go out and enjoy himself for a night. I’d take that as a compliment if I were you.”

You smile, looking up towards the stairs where Conrad had just disappeared from.

“You two had a good night? Until I interrupted, obviously.”

You look to Jere and nod, “Probably the best date… yeah, the best date I think I’ve ever had.”

“Well, look at that,” Jeremiah’s lips curl into a bright smile, “You have that same look in your eye that he does when he talks about you.”

You look down shyly, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

“I should go and check if he needs anything,” He nods politely to you, jogging up the stairs towards his brother.

You walk through towards the kitchen, stopping at the scattering of photos Conrad had framed on the wall in the entrance hallway. Each one was a polaroid photo of him and Maeve, holding a different birthday cake in each one with a different number for each year, each one a different bright color. In every photo, he had Maeve sat on his knee, his arm held around her tightly, both of their smiles just as bright in each one. In every year that has passed it had always just been the two of them. Sure, they might have had some family or friends around, but when the days ended and the night fell, it was just him and her. And it always had been. There was something so admiral about it, you thought, his ability to take fatherhood completely in his stride. And he sure seemed like a natural at it.

“She’s asleep.”

His voice makes you flinch, turning around to see him just stepping down from the last step.

“She wanted Uncle Jere to stay with her so he agreed,” Conrad smiles, “They’re both fast asleep up there now.”

You chuckle, “Babysitting is tiring work.”

“Yeah, yeah, it is,” Conrad comes up behind you, looking over your shoulder at the photos across the wall.

You feel your breath hitch at the feeling of him so close behind you, like you could practically feel his shadow wrapping around behind you.

“That one on her fourth birthday,” Conrad points over your shoulder at the photo, “I’d planned this whole party for her - I’d invited Jere and my Dad, and the Conklins as well. And then there was this storm in Philly and none of them could get here, and my Dad and Jere had some big problem at the company and couldn’t make it. And Maeve woke up that morning and I felt horrible. Like I was the worst Dad in the world.”

You frown at the sound of him talking about himself like that, turning your head just enough to watch him talk.

“And then she came downstairs and she saw all of her presents waiting, and I’d blown up all of these balloons, and she just threw her arms around me and-“ Conrad smiles, his voice cracking over the memory, “I just remember thinking that was all I needed. And then I was all she needed too. We made pancakes, we had a dance party in the lounge, we watched her favorite movie, and then I set up my camera on a timer and we still took our photo together.”

You smile, feeling a lump form in your throat at the thought.

“She told me that night that it was the best birthday she’d ever had,” He chuckles, “I don’t even know if she could remember her other birthdays but… I still believed her.”

You take a deep breath, turning around to face him, “You know Conrad, you’re always allowed to put her first. Always. I don’t want you to feel bad about choosing to come home tonight.”

“I-“ Conrad sighs deeply, “I just felt like I ruined our night.”

“Hey, no,” You shake your head, “You didn’t ruin anything. You had to be a Dad, I’d be stupid and ridiculously selfish to not see that.”

“So, I know you said you don’t date your students’ parents,” He pauses, tilting his head a little as he looks down at you, “But would you break that rule a second time?”

You laugh gently, quietly, like neither of you wanted to disturb the moment between you, “Yeah, yeah, I think I would.”

“Yeah?” Conrad feels the corners of his lips upturn, hopeful for the first time in a long time.

“Yeah.”

Conrad smiles, leaning down slowly, his eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips. And then, softly, gently, his lips meet yours. As you kiss him back, it ignites the confidence in him, his hands moving to your waist, firm and sure of themselves.

You pull away, your hands resting on his chest.

“So I know dinner ended early,” Conrad says lowly, “How does dinner and a movie sound?”

“It sounds perfect,” You smile, a gesture that seemed instinctive as soon as he was around.

“Come on,” He laces his hand with yours, leading you through the house to the lounge.

You both sit on the couch, debating over a movie to watch before settling for a random action movie Conrad scrolls far enough to find. He’s nervous at first, sitting next to you like a teenage boy on his first date. You shuffle closer to him, lifting his arm up from beside him to loop around you. He blushes bashfully, looking down.

“Sorry,” He chuckles, “Can you tell I haven’t done this in a while?”

You lean into his chest, both of you relaxing into each other, “You’re doing just fine.

He shifts his hand so that it’s around your waist, drawing you close to him.

And somewhere in the comfort and the mediocre film and the hour growing late, both of you doze into a welcome sleep.

———

“Daddy! Wake up Daddy!”

You’re bolted awake by two little hands shaking at your legs. And, reluctantly, your eyes adjust to the bright light of the morning, Conrad’s arm still around you, your head still on his chest, and Maeve now stood in front of both of you trying to shake you both awake.

“Hey darling,” Conrad grumbles, rubbing a hand over his eyes to try to get them to focus on the morning.

He shifts beside you as both of you sit up against the couch, his arms reaching up to scoop Maeve into his grasp.

“Good morning you two,” Jeremiah speaks up, walking around to flop down onto the armchair in the lounge.

“Morning,” Conrad mumbles tiredly, sitting Maeve onto his knee.

“Miss Teacher did you have a sleepover with my Daddy?” Maeve asks you, holding her dog toy in her arms.

“I did, yeah,” You smile, tiredly at her, “And you got to come and wake us up!”

“My Uncle Jere told me to,” She says and Jeremiah grins widely from his seat, “Will you stay over again?”

You look over to Conrad and he smiles softly, “Would you like that Maeve?”

She nods eagerly.

“Well I can’t say no to you,” You laugh, looking over to Conrad, “Or you.”

He grins, tilting his head to kiss the top of Maeve’s head softly.

———Eight Months Later———

“Happy birthday beautiful!” You grin widely as Maeve greets you at the door, wearing a bright green dress and a party hat on her head.

“Thank you Miss Teacher!” She grins, letting you scoop her into your arms, her small arms wrapping around your neck.

“Did you have a good morning with your Daddy?” You ask her, “Did he make… pancakes?”

“Lots and lots of them!” She beams, kicking her legs excitedly.

“Hey!” Conrad smiles warmly when he sees you, “I see Maeve got to you before I could.”

You smile as he walks over to you, leaning down to kiss you quickly.

“Do you want to see what presents I got you?” You say to Maeve and she’s quick to wiggle out of your arms to get down to the floor, “Here you go honey.”

She takes the big bag from you and runs towards the lounge.

“Maeve what do you say?” Conrad calls after her and he’s met with a loud ‘thank you’ from his daughter, followed by the sound of wrapping paper tearing

He turns around to you, kissing you for a moment longer.

“Thank you,” He repeats on behalf of his daughter, wrapping an arm around your waist as the two of you walk through to where she was already opening the first gift.

“Daddy look at this!” Maeve yells excitedly, holding up the doctor Barbie you’d got her, “She’s like you!”

“Look at that,” Conrad smiles, eyeing you as he does, “I bought her a teacher Barbie too.”

You grin, “Well, now she can have both.”

He kisses you again, turning to watch as Maeve opens up a craft set you’d got her and a bundle of new books.

“Thank you Miss Teacher!” Maeve scrambles up from her spot and comes over to wrap her arms around your legs, “Best presents ever!”

“Is that right?” You grin mischievously, looking over to Conrad who simply rolls his eyes.

“Are you okay to wait here for a second?” Conrad squeezes your hand.

“Sure.”

You crouch down as Maeve starts bringing you over toys she’d been given - a kitchen set that Uncle Jere had bought her, a bunch of games that Uncle Steven had bought.

Just then, Conrad comes walking back into the room, now holding a small heart shaped cake with white frosting and rainbow sprinkles and the number ‘6’ in a big green candle on top.

“Oh look at this Maeve!”

You grin and lift her up onto the couch, extending your arms to take the cake from Conrad. He drops down onto the couch beside her and she instantly clambers onto his knee, her feet kicking excitedly as you both sing ‘happy birthday’ to her.

She shuts her eyes tightly and blows out the candle and you both cheer.

“Alright are you ready?”

You pass the cake over to Conrad’s free hand as he holds one arm around Maeve’s torso. You grab the camera from the coffee table and hold it up to the two of them.

“Alright big smiles!” You grin, correcting the angle to get them both into frame.

Maeve and Conrad offer you matching smiles as you snap the photo of the two of the, letting the photo print out from the camera.

“Daddy we need to put it on the wall!”

“I know darling,” Conrad chuckles, setting the cake down onto the table, “We’ll put it up before you go to bed, okay?”

You go to stand up from where you are and Conrad reaches his free hand out to stop you.

“Where are you going?”

You frown, “Wh-“

“Come here,” He tugs your arm, encouraging you to sit down beside him.

He takes the camera from your hand and outstretches an arm in front of all three of you.

“Maeve can you do one more big smile?” Conrad squeezes her into him.

You lean in on the other side of him, and all three of you smile widely at the camera as he snaps the photo.

It prints out and Conrad takes it from the top, Maeve wriggling down from his leg to go over and admire her cake.

It develops in front of the two of you and Conrad holds it in his hands.

“Look at her little face,” You smile at Maeve’s cheesy grin, “She looks so much like you there.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to see it more now she’s growing up,” He nods, “I think she looks like my Mom.”

You feel your heart clench and you squeeze his arm at the confession, leaning into him like you were reminding him of any comfort you could give.

He turns and kisses your head, adjusting on the couch to take his wallet from his pocket, tucking the photo inside.

He looks back at you and kisses you longingly, sealing you there in this moment, in this house, in this family. For the first time in a long time Conrad had let himself open his heart and his home to someone and he counted his lucky stars that it was you who he’d done that for.

And as he looked over, Maeve looked back at him with the cheesiest grin and he wondered for a moment if he was finally accepting that he didn’t need to be all she needed. He saw the way her face lit up when he saw you, the way you spoke to her and listened to every word she said, the way you took her under your wing without a second thought. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that you were a good and bright and needed presence in Maeve’s life, just as much as you were all of those things in his.

“Care to share?” You wince against the cold breeze outside, closing the door behind you, walking the short steps over to where Conrad sat on the grass.

He glances up at you, joint held between his lips as if you had frozen him mid-movement, “Your Mom would kill me.”

“Well, she’s already asleep,” You point out, sitting down beside him, drawing your knees up to your chest.

“Okay, then your brother would kill me,” Conrad persists, taking another long drag and inhaling deeply.

You go to reach for it from his grasp and he draws it away, holding it far enough away for you not to reach. You’re inches from his face, the distinct scent lingering in the space between you.

“What will you give me in return?” His voice is low, gruff, hoarse in the consequence of the smoke.

You swallow the lump in your throat, pulling away from him as if you’d just returned to reality. You nudge his shoulder, returning to his side, “Maybe I should be convincing you to quit.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s bad for my brain function or whatever,” He rolls his eyes.

“No, just drugs tend to make people make bad decisions,” You shrug, wrapping your arms around you tightly to keep the warmth in.

He puts out the rest of the joint into the ashtray beside him, not breaking eye contact away from you.

“What kind of bad decisions?” He mumbles, the words quiet across his lips.

Your eyes are on him, his on you. And you’re both leaning in before you have a chance to consider it. His hand moves up, cups your cheek. And then his lips are on yours. And his hand moves around to tangle into your hair, like he was desperate to draw more of you into him. You grip tightly at his sweatshirt, twisting the material into your fists.

It’s heated and desperate and messy and you feel as though every nerve ending in your body is ignited under his contact.

Conrad moves a hand behind your back, shifting his weight just enough that he guides the two of you to the grass, your head against the lawn, your back still drawing up towards him like you were magnetised. He kisses you deeply, certainly, the taste of beer and weed lingering on his tongue. His hips drive against yours, one hand slipping beneath your sweater to make contact with your skin - his touch burning hot.

“Stop, stop,” You push him up enough to pull away from you, as if his hands had brought you back to earth.

Conrad breathes heavily, looking at you as if he was trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong.

“We can’t do this,” You shake your head, trying to catch your breath against your words.

“Yes, we can,” He smirks, “We absolutely can.”

“Con,” You roll your eyes, pushing to sit up as he moves off of you, returning to his seat beside you instead, “Both of our families are asleep upstairs.”

“The key word there being asleep,” He points out.

“And they would kill us if they found out something happened.”

“That’s not true,” Conrad says matter-of-factly.

“Okay,” You take a breath, dragging a hand through your hair in the absence of his grip, “I’m not keen on being a hookup on your lawn when you’re drunk and high. Is that enough of a reason for you?”

Conrad swallows the lump in his throat, “That’s not what this is and you know it.”

You’re sure he hasn’t taken his eyes away from you once, like he couldn’t possibly tear them away if he tried.

“That’s all it could be, Con,” You breathe shakily, “You know Steven would-“

“I don’t give a shit what your brother would or wouldn’t do,” He snaps, “He can’t control what you do for the rest of your life, Conklin.”

“He’s not-“ You pause, taking a breath again, “That’s not what he’s doing. He just thinks… that this would be a bad idea.”

Conrad scoffs, “Yeah, I’d be the worst idea.”

He stands up from the grass, stepping past you and towards the direction of the gate.

“Where are you going?” You call after him.

In that moment, Conrad pulls his car keys out of his pocket, and you feel your heart sink.

“Conrad dont do this,” You chase after him a little quicker.

“I’m fine,” He returns coldly, unlocking the Range Rover and swinging the door open.

“Conrad!” You place your hand over his, “Stop it.”

“I’m getting in the car, you either come with me or you don’t.”

You and Conrad had a dynamic not dissimilar from this for a good while now. Him doing something destructive, you standing by his side so he wasn’t alone whilst he did it. It had gotten worse since he found out his Mom was sick again. He’d called you drunk and told you. The same after he heard her and Adam arguing over his affair. You’d been there every time, driving from Philly to see him, staying on the phone until he fell asleep, pleading with him to be reasonable. Now, you were back in Cousins for the summer and he was worse than ever - quitting football, drinking more, smoking weed like he couldn’t live without it. And you were there every single time. Steven, your brother, hated it. He never really understood why you gave Conrad so much energy, and you just told him you were being a good friend. Deep down it was because you hoped things would change. And even deeper down it was because you were terrified of what would happen if nobody was there. Now, no different than normal, you bite.

“Fine,” You clench your jaw, walking around to the passenger side and getting in.

Conrad gets into the driver’s seat and slams the door shut, eyeing you through the rearview mirror. You click in your seatbelt, staring directly ahead as he reverses out of the driveway. He swings the car onto the road and accelerates away, the kind of pace that makes you grip your seat with the hand he couldn’t see.

“You need to stop acting like this Conrad,” You break the silence, breathing deeply.

“Like what?” His eyes still on you, through the mirror, like you were the view he needed to focus on.

“Like you’re willing to destroy everything,” You return, “I know this year has been shit but you-“

“You have no idea,” He shakes his head, practically scoffing over the words.

“Really? That’s how you want to do this Conrad?” You spit, “How many times have I been on the phone for hours? How many times have I driven to see you? How many times have I stopped you from doing something really fucking stupid?”

“And how do you think that feels?” He raises his voice, raising his speed too, the car fighting to keep up with his intensity, “You know I don’t want to be just this. You know I want to be more. Every time you’re on the phone, every time you’re here, I want to be more.”

“Con-“

“I know I’m not good enough for you, okay? I know that,” He shakes his head, knuckles turning white on the wheel, “But, god, it’s killing me. I love you. I really fucking love you.”

“Conrad stop the car,” You place your hand on the dashboard like it’s grounding you to the moment, like you’re begging the car to stop itself, “Conrad!”

He slams the brakes, the car coming to a grounding halt, your seatbelt taut in the tension of you flying forward. Your hands were trembling, and Conrad looks over to you like he’s terrified of his own actions. He’d have kept driving. He’d have put you both in trouble. He’d have kept driving just to tell you he loved you. Destructive. That’s all he was.

“I love you, you know I do,” Your voice trembles in the same way as your body, “But I can’t just be the person that stops you from wrecking your life. I can’t just be here to save you. I can’t just be someone you need.”

His eyes burn into you, like in that moment he could let the rest of his days waste away, never once tearing his eyes away from you.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” You swallow the lump in your throat, “I’ll be there for you, and I’ll care for you, but that’s all.”

Both of you stay there. In silence. In the stationary car. Waiting for something to change. Waiting for something to give. You bite your lip to stop the tears brewing in your eyes. And Conrad’s eyes stay on you, his body and mind sobering up, his heart still intoxicated in his desperate need to reach out for you.

———

You were back in Cousins the following summer, the summer after Susannah had passed, the summer that the boys thought they’d be losing the beach house.

And, tonight, you’d all agreed on having one last big party at the house to celebrate, or perhaps to drown your sorrows.

“Do you think we have enough?” Steven grunts as he sets down another crate of beer onto the table.

“Honestly? No,” You joke, setting down another crate beside his, “I don’t think we could ever have enough.”

The party was already in full swing, and Jere had convinced some friends to bring more drink, which you were now all hauling in from their truck outside. There was music blasting from the speakers in the lounge, and drinks sprawled across the kitchen table as if you were planning on partying for days on end.

You and Conrad had remained friends in the past year, even more so since he’d lost Susannah. You’d driven back and forth to see him more times than you could count. The two of you would drive for hours talking through things, or you’d park up somewhere to see the stars and spend hours out there. When you’d gone to stay with him at college, the two of you had shared his twin dorm bed, waking up with his arm draped over your waist, and think nothing of it. You weren’t together, it wasn’t romantic, and nobody needed to know anything of it either.

Now that you were both back in Cousins, you had to prioritise making sure that he was okay. That’s all. Being there for him, being there for Jere, doing what you could do not lose the house.

“Here,” Steven passes you a, open bottle and you take it from him.

“Thanks.”

He stands beside you, both of you leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“So what’s going on?” Your brother nudges your shoulder, his height towering above you.

“I just can’t believe they won’t- we won’t have this house anymore.”

“Yeah, I kind of just thought Conrad would figure something out and we’d solve it,” Steven inhales, “But this doesn’t seem like something we can fix.”

“Yeah,” You exhale, “This is it.”

He pauses for a moment, watching as your eyes trail up towards a particular face across the room. The face your eyes would always return to, at any chance. And, as they always seemed to be, his eyes were on her too.

“I guess that’s one thing that hasn’t changed, then,” Steven clears his throat, “Will it ever?”

“Wh-“ You tear your eyes away from Conrad, “What do you mean?”

“You still have that look in your eye. You’d drop everything for him. I mean, you do, you’re here,” He reminds you, “I know you took time off of college to see him when Susannah passed. I know you missed that interview because of it, and nearly failed your final.”

“Come on, it’s not like that,” You shake your head, “He lost his Mom, we lost Susannah. He needed me.”

“Right,” Steven nods, “And would he do the same? If you needed him, would he drop everything for you?”

“I-“ You look down, reluctant to accept the burning eyes of your brother on you, “I don’t need him to.”

“That’s my point!” Steven shakes his head, “You shouldn’t have to be what you wouldn’t expect from him. You shouldn’t drop everything for someone that just needs you there.”

“He’s our friend, Steven,” You defend, wrapping your arms around your torso.

“Yeah, and you’re seriously telling me you do all of this just because that’s all you want him to be?”

You don’t respond.

“Right,” Steven nods, “Just… you can be there for him, and you can care about him, and still not put him ahead of yourself. Don’t ruin your own life trying to stop him from ruining his. You can’t just be his fucking saviour all the time. That’s not fair on you. And eventually it’s just going to hurt you both.”

He walks away from you then, turning away, disappearing into the crowd of people. You feel a lump in your throat that doesn’t subside, a hesitation in your heart that was normally so unwaveringly sure of itself.

And then you turn back to Conrad.

As you so often did.

He stands with his eyes no longer focused on you. Instead, a girl you didn’t recognise stands in front of him. She laughs at something and throws her head back, the corners of his mouth turning up just slightly. And then her hand reaches out and touches his arm, her touch remaining there for a moment too long. It’s so strangely innocent. And yet you feel your entire body tense up at the sight. Your vision blurs with a brimming of tears in your eyes, ones brewing from Steven’s words. And your heart, already weak and aching, seemed to sink a little as if this time it had truly given up.

You knew it, in that moment. You would do anything he asked you to. If he were halfway across the world, you’d book the next flight if he called. If he needed you, you’d find a way to be what he needed. And yet, this time last year, when he’d needed you to love him, you couldn’t do it.

You’d never felt this way with anyone. And you weren’t sure you ever would.

You set your forgotten drink back onto the counter and disappear out of the house, like you’re searching for somewhere that would let you breathe. It was as if you were lost, like you’d spent so long trying to bring Conrad back to himself that you’d lost yourself somewhere on the way.

“What are you doing out here?”

The voice you didn’t want to hear.

You’re halfway down the yard when he comes out.

“Leave me alone Conrad, I’m fine.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” He returns, the sound of his footsteps following behind you.

“Just go back inside.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“Can you please just fuck off Conrad?” You turn around, at the start of the dock, your arms flailing to try to emphasise your desire to get him away from you.

He flinches, halting in his steps, “What’s happened? Why won’t you tell me?”

You clench your jaw, shaking your head, turning around to carry on your path down towards the end of the dock.

“Can you please just stop?” Conrad hurries after you towards the end of the dock, grabbing your arm to stop you in your tracks.

You stop, tugging your arm away from him, turning around to face him, “I can’t keep doing this with you.”

“Doing what?” Conrad’s eyes flick between yours.

You realise then that this is your moment. This was your one chance for him to know how you felt.

“This!” You gesture between the two of you, “I can’t keep being there at your beck and call, I can’t keep pretending like it’s normal for me to drive through the night to see you, or stay up talking to you or lose sleep worrying about you. I can’t pretend like that’s normal.”

Conrad frowns, “I don’t-“

“You call and I come running, Conrad,” You snap, “You click your fingers and I’ll be there. And you fucking know it too.”

“What are you-“

“You want me there and I’m there. And you know that no matter how shitty you are to me I’d still be there.”

Conrad shakes his head, “Yeah I know but I-“

“Would you do the same for me?”

His shoulders drop, like he’d gone to speak and then realised he didn’t have anything to say.

“You can’t say that you would, can you?”

“Of course I-“ He stops, “I care about you.”

“Yeah, and I care about people too but you know that’s not what it is with you,” You shake your head, “I thought we’d stopped this a year ago. I thought we’d got past this then.”

“I told you I loved you!” Conrad defends, his voice rising to match yours, “You were the one that rejected me.”

“I would do anything for you Conrad,” Your voice breaks, “I would break myself again and again and again. I would drop everything. I would do anything for you to look at me like you loved me.”

His lips part but no words come to fruition.

“Is that how you love me?” You feel tears brim in your eyes, “Can you honestly tell me that you love me like that?”

He doesn’t speak, his eyes focused on yours like he was wishing for this moment to stop, to erase it completely.

“Okay,” Your voice breaks over the word, gathering every ounce of strength you had left in you to push past Conrad and walk in the opposite direction, towards the house, towards the cars, anywhere where he wouldn’t be.

Conrad sinks down onto one of the benches on the dock, his heart racing, his breath fighting to keep up. He could feel his chest constricting, twisting. Like his body was electrified in your presence and now panicked in your absence. He grips his hands around his upper arms, wrapping his limbs around himself to seek any sort of comfort. Tears brimmed in his eyes, kissed at his cheeks. Last year it had felt so simple to tell you he loved you. And yet, now, as you’d stood and bared your soul to him, he couldn’t get his heart to confess to a single thing. He couldn’t do it.

Telling you that he loved you now would mean telling you he thought he could love you in the way you deserved. And he wasn’t sure he had it in him to be good enough for that. He wasn’t sure he could rely on himself to not hurt you.

But watching you walk away like that, part of him was sure he’d hurt you too much already. And he could never take that back.

————

You drive back to Philly that night. You text Steven and Belly to tell them you’d see them whenever they wanted to come back home. When they’re concerned, you promise that you’re okay. And then you lock your phone, toss it into a bag and hope to forget about it.

Your Mom has a million questions when you return and, when you tell her what was happening with the house in Cousins, she’s quick to tell you that she needs to go to help them. So that’s it. You’re back in Philly alone whilst everyone else was there. It was funny, really, your Mom’s response. So quick to drop everything to be there. That’s where you got it from. That’s the trait in you that had led you to here.

The next morning there are a few missed calls on your phone - two from Steven, one from Belly, three from Conrad. You lock your phone again, traipse down the staircase and halt in your steps as you notice the blurred figure of someone approaching your front door. In low light, in blurry vision, through frosted glass, you knew who it was.

Three knocks at the door.

You pause, your feet frozen on the staircase. Even in escaping him you couldn’t get away.

“Come on I know you’re home,” His words make you jump, another knock at the door.

You take a deep breath, shakier than you’d imagined, and trail down the rest of the staircase.

Your fingers fumble over the latch, unbolting the door before opening it, slowly, uncertainly.

“Will you talk to me now?” Conrad’s shoulders hang low, his eyes puffy and accompanied by dark circles.

“You shouldn’t have driven here,” You comment, “You were drinking.”

“Yeah, I slept it off for a couple of hours and then got in my car.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“Well, Im here aren’t I?” He shrugs tiredly, “Will you let me in?”

You think about it for a moment, reluctant to step away from the door. But, as you always could do when Conrad asked, you oblige.

“Why did you leave last night?”

Your breath catches in your throat. He wasn’t here because he needed you. He was here because he wanted you.

“I wasn’t in much of a party mood.”

“I looked for you everywhere. I searched the house, I went to the beach, I called you.”

“Yeah, my phone was off.”

“You didn’t give me a chance to reply to you last night,” He points out, both of you stood metres apart in the lounge like this was something of a flying visit.

“Conrad I don’t need to hear you-“

“You’re right,” He admits, “About everything. Well, about most things.”

You feel your heart sink, cracking a little on its way down.

“I do need you,” He confesses, “I mean I don’t even want to think about what would have happened the past few years if I hadn’t had you.”

There’s a clench in your chest already.

“But I just treat you like… like you’ll always be there. And that’s not fair on you,” He shakes his head, “I just expect you to be there to fix how I’m feeling, fix what I’ve done, fix who I am.”

“Con-“

“Just let me say this,” He practically winces over the words, “I don’t want you to be my saviour anymore.”

Your hearts fully on the floor then, sinking, shattering.

“But when I told you I loved you last year I meant it. Not because I need your help or I need you to fix me or I need you to be there. Because I want you. I look at you and I see the only person who knows me, who makes me feel like I can be better than I am.”

Your breath catches in your throat, tears brimming at your eyes.

“But all I’ve done for the past two years is hurt you. I shouldn’t have kissed you at the house, I shouldn’t have called you every time I needed someone around. I should have been figuring shit out to make sure I was someone worthy of loving you.”

“You’re not-“

He steps towards you and your words seem to disappear. His hand reaches out for yours and you don’t pull away.

“I’m-“ He stops, “I’m still not the guy you deserve.”

“Conrad…” You whisper, squeezing his hand like it would give more than any words could.

“I’m moving to California,” He admits, “I got offered the transfer to Stanford and I’m going to take it.”

No words.

“I love you. And my chest physically hurts to not be able to give you what you deserve,” His tears spill onto his cheeks, “But I will. I’ll get my life together in California, I’ll stop smoking, I’ll cut back on the drinking, I’ll do what I need to do.”

He smoothes his thumb over your hand, his skin rough and yet his touch so gentle.

“I’ll do better, I’ll be better, I’ll be someone who’s worthy of telling you that they love you,” He smiles softly, “And I’m just sorry I couldn’t do that sooner.”

He leans forward, pressing a soft, longing kiss to your forehead.

You both pause there for a moment longer, before Conrad takes a step back, inhales sharply and turns around, walking back out of the house as if he’d never been there.

You stand in the exact spot he’d left you, your entire body electrified by his touch and yet your heart numb and empty in his absence.

You watch him climb back into his car, breathing shakily as his hands grip the wheel. And then, he drives.

“This is a great photo of us,” You comment matter-of-factly, setting the frame onto the shelf in front of you.

In your hands was a photo of you and Conrad at your graduation this summer. He had his arm low around your waist, your hand on his chest, both of you beaming wildly in your caps and gowns as Laurel had told you how beautiful you both looked. She’d spent the day with Adam and your parents, taking a million photos with nothing but pride on her face.

Conrad looks up from the couch, newspaper held in his hands, the radio playing faintly in the background “Every photo of us is a great photo.”

“That’s absolutely not true,” You scoff, “Don’t you remember the matching Christmas sweaters my Mom got us? That photo made us look like siblings!”

Conrad grimaces at the thought, “You’re right, okay, I take it back.”

You set up another frame with a photo of him and Laurel, and another one of you and your parents - all on your graduation days a mere month ago. It had felt like a whirlwind. You and Conrad officially graduating as doctors, years of work paying off in the end. You would go back and re-live it all if you could.

“Laurel looks so happy for you,” You smile, looking down at the photo of the two of them.

Conrad stands up from the couch, setting down his newspaper to focus on you, “Yeah, she must’ve told us about a hundred times.”

He steps over to the radio and turns the volume up just a little when a song you like starts to play.

“She’s proud of you,” You remind him, letting him rest his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder, “I’m proud of you.”

He hums, kissing your cheek longingly, “Thanks doc.”

You giggle, turning around in his arms. You loop your arms around his neck and he sways the two of you back and forth, humming along to the song.

“We should go to see Laurel soon,” Conrad suggests, your head now against his chest.

“Yeah, maybe we can plan to all be in Cousins at the same time,” You say, running your hands down to rest on his back.

“That might not be as easy when we get jobs,” He points out, “I guess it’s going to be a bit harder to see anyone.”

You pull away from him, a frown between your brows, “Hey, don’t worry, we’ll figure something out,” You encourage, “We’ll get time off, we just need to think ahead a bit more.”

“Yeah,” Conrad nods, “Yeah, of course.”

“Yeah?” You frown, pouting your lips the way Conrad knew you did when you didn’t quite believe him.

“Don’t give me that look,” He taps your nose, with the pad of his index finger, his lips curling into a smile.

You go to speak again but he kisses you softly, gently, sweetly.

“I love you,” He kisses you again.

You two had been together for just under two years now and what baffled you the most was how Conrad had remained just as romantic now as he had been when you first got together. He still made you feel butterflies when he touched you, still made you want to cry when he remembered something so little. He was still every bit of the man he’d promised to be when the two of you had first got together. And now, graduated and thinking about the next chapter, you were glad it was him you’d gone through it all with.

———

Conrad cooks that night, trying out a new recipe that Jeremiah had made and sent him. There are pots and pans and baking trays sprawled across the kitchen and every time you glance over he tells you ‘surely it’s not worth all of this mess’. But he makes it all and brings over the two bowls to the couch for both of you.

“You’ll have to tell Jere you made it,” You comment, “Send him a photo.”

“We’ve been together for how long?” Conrad raises his brows, “And you think I’m going to take a photo of my food.”

You giggle, grabbing your own phone and holding it up to take a photo, “Say cheese!”

You take a quick photo of him and his bowl of food before he has a chance to protest and then watch as Conrad sighs, his head tilting in that way of ‘you’re so annoying and somehow it doesn’t matter’.

“I love you too,” You nudge his leg with your foot and he grabs it before you can pull away, pulling your legs to rest over his lap so the two of you were drawn close together, revelling in the warmth and comfort of each others company - Conrad had grown to love eating dinner on the couch, for moments exactly like this.

You sit there in comfortable silence, occasionally pointing out that this food actually was pretty good. And then you ask;

“Do you think you’d want to leave this place?”

Conrad looks at you, a furrow between his brows, “The apartment? Or the city?”

“Both, I guess,” You nod, looking over to him.

He pauses momentarily, “I guess I’d not thought about it. We’re happy here, aren’t we?”

You giggle, “Can you imagine if I said no?”

He rests a hand on your legs over his lap, “Aren’t we?”

“Yes, of course, we’re very happy Con,” You encourage, and then your tone shifts a little, “I’m just wondering if you’ve ever thought about going somewhere else?”

Conrad narrows his eyes, “Why would we leave if we’re happy here?”

You nod, “Yeah, we love California.”

“We do.”

“So you’re happy if we stay here?”

He squeezes your thigh, his thumb smoothing over the bare skin, “I’m happy where you are.”

There’s a twinge in your heart. Not insecurity or uncertainty. Just wonder. That’s how you’d describe it. The slight wonder that maybe that didn’t need to be completely true of California. Now that college was finished, were you both completely certain this was the place for you to stay. Or would you be making the wrong decision if you left?

———

Conrad’s hunched over his laptop when you get home, headphones on, pen rested between his lips, notepad beside him scrawled with his handwriting.

“You know school’s over right?” You mention as you close the door behind you, “You don’t need to study anymore.”

He pulls his headphone away from his ear when he sees you, “I’m not studying, I’m job hunting.”

You scrunch up your nose, “That sounds a bit serious.”

Conrad nods, “Well, if we want to be employed, it’s a necessary evil of adulthood.”

“What if I don’t want to be employed? Couldn’t we just stay in the apartment and do nothing for the rest of our lives?” You joke, taking a pack of muffins out of your bag.

“We can save that for retirement,” Conrad presses, “For now, I’ll browse through non-existent jobs.”

“There’s really nothing?” You come up behind him and wrap your arms around his shoulders, setting the muffins in front of him.

Conrad shakes his head, as he scrolls through the page you glance up to see a tab at the top of the page titled ‘Massachussets General Hospital’. He moves his hand to the top of the screen and closes it down before you have a chance to ask anything.

“We’ll find something,” He assures you, “And if not then we’ll ask Namazy about the research job again.”

“You don’t want a research job,” You remind him, watching as he turns in his chair to face you.

He sets his hands onto your waist, pulling you to stand between his legs, “No, but I want to be doing something.”

You run your hands up into his hair and he relaxes at the touch, his eyes closing. You could feel the tension in him, the ounces of worry.

“I just need to make a quick call, but do you want to go out for lunch after?” You suggest, running your hands around to the back of his neck.

“Yeah, sure,” He turns to kiss the inside of your arm, “I’m going to take a shower.”

You kiss him quickly, pulling your phone out of your pocket and walking out onto the small balcony outside of the apartment.

“Jere! Hey,” You say as soon as he answers the phone, “How’s it going?”

“Good, yeah, busy at the restaurant but good,” Jeremiah returns, “How come you’re calling?”

“I wanted to ask you something,” You exhale, “About the beach house.”

———

“Hey! It was super busy at the gym so I just went for a run and I-“ Conrad stops as he walks into the apartment, his keys held in his hand, stopping in his tracks when he sees you, “What… what’s going on?”

You’re stood in front of the kitchen island, his laptop in front of you, a single key laying beside it.

“Wh-“ Conrad closed the door behind him, his face flushed with worry, “Is everything okay? What… why’s your key… what’s happening?”

“It’s not my key,” You take a deep breath, “Well, it’s our key, if you want it to be.”

You step around from the island and walk the few steps towards him.

“To the beach house,” You exhale, “I spoke to Jere and he agreed, he thinks we should move in, permanently.”

Conrad looks down at the key in your hands, and then back up to you, speechless.

“Look, I know there’s a lot of things to think about and I know it’s a big decision and, sure, the house might need some work but-“ You shake your head, “Why not?”

Conrad’s lips part like he’s trying to find the words to say and still can’t.

“Mass general are hiring for junior doctors,” You continue, “It would be an hour to commute, we could make it work. I contacted Dr Namazy and she’s given us both recommendation letters. We just need to apply.”

When he doesn’t speak then you feel your chest clench.

“Please say something,” You breathe out shakily.

Conrad snaps back to reality then when he hears the wobble in your voice, stepping forward to hold you, grabbing your arms in his hands, “Are you… are you sure about this? California to Boston is… it’s a big move.”

“I know,” You nod, “But California is always going to be here whenever we need it to be.”

“But I mean… living in Cousins, are you sure that’s what you want?” He looks between your eyes, “It’s okay if you don’t, okay?”

“You have these beautiful memories of growing up there, and summers and Christmases and-“ You smile, “What would be better than us getting to start making our own memories there too, new memories?”

“I-“ Conrad’s lips turn up, that sort of soft, shadow of a smile, “You don’t need to do this for me, you know that right?”

“I’m not doing this for you,” You shake your head, “I’m doing this for us. The junior doctor program looks amazing, we’d get to try out different departments, learn from all these great people, and get to go home to somewhere that feels like home. We could fix up the house, host everyone in the summer, we could go to New York for weekends when we have days off and you could see Jere more and… we could have a whole life there Con.”

Conrad moves his hands down, squeezing your hands, “This is… it’s…”

“I know it’s a lot but we-“

“It’s perfect,” Conrad beams, “The hospital… the house… you… it’s everything.”

You grin, feeling every ounce of worry dissipate, “Then, all that’s left to do is finish off our applications!”

You go to step back towards the laptop and he grabs you quickly, spinning you back to him.

“And this.”

He cups your face in his hands, kissing you strongly and firmly, lovingly and excitedly, both of you smiling into each other’s lips.

———

The next month flies by in a whirlwind. You and Conrad both get accepted for interviews at Mass General, and both prep for your online interviews as if it were the most important days of your lives. You end your lease on the apartment and start packing everything up into boxes to bring over to Cousins. And piece by piece you were starting to get ready to leave the place that had been home for all these years. Everything was packed away now, all ready to be moved out tomorrow morning.

You hadn’t heard back since your second interviews last week. But it would be any day now, you knew it. Though it was starting to dawn on you now that tonight was your last night in California and yet you still didn’t have a job waiting for you in Boston.

You and Conrad had debated going out for your last night here but decided against it - agreeing that you both wanted one last night in the apartment. He’d ordered pizzas and made chocolate covered strawberries and bought you a bottle of wine to share, laid a blanket down on the empty floor of the lounge and lit a few candles to somewhat make a romantic setting.

When the doorbell rings, he steps up to go and get the pizzas, thanking the man.

And then your phone rings.

A Massachusetts number.

“Hello?” You feel your heart clench.

Conrad turns around instantly, knowing from the look on your face it was only one phone call you were receiving.

“Yeah, that’s me,” You breathe into the line, eyes focused on Conrad, “Wow! Um, yes, thank you, thank you so much.”

Conrad’s face breaks into a wide grin, your own doing the same as you thank them profusely.

“Okay, I can’t wait, thank you!” You hang up as soon as you can, solely focused on the boy in front of you, “I got it! They just offered it to me!”

He tosses the pizza boxes onto the kitchen counter, reaching out for you and lifting you up, spinning you around in a tight circle. Before he can even set you down, his own phone starts to ring. He lowers you to the ground, takes his phone out of his pocket, and answers to the same number.

“Hello?” He begins, swallowing the lump in his throat, looking down at where you stood in front of him, his hand still on your waist, “This is, yeah.”

He pauses, his eyes scanning your face, no obvious signs of a reaction yet.

And then his lips curl upwards, his grip on you tightening even more.

“Thank you, yeah, definitely, thank you!” Conrad beams, “I look forward to working with you too. Okay, bye.”

“You got it?”

“I got it,” Conrad lips curl up, “We got it!”

He picks you up again, your legs swinging behind you, you gripping onto him tightly, holding onto each other into this new chapter.

“Come on, the pizza’s going to go cold,” Conrad settles you down, one hand still around your waist, the other reaching for the pizza boxes, “Are you ready for our last dinner in the apartment?”

You look around at the empty rooms, feeling that twang in your heart that always came at the thought of letting something go, “I’m ready, let’s do it.”

You sit on a blanket on the floor, sharing pizza and reminiscing over the tiniest memories in this place. Like the time Conrad tried to fix the shower and somehow broke it even more - you’d come home to him shouting and cursing at the water as it sprayed all over the bathroom. Or the time a baby bird had landed on the balcony and you’d spent days nursing it back to health - you’d cried the day it left and even Conrad had a tear in his eye. Or the time you’d eventually decided to move Conrad’s bed into your room at the two of you had to figure out how to switch everything over - you’d broken into a fit of laughter about halfway into carrying the bed across and your knees buckled and both of you dropped the bed onto the floor in the lounge and gave up for at least another couple of hours.

“Conrad can I ask you something?” You say, the two of you sat leaning back against the wall, empty pizza boxes on the floor.

“Of course.”

“When we first moved in here,” You begin, turning your head to look at him, “You could’ve afforded your own place, I know you could, why did you offer to live with me?”

“Do you seriously have to ask that?” Conrad chuckles, nudging your arm, “Looking at where we are six years later, do you need to ask?”

“Come on, humor me,” You giggle, leaning into him.

“Well,” Conrad takes your hand in both of his, “I spent my first year here trying to be as good as you.”

“Con,” You shake your head, “You were top of our class!”

“Not just in class,” He returns, “I wanted to be as good as you were. You were like this completely pure soul and you listened to people and you were sweet and… you’d walk into class and it was like the room just lit up. Who wouldn’t want to live with you?”

You bite your lip to stop your smile from spreading.

“I knew you were struggling to find somewhere and I just…” He shrugs, “It was like all of my Christmases came at once.”

You giggle, leaning in until your lips are an inch from his, “And then just a few years later you kissed me.”

“A few long years,” Conrad hums, leaning in to kiss you longingly.

He cups a hand around the back of your neck, drawing you into him, his other hand pressing against the small of your back. He pulls you up and over him, smiling against your lips as you shift against his lap.

“Worth the wait,” He mumbles as he pulls away from you, his hands gripping the skin at your waist.

———

“Just be careful with that one, it’s got a ton of photos in,” You hand over another box to the movers, “Thank you.”

The man nods at you and smiles, setting the box down onto the trolley. You turn around to scan the empty room, mentally checking off the list of things you needed to remember. The closets were empty, the bed was stripped, the drawers were cleared out. The last room you had to clear and now it was officially complete.

You feel a twinge in your heart, the kind that would linger as a chapter closed, the kind that made you realise this entire part of your life was completely over. The chapter that had brought you to California, to Stanford, to medical school, to Conrad - it was closing here. And a new chapter, three thousand miles away, was about to begin.

“Con did you remember to pack the-“

You stop.

Down at your feet, in the doorway to the bedroom, is the most beautiful bouquet of sunflowers you’d ever seen - scattered with baby’s breath and daisies and blue delphiniums. You bend down to pick them up, tears pricking at your eyes, your breath catching in your throat. But when you look up is when you’re truly speechless, frozen, in fact.

There, in the middle of the empty apartment, Conrad stands with a small velvet box in his grasp.

“I wanted to wait,” His voice is scratchy, nervous, “I thought I would wait. And then I looked around at the apartment and the boxes and… I just I wanted it to be here.”

You can’t find it within you to speak, no matter how hard you tried there weren’t any words good enough. He steps closer, one step more and he’d be right with you. Every inch of space between you feels electric, charged.

“This place is full of all of our firsts, all of our beginnings, every new start,” He smiles softly, “It’s built of memories and moments and choosing each other. And now we’re standing on the edge of a new chapter, boxes packed, keys ready to pass on, but there’s something I need to ask you before we do.”

You watch as he lowers down onto one knee, the box opening between his hands, a glimmering diamond inside - his Mom’s ring.

“I want to live all of my chapters with you, I want to be by your side, to grow with you, to learn with you, to love you,” Conrad continues, looking up at you with nothing but utter adoration in his eyes, “My home, my best friend, the person I will look for in any room, will you marry me?”

You’re certain every single muscle in your body is frozen, stunned. There aren’t any words, nothing to possibly describe everything you were feeling in the moment. No word except one, one you’ve never been more sure of;

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Conrad’s face brightens, stepping up quickly, fingers fumbling to take the ring from the box.

“Yes! Of course! Yes!” You giggle, stretching out your hand as he slots the ring onto your left hand, lacing his fingers with yours like he wants to lock it there.

His other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you into him, tears brimming in his eyes as he kisses you strongly, his entire body relaxing into the feeling.

He pulls away from you, a look in his eyes different than you’d seen before. He was looking at his fiancé. And there was something so beautiful about the sight. Something so beyond anything he’d ever imagined for his life.

You settle your hand on his chest, ring set firmly in its place, his heart pounding. You would marry this man. This nervous and yet so certain, handsome and yet blissfully unaware of it, man. You’d marry him in this and every lifetime.

———

Your first night in the Cousins house you can’t sleep.

Your boxes had all arrived perfectly fine from California. You’d been grocery shopping and stocked up the kitchen. Conrad had cooked dinner for the two of you. You’d settled a few of your things into the bathroom, his bedroom. You’d even found enough time to set a few photo frames onto the fireplace.

You should be settled. And yet you weren’t.

You’d given up trying at one point, Conrad still sleeping soundly beside you. And, instead, you’d slowly squeezed yourself out of the bed and trailed down to the kitchen.

The flowers he’d bought you, the bouquet of sunflowers, sat on the kitchen island in a big vase. They were bright and beautiful and part of you wished they would stay forever. But then you would glance down at your hand, the engagement ring kept in its place, and you’d realise that was the bit you got to keep with you forever, and the man who’d given it to you as well.

In the apartment, you’d had five rooms to think about - your room, the lounge, the kitchen, the bathroom and the spare room. Now? This house had more rooms than you could count. Would you have memories in every single one like you did in California? Would you be able to map it out like you could there? Would it feel like a place you belonged? Or would it always feel like somewhere you were simply just not made to be?

You take a glass from the cupboard, looking through a couple of the doors before you find the right one, and fill it up with water from the sink. The water runs hot first and you grimace at another thing you still hadn’t got right about this house.

You walk over to the doors that led out onto the yard, the pool glistening in the moonlight, trailing down to the dock overlooking the water - where you told Conrad that you loved him.

There it was. Already a place here that held a perfect memory.

You feel your chest ease a little, breathing in the reminiscence of the moment.

That’s all it would take. Moments like that would litter themselves into more and more places in this house, and that’s what would make it feel like home.

Your eyes trail back to the flowers on the island, your mind trailing back to the boy asleep upstairs.

You set the glass of water down onto the side and let him guide you back to him, a path in this house that you already knew like the back of your hand.

The door creaks as you enter and you wince at the sound, creeping back into the room and around to the other side of the mattress, shifting back underneath the covers.

“Honey?” Conrad groans in his sleep, stirring as you try to return to his side, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” You return quietly, “Just getting some water.”

Conrad grumbles, pulling you into him tightly, your back against his chest, his eyes blinking to adjust to their abrupt wake-up.

“Go back to sleep,” You encourage him, snuggling against his hold, “I’m back now.”

Conrad hums, poking one eye open into the room before settling his head back down, burying into the crook of your neck, “You woke up at the perfect time. Look at the moon.”

In the late hour, the moon hung low over the dock in preparation for the sunrise soon to come. The light scattered across the water, fragmented and shifting like a million tiny mirrors. In the moment, you silently thank Conrad for his insistence on having thin drapes. The moonlight dances and twirls and spins on the water in front of you and you feel every tension ease in your body, every uncertainty slipping away.

You’d remember this moment, this view, this boy’s arms wrapped tiredly and firmly around you. For it was the first moment that you felt like you were home.

———

You start your jobs on the same day, both nervous and new. And then Conrad goes to his department and you go to yours. He finishes earlier than you, and still waits in the hospital reception until you’re done. You spend the entire drive back asking each other about your first days, what you liked, what you didn’t like, what you were excited about.

“So you want to know something funny that happened today?” Conrad says, turning off at the junction that would take him towards Cousins.

“Tell me,” You lean your head back against the headrest, turning to look at him.

You loved how he looked when he drove, focused and yet so relaxed, handsome with the light spilling through the windows.

“You know that other new guy Scott?” Conrad says, glancing over at you.

“Yeah, the blonde?”

Conrad nods, “He asked me if you were single.”

You frown, taken aback, “What? I barely spoke to the guy!”

“Yeah,” Conrad chuckles, “Yeah, well clearly you made a good impression.”

“Ugh,” You grimace, “I’ve got to work with that guy!”

Conrad leaves one hand on the wheel, his other hand moving to rest around your thigh, “It’s the first time I got to say to someone ‘sorry, that’s my fiancé’… actually, I didn’t even say sorry.”

“No?” You giggle.

“No, come on, why would I be sorry about that?” He chuckles, his hand squeezing your leg.

You turn your head to him, smiling tiredly. He glances over at you and smiles back, his eyes lingering on you for longer.

“Watch the road, Fisher.”

———

The other days and weeks that follow are less relaxed. You’re both working relentlessly, hours starting to match up less. Some days you could travel together and other days it just wasn’t possible. Conrad would have days he was at the hospital for more than twelve hours and you’d have days like that just not on the same days as him. It fell back into the disjointed, mismatched schedules you’d been so used to on your placements. And yet this time it all felt a little more manageable. You knew how to handle it now. He would make the lunches, you’d make the dinner, a few days later you’d swap jobs. And on the one day a week that you had off together, you always made sure to make the most of it.

Today, your day off was being spent preparing to have everyone travel to the house for a little ‘housewarming’ party. Jeremiah had insisted on catering, though you were only hosting for him, Adam and the Conklins - the usual suspects. You set up their rooms the way that Susannah would when people stayed over. Conrad wasn’t off today - he’d gone in to work extra so that he could watch a surgery they were undertaking that day - so you were making it your sworn mission to get as much done as possible so that he didn’t have to worry when he got home.

Your plan for the afternoon was to run to the store and buy everything you needed - everything on Jeremiah’s list, everything you knew that any of them liked, and something to make for you and Conrad for dinner tonight. You climb into your car, and drive down the road that had become unmistakably familiar in the past few weeks.

You’re just turning to follow the way you knew to get to the store when your phone buzzes in it’s holder attached to your windshield.

Jere:

any chance you could buy some pomegranate too? i have a vision !!

You make a mental note to add it to the list, your phone flashing up with the notification to tell you that the battery was unnecessarily low.

Before you can ignore it, the screen lights up again with Conrad’s contact photo - one you had changed recently to be one of you and him just after he’d asked you to marry him, the flowers held in your arm, the other hand outstretched with your engagement ring, his free arm around you, kissing your temple.

“Shit,” You groan, reaching down to grab your charging cable, fumbling to grasp it.

That’s when you’re too distracted to notice it.

To hear it.

To see it.

To do anything about it.

The car collides with the side of your own, an impact so powerful you are certain for a moment that it knocks everything into slow motion. You hear the sound of crunching metal, screeching brakes, feel yourself go to scream. And then you black out.

———

Conrad had just come out of surgery when he tried to call you, excited to tell you all about it. When you didn’t pick up, he clocked out for the day, collected his things and got changed and shot you a quick text to tell you he would be home soon and that he loved you. He’d gotten distracted on the way out, speaking with his supervisor for more time than he’d intended to. And it was strange, really, this gnawing voice in the back of his head wondering why you hadn’t replied yet, why you hadn’t called back. It wasn’t too loud, too prominent, too obvious, but it just gnawed at him. It continued to stay as he walked through the hospital, noticing that twenty minutes had passed and still nothing from you. It wasn’t that you were always quick to reply but it was more that something was telling him this time felt different. And he felt something shift in him then, a desperate desire beyond the norm to just hear your voice. Stupid, really, he’d spoken to you this morning when he’d kissed you goodbye - still wrapped in the covers of the bed when he’d left. But, now, it felt like the tightness in his chest would only ease at the sound of you speaking.

He takes the shortcut through the hospital that would bring him out into the emergency room, the way that made it quicker to get to where he’d parked his car. But before he can get to the doors, they come flying open in front of him.

And Conrad is sure, above all else in that moment, that he knew then what it felt like to feel his heart stop.

It wasn’t your face he saw. Not your hair, your eyes, your lips. It was your hand, heavy and still on the side of the stretcher they wheeled you in on - an engagement ring looped around one finger, still there in its perfect place, stains of blood tainting the space around it.

He feels his stomach drop, his heart stop, his entire body freeze like he was ready to wake up from whatever nightmare this could be.

“Female, high-speed MVC, driver, restrained, unconscious on arrival at the scene.”

The words seem to blur before they reach his ears, disappearing along with the color in his face.

“I need you to step aside for me sir.”

“Sir? Can you move to let us pass?”

“Sir?”

Conrad looks up then, his eyes glazed over, lifeless.

“That’s my-“ He feels his chest constrict against the words, “She’s my fiancé.”

“Someone will be out to speak to you as soon as possible,” One of the emergency team explains, and they’re wheeling you out of sight and into a separate room before Conrad even has the chance to speak again.

In all of his years of medical school, Conrad had reassured himself that he would be able to keep a level head in any emergency. That all of that would just be part of being a doctor. Being the steady hands in a room of worried faces. And yet, now, when the patient in front of him was you, it was like everything he’d learnt came crumbling down around him. All those years of studying felt futile. He didn’t know a thing. He didn’t know how to react, he didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know where to be. He just stood there, eyes blurring as they stared directly at the spot where you’d disappeared into, his limbs feeling numb, his heart pounding so loudly he could hear the blood rushing through his ears. And not a single muscle in his body capable of moving.

“Conrad Fisher?”

He’s not sure how long he’s been stood there when the woman walks over to him, clipboard in hand.

“Dr Fisher?”

He looks at her, tearing his eyes away from the door, “Yes.”

“Hi, I’m Dr Rachel Wilson, I hear you and your fiancé have just started working with us.”

He doesn’t have the words to reply. Fiancé.

“I just wanted to let you know that she’s going to be okay. She has a few broken ribs, and she is still unconscious from the impact, and we’ll keep her in to monitor her over the next twenty four hours but she’s going to be okay,” Dr Wilson explains, “She’s in the right place, that’s the most important thing.”

“Yeah,” Conrad exhales, “Did they… I don’t… do they know what happened?”

“From what the police told us at the scene, she was passing through a junction and another car didn’t stop at the stop sign and they hit directly into the driver’s side of the car,” She explains, looking down at her notes.

Conrad’s stomach churns.

“The police will likely be in contact in the next day or two to take statements and get the information they need,” Dr Wilson reaches behind her clipboard and hands a sealed plastic bag over to Conrad, “These were on her person, I will leave them with you. For now, you can go in to see her whenever you’re ready.”

Conrad takes the bag, he looks back up to the door. He could go to see you. And that’s the only thing that forces him to put one foot in front of the other. Closer and closer to you until…

There you were. Tubes hooked up to you from a hundred different directions, your eyes closed as if you were so peaceful. You had a cut scraping across one eyelid though. Other cuts and scrapes littered your cheeks, a white dressing over one shoulder likely from a deeper injury. You were in a hospital gown now, your clothes stacked neatly in another plastic bag on the table beside the bed.

Conrad tore his eyes away from you to look up at the screen for your vitals. Everything okay. Okay.

It was the first time he felt like he’d been thinking logically since he’d first seen you through those doors.

He pulls up a chair and sits down beside you, reaching out for your hand. He’s cautious at first, nervous as if this was all new. But as soon as his hands wrap around yours it’s like a piece of his returns home. Your hands were cold. You hated having cold hands. And he felt his heart sink a little at the feeling of your hand without your engagement ring, it was as if he’d lost a piece of you. Though, in the moment, his mind couldn’t help but surface the fear that today he could have lost all of you. And now here he sat still holding onto you. That had to count for something.

Conrad thinks that he should speak, find something, anything to say to you. But he stays there in silence. He doesn’t take his eyes away from you, he doesn’t remove his hand from yours. He just stays in that exact seat, the room echoing the sounds of your beeping heart monitor, the rest of the hospital abuzz with a thousand other stories. But now, in this room, the story was of a man fearful now more than he’d ever been in his life, and the woman in his grasp that he’d normally need to make everything better.

———

Conrad only tears his eyes away from you when he feels his phone ringing in his pocket again. He’d ignored it twice already. Now, he felt like he couldn’t ignore it again.

He keeps one hand wrapped around yours, his other hand grabbing the phone from his pocket, Jeremiah’s name flashing up on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Con I’ve been trying to get through to you for hours!” Jeremiah sighs into the phone, “I even tried calling-“

“She’s in the hospital,” Conrad’s voice breaks over the words, like he was finally having to admit that it was true, “She was in an accident… and she’s in the hospital and…”

“Woah woah woah slow down,” Jeremiah interrupts, “Are you okay? Is she okay?”

“She’s still unconscious, they’re going to do some more scans tomorrow to make sure everything is clear, a few broken ribs, a lot of bruises,” Conrad’s voice trembles, his chest clenching, “I just… it’s all my fault Jere.”

“Wh-“ Jeremiah begins, “What are you talking about?”

“I called her… I was finishing work and I called her…” The tears start to brim again in his eyes, spilling over onto his cheeks, “What if she looked away? What if she could’ve seen them coming and she didn’t and I-“

“Conrad, don’t do this,” Jeremiah says firmly, “You can’t blame yourself. She’d be the first person to tell you that too, right?”

“Yeah,” Conrad chokes out, his tears spilling down onto the hand he held yours in.

“Okay, so right now you just need to be there for her, take care of yourself and don’t beat yourself up about it, yeah?” Jeremiah encourages.

“Yeah.”

“Alright you’re at Mass General, yeah? Let me go and get you some stuff, I can bring it over.”

“Jere you don’t have to-“

“Conrad for once in your life let someone help you.”

His brother is firm with him, exactly what he needs to hear.

“I’m on my way through now anyway, I’ll stop at the beach house, I’ll bring you some stuff, just send me a list,” Jere confirms.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Conrad sniffs, shaking himself back to reality.

“She’s going to be okay man, just hang in there alright?”

“Thanks Jere.”

The brothers hang up and Conrad sets his phone down on the table beside your bed, his other hand then returning back to yours. He brings your hand up to his lips and presses a long kiss to the skin, on your ring finger where the metal band would sit. He notices it almost as quickly as it happens. A glimpse of a change. The most gentle squeeze back. A sign of life. A breath when he felt like his lungs had been empty for hours.

“Con?”

A whisper, if you could even call it that. Voice hoarse, the word scraping on your throat, struggling and stinging and yet still the most beautiful thing he’d heard.

He stands up from his chair, watching as your eyes blink open, squinting as they adjust to the lights of the hospital room.

“I’m here, I’m here,” He repeats over, his hand coming up to your hair, his other hand squeezing around yours in his, relieved to feel you squeeze back, even weakly.

The corners of your lips turn up ever so slightly and Conrad is sure his heart soars like the sight alone puts him onto cloud nine.

“Wh-“ You croak out, “How bad was it?”

“You…” Conrad swallows to stop himself from crumbling over the words, “You were in a car accident. A car hit into the side of you. You’ve got some broken ribs, some nasty bruises.”

“Did-“ You inhale, “Was anyone else hurt?”

Conrad laughs softly, forever concerned about anyone but yourself, “No, no, the other driver was okay. They brought him in for a checkup but he was okay, he’s gone home.”

You nod, closing your eyes again, “You always tell me to charge my phone before I leave the house,” You whisper, “Maybe you’re right.”

Conrad chuckles, his head dropping so his forehead rests against yours. The two of you stay like that, holding onto him, holding onto you, holding onto each other like you would in any storm.

———

You’re released from the hospital two days later, under strict instructions to take it easy and rest as much as possible. The hospital had given Conrad the full week off, and had told you to only come back when you were ready. He hadn’t really ever left your side in those two days, except to go home and shower and change and bring you something new back from the house.

You were thankful to be going home, maybe slightly underprepared for how worried Conrad would be.

“Okay okay okay be careful,” He says, reaching out an arm for you to take, holding open the car door that he had already ran around to open for you, “Are you sure you can walk?”

“Conrad I didn’t break my legs, I’m okay,” You wince at the pain of breathing in, like someone was jabbing a knitting needle just beneath your skin.

“You’re okay up the stairs?”

“I’m okay,” You squeeze his hand over your arm, wincing a little at the pain that shoots through your hands.

In the past two days your hands had started to hurt more as the bruises came out - your knuckles and palms feeling weak and sensitive.

“Well, welcome home,” Conrad says softly as the two of you step into the house.

He closes the door behind the two of you, returning to your side to place an arm on your back like you’d break if he didn’t.

“Do you want to eat? I can make something or I bought some chips at the store or I could go out to pick something up if you want,” Conrad looks to you, a furrow in his brows that you were sure hadn’t left since the moment you had woken up.

“Right now I just want a shower and my bed,” You admit, cupping his cheek, “But thank you.”

You lean over and kiss him, trying not to wince at the feeling of having to lean up to reach him.

“You’re going to be okay showering?” Conrad asks as you pull away.

“Conrad Beck Fisher are you trying to see me naked?” You fake a gasp, “I know your game.”

He drops his shoulders and rolls his eyes at you, “Shout if you need me, okay?”

“Yeah yeah, keep it in your pants Fisher.”

———

You spend longer than you need to in the shower, revelling in the small luxury. You’re tentative around your wounds, cautious in the way that the nurses had been when they’d checked on you in hospital.

You wrap a towel around your torso, letting your hair dangle wet around your shoulders, and walk back to the bedroom. It had never felt more like home than it did in this moment, where you were so thankful to have it back again.

“Hey did you need to-“

Conrad steps into the room as you’re walking over to take pyjamas out of the drawer. He stops in his tracks when he sees you, his grip on the door faltering. On your back, just above the line of your towel, there was a gashing wound poking out above the material. He hadn’t seen any of your wounds, not beyond the cuts and scrapes from the glass on your face and arms. He’d seen the way you winced in pain when you moved, or when you laughed or coughed and you became reminded of the pain your ribs were in.

He steps over to you and his fingertips move to the edge of the towel, brushing across the jagged healing skin.

“It doesn’t hurt as much as it did,” You comment quietly, suddenly feeling blindingly intimate in the dark room, “They think it was from glass that got stuck between me and the chair.”

Conrad inhales sharply as if feeling the pain for himself, his fingertips frozen over the wound like he was hoping to pull it from you and give all of the pain to him.

Your hands move up to the top of your towel, readjusting the material to loosen it, letting it fall down in a pool around your ankles.

He saw then how far it stretched, down to the middle of your spine. And, as you turned, he saw the littering of wounds across your sides, until you turned to face him and every morsel of air was knocked from his lungs once again. Across your chest, between the curves of your breasts, a diagonal slicing line spanned your torso.

“They said this one was from the-“

“Seatbelt,” Conrad inhales sharply again, “I didn’t- they told me you were injured but I didn’t…”

“It’s honestly not as bad as it looks,” You assure him, “I just might have some ugly scars for a while.”

“You could never-“ Conrad clears his throat, “They’re not ugly.”

You smile gently, “Con…” You cup his cheek, smoothing your thumb over the skin, “You look so worried.”

“I’m- I just-“ He reaches his hands out to your waist, “It’s just so scary seeing what happened to you. I thought it was awful in the hospital but now… I just… I hate seeing you in pain.”

“The pain just means it’s healing now,” You reassure him, “I already feel better than I did yesterday.”

“Are you lying to me?” He tilts his head into your hand.

“My ribs hurt when I walk, so yes they hurt more today,” You nod, “And when I laugh, so if you could avoid saying anything too funny.”

He smiles gently, turning his head to kiss your palm, “Just tell me if you’re struggling, okay? Tell me how I can help.”

“You can bend down so I don’t have to stretch to kiss you,” You smile, gazing up at him.

Conrad hums in agreement, bending down enough to press his lips to yours, soft as if you were fragile goods.

“And you can get me one of your sweatshirts so I’m not just stood here naked,” You say bashfully, only now aware of your vulnerability in front of him.

He chuckles, kissing your forehead, “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

He reaches into the closet and hands you a baggy hoodie of his and a pair of shorts.

“Are you coming to bed?” You ask him, tugging the clothes over your form, grimacing at the pain of the movement.

Conrad watches you, swallowing the lump in his throat, trying to ignore the clenching pain in his chest, “I’ll be right behind you, I just need to let Jere know we’re home. He told me to tell him how you were doing.”

“Okay, I’ll try to stay awake,” You yawn, clambering beneath the sheets tentatively to settle into the bed.

Conrad looks to you, his chest feeling tighter than ever. He felt like he was staring through your clothes, to the wounds and the hurt that lied beneath them, to the broken ribs and hairline fractures beneath that, to the girl that wrapped all of those things together into the most terrifying days of his life. When he even began to think of how you must be feeling, he felt like his body would crumble and give up on him, like his mind would overwork so much to the point of giving up.

You look up at him through tired eyes, smiling lazily.

And he feels his chest constrict like his body is forgetting how to breathe.

———

You wake up an hour or so later. The wind was spilling through the open windows of the room, a room that felt all the more cold when you reached over to the other side of the bed to find it empty.

You know Conrad wanted you to worry about yourself, wanted you to be okay before anything else. But it was as if you could feel the weight that was bearing down on his shoulders, and the million things he wasn’t saying in place of being worried about you.

So, instead of turning back against the sheets, you stand up, wincing a little at the pain of the movement, and walk over to the window that overlooked the yard. You could just about make out the silhouette of someone sat on the dock, his hair flailing in the wind. You walk down to him without a second thought.

It’s cold outside, the kind of cold that still swept underneath your hoodie, the kind that pricked at your bare legs.

It’s as if you can feel the worry radiating from him. He has his arms wrapped around himself, one hand rubbing the opposite arm - you’d learnt years ago that it was the most effective way for him to avoid a panic attack. He leans forward in his seat, like he is trying to pull away from whatever was trying to drag him under.

“You know you’ll catch a cold out here,” You fold your arms around your torso.

Conrad jumps, like he’d been pulled out of his trance, he glances over his shoulder, “That’s not how a cold works.”

“No?” You raise your brows, sitting down beside him, “How does it work, Doctor Fisher?”

He looks at you, smiling just faintly. His eyes were red and tainted with deep worry, his cheeks still home to drying tears, his breathing only just feeling remotely possible again.

“You should be sleeping,” He says.

“So should you,” You settle your hand on his knee, “Why aren’t you?”

“I-“ He chokes over the word, “I just…”

“Con,” You cup your hand to his cheek, “Breathe.”

He pauses, his eyes flicking between yours, full of panic. And then he takes a deep breath and it seems to relax the tension in his face.

“I keep blaming myself,” He whispers, tears brimming in his eyes, “I see you and I see this pain you’re in and I just… it’s my fault you were distracted.”

You sigh, feeling the burden share between the two of you, “If you hadn’t have called, my phone still would have needed charging. If my phone didn’t need charging, that guy would’ve still ran the stop sign. Maybe Id have been a few seconds ahead, or behind, or quick enough to swerve out of his way. Or maybe I wouldn’t have. Maybe with no phone, no calls, no charger, the same would have still happened.”

Conrad breathes out shakily.

“Con, you can’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t control. There were a thousand routes and a thousand outcomes there and I’m just really fucking glad the outcome wasn’t worse than this.”

“I should be focused on you, I shouldn’t be-“

“Conrad,” You shake your head, “Stop torturing yourself. If it was you, if I had to see you in the hospital like that, see you like in pain, I’d be just as bad, worse, probably.”

He smiles softly.

“But I’m here, okay? I’m okay. And the second that changes, you’re the first person I’ll tell,” You smile, “I don’t need to blame you, I don’t need you to blame yourself. Right now I just really need you to come to bed because it’s fucking freezing up there.”

Conrad chuckles, leaning into your hand, he places his hand over your thigh, like he wanted to wrap you in any warmth he could.

“Will you come to bed?”

He nods, “Yeah, yeah I will.”

You smile and go to lean in to kiss him but he stops you, leaning in towards you instead so you didn’t have to stretch to him.

“I actually had just one thing,” Conrad says before you can move away.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out your engagement ring.

“They took it off when they brought you into the hospital,” He explains, “I just kept it with me whilst you were still in there.”

You smile, “Are you asking me to marry you Conrad Fisher? Because you know I’m pretty sure you already did that.”

He smiles, like his light was returning, as he lowers down onto one knee on the dock, ring held out in front of him.

You giggle, looking down at him.

“Once in California, and once in the place I first told you I loved you,” He says softly, “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, I will,” You chuckle, grabbing at his shirt to pull him up to you.

He kisses you longingly, slipping the ring onto your finger as if the final piece of a perfect puzzle.

“And, hey, I told you I loved you first, just for the record,” You point out.

“Come on, you knew I loved you long before that,” Conrad kisses you again, “And I kissed you first, just for the record.”

You wrap your arms around him and he holds you tightly, pressing a kiss just below your ear. The two of you stand up and start to walk back towards the house, his hand on the small of your back. You wince in the movements, your body tired and struggling.

Conrad, without a second thought, lowers his one hand just enough to grip behind the back of your legs. You loop your arms around his neck to stop yourself from falling as he sweeps you from the ground in one hand, his other arm moving to hold your back, your entire form held in his grip.

“I’ve got you,” He says gently, carrying you the rest of the way towards the house as if it were what he was put on this planet to do - make your day easier.

You giggle when you look up at him, the reflection of moonlight scattering onto your engagement ring, the wind sweeping across both of you.

He carries you up the stairs, both of you laughing as your legs bump the railings and he stumbles a little to stop your head from hitting the wall. Conrad carries you into the bedroom, dropping you down onto the mattress, making an excessive show of tucking the covers around you when you complain that the bed’s cold without him.

It’s only ten minutes until he comes back, tossing his clothes into the laundry basket.

“You’re going to freeze!” You scrunch up your nose, snuggling underneath the covers as he climbs in in only his boxers.

“I’ll survive,” He comments, stretching out an arm to pull you into his chest, radiating heat as he always did.

You hum at the feeling of him wrapped around you, his fingertips trailing up and down your arm. He trails down far enough to reach your hand, lacing his fingers with yours, gazing down at the ring back on your hand. He turns and presses a kiss to your temple, lips remaining there. His heartbeat had settled now, relaxed and in rhythm.

———

You heal well over the next few weeks, both of you back to work and back to schedule. When he has a few days off from the restaurant, Jeremiah comes to stay. When thanksgiving rolls around, everyone comes to visit and you and Conrad host for the first time. Jeremiah cooks, and puts you and Conrad in charge of the dessert. You all sit around the table and laugh and drink and eat more than you can imagine and you realise then, for the first time, this is exactly what you’d pictured in this home. And that’s truly what it was now - your home.

Christmas passes as just the same. You invite your parents and Conrad’s family and host at the house - stockings with your names on, presents under the tree, mistletoe above the deck where you’d kissed at New Years.

The mistletoe remains there going into January, where you and Conrad make it a tradition to kiss on that exact dock, in that exact place, for every new year you went into together.

You were both so busy with your jobs you hadn’t even begun to think about the wedding or planning or anything. But every so often you would look down at the engagement ring on your finger and realise that you needed to think about it at some point.

Conrad was sat across from you, in February, a newspaper in his hand turned to the page of the crossword, pen held in his hand waiting for the next answer that came to mind.

“What’s Jack’s last name in Titanic?” He narrows his eyes at you.

You stand up from the couch, walking over to the armchair he was in. You stand behind him, wrapping your arms around his chest, leaning down to rest your chin on his shoulder, “Dawson.”

He taps the end of the pen on your nose, “Thank you.”

Conrad scrawls the answer in and then tosses the paper onto the coffee table, his hands coming up to rest on your arms around him, his chin tilting to press a kiss to your forearm.

“We both have this weekend off, right?”

“And next week,” He reminds you, “We had to use up our holiday days, remember?”

“I do remember.”

He trails his fingertips up and down your arms, his head leaning back against you, “What did you have planned?”

“What if we got married?”

Conrad pauses, “What- what do you mean?”

“Well…” You pause, “I faintly remember you asking me if I wanted to marry you.”

His fingertips move to toy at the engagement ring on your finger, “Yeah, yeah, I think I did that once or twice.”

“So, what’s stopping us?”

Conrad turns his head, angled just enough to see you, “You don’t want… I mean, we won’t have time to plan everything and we… are you sure?”

“I don’t really care about all of that, I just…” You shrug, “I want to be your wife.”

Conrad pulls away from you, standing up from the armchair and turning to face you, “You want us to get married this weekend?”

You grin, “Do you?”

“I’d marry you yesterday if I could.”

You giggle, “Then we’re getting married, Fisher.”

He breaks out into a wide grin, clambering over the chair to get to you. His arms scoop around you, pulling you up and into him.

Over the next few days, you send out texts to your family, to Jere and to Adam, to Belly, Steven, Taylor, Laurel and John. The texts simply ask them to meet you in Cousins. You go grocery shopping for whatever you can find, Conrad cleans the house as much as possible, he gets flowers from Susannah’s garden - snowdrops and primroses, the only flowers blooming in late winter. You go to every shop you can find in town to look for anything remotely resembling a wedding dress - settling on a white, silk, floor length dress with thin straps. It wouldn’t exactly be practical for winter but it would do.

And by Saturday morning, everyone has arrived at the house - all as confused as each other. The girls all bundle into the bedroom with you to help you get ready - Taylor doing your makeup, Belly doing your hair, Laurel and your Mom helping to zip up your dress. The boys stay with Conrad in Jeremiah’s room, fixing his tuxedo, pinning a flower to his lapel, tucking his vows into his pocket. And, whenever any of them got the chance, questioning you both on just how you’d come to the conclusion to marry in such a hurry.

Why wait?

And soon, as dusk settled over Cousins, you were being ushered down the stairs, your father waiting at the doors to the yard with a bright warmth of pride on his face.

Your breath hitches at the sight ahead of you - a path set out along the grass, leading you down to the dock at the bottom. The dock had been lined with lights wrapping up around and over the wood, flowers dotted in bunches along the way. At the end of the dock, the small group of your guests are crammed onto the seats together, just enough space for them all. And in the middle of them all, Conrad stands with the officiant you’d found - one willing to accept your 48 hour old marriage license, and who knew enough about Cousins to know the two of you anyway. And then Conrad. His hands clasped in front of him, his head bowed like he was waiting for the signal to be able to turn to you. And then, he turns.

His breath catches in his throat, like every thought had been wiped from his brain and all that remained was you. That dress, the white flowers in a small bouquet in your hands, your arm linked with your father, a prickling of goosebumps over your skin in the cold, a brimming of tears in your eyes. And before he can even feel it, a tear falls onto his cheek.

Laurel reaches forward and squeezes his hand, reassuring him of every emotion he was feeling.

Your Dad steps to him, shakes his hand firmly, pulls him into a hug and then retreats to his seat beside your Mom, leaving just you and Conrad as if you were the only two people in the world.

He reaches out for your hands as you face him, locking his fingers with yours like he wanted to inject any warmth possible into your limbs, “You’re so beautiful.”

He whispers the words, squeezing your hands again. Every nerve in your body seems to dissipate, when you looked into his eyes you knew that no decision you were so sure of could ever be worthy of nerves.

The officiant begins, reading through all of the typical discourse. Conrad keeps his eyes solely focused on you, like nothing and nobody existed beyond you.

“Now I believe our bride and groom have prepared their own vows,” The officiant turns to you first, nodding to tell you to begin.

Belly leans forward and hands you the folded piece of paper, squeezing your hand as she does so.

“Conrad,” You take a deep breath, “Today should be a promise to spend the rest of our lives together, but if I’m honest I think we committed to that a long time ago. From the moment we first kissed in our apartment, something that feels like a lifetime ago, I knew there wasn’t another person in the world I would want to spend my days with. I want to grow with you, to learn with you, to work with you, and to love you for as long as our lives allow. And I am so excited to start this new chapter with you.”

Conrad smiles gently, taking his hands away from you to reach for a piece of paper in his jacket pocket, holding it in a certain grip.

“I could speak for hours about how lucky I am to love you, to be loved by you, to spend my life with you. I could talk about it until I’m blue in the face. But, for now, you told me once that you loved me in this exact spot and you’ve always sworn you were the first one of us to say those words. And I’ve let you believe that for a long time. But… here.”

He pulls out something else from his pocket - a coaster, a pale blue square. On the back ‘I’ll love you for as long as I live’.

“I wrote on the back of that the night of our first date, when I went to the bar,” Conrad explains, “I knew I loved you then and I know I love you now and I know I’ll love you for the rest of our lives.”

You feel the tears brim in your eyes, holding the coaster in your hands as if it were made of gold.

The officiant asks you both for the rings and you slide on the rings you’d managed to find last minute at a jewellers in town.

“Then it is my pleasure to pronounce you husband and wife,” The officiant bows his head, “You may kiss the bride.”

Conrad grabs your waist, pulling you into him, one hand cupping your cheek as he kisses you firmly, certainly, boldly.

The people around you cheer wildly, applauding at the sight ahead of them.

“Okay, what hormone increases water reabsorption in the collecting ducts of the kidney?” You read the question from the flash card Conrad had handed you.

“Vasopressin.”

“Oooh no,” You shake your head, “This says anti…diuretic?”

Conrad chuckles, leaning back in his chair, “It’s the same thing.”

“Oh, it’s the same thing,” You lower your voice to mock his own, “Sorry doc.”

He rolls his eyes at you, “Come on, one more before I have to get to class.”

“What is Streptoc…” You frown at the word, “Streptococ…”

“Streptococcus pneumoniae,” Conrad smiles, “It’s the most common cause of bacterial meningitis in adults.”

“Oh it’s the most common cause of-“

“Can you not make fun of me for every question I get right?” He raises his brows, “We’d get through twice as many questions if you didn’t.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Now where’s the fun in that?”

He scoops up his flashcards from the table and puts them back into his bag, slinging the backpack over his arm, “Come on, I’m going to be late.”

You groan and push yourself up from the chair, pulling your jacket over your arms. Conrad grabs for your bag before you have the chance.

The two of you had known each other now for a few months, after you’d been locked in together in the library one night. You hadn’t realised they were closing, neither had he. You’d thought you were alone until you saw the tall boy hunched over his laptop focused on writing up a research paper. In the vast expanse of the library, you’d moved to sit beside him and a very boring night in the library had turned into the two of you discussing classes and quizzing each other on things you knew nothing about. You’d learnt more about him in that night than you were sure you knew about your friends you’d had for years. Since then, the two of you had been casual friends around college. And, just a few weeks ago, you’d started dating - Conrad had kissed you one day and just been completely relieved that you kissed him back. It had been casual since then, neither of you mentioning any labels. But you liked him. There was no denying that.

“Are you coming to David’s party this weekend?” You ask him, arms looped around your books held close to your chest.

“No,” Conrad scoffs, “When do you ever see me at parties?”

“Come on! I told you about this one weeks ago and you said you’d think about it.”

“I did think about it,” Conrad shrugs, “And then I thought about going home and studying and waiting for you to drunk call me to pick you up instead and… the latter won.”

“Studying?” You groan, “Your exam is on Friday.”

“Yeah… and then I have to study for my other classes.”

“God you’re boring.”

You both turn the corner towards his class, instinctively slowing down as you near the room.

“Okay I have a compromise,” You grab his arm to stop him in his tracks, stepping in front of him before he can protest.

Conrad tilts his head when he looks at you, sighing the kind of sigh that made his shoulders drop.

“I’m going out for dinner with a few friends, Friday night,” You explain, “Nothing big, just a group of us. You should come.”

“I don’t need you to-“

“I know you don’t,” You interrupt him, “But, come on, it’ll be fun. We’ll eat, we’ll drink, and if they’re really that bad I’ll make up an excuse to get you out of there early. I want them to meet you.”

He exhales through his nose, defeated, “Fine.”

You grin, squeezing his shoulder, “Okay, you can go to class now.”

“Thank you.”

He passes off your bag to you, kissing you on your temple, before following behind a few other students to walk into the class. Before the door closes, he turns back to look at you, defeated in his attempts to stop the smile on his lips. He knew in that moment he’d have said no to anybody else, but with you the word just seemed that little bit more impossible.

———

There’s a buzz at your apartment door as you’re midway through getting ready, your robe still wrapped around you, hair pinned back from your face.

You buzz back to let them up and moments later there’s a knock at the door. Conrad.

“You’re early,” You smile at him, stepping aside to let him in.

“Yeah, I think your apartment is further away than it is,” He grimaces a little, kissing you quickly, “I can come back if you want-“

“Don’t be silly. Come in.”

He steps into the apartment, wiping his shoes on the mat in the entryway. He was wearing a crisp white shirt and black slacks, a black jacket held over his arm, his hair falling around his forehead.

“Well, I’ve still got to get ready but help yourself to a drink, eat, anything you want,” You wave your hand around the apartment, “I won’t be long, okay?”

Conrad nods, watching you disappear into the bathroom. He looks around, setting his jacket down over the back of one of your dining chairs. He’d actually only ever been here once before when he’d dropped you home one night, normally you’d always end up at his place instead. It was a quaint apartment - a studio. The kitchen was open, separated from the rest of the apartment by a counter that ran along the length of it. In front of that, a small two person table with matching chairs, aged with worn-down paint. The two of you had sat there that night when he drove you home - he had read out quiz questions from a magazine and cheered every time you got one right. Past that, a small couch and armchair in front of a TV and then a divider that separated off your bed from the rest of the apartment. He scans the walls - littered with colorful art that spanned through the whole place. He turns again, letting his feet carry him into the kitchen. Your refrigerator was covered in photos of you and your friends. There was one of you all on campus, you were smiling ear to ear with a group of friends on a couch in the coffee shop. There was another of you all at a party somewhere, a solo cup in your hand, your face the brightest of all of your friends. Another of you on the beach, leaning back against the sand, squinting up to the sun. Conrad found his eyes mentally tracing the curves of your body, the way your swimsuit hugged your figure. He swallows the lump in his throat.

His eyes then drift towards a photo in the top left - you with a guy. His arms were wrapped around you from behind, his head resting on your shoulder. Conrad feels his jaw clench and then becomes aware of the reaction, shaking his head as if trying to dismiss the feeling.

“Conrad you couldn’t help me do up my dress could you?” Your voice cuts into his thoughts as you open the bathroom door.

“Yeah,” He clears his throat, “Sure.”

You stand in front of him, back to his chest. You go to pull up your hair out of the way, fingers fumbling over the locks.

“Let me,” He drags his fingertips across the bare skin of your back, brushing the rest of your hair to the side and over your shoulder.

You hope, in the moment, that he doesn’t notice the goosebumps his touch brought to your skin.

He finds the bottom of the zip and pulls it up, his fingers lingering at the top for just a second longer.

“Thanks,” You say softly, turning around to face him, “Are you ready to go?”

“Wh-“ Conrad looks at you then, the way the dress hugged your curves, the way your hair cascaded around your shoulders, he swallowed another lump in his throat, “You look beautiful.”

“Well, you don’t scrub up too bad yourself Fisher,” You return, “I’ve never seen you in a shirt.”

“I’ve never seen you in a dress,” He points out, clearing his throat.

“Come on, my friends always complain when I’m late,” You encourage, grabbing your shoes to pull them over your feet.

Conrad grabs his car keys from his pocket, “My car’s just outside.”

“Ah,” You take the keys from him, “And you can pick it up in the morning.”

“Wh-“

“It’s only a short walk to the restaurant, and you need to let your hair down, have a drink,” You encourage, “Deal?”

Conrad sighs, that exhale from his nose again, “Deal.”

———

By the time you reach the restaurant your friends are already there. It was getting more and more rare that all of you ended up in one place together so, you’d tried to make the effort to plan something at least once a month or so. Tonight’s was a dinner - you and all of the friends you’d met in your first year of college, and Conrad.

“Will I know anybody here?” Conrad glances around the restaurant as if hoping for a familiar face.

“Urm,” You pause as if you need to think about it, “You’ll know me.”

“Great,” Conrad says sarcastically and you hit his side as if you’re offended.

He chuckles and the two of you round the corner to a big booth table at the back, where you’re greeted by the glowing faces of your closest friends.

“There you are!” One of the girls, Lily, stands up from her seat and embraces you, “Always the last to arrive.”

You hug her back, “I’m not even late you just get here so early. Plus, I made up for it, I brought a guest.”

You look to the boy beside you, stood bashfully with his hands in his pockets.

“This is Conrad.”

One of the boys, Noah, fakes a loud gasp, “You have other friends?!”

“Oh this is Conrad?” Mia raises her brows, “Interesting.”

“Guys, stop being weird, we have guests,” Lily glares back at them, “It’s nice to meet you, Conrad.”

“Yeah,” He reaches out a hand to shake hers, “You too.”

“I’m Lily,” She places a hand to her chest, “This is Noah, Mia, Isaac and Flo.”

“Nice to meet you all,” Conrad nods, “I’ll try to remember your names.”

“Well, we certainly already know yours,” Flo links her hands together and rests her chin on top of them.

Conrad looks to you and gives you that sort of smirk. The one that you had to roll your eyes at to stop your reaction from being too obvious.

“Come on, make some room people,” You encourage and everyone shuffles around the booth to make enough space for you.

They all shuffle inward - leaving one space on one side beside Noah, and another space on the opposite side beside Lily. Lily grabs Conrad’s arm for him to sit beside her and you take your spot beside Noah.

“Long time no see, darling,” Noah nudges your arm, his words spoken close to you.

“I saw you two days ago,” You return, rolling your eyes.

“And yet you could be seeing so much more of me.”

You purse your lips and look over the table, “Did you already get drinks?”

“Yeah! There’s a bottle of wine if you want some,” Flo comments, waving the bottle of red between you and Conrad.

He takes it from her and offers it in your direction. You push your glass towards him and he pours a big serving into the cup.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” You raise your brows at him and he smirks again, giving himself the same measure.

He holds his glass out just as little as if cheersing to you and then takes a long sip, his eyes not tearing away from you.

“So, tell us Conrad, who are you?” Isaac leans forward, elbows onto the table.

“What kind of question is that?” Mia grimaces, “That’s so existential.”

Conrad chuckles, “Well, I’m a med student, in my third year, I’m from Boston… and that’s about it.”

“That’s it?” Noah leans back beside you, “Wow.”

“How did you two meet?” Lily asks, though she already knew the answer.

“In the library,” You return, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Yeah, we got locked in one night when they were doing maintenance or something,” Conrad laughs softly at the memory, “It was pretty much the only thing that made that night bearable.”

You smile back, “Yeah, I distracted Conrad from his studying for a few hours and suddenly he had a friend for life.”

“Something like that,” Conrad comments, taking another sip of his wine.

“Okay! Now everybody’s here, what are we ordering?” Flo looks down at her menu, “I’m starving.”

———

The food arrives and you all eat and talk about Lily’s last failed date and the debate Mia just had with her girlfriend and Isaac’s new idea for a podcast. Flo checks that everyone likes the food and everyone has enough of everything, passing around the little dishes until she’s satisfied everyone’s tried everything. Noah sits close enough to you that his arm brushes yours every time he eats, and every so often he would tear you away from the group to make conversation between just the two of you.

Every so often you look up to find Conrad looking back at you. And, when you expect him to look away like he’s been caught, his eyes remain there.

You all agree to move onto a second place, a bar the girls had been desperate to try.

When you stand up, Noah remains at your side, his hand pressing to your back as if he wanted to guide you through the room. You glance over at Conrad and take a step towards him.

“Are you having a good night?” You ask, hooking your bag over your shoulder.

“I am,” He nods, “Your friends are nice.”

“Yeah,” You glance around at them, linking your arm with his, “They’re a good bunch.”

He smiles softly, “I wanted to-“

“Come on! You’re coming with us!” Mia exclaims when she sees you, grabbing your arm, “Girls talk.”

Naturally, you split off into two groups. The girls walk ahead with you - asking you to tell them all of the gossip about you and Conrad. As usual, you told them that there was not much to tell - that you two were seeing how things went and you just wanted him to have some more friends in the city. They told you things he’d said about you at dinner - like how he knew what you would and wouldn’t like from the dishes they’d ordered, and when a song came on he told them you loved that one and looked up from his food to see your reaction to it playing. You find yourself looking over your shoulder, to where the boys walked just a few feet behind you. Conrad was on one end, his hands stuffed into his pockets. When he sees you looking back at him it’s like his whole body settles, his shoulders relaxing, his smile soft and warm.

“Ooh! We’re here!” Flo points out, all of you flooding into the bar.

It was busy already in there, the kind of busy that makes you lose people. The girls link arms to get through the crowd but you stop, instead glancing back to the boys as they follow through the door behind you.

You reach out a hand and Conrad looks down at it like it was still completely surreal to him.

“So you don’t get lost,” You call out over the music.

He chuckles, locking his hand with yours and pulling you close to him. His other hand comes to rest on your waist, your back against his chest as he guides the two of you through the crowd and towards the bar.

You were both a little buzzed from the wine at dinner, still completely aware but the kind of aware that felt a little softer around the edges. The good kind.

Once you get to the bar, Conrad finds a space for the two of you, only then letting his hands release from you.

“They’re not bad, huh?” You look over your shoulder to your group of friends, looking back to Conrad for his response.

He looks over behind you too, looking back down at you. He was close, the kind of close that let you breathe in the scent of his cologne.

“Yeah,” He returns, loud enough to speak over the music, “For the most part.”

“You’re telling me you hate Lily? She’s going to be so offended,” You joke, your lips curling up into a grin.

Conrad shakes his head, “I don’t hate any of them. But I don’t think Noah’s too fond of me.”

You purse your lips together, glancing over your shoulder to where Noah watched the two of you together. His jaw clenched a little at the sight.

“I don’t think you need to worry about him,” You respond when you turn back to Conrad, “He’s an idiot but he’s pretty harmless.”

Conrad looks down at you and there’s a shift in the energy between you, something darkening, “I saw the way he was with you at dinner.”

He was the boy from the photo on your refrigerator.

Conrad was leaning into you slightly, his elbow resting on the bar, his eyes completely and solely focused on you.

You return simply, “Just a guy that’s known me for long enough to know nothing would ever happen and yet still tries it a little anyway.”

Conrad nods, glancing over your shoulder to Noah and then back to you, “He doesn’t know about me?”

“He knows.”

“How much have you told him?” Conrad leans a little closer, the wine contributing to the confidence he had to reach out and touch your waist.

“Why do you ask?” You say, looking up at him.

His lips curl into a smirk, one hand moving up to brush away the hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, “Just curious.”

“Curious?” You raise your brows, “That’s all?”

Before you can say anything more, someone places their hand on your back, low enough to make you step away instinctively. You turn around to see Joe, a boy you’d known since your first year of college.

“Hey! Long time no see,” He says with a smile, pulling you into a hug.

“Joe!” You say, returning his gesture, “It’s been so long! How have you been?”

“I’m good, yeah,” He nods, “Better if you’d actually agree to go out with me.”

You roll your eyes, glancing back to see Conrad watching the two of you. He looks away when you look to him.

“Joe, this is Conrad,” You glance back to the boy behind you, “Conrad, this is my friend Joe.”

“Friend?” Joe places a hand to his heart as if he’s offended, “After all this time?” He looks over to Conrad, extending a hand, “Nice to meet you man, how do you two know each other?”

“We met a few months back,” You glance back to Conrad, smiling.

“Wow, our little miss single has finally got herself a boyfriend.”

“I didn’t say that,” You grimace at the word a little - you and Conrad hadn’t spoken about labels, and the last thing you wanted to do was scare him off “It was good seeing you,” You nod, aiming to end the conversation as quickly as it had started.

“Yeah, don’t be a stranger, okay?” He takes his drinks from the bar and disappears back into the crowd.

You turn back to Conrad, smiling bashfully, “That was Joe. I met him in first year.”

He bends down against the bar, a little closer to your height, like he wanted to speak in a room that was only made for the two of you, “Not your boyfriend?”

“Wh-“ You start, laughing a little to ease the tension, “We just haven’t-“

As if someone were set out to destroy whatever was happening here, you’re interrupted again then.

Isaac comes up behind you, grabbing your shoulders, “Dance with us!”

He pulls you back towards him and you stumble away from Conrad, who still watches you with intense eyes.

You’re dragged into the middle of the dance floor with the girls and Isaac, swaying to the music and singing along when you knew the lyrics. You look for Conrad at first, desperate to carry on whatever conversation you’d just started. But with no avail. Eventually, you give up and let yourself be taken into the trance of dancing with your friends.

Conrad can’t take his eyes away from you. Mesmerising.

“You like her, huh?” Noah says from beside him, leaning up to speak close to Conrad’s ear.

“She’s hard not to like,” Conrad returns, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah,” Noah scoffs, “I’m aware.”

Conrad smiles awkwardly and looks back to you - a bright smile on your face, one of warmth and untainted joy.

“You know I had a bet going,” Noah persists, waiting for Conrad to look back at him, “How long it took her to make you fall for her.”

“Wh-“ Conrad exhales, “What are you talking about?”

“Come on,” Noah looks out towards the dance floor, where you’re throwing your head back to laugh at something Isaac had said, “Look at her. It’s what she does.”

As the song ends you look back over to Conrad and find his eyes on you. You smile but he doesn’t return the gesture. And when you make your way over to him it’s like his eyes are looking for the nearest point of exit.

“Hey, everything okay?” You frown a little, touching his forearm.

“Um-“ He looks down at you, “I think I’m going to leave.”

“Sure,” You nod, “Let me just say goodbye to the girls.”

“You don’t have to come with me I-“

“Your car’s parked at my place,” You remind him, “Stay at mine tonight, you can drive home in the morning.”

He looks down at you, his lips parting as if he has so much more to say, and yet no words come out.

“I’ll be two minutes, okay?”

You disappear amongst the crowd of bodies to say goodbye to all of your friends and then Conrad follows you outside in complete silence.

“I’m guessing bars aren’t much of your scene,” You say, “More of a pub and a pool table kind of guy?”

Conrad clears his throat, staring ahead at the road in front of both of you. There were people littered across the streets, outside the bars, smoking, calling a cab, chatting to a friend. And yet with the two of you here, it felt to you like the whole road was just for you both.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

You nod, the buzz of the wine melding slightly into a clench in your chest, a worry. Perhaps you were overthinking. But there was something he wasn’t telling you. And your heart knew it before your head did.

You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering a little as the breeze sweeps over the street, colder than it had felt when you’d left earlier tonight.

Conrad takes his jacket from where it had been dangling in one hand and passes it over to you, not once looking in your direction.

You take it from him and slip it over your shoulders, “You know giving a girl your jacket is normally more of a romantic gesture,” You point out, “In the movies the guy even looks at her when he does it.”

Conrad doesn’t respond.

You wait until the two of you round the corner onto a street no longer flooded with people. Now it really was just the two of you.

“Okay,” You step in front of him, facing him directly, “Can you tell me what’s going on?”

He looks down at you, his lips parting to speak, taking an extra minute as if composing his thoughts, “I-“ He sighs deeply, his shoulders dropping, “It was something Noah said.”

“Okay, out with it, what did he say?”

“He-“ Conrad exhales, “He told me he was waiting to see how long it would be before you made me fall for you.”

You clench your jaw at the confession, “Okay…”

“And-“ His shoulders drop again, “With him, with that guy just now at the bar I- I guess I just thought that you… that we…”

“Conrad,” Your tone is warning, “I’ve already told you there’s nothing going on with Noah and nothing going on with Joe. That comment he made about the boyfriend thing was just stupid and he wasn’t thinking. You don’t believe me?”

“I do believe you but do they?”

“I don’t give a shit if they believe me,” You scoff, “I’m asking if you do.”

Conrad swallows the lump in his throat.

“Conrad I brought you here to meet my friends, I wanted you to meet them but I also wanted them to meet you. I didn’t bring you here for a who’s who of my dating record,” You fold your arms over your chest, “Is that really what you think of me?”

“No, god, no,” Conrad shakes his head, “I just- Noah said that you-“

“Why the fuck would you listen to Noah?” You half-laugh.

He’s silent.

“So what was the plan then? We’d walk back to my place in silence and you’d leave in the morning and not talk to me just because you met a few guys that want me to fucking flirt with them? They’re just idiots Conrad, I thought you of all people would see that.”

He looks down, like he can’t bare to see you like this.

“Look at me Conrad,” You snap, “It was you who I invited here tonight. It’s you who I’ve spent months wanting to get to know. It’s you who I want to date. Not Joe, not Noah, not anybody for that matter. If you don’t know that then… I mean, if you think I’ve just got these guys lined up waiting for the next one then… then you don’t know me.”

“It’s not like that I just-“

“You know what? Call a cab. You can pick your car up in the morning,” You sniff back any emotion the words might hold.

And then you turn on your foot, and start walking down the street ahead of you.

“Okay, wait, wait,” Conrad hurries after you, grabbing onto your wrist.

It turns you back to him, your eyes trailed to the floor.

“At least just let me walk you home,” Conrad sighs, “Please.”

You glance back over his shoulder to where more drunken groups were starting to spill out of the bars and onto the streets, and then you look back to Conrad, folding your arms back over your chest, “Fine.”

He nods, bashfully, and returns to step in rhythm beside you.

Neither of you speak. You don’t even look in his direction. Every so often you could feel his eyes on you but you don’t react, keeping your eyes focused on the floor in front of you.

The walk to your apartment, this time, feels long and painful and awkward. At one point, a group of drunk guys stumble around the corner, loud and shouting. Instinctively, Conrad steps a little closer to you, placing a hand to your back. You don’t cower away. But you don’t thank him either. The group disappear, Conrad’s hand falls, and you keep walking like it hadn’t ever happened.

When you reach your apartment, you pull out your keys and turn to face him.

“Do you want me to call you a cab?”

“Um,” Conrad glances around, “No, it’s okay, I can do it.”

“Okay,” You fold your arms around yourself, “Thanks for walking me home.”

He nods, “Anytime.”

You nod back, and go to speak again but find that no words feel fitting in the moment. You turn, unlock the door, step inside, and try to erase the vision of him being stood there alone.

Your chest clenches, your hands shake, your eyes prick with tears. And you walk upstairs.

———

You don’t sleep well that night. You’re tossing and turning in the bed that felt strangely empty when you thought you’d have had Conrad beside you. He doesn’t text you, though you check your phone to see if he has. And eventually, after just a couple of hours of sleep, you give up on the idea all together.

You change into joggers, the baggiest, comfiest pair you can find and sit down at the table, hands wrapped around a mug of tea. Your eyes drift to the other seat, Conrad’s jacket hung over the back.

You felt your heart clench. You wanted to see him - to tell him he was wrong, to tell him again that it was him you wanted. And yet the other part of you was convinced there was nothing you could say or do that would change his mind.

But before you can think too intently about it, you’re grabbing the jacket from the chair, tugging on the nearest shoes you can find and dashing out of the apartment.

Your heart, mind and soul were racing all in and out of sync. You weren’t sure what you’d say when you saw him but you needed to say more than you did last night. You needed to fight more than you did last night. You needed to tell him he was wrong and that he-

There he was.

On the step outside of your apartment, shoulders dropped, head hanging a little low. He was dressed in a baggy green hoodie and jeans.

“Conrad?”

His head whips around at the sound of your voice, standing up from his spot, his lips parting as if he had so much to say.

“What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” His shoulders drop, “I came over here but you… I didn’t want to wake you.”

“What are you talking about?”

He lifts his phone in his hand, hitting it against his other palm as if he needed to find away to stop his hands from reaching to you, “I was going to call but you… you don’t wake up until eight.”

He knew you. Quirks, interests, silly little facts, he knew it all.

“I figured I’d just wait and then buzz for your apartment when you were awake,” He takes a breath, “But you’re awake.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep either,” You say, “I’ve got your jacket.”

“Ah,” Conrad takes it from you, gripping it in one hand, “Thank you.”

“I should’ve brought your keys actually, sorry, I didn’t think I-“

“It’s okay,” He interrupts you, “I’m not in a rush.”

Silence falls between the two of you then and you wrap your arms around your bare torso, hyperaware of the chill in the air that seemed to settle between you.

“So about last ni-“

“You were wrong,” You interrupt him, like the thought had just sprouted from your body, “Last night. About Noah, about Joe, about me.”

Conrad pauses, knowing whatever you were about to say would be whatever he needed to hear.

“I don’t know what Noah said to you, I don’t know what you thought of Joe, and I don’t care. Because what I do know is that I’m not good at relationships. In fact, it’s not that I’m not good at them, it’s that I don’t try. I shut down any interest people have in me, I close myself off when I think someone might like me, I make up excuses when people ask me out. And then a few months ago I met this obsessive medicine nerd in the library and I just… whatever walls I’d put up just went to shit.”

Conrad swallows the lump in his throat.

“Whatever guard I put up to shut people out, or to protect myself or whatever the fuck, it just didn’t seem to exist when you were around,” You exhale shakily, “And last night I wanted you to meet my friends so that they could meet this really fucking great guy that I actually give a shit about and I actually want to not protect myself from.”

He steps a little towards you, just a touch, like he can’t bear the space between you any longer.

“Conrad I don’t know what more I can do to show you that.”

“You don’t have to,” Conrad shakes his head, “I was an idiot last night, okay? Worse than an idiot, because I was selfish too. Really fucking selfish.”

You look down at the ground in front of him, your jaw clenching to stop yourself from crying.

“I panicked,” His voice wobbles, “I saw you and it felt like I was just seeing this whole other life that you have here and I- I just wasn’t sure where I fit into that.”

“Conrad it’s my decision how you fit into that,” You remind him, “It’s my choice who and when and how people are in my life. And I choose you.”

He smiles, softly, faintly, fleetingly, “You do?”

“Conrad,” You drop your shoulders, practically rolling your eyes at his uncertainty, “Three weeks ago I was drunk at a party, stumbling down the steps, and my first thought was to call you. Two weeks before that I was at the grocery store on my own and I walked around the aisles for two hours on the phone to you. I know what vasopressin is and what causes adult meningitis because I’ll sit there and quiz you for your exams just to spend time with you. I’m doing that for just anyone.”

His cheeks flush, “You remembered vasopressin.”

You laugh, “Yes, Conrad, I remembered.”

He smiles, stepping towards you and reaching for your waist, pulling you into him. His head dips and he kisses you, less hesitantly than he ever had before. This time, sure of himself, sure of you. You grip the material of his hoodie as if you were melting into him.

“I’m sorry I was so unsure,” He pulls away, looking between your eyes and down to your lips, “And I’m sorry I made you feel like that was your fault.”

You shake your head, drawing up a hand to cup his cheek, smoothing your thumb over his skin.

“So I guess now is a good time to give you this,” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a tiny frame, no bigger than the palm of his hand.

He places it into your hand, his fingers remaining there to trace over the paper framed inside. It was a cutting out of his notebook, a few words of his exam notes ripped in half at the top as, in the centre, there sat a small anatomical heart drawn in a blue pen you’d stolen from him.

“You drew that the night I met you,” Conrad explains softly, “You told me you didn’t understand the human body but you were sure that you understood the human heart.”

You look up at him, smiling, tears brimming in your eyes.

“I want this, I want us,” He encourages, “And the next time you introduce me to someone I want it to be as your boyfriend.”

You giggle, “Conrad Fisher are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Yes,” He exhales, his head tilting, “Yes I am.”

You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck, drawing up onto your tiptoes. He scoops an arm around your waist, lifting you up from the ground.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” He says, settling you back down.

You shrug as if nonchalantly, “We’ll see.”

You turn around to walk back into your apartment and he follows after you, grabbing onto your waist from behind.

“We’ll see?” He persists, “What am I supposed to do with that?”