#rl9

Intro + Families

Will Smith comes from a pretty well-off, established family in Lexington, Massachusetts. He gets his name from his grandfather, William Charles Patrick Smith I. His parents' names are Bill and Colleen, and he has an older sister named Grace. He was skating by the age of four. His family are known Catholics. Many generations of the Smiths have attended Boston College.

Ryan Leonard is the youngest of four. His brother, John, is seven years older than him, and his sisters Alyssa and Brianna are eabout 13-14 years older. This is kind of a big deal to him, it seems. Leno was John's nickname, and Ryan was Little Leno for a long time. He was also raised Catholic. If there is one thing you need to know about Ryan Leonard, it's that he is a huge dork (essential viewing). Also, check out these pictures of him as a little kid.

Gabe Perreault is the youngest son of former NHL player Yanic Perreault. He has three siblings, Jacob, Jeremy, and Liliane (ik Jacob is older but I'm not sure about the other two). His family is French-Canadian. They moved to Chicago, Illinois when Gabe was very young, and he seems to mostly identify as American, as he's played for American teams internationally. He does speak French fluently. This post is a good source for some French articles about Gabe, and also gives some insight into his family dynamics.

Junior Boston Bruins

The earliest evidence I've found of Will and Leno being friends is them being on the Junior Boston Bruins together in 2015, when they would've been 10 years old. Leno says (2:21:06) that they played in different leagues during the regular season, but were on the Jr Bruins over the summer. This video (1:44) includes the two of them playing together around the same time. It's hard to say how close they were at this age, but they definitely knew each other.

Slight Tangent: Will Vote

So this really does not matter at all, I just want to mention it. There's this guy named Will Vote who is childhood friends with Will Smith. He's a 5'8" scrawny white boy who didn't get drafted and still attends BC and he somehow manages to remain at the scene of the crime in all of this. I don't know if he's important. I don't know how much of the drama he knows. I just know that he's there. If you're wondering who the mystery fourth person is in a picture, it's probably Voter.

National Team Development Program

The National Team Development Program, or NTDP, is the team that represents the United States at the IIHF World U18 Championship, or just U18. They technically have two teams, the Under 18s and the Under 17s. Both Leno and Will were invited to play at the NTDP in 2021. This meant they had to move to Michigan. The Smith family bought a home in Michigan while retaining their Lexington house. Will Smith, Will Vote, and Ryan Leonard lived there together. Smith and Voter's moms took turns staying with/looking after them in two-week long shifts. I know for certain that Will was taking online classes with his Boston high school, St. Sebatian's, and retained several friends from that school (he had already committed to Northeastern University with some of them at this point).

The NTDP is where Leno and Will first met Gabe. The three of them were put on a line together and saw a lot of success. Will played centre, with Gabe on the right wing and Leno on the left. Even at this time, they were being called the best line in junior hockey.

Fun fact: this is where they first played against Macklin Celebrini as a trio! Mack was on Chicago Steel at the time. Also the first time you can see Mack ragebaiting Leno.

2023 NHL Draft

Here's some pictures of the gang at the NHL Entry Draft Combine because I think they're so silly. I also encourage you to check out this video about Leno getting drafted. It gives some good insight to the process, as well as Leno as a person.

The 2023 NHL entry draft took place in Nashville, Tennessee, from June 28-29. Will Smith went 4th overall to the San Jose Sharks. Ryan Leonard went 8th overall to the Washington Capitals. Gabe Perreault went 23rd overall to the New York Rangers. Both Will and Leno thought that Gabe was seriously overlooked. They're constantly emphasizing how smart he is.

Boston College (23-24)

Will, Gabe, and Leno had all already committed to playing hockey at Boston College before the draft, and so had a lot of their friends from the NTDP. Leno was one of the first to commit. Will had committed to Northeastern University a few years ago but de-committed around Christmastime and committed to BC instead. (all of that is covered in wonderful detail here). They basically peer-pressured Gabe into committing with them, as Gabe says here (0:34).

Boston College is a Catholic school. As mentioned earlier, Leno and Will were both raised Catholic and seemingly still are. I have seen nothing to indicate whether Gabe is religious or not. While Leno and Will can both be seen wearing crosses, if Gabe ever wears a chain, it's usually with his dad's jersey number. He might be Catholic, as a lot of hockey players are and his family is from Quebec. We won't know unless he tells us directly, I suppose.

Will, Leno, and Gabe were all communications majors. Will and Leno took all the same classes together, including theater. Gabe was in 4 out of their 5 classes, as he took French (yes, French. A language he already speaks fluently.) Gabe and Will shared a dorm. I haven't found any info on Leno's living situation during their freshman year, but it's safe to assume he lived on campus. Also, Leno was very invested in getting good grades, moreso than a lot of their teammates. Which is interesting to me, considering he's the same guy who later says "just because I went to college doesn't mean I'm smart."

During BC, Will wore the number 6, Leno wore 9, and Gabe wore 34 (Gabe's dad wore numbers ending in 4 throughout his career, and Gabe does the same).

The boys stayed on a line together and were widely considered the best line in college hockey. I truly can't emphasize enough how good they were together. Will had this to say about their chemistry:

"Every game we go into as a line we want to be the best line on the ice. And we take that personally if we’re not. So, every game we are super competitive, and we all want to go out there and dominate. These two guys feed off of me and I feed off of them, so we are always giving our best for the other guys."

Now, there are a lot of people who will tell you that Gabe and Leno were more friends with Will than they were with each other, and that Will was the glue holding their group together. To a certain extent, that is true- but Gabe and Leno were friends! Look at how smiley Gabe gets when Leno is brought up!! Look at how he stares at Leno!! Look at these pictures!!!! Would you do that with a guy who's just a friend of a friend??? I don't think so!!!! That being said, it does seem like Will and Gabe were very close in a way that Leno wasn't really a part of.

BC ultimately lost the National Championship game 2-0 against Denver University. You can watch the full replay of it here, but the most important parts are at 1:52:04 and 1:54:00 where you can see Leno crying on the ice, and his teammates helping him up. Will goes to hug Leno, and he turns away. Which could possibly indicate that there was already some tension? More likely, Leno was just really upset.

Here are a couple videos from their freshman year: (x) (x)

World Junior Championship 2024

From December 26 2023 to January 5 2024, Will, Gabe, and Leno competed in the IIHF World Juniors Championship. This did cross over with their time at BC, during winter break.

They ultimately won, with Leno scoring against Sweden in overtime to cement their victory. Everybody makes their little instagram posts about it, but by far the most lethal is this one that Leno's because of that evil evil caption (Will posted a reel because he wanted to be different.)

2024 NHL Draft + The Macklin Celebrini of it all

Yeahhhh, we do have to talk about Mack.

On May 7th, 2024, the Sharks won the first overall pick of the 2024 draft. So, they basically won Mack. Mack was present for the draft lottery.

On May 28th, Will Smith signs his ELC, meaning he will play with the San Jose Sharks for the 2024-25 season. Apparently someone in his home felt the need to decorate about it.

On June 28th, the NHL Draft takes place and Mack is officially drafted to the San Jose Sharks. We do know that Will attended based only on his instagram story. Ostensibly he was there to support his NTDP teammate Zeev Buium, who was also drafted that day.

I don't know if I can say for certain that Will left BC to play with Macklin, but. Man. As soon as Mack was drafted, everyone was talking about Mack and Will playing together. (x) (x) The two of them get extremely close during training camp, which is around the time that Mack officially signs.

I'll include this here, I guess, since it crosses over into Sophomore year. There's a lot of instagram shennanigans around this time that maybe point to a falling out between Will and Leno? Obviously as outsiders we can't say for sure, it just looks weird. I highly encourage you to look through that linked post, as it explains things much better than I could, but I will mention things as they come up. Gabe and Will both post their sad little stories about Will leaving.

Sophomore Year (24-25)

Both Gabe and Leno decided to stay at BC for a second year rather than sign with their respective teams. In this article, Leno basically says that he felt he had "unfinished business" because of their championship loss.

Leno and Gabe stayed on a line together. At least at the Beanpot, Will was replaced by junior Andre Gasseau, but it was sometimes James Hagens? Idk. When Will gets his first goal, Leno and Gabe both repost it to their stories.

During sophomore year Leno lived in what he called an 8-man, basically a shared apartment with seven other people. He was not living there in Freshman year, because the 8-person dorms are not available to Freshman. I don't know where Gabe was rooming without Will (though I personally like to imagine he was in the 8-person dorm, based on absolutely zero evidence).

Leno and Gabe return to World Juniors for their second gold. Leno is captain this time around (frankly an astonishing choice). But without Will around, BC isn't performing quite as well. However they DO manage to win the hockey east final against BU! And apparently, Will and Mack had made a bet based off of that game, so Mack is seen wearing Will's old BC jersey during walk-ins. Eventually, Will does have to wear Mack's jersey when BU wins a game. This post goes more into the jersey bet and how utterly insane that is.

On January 20th (which is the day before Leno's birthday) the Sharks play the Bruins in Boston and a bunch of BC guys attend. They even get a group photo with Will! Gabe was a part of this group. There are eyewitness accounts to say that Leno was at the game, apparently picking up trash? But Leno is notably not in the group picture. Also Will does not post anything for Leno's birthday, which he has done in years prior.

Will was at the beanpot (with Mack of course) but seemingly didn't hang out with any of his old BC buddies. Mack is also there and can be seen mingling with BU players, and even reading their starting lineup for the night.

For Will's birthday, March 7th, Gabe posts but Leno does not.

BC loses to Denver again in the semifinals. They're not getting that championship. On March 31st, 2025, it is announced that Leno has signed with the Capitals and Gabe has signed with the Rangers.

The same day he signs, Leno gets a text from an unknown number claiming to be Alex Ovechkin and asking him if he wants to go to sushi. It turns out to actually be Ovi, and a bunch of the Caps party with the BC guys. I can't stress enough that this is a real thing that happened.

Leno's debut (April 1st) in Boston was just one day before Gabe's (April 2nd) in New York. A number of BC guys, including Voter and Jacob Fowler, showed up to both Leno and Gabe's debut games wearing their BC jerseys backwards so that the guys could see their numbers. Put that in the category of Things Moon Is Super Normal About.

Leno seems to fit in right away with the Caps, they all adore him. He moves in with his teammate Pierre-Luc Dubois and his wife Maddy for a few months, and they do their best to teach him to be a real grown-up. Ovi is calling him "Kiddo" and "Baby". He's getting pet like a dog. He's the baby brother of the team and honestly, he's thriving. Also he makes his playoff debut!

Gabe is having a very different experience. He spends a lot of time going back and forth between the Rangers and their AHL affiliate, the Hartford Wolf Pack. At least when he is with the Rangers, he has a tall brunette to stare lovingly at.

Summer of 2025

Mack and Will go to Worlds with Sidney Crosby. Sure, why not.

Okay, aaaand we're back to instagram shenanigans. It truly never ends with these people.

On May 29th Leno makes his little goodbye post to BC, where he calls it the best two years of his life. Will is not in any of the pictures, but he does comment "6934🥲". Also, The picture of Gabe and Leno looks suspiciously like a photo of Will and Mack that Will posted. Make of that what you will. Also Gabe's comment further cements to me that the love is real!!!

On June 5th, Gabe posts a cheeky little photo dump! This functions as his goodbye to BC (even though he already posted like two goodbyes). Let's take a look at some of the pictures:

Okay, looking good, looking... wait, what's that? That second to last picture? Did Gabe, Leno, and James Hagens push two queen sized beds together? And then he and Leno laid in bed together on their phones? Why did he post this??

ANYWAYS. On July 9th, 2025, Gabe Perreault posts this nuclear bomb:

So... I don't really know what to say about this. There's no beef??? I guess??? The comments from their friends/BC teammates seem surprised, so some people think that this post is more for appearances. They're clearly wasted as hell. I don't fucking know, man. Why is Will Vote tagged? Why did Matt Rempe comment "ladies loved this one"? Why did Jacob Fowler comment a Rocky gif? Why do they all look so stupid? Who picked that fuckass song? The photo is apparently from some kind of event at Will's family's home on Cape Cod. I have yet to see evidence of any other guys being there, but surely they must have been?

On July 15th, Will and Leno are both at a Coldplay concert. It is unclear if they went together.

On July 24th, Will and Leno participate in Shoulder Check. Gabe was supposed to be there too, but wasn't for whatever reason. This is the first time that Will and Leno play on oposing teams, and it's... it's fine, actually. They're acting So Normal.

On September 3rd Will posts his summer photo dump which features A Whole Lot Of Gabe. Leno is nowhere to be found (despite the fact that he was at some of those events).

NHL (25-26)

Will and Mack continue to be attached at the hip. Everybody act surprised.

December 3rd, 2025. The Washington Capitals play against the San Jose Sharks. This is the first time that any of the boys have played against each other in the NHL. The vibes are a little weird. There's this video of Will and Leno giggling together and then Will immediately locking back in, which. whatever. Ultimetly the Caps win 7-1. (Mack's number is 71. by the way.)

On December 13th, Will gets injured in a game against the Pittsburgh Penguins. Mack immediately turns around to fight the guy that hurt Will. Will is put on IR for thirteen games.

On December 23rd, The Caps play the Rangers. There's pretty limited interaction between Leno and Gabe on ice. After the game, Leno says that he and Gabe exchanged a "couple words." Which could mean literally anything I guess. The final score is 7-3 Rags. (73 is Matt Rempe's number. By the way. Just in case you were wondering.)

For Christmas Eve, Leno posts a picture of himself scoring on the sharks (slide 4). You tell 'em, king.

Gabe plays for the Rangers during the Winter Classic! And a few weeks later he scores two goals in one game! I don't want to jinx anything but it's looking very good for my boy.

On January 15th, 2026, The Sharks play the Capitals in DC. Will is still on IR at this point, though apparently Will and Leno went to dinner the night before the game. Neither of them have commented on it from what I can tell, so god only knows how that went. Final score was 3-2 San Jose. Not a narratively significant number for once! Good job boys, we did it! Also, Will comes off IR like a day later.

Leno's birthday was January 21st and neither Will nor Gabe posted about it.

Two days later, January 23rd, the Sharks played the Rangers. Gabe and Will got dinner the night before. We also got this article where both Gabe and Will talk a bit about playing against each other for the first time, as well as this video which covers a lot of the same territory. It's nice to see that they still speak very highly of each other! That being said, during the game Gabe elbows Mack in the face. It does look prettyyyy intentional. The Sharks Broadcasters felt the need to add that Gabe and Will would have an "official breakup" after the game. Uh. Do with that what you will. Will is asked about it here (2:33) and jokes that Gabe should've gotten a longer penalty. The final score was 3-1 San Jose.

In Conclusion

Good god, I hope that's everything. Again, there's always going to be a lot going on behind the scenes that we don't know about. There's also some stuff I left out, like the fact that Gabe's favorite midnight snack is milk and cookies, and Will and Mack are known to order milk and cookies in their hotel rooms.

Personally, I go back and forth on whether or not there's any actual beef here. Sometimes friends drift apart for no reason. Professional hockey players are also very busy people. Maybe they just didn't have time to post for their buddies' birthdays. I don't know, man.

﹌﹌﹌

You weren’t even supposed to be in this situation, really, but college does as college goes, and when a friend texts that her boyfriend’s frat is throwing that night, well. It’d be stupid to say no.

You’d pregamed with your girls, taking shots of cheap liquor out of plastic cups having not yet reached that point of growing up where you hunker down and buy a proper shot glass or two, offering clothes to borrow and outlining individual goals of the night. 

It’s that last detail that matters most, a sworn promise between you and friends both old and new: no canoodling with Rho Upsilon Kappa Kappa. We’ve played these games before, we know we’re better than that. Girls don’t leave other girls alone with a ΡΥΚΚ. 

There’s some small sliver of you, maybe your dignity, that wishes you would’ve crossed your fingers behind your back, some ‘get out of jail free’ card to alleviate your own guilt for making a promise you knew deep down you had no means of keeping. 

But that’s the problem. Part of you’d meant to keep it, because you have played these games before, and you’d spent your makeup routine complaining about every other greek-letter-riddled rendezvous you’d suffered through.

And you made it quite far, to be completely honest. From the pre to the clumsy dap up at the front door when the pledge makes the cognitive link between Emily and Voter’s girlfriend, even through the first drink in your hand. 

It’s an accomplishment to say the least.

But then one drink becomes a second and maybe even a third, and you’re playing pong with some brother in the frat, and you get a little mean with the shit talk because you can’t quite resist, and then everything else just crumbles after that. 

The memories are foggy and come through in glimpses, but one second you’re in the game and the next you’re leaning against the kitchen counter, the brother- no, Ryan- approaching you after what must’ve been minutes of you sending faux-innocent and fully intentional glances his way. 

He drops an unopened water bottle into your hand, and you disregard the insinuation that you might need it as you crack it open and take a sip, vocal fry soothed by the cool liquid.

“You enjoying yourself?” he slurs out slightly, hand occupied by his own water bottle but eyes locked on none other than you.

You smile playfully with a shrug before responding, “hard to say.”

He responds with a low whistle and a smirk, “Sheesh, cold.” 

You smile, swaying into him playfully with cunning eyes, and the look returned by him is enough to let you know that you’ve already got him right where you need him.

Hook, line, and sinker, every time without fail.

He clears his throat, uncaring, as he continues.

“I mean, could always go upstairs. A little more quiet,” and your lips are already spreading into a bit of a cheshire grin.

“Oh, is that right?” you say a little bit condescending, knowing exactly where this is headed.

“Yeah, just,” he begins, trying way too hard to come off indifferent, “we gotta slip away, don’t make a scene.”

And, well. You’ve played these games before, and you’d be damned if the first thing you and your friends did was anything other than explore the layouts of the land, and you know exactly where it is that you need to be going, and frat boys are just so annoying.

So, as embarrassing as it feels to look back on it, it’s a bit admirable when you look him dead in the eyes and say, “I don’t think it’s that serious”, before pushing off the counter and making your own way upstairs, him trailing shortly behind.

You make it to the upstairs hallway where all the bedrooms branch off, halting in your steps as your prior exploration came with no cheat sheet of who exactly sleeps where, but the hand that finds the small of your back to guide you in the direction of his particular door keeps you on track.

The rest is just static, random flashes of heat and pleasure between two sweaty bodies pressed together, a roll of the hips that feels just right, a crescendo and an end. 

It’s there, you pressed into his side under navy sheets, that a new pact is made.

“We should do this again,” he speaks out into the room, thumb moving lightly back and forth over your shoulder where you lay against him, “just, casual. No strings attached.”

You’re still grinning 30 minutes later when you finally reunite with your friends, a look in their eyes that tells you they already know when you meet them with a ‘you will never guess where I’ve been’. 

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚

For having broken a swearing off of frat boys, this dynamic that formed between you was quite flawless.

Before leaving the frat that Friday, Ryan came to you one last time to make sure he personally grabbed your number. 

“For business purposes, of course.”

And, fuck it. Maybe you blushed. Whatever.

Obviously, you said it would be casual, but damn if that word didn’t cover it. 

The bar isn’t by any means difficult to beat, but he surpassed the expectations laid before him by his greek-lettered predecessors. He’d text you between classes, modestly, just short and mundane conversations about your day before later inviting you for a quickie between class and practices and before or after events. In person, he never jumped straight to the chase, decent enough to ask a question or two about you or your day before bending you over and breaking your back then sending you on your merry way. 

Small acts, yes, but enough that you’re tempted to mark his chest with a stamp proclaiming exceeds expectations for all others to see. 

That’s inevitably where the problem lies - not specifically in his case, but in all cases of this type of dynamic. The very one that you had sworn to finally stay away. 

Regardless of the fact that you will likely never admit this thought aloud, there’s some part of you that is fully aware that this is like some sort of game for you as well. To a therapist, they might call it a vicious act of self destruction, or maybe even harm. Because regardless of how well they sweet talk you between one fuck and the next, frat boy and fuck boy are synonymous terms, and the behaviors of the respective type of guy are damn near parallel. 

There’s the smart part of you that knows this is forever and always a bad idea, that you’re being treated as disposable, that to get in your pants is nothing short of a victory in the leagues of masculinity, and that the more foul parts of this machine have perceived you as subhuman.

But then there’s the other part of you, one you can’t name other than maybe just when these boys turn you evil. Addicted, competitive, combative, sick and twisted, whathaveyou- when these men go low, there’s an insatiable urge within you to go lower. It’s not that you accept that you’re being treated like dogshit, it’s the rush that comes from matching their energy, matching their freak, the dopamine of getting your lick back before the tension reaches a boil and ends through a nasty fuck, and then the circuit completes before restarting.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

Fight as you might, there’s something about that cat-and-mouse that you can’t quite beat. Even if you know damn well that there are many, many other mice in your position before and after you leave, and there are many girls that have seen or will see what you’ve seen.

So, try as he might, all the icebreakers in the world won’t save Ryan Leonard from the beast that will inevitably arise after that third hookup following the party, breaking the silence and presuming normalcy as he oh so kindly cleans up the sensitive area between your legs after wreaking havoc just moments before. 

You’d leaned up on your elbows on his bed, looking down when you asked him what his plans were for the rest of the day. 

“Nothing much, getting dinner with some girl from econ later.”

And then, there’s that tinge in your jaw. That other feeling, and that rush that comes with the anticipated high, the forecasted roller coaster that now sits before you. 

Perhaps it’s the confused brow when you look down at him with a smile and an ‘ok, great’ before grabbing your things that makes you feel intoxicated, or maybe it’s the confusion in his face when he tries to politely walk you out of the door before you toss a ‘have fun on your date’ and slam his door in his face. 

But the jitters are still within you when you’re texting later that evening, and surely you make a petty joke about him being in the girl’s bed when he responds with a selfie of him in his own, a glimpse at a purple mark peeking out of the collar of his shirt granting you leeway to this game that you love so deeply.

is that a hickey 12:14PM

You see the three dots in the bottom left corner of the screen appear to show he’s typing, before disappearing and doing so thrice more, time passing before a message finally comes in.

Why 12:16PM

Jealous? 12:16PM

Poor thing doesn’t even know what he’s got himself into, because your thumbs are moving without a real thought, and the send button is hit before you can dare to reconsider.

yea maybe if i was 16 but you just look stupid as fuck 12:16PM

An additional message or two comes through before you mute him as a contact, messages unread until he finds you in your dorm the next day.

Yeah, maybe you leave him three more hickies of your own beside the first, marking a shared commodity as your own, but damn it if the mere thought doesn’t get you hot and bothered.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚

Things presume as normal, all things considered, texting one another when an insistent urge arises. 

It’s another Friday night pregame, this one with just the girls going out while the boys have some stupid internal bonding event. Before even leaving the dorms, it’s Ryan’s number that you’re texting while you get prettied up.

have fun at your circle jerk 9:07

Your friend taps you to let you know she's done using the flat iron, so you take the opportunity to finally use the bathroom and get stuck taking a selfie or five in the good lighting when he finally texts back.

Bonfire* 9:09PM

Wyd 9:09PM

And you’re already smiling, because now is your time to shine.

going out tn lol 9:09PM

But, well. Clearly you've underestimated where you had him, because the reply you get in return is less than interesting.

Have fun 9:10PM

And, well. That text just isn’t gonna cut it, the reaction not enough, so you’re already texting again.

lyla says theres probs gonna be other guys there 9:13PM

hope theyre cute LOL 9:13PM

You bite your lip, satisfied with your own work and chest warm from either the thrill of the tease or the shot you'd taken just minutes prior, but apparently it still isn't enough to push him over.

Ok? 9:13PM

I really dont care 9:13PM

If anything, the dry responses just piss you off, which makes you all the more inclined when you swipe to the camera app and take one quick fit pic and hit send.

[image attached] 9:14PM

can’t keep my ass in this skirt LOL 9:14PM

And that? Yeah, that does it. Because within seconds, his name flashes on your screen, and you’re fighting back the smile when you hit answer and even as he lights your ass up in a hushed tone on the other end of the line. Something about how you’re so fucking weird, how you need to act fucking normal, and some sort of question along the lines of what the hell is wrong with you.

But you’re still smiling when, after letting him go on his spiel with no interjections, you hang up with a ‘gotta go, uber’s here’, leaving him with nothing but sporadic texts throughout the night about the men you’ve been hit on by and everything you’ve been up to, all to no reply.

And, like clockwork, the bartender shouts out last call before your friends starting organizing the uber back home, Emily opening her phone to find a life360 notification that you’d already arrived to the ΡΥΚΚ house 30 minutes before.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚

The casual of your affair begins to creep in slowly but surely, and it’s about a month in when he asks if you want to hang out on an unassuming Monday morning, grab coffee before going to the library and working on some homework together.

It’s almost heartwarming and a step in a wild direction, if not for the fact that he cancels the night before with a lack of an excuse in the form of a vague ‘something came up’ text.

You’re hanging him out to dry and leaving his messages unread all through the next day until a facetime call that very night, in which he fills you in on his crazy hookup the night before that must’ve just left him far too tired to commit to his own plans.

He’s screensharing in the call as he shows you her insta and spews some shit about her that you really couldn’t care less about, and it’s your uninterested hum that makes him pause mid scroll and actually address you.

“What?”

You reposition yourself in bed, coming out of that slightly zoned out state of boredom before speaking, “nothing just,” and you shrug, uncaring as you continue, “she looks a lot like me.”

And then the phone screen goes black, because he hangs up. And you laugh, bewildered, before the screen lights up to a slew of texts, but one stands out.

You fucking wish it was you 8:37PM

Because yeah, you might just be a little crazy, maybe a bit toxic. But you are not jealous.

So you send back a quick are you serious??? before blocking his number entirely, slamming your phone down on your nightstand before cracking back open your laptop and resuming the homework you’d been working on before he disturbed your peace.

Except you don’t get all that far in, because it’s mere minutes later when there’s a knock on your dorm room door, and you’re met with a heated kiss, lips next to your ear with a pathetic I’m so sorry baby, didn’t mean it, hot kisses on your neck before he begs to eat you out. 

But you stand your ground, sort of, calling him a fucking mess before you tangle your fingers in his hair while you let him go down.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚

So, time passes and the relationship (if you can even call it that) remains the same, but you get closer nonetheless.

Closer as in, maybe spending more time together nonsexually, but more importantly, the learning of phone passcodes. 

You’re hanging out in his room one night watching some Adam Sandler movie, and he gets up around halfway through to use the bathroom when you decide to take your chances.

Sure, it’s a little insane. Yes, you are just a hookup. Of course, there are others. But these aren’t exclusionary qualities.

God forbid a girl wants to know.

So the second he leaves his room, you’re waiting to hear the click of the bathroom door shutting before you pick his phone up from where he set it face down, and already you’re pissed the fuck off.

Because instead of being met with the lock screen, you’re met with the camera app, camera flipped to front facing, video already recording. 

You? Caught red handed.

“Oh, you’re such a bitch.’

You slam the phone back onto the mattress, not bothering to put it back in its original place or even pause the video because there really is no getting out of this.

He comes back just moments later, immediately looking to where you’re sitting criss-crossed on the bed with your arms folded in front of you.

“You did it, didn’t you?”

And you’re shaking your head in annoyance, a thousand percent deflecting when you bite back, “why are you so worried about me being in your phone?”

“Well you fucking checked it!”

“Clearly you’ve got something to fucking hide!

He scoffs, moving his phone to the nightstand before speaking again, “can we just watch the fucking movie, Jesus Christ.”

You stare at him for just a moment or two before silently facing forward again, arms still folded in front of you when he presses play with a muttered thank you under his breath.

The silence only lasts for a short chunk of the movie, because push comes to shove and the movie gets perpetually paused when you offer an apology blow job, eyes watery as he pushes you to take him just a little bit further, tears shed when he returns the favor and curls his fingers between your walls to hit that spot that makes you crumble, and just like that all is right again.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚

None of this is to say that there aren’t people looking in from the outside without confusion or even concern.

Your friends know your habits, know that you’ve got this whole schtick with unbecoming frat boys where you walk them like dogs, know better than to tamper with an immovable object.

They even see it as empowering, in some ways.

His frat brothers? Well, they try to intervene once. 

You’d been amidst your most recent argument when you pulled up to the frat house from some bar, one of his longterm friends standing at the kitchen island and graced with the misfortune of becoming a third party in this dispute. 

To be frank, the situation didn’t make a whole lot of sense to begin with - they’ve been hooking up, both of them, and Ryan’s all pissy because the bartender started flirting with you when you went alone to get another drink.

Ryan starts going off about how supposedly you had acted flirty back, whatever that entails, but Gabe has just had his fill of their whole shitshow when he puts his hand up with a dismissive, “I’m not doing this, you guys are fucking freaks.”

He’s nothing short of correct, cause about an hour later they’re met with a hollered ‘you guys fucking suck’ from Smitty down the hall after the headboard hits the wall just a few too many times to be mere coincidence.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚

Things get a little too nasty, and Ryan reacts by saying you two should really focus on the noncommittal of no strings attached. 

Sure, there’s a bit of a sting to it, but it’s only natural. Yes, you know you mutually agreed to this nonmonogomous whatever-the-fuck between you, which inherently includes seeing other people, but it’s so totally and completely normal to feel a bit dejected at being told its time to ease off. 

But you’re not bothered anyways, truly, and you don’t face much of a struggle going home with someone else in the meantime.

So, when the game inevitably starts itself again, and you’re met with a cocky text from none other than Ryan about whatever girl he hooked up with in the back seat of a sedan, you don’t even finish reading his messages before you snap a pic of the guy from the bar sleeping next to you, hitting send without a second whim.

Your phone immediately starts buzzing, and your heart rate speeds up lightly out of fear of the man next to you awaking, rushing to hit decline.

And then it rings again, hit with another immediate decline.

After the third time, you’re immediately met with texts.

Clearly youre on your fuckin phone 1:31AM

How are ouy gonna just ingore my calls 1:31AM

You roll your eyes, typing out a petty reply with a new lack of consideration of the body next to you.

wait call again 1:32AM

LIke clockwork, your phone lights back up with his name, and within a second you’re hitting decline

Just like that. 1:32AM

And now you’re biting your lip to fight back a smile as the texts roll in.

You know what 1:33AM

Fuck you 1:33AM

This isn’t fucking cute 1:34AM

Your such a piece of shit 1:36AM

And now you’re trying not to laugh as you push back.

i’m not cute?  1:40AM

*you’re 1:40AM

And all you’re met with is a fuck you.

…Until 15 minutes later, when your phone buzzes again from the guys bedstand. 

You unlock your phone to follow up messages from Ryan, and it’s… a mess.

So fucking hard baby 1:56AM

Talk me through it 1:56AM

You glance at the guy over the shoulder, a blush rolling through you that you may not see in the darkness of the room, but can certainly feel. 

didn’t you just nut 1:58AM

Your brows are still furrowed in confusion when his response comes in just a second later

Couldn’t 1:58AM

Fuck dont make fun of me 1:59AM

Please 2:01AM

You bite your lip and release a quiet sigh, shaking your head at yourself before getting to work. 

It’s dirty, for sure, but the guy doesn’t need to know the filthy words you type out on your screen to another man while actively in his bed, nor does he need to learn of the picture with evidence splattered across a toned set of abs after the fact. 

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚

As with all things done without care and consideration, the two of you reach a point of what could be called exhaustion, resulting in the first ever not-lovers-lovers-quarrel.

It’d been another day at the frat house, him gloating about some other one off he had with another girl when you’d cut him off in annoyance.

“Honestly, I really don’t care anymore. Go ahead and fuck whoever you want, make yourself a woman of the night for all I care, just stop fucking telling me about.”

And he scoffs, putting his cup back down on the counter angrily, “what, like you’re any better? I could list out the shit you’ve aired out on me.”

You whip around, looking it him with squinted eyes, hands out in front of you like you could reach out, grab him by the skull, and shake him, “who the fuck did it first. Like really, are you not sick of yourself?”

He kicked you out shortly thereafter, you regressing back to old behaviors and blocking his number again after he had tried to insinuate that you were acting crazy. But the jokes on him, because you’d already gotten a text from some girl friends about going out to one of the bars, sans any men, and you’d be damned if you let literally some guy put a damper on your Saturday night. 

Except the uber driver played the entirety of No.1 Party Anthem during the ride to the bar, and maybe it’s the shots you took in someone’s suite but it feels as though it’s set the tone for the night, because one long island and a jello shot in and you’ve found yourself sitting out back on the patio of various friends, listening in on talks of relationships both old and new, and there’s this deep-seated heavy feeling in your chest, a sinking feeling behind your eyes.

In reality, you were and always had been sick and fucking tired of finding yourself in these twisted scenarios, raveled up in these frat boy types. Even Ryan fucking Leonard could’ve been a chance to step away from that - you’d known Will for some time, having met a while back through Emily, and had heard through stories the type of guy he really was, or at the very least could be. But what is a habit if not damn near impossible to break. The situation was doomed from the moment the word casual slipped through his lips. It’s what was familiar to you, so you settled on taking whatever he gave you.

But, fuck, you really shouldn’t have had that long island, cause everything is feeling a bit more shifty, the alcohol making itself known not in a Shaking Ass On Top Of Cars way, but cementing itself in a Cinnamon Girl, I Need A Goddamn Cigarette sense. 

So it’s only natural when you hear the word uber in some conversation proximal to you, latching onto it like a life preserver with hopes that these friends-of-friends are girls’ girls and will let you chip in with a promise of a zelle back in the morning.

There’s some confusion and verification when they pass you the phone to punch in your destination as a stop, double-checking its both correct and wanted when they watch you clumsily punch in some frat house. 

The ride to the ΡΥΚΚ house is uneventful, and you part ways with the girls with one last check in and some sweetly spoken good nights before you find yourself knockingly softly and consistently on the front door.

A half awake and pissed off Ryan swings open the door, jaw set but mouth agape to ask what the hell you want at 2:00AM, but his eyes quickly shift to confusion before he can even speak.

Because you’re crying, without even realizing it, some ugly, messy thing that’s even more amplified by the way the alcohol has left you disjointed. 

You stumble just a bit when he gently grabs you by the shoulders, guiding you through the door way with a soft spoken get in here, standing in front of you with his hands in his pockets and concern in his eyes after dropping you off on the living room couch.

“Did someone do something to you?”

And you shake your head no, but it doesn’t do much to make him feel better when you immediately break down into a fit of sobs, hearing shuffling as he moves to sit near you on the couch.

“I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep doing this back and forth game anymore.”

He’s visibly a little confused, eyes flicking between your own, head shaking slightly as he responds, “I thought you wanted this.”

“It’s not,” you whisper hoarsely, choking on the still lingering tears and inebriation before swallowing and continuing, “I thought it was what I wanted, but it’s not.”

The perplexity visible settles in his eyes, and his gaze softens just a bit as he takes in what you’re laying out for him.

“Okay,” he settles for, not quite sure what to say.

“I can’t just keep going on like this is all fine and fun, I’m gonna go fucking crazy.”

You’re voice cracks through the last word, and you’re folding in on your self before you can even finish the sentence, breaking down out of exhaustion, embarrassment, shame, you name it.

“Shhh, hey,” and you can feel his hand heavy on your back as he moves to soothe you in gentle patterns along your spine, “hey. I’m sorry.”

You’re tears don’t necessarily stop, but you tilt your head to look up at him regardless as he continues, “This isn’t… that’s not what I wanted. And I’m sorry.”

The two of you sit in the quiet living room for a while in silence, his hand still making circular motions in hopes of you being able to calm down, an occasional shhhh offered in comfort until your breathing is steady enough for some semblance of a proper conversation.

The palms of your hands are pressed against your eye sockets when you find the confidence to speak again.

“I don’t even know what we’re supposed to do with this.”

He scoffs lightly from beside you, “first off, this is both of our issue, so you don’t need to figure that out,” his hand pauses briefly on your back, hand raising to gently untangle a piece of your hair before resting it on your shoulder and offering a lazy shrug, “I don’t know, we just.. start over.”

You huff in the loose shape of a laugh, and he lightly ‘punches’ you in the shoulder at the insinuation of a bad idea, “I’m serious.”

Then you let out a real giggle, and he smiles in return at even just the split second of seeing you not so fucking sad before he speaks again.

“Okay listen, I’m not… I don’t think I really know how to be what you need.”

Your stomach drops, and that sharp feeling behind your eyes comes back far stronger than it was when you’d shown up at this very house. 

“...but, I wanna try. And I know you’re more than capable of putting me in my place, if this is what you want to do.”

Just a moment pauses, and with a single tear and a sniffle you find yourself nodding your head softly.

“Yeah,” you finally whisper out after a deep breath.

“Yeah?” and you nod, more certain this time.

His hand raises from your shoulder to the base of your head, tilting your head slightly downwards before he presses a kiss to the top of your head. Soft. Gentle.

“Now go the fuck upstairs, I was trying to fucking sleep.”

And you punch him gently in the ribs with a smile before grabbing his arm and dragging him his now painfully familiar room.

✮˚. ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚

Greek letters be damned, the change was immediate.

The last few minutes of your night was unceremonious, to say the least. He’d tossed you some (clean) boxers and a t-shirt to wear to bed, being oh-so-sweet enough to lend you a fresh toothbrush from the pack to foster some semblance of a night routine in the horrors of a frat house after hours. 

Old habits die hard, and you made one petty jab when you asked if any of his side pieces had left any makeup wipes in his bathroom, immediately feeling bad when he answers with a pointed no one else has stayed the night before sneaking off and stealing the makeup remover that Voter keeps for when Emily stays over. 

In the morning, you’re sitting at the kitchen island, still in Ryan’s clothes, when Gabe and Smitty come down the stairs to grab a bite before an optional skate, pausing in their tracks when they recognize your presence and look to him with raised brows and tight lips.

Immediately, his head shakes softly to shut it down before it even starts, a look in his own eyes that tells them it’s a conversation for later. 

They might not know what the hell happened, but they know Ryan and the ways that he carries himself and the thousands of things that they mean, enough so to roll their eyes and blow kisses to him from behind your shoulder.

So, they play the part, and they act unknowing as they make haste to grab a protein bar or two before getting out of your hair, but with one last glance over their shoulders, they depart with a hollered, “later, loverbirds,” in your direction, met with a ticked jaw and middle finger beside a tight smile of playful chagrin.

But your heart flutters nonetheless, which immediately makes you feel crazy and foolish but maybe in the good kinda way, filling you with all the reassurance that might just be able to figure this shit out, for real this time.

﹌﹌﹌