#x outcast!reader

His eyes snapped open instantly – still angled downward, shadowed under his lashes. His fists clenched, only slightly, but enough for you to notice in the dim light. For the first time, you were thankful for the metal support beneath your shoulder for propping you up. 

Slowly, painfully, his gaze raked up, crawling over you, taking you in bit by bit until his eyes found yours, cantered beneath his brows. His expression didn’t change, but the sudden, sharp rise of his chest betrayed him. He hadn’t expected you.

You took his lack of movement as permission, stepping finally out of the shadow to the thick, smudged glass. His chest only rose again, jaw tight, as he pulled in unsure breaths. For a moment, he resembled little more than an injured stray, unable to register anything but his own fear. 

He made no effort to move, nor speak. Neither did you. 

For the second time, his eyes drifted down, taking in the crutch beneath your arm, the bandages poking out from beneath loose sweatpants, the bruises from IV lines littering your arm and hand. 

It took all your strength to avoid flinching at the metallic clunking of the chains that bound him as he broke the suffocating silence, punctuated only by the small huff of effort it took for him to lower his arms, taking unsure, unsteady steps to close the gap. 

You had never felt so much like prey. 

“I did this?” His voice was raspy, yet sterile. Head tilting as if assessing you. The warmth you had known so well stripped away. 

Your tongue darted out to anxiously wet your lips. “The Hyde did.” It came out quieter than you meant for it to, quivering slightly as his lips twitched. They didn’t hold, but the ghost of the smirk was there, like some subliminal feed designed to mess with you. You shuffled your weight awkwardly. 

“You still don’t blame me, do you?” 

“It was Gates.” You said simply, the words so well repeated that they were second nature.

The huff of a laugh startled you, the first real show of emotion giving you the only glimpse of your Tyler since that night. 

“Did Fairburn tell you to say that?” His eyes left yours only briefly, glancing up to one of the many cameras you knew they were watching from. You weren’t dumb. You were only let in here to experiment with him further. Push him to another limit. 

“Do you think so little of me?” you frowned, mouth downturned as he glanced back at you, fixated on your still-chapped lips. He sucked in a ragged breath, but offered you nothing more. 

“You left me alive,” you murmured, so quietly you weren’t even sure he could hear you. The slight tension that set into his bare shoulders the only sign he had. You tempted another step closer. “Why?” 

He didn’t move, his eyes flicking between yours. “I don’t know.” 

“Don’t lie.” You weren’t sure where the anger boiled up from, something in you finally snapping as you spat your words, still barely raising your voice. 

His chest heaved now, dragging in breaths as if he had been running, nostrils flaring with the effort. He stepped closer still, so close that if either of you took another step you’d be pressed against the glass you were sure wouldn’t stop him if he really wanted out. 

“I should have,” it was practically a growl. 

You pulled your cheek between your molars, biting down so as to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. Not because his words hurt, you had been told to expect nothing but cruelty, but because a part of you wished he had gone through with it. Spare you from the hell of the last three months. 

“But you have a funny way about getting under people’s skin.” He stepped back slightly, well, it was more of a stagger, as if the words had stung him. 

Your laugh surprised you, but completely confused him. His brow furrowed as you sank into the support of your crutch further. “That’s it?” you scoffed, god you had hoped for something far less cliché. “You let me live because you cared about me?” 

“Cared?” Finally, his facade cracked, the skin finally twisting into something akin to real emotion. Real anger. “You’d reduce it down to care? As if I wasn’t the only one who loved you.” His words slammed into you, knocking the breath from your chest. For a moment, you were utterly speechless. “Now tell me, why are you here, if not just one of her experiments?” his eyes flicked back to the cameras, lingering this time as he waited for your answer. 

Your chest tightened, the crutch digging in painfully again. “Because I needed answers.”

“Answers?” His laugh was low, harsh, as he snapped his attention back to you, the vein in his neck popping. “No. You came because you couldn’t let go. Because some part of you wanted to see me again.”

“That’s not true,” you snapped, the words ringing too sharp, too fast.

He stilled. His gaze burned into you, patient in its cruelty, like he could peel back each layer until the truth was bare. “Say it again,” he murmured. “Say it without shaking.”

The silence pressed down on you, so thick you could hardly breathe. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

His lips curved. “That’s what I thought.”

For a second, you considered turning. Your weight shifted back a little as you raised your crutch, head turning just a little back towards the door. 

“You think I wanted this?” he called, halting your movements entirely. “You think I wanted you—” His voice broke, his chains rattling with the tremor in his hands. “I never wanted you anywhere near this.”

You turned back more quickly than you should have, stepping so close your breath nearly fogged the glass. “Then why?” you demanded, your voice rising despite yourself. 

“Because you were the only good thing I had.” 

For a beat, you couldn’t breathe. His eyes – usually hard, unreadable – glimmered with something fragile. Regret? Pain? Or was it just another performance, another way to keep you tethered?

You searched his face for the monster you knew, the one who had torn you apart, but in its place was the boy who used to smile at you across steaming cups of coffee, who carried your books just because he could. The boy you had loved. Still did.

Your heart ached at the sight of it, a dangerous pull dragging you closer. Against every warning in your mind, against the sting of your scars, you let yourself soften, just for a breath.

“Tyler…” you whispered, your palm lifting as if it might rest against the glass, reaching toward him despite the barrier, despite everything. His chest stuttered with the smallest inhale, his shoulders dropping, but his hands remaining by his sides. 

For a moment, it almost felt like the glass wasn’t there. The silence that followed was unbearable, stretching taut until the heavy lock of the door disengaged behind you. A guard’s voice broke the spell: “Time.”

Neither of you moved. You stared at him through the glass, your breath shuddering, his eyes hollow and wet.

At last, you turned toward the door, every step heavier than the last. But just before the guard pulled you out, his voice cracked through the space one last time.

“I see it now.” His chest rose sharply. “Killing you. It would’ve been kinder than what I left you with.”

“You’re going to get soil all over it,” he groaned in mock despair, slumping down on one of the empty old crates in the corner.

“Please, it’s probably grateful it’s somewhere useful instead of wadded up on your floor.”

You muttered a few words under your breath, your fingers brushing carefully over the sightly trampled plant on your bench. Within seconds they were lifting themselves back up proudly, the small fissures in the stems healing and knitting together.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Ajax sitting forward. “Still blows my mind when you do that,” he murmured, a crooked grin tugging at his lips as the little flowers re-bloomed right in front of him.

“Some kids trampled them last night,” you huffed, turning to place the pot back on a tray to take out again later, picking up the next patient in your queue. “Why do they always have to hook up behind the greenhouse?”

Ajax snorted, lips pressing together tightly to try and hold back his grin. “You simply make it too magical, it seems.”

“Or they know only present company come down here now that Thorn-bush is gone,” you sighed, swallowing sourly as her name left your tongue. “Besides, your poor attempts at flattery are sickening. Shouldn’t you be saving all your best annoying lines for Enid?” you asked, raising a brow but not quite taking your eyes off your work.

If there was one topic of conversation you usually tried to avoid, it was that of the she-wolf. You had nothing against Enid, really. But you were not the biggest fan of how she treated your best friend.

Still, you couldn’t miss how his shoulders sank out of the corner of your eye, your gaze instinctively lifting.

“Annoying you is what I’m best at,” he tried, but his energy wasn’t in it. You could have told that from a mile away.

Tossing your shears down and wiping your hands on a rag you sighed, raising a brow at him expectantly. You didn’t need to say anything for him to get the hint.

“That night I disappeared at camp – I found her with some werewolf guy.” Ajax visibly deflated, sinking back to lean against the greenhouse wall as he picked at the corner of his nail.

Biting the inside of your lip was the only way you could stop yourself biting out a remark you knew you would come to regret. Instead, you mused for a moment. “And I’m guessing it wasn’t just a ‘get some fresh air’ kind of walk?” You already knew it wasn’t.

Ajax snorted a half-arsed laugh. “Nope,” he said dryly, popping the p.

You struggled to hold back your scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. “I take it that’s why she went quiet over summer?” You pried, trying to ignore the tension bubbling in your chest.

You caught him nodding out the corner of your eye, his throat bobbing as he swallowed and wet his lips. “She said wolf camp was strictly no-tech.”

“But you don’t believe her?” You raised a brow.

Ajax laughed, but it was devoid of any humor, “would you?”

You tilted your head a little in agreement, huffing out a slow breath.

“She didn’t deserve you, anyway.”

For a moment, you both fell silent, the steady drip of the irrigation system filling the space between you. Outside, the afternoon light filtered through the glass panes, casting soft green shadows across his face. It made your heart ache.

Swallowing thickly, you pulled your attention back to the plant in front of you, it’s slightly crumpled vines slowly unraveling and strengthening beneath your palm.

“You know,” you muttered softly, “You’re a wonderful person, Ajax.” You glanced up, offering him a soft smile. “Never forget that.”

He looked up, startled, and for half a second you wanted to reach out and touch his face just to keep him looking at you like that. Instead, you busied yourself with the plant, fingers brushing over fresh growth.

“Are you getting sentimental on me?” He joked, but there was a softness in his voice that was impossible to miss.

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head without looking at him. “Please.”

It was easier to hide behind teasing than admit the truth – that you’d been pining for him for years. That every little smile, every laugh you coaxed out of him, felt like something you didn’t want to share with anyone else.

Still, you risked a quick glance his way. He was smiling, just barely. The sight made something ache deep in your stomach.

“You’re terrible at lying,” he said.

Swallowing thickly, you wiped your hands on the rag again, trying to ground yourself. “We should be getting back for lunch,” you said, forcing a smile that felt too tight at the edges. “Give me a hand with these?” You nodded toward the other tray.

He stood slowly, muttering an agreement. You bent to lift your tray, until his hand landed lightly on your forearm.

The touch was nothing, really. Barely there. But the skin beneath his fingers burned. You froze mid-step, the air between you suddenly thick. You risked glancing up, and found his eyes locked on yours – searching, flicking between them

“You mean everything to me,” he said softly. “You know that, right?”

For a heartbeat, all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears.

“Of course, you’re my best friend.” The words almost stuck in your throat.

After what felt like entirely too long, he pulled his gaze away, his hand following reluctantly after.

“Y-yeah. ’Course.” He gave a small smile - sheepish, but not quite reaching his eyes - and moved toward the door.

You followed, the ghost of his touch still lingering on your skin, wondering how much longer you could keep pretending that was enough.

“No mistake,” you stopped him, “Trust me, I double checked. Turns out it's Caliban and Ophelia’s turn to collaborate.” 

Ajax practically gulped, “He wants us two to run RA duties together for the year?” 

“Yep.” Your popped ‘p’ echoed slightly around the classroom. “Don’t worry, I already tried to talk him out of it.” 

Ajax only scoffed, “Well, another attempt wouldn’t go amiss.” 

You could only roll your eyes. “You are more than welcome to give it a go, or you could simply surrender the role and start looking for your replacement.” 

He barked out a laugh that almost startled you, finally pulling your eyes up from the canvas again, “No chance, this is me finally getting my shit together. Why don’t you surrender?” 

You huffed, “because out of the two of us, I’m the actually organized one,” you gestured loosely to the banner you were half-way through before glazing him and his unbuttoned shirt and loose tie up and down. “Besides, I’m at least semi-professional.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Ajax crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. 

You placed your paintbrush down pointedly, crossing your hands in your lap, “I am not the one that started this whole… thing,” you gestured between the two of you. “I am more than content to just get on with it. You’re the one with the stick up your arse.” 

“Geeze, I wonder why,” he snapped, eyes narrowing. 

You couldn’t help but bite out a laugh, “I still cannot believe that this is all because of some stupid myth.” 

“Call it what you want,” he grumbled, stalking to the other side of the room to start pulling his own supplies out of the cabinets, “It doesn’t change anything.” 

In a moment of pure pettiness, your eyes fell on the fishtank beside where he crouched. Your fingers lifted, flicking carelessly, and giant droplets leapt out, landing precisely on his neck, accompanied by a satisfying yelp. 

Ajax’s eyes narrowed again as he spun around, “Point proven.” 

Week 4

To say the first three weeks of term had been draining was an understatement. It wasn’t the classes – oh no – it was him. Everyday had been a battle, and next to nothing had been done. 

You got to your self-proclaimed work room an hour earlier than normal that day, hoping to at least get the posters for the upcoming dance finished before Ajax could rock up and use the time to argue. You estimated, based on his usual sense of time keeping, that you would gave at least an hour and a half of time to yourself. 

You couldn’t help but huff, your shoulders deflating as you pushed the classroom door open to find him already sat there, legs tucked up on one of the stools, leaning against the wall with a book in his lap, posters strewn about him as if a bomb had gone off. 

“What are you doing here?” you huffed, letting the door slam behind you and shrugging your bag off your shoulder, allowing it to fall to the floor with an unceremonious thud.

“We are both assigned to this project you know,” he retorted, glancing over the posters in front of him. 

“Huh, you could have had me guessing,” you snorted, starting to rifle through some of the messy stacks of papers. To your utter surprise, they were actually finished, and (not that you would ever say it aloud) they were actually pretty good. 

He had already torn his eyes away and gone back to the tome in his lap by the time you glanced back up. 

You had to bite back a smirk, “Are you reading?” 

He only scoffed, “Are you blind?” 

“Aparrently you are, that book is upside down, you moron.” Your smirk finally broke through as he flushed, snapping the book closed as you pushed away from the desk, moving to stoop and rifle through your bag, fishing out your notebook. 

“Now,” you started, near slamming the book down in front of him and flicking though it, “I have finalised the plan for the camp-–” 

“—Who made you the leader?” he frowned, butting in. 

You only glared at him, rounding the desk so that he would read your writing, pausing only when he shifted in his seat.

“Did you just flinch away from me?” 

He stiffened slightly, his voice coming out more defensive than he planned – “no.” 

“This is ridiculous,” you grumbled, ignoring him as you continued to talk through the plan. 

It didn’t take five minutes before he was stopping you again, “I don’t agree with you here.” He jabbed at one of the sections on the page. 

Your jaw clenched, “Nobody asked you to, you just have to cope.”

“I would like to remind you that this is supposed to be a team thing, as in we work together on it, if you could hold back on that selfishness for just a second” He flicked through a few more pages of your note book as you scoffed, “Besides, I didn’t say I hated all of it, just that bit.” 

“Fine, you sat back in your chair, arms crossing over your chest, “What would you suggest?” 

“Why have the two groups separated? Why not lump them all together and we can deal with all of them at once, rather than have to wrangle two groups of first years alone.” 

You opened your mouth to rebut before stopping yourself, the idea mulling over. “Alright.” 

Ajax turned to look at you, genuine shock widening his eyes. 

“Alright?” 

“Yeah,” you muttered, handing him your pen, “You have a point.” 

His sudden grin almost knocked you off balance as he plucked the pen from your fingers and turned back to amend your notes. You didn’t recall ever seeing him smile before, at least, it never happened around you. 

Why was it oddly charming?

Week 6

“You are not going to believe what he has done now!” you exclaimed, stomping into your dorm, tossing your bag into the corner as you fell back onto your bed. There were not many things that sent you into what you could describe as a fit of rage, but that gorgon had the ability to push your buttons like no one else. 

Enid barely looked up from where she flicked through her magazine, lounged on her stomach on her bed, “I imagine something as ghastly as trying to help?” 

She glanced up just long enough to meet your glare, going back to her pages with a smirk. 

“Why do you always sound like you are on his side?” You grumbled to the ceiling. 

Enid only sighed, “Because once you get to know him, Ajax is actually a very sweet guy. Even Wednesday agrees, don’t you?” 

“I suppose he is more tolerable than others.” 

You jumped at her voice, looking up quickly to find her sat deathly still on her bed, book in her lap. You hadn’t even realised she was in. 

You dropped your head back down with a huff, “I hate him.”

“Hate him?” Enid echoed, you could hear the sly grin in her tone alone, “More like wanna date him.” 

You nearly choked on your own saliva, sitting bolt upright as if burned. “Where on earth have you got that idea from?” 

“I would wager on the fact he has been the only topic of conversation you have been interested in for the last two weeks at least,” Wednesday offered flatly, still frowning into her pages. 

Enid only pointed in her general direction, brows raising as if to say she nailed the point.

“Shut up. He does nothing but get on my nerves.” 

“You know,” Enid mused, finally flipping the magazine shut, “they say that the people who get on your nerves the most are the ones you love the most.”

You snorted softly, “They must be, since I keep you around.” 

“I’ll take it,” she grinned, shuffling to sit up. “Seriously though, if you two don’t kiss and make up soon, I will be forced to step in.”

“There will be no kissing or making up,” you stressed, ignoring the way she rolled her eyes, “Ajax hates me, he always has and he always will. It’s like it’s ingrained in him,” you mumbled the last part, kicking off your shoes and manoeuvring to lean against your pillows.

“You don’t sound anywhere near as indifferent to that fact as you meant to,” Enid pointed out smugly. 

You opted for glaring at her again. 

Week 7

“I don’t know what they think putting us on night patrols is going to do to stop people sneaking around,” you huffed, shaking the barely working flashlight in a poor attempt to fix it. 

Ajax only chuckled, but it was devoid of any humour, “Clearly they think we’re scary enough to keep them in their rooms.” 

The words made you pause for a moment. You knew he had meant them as a passing joke, but there was an undeniable weight to them that made something deep in your stomach sink. 

“You may like to pretend, but I don't. Something is wrong and you’re hiding it from me.” 

Ajax’s steps faltered a little and you stopped to turn back, just about making out his drawn brows in the dim light of his flashlight. 

“Since when do you care?” 

You found yourself taken aback at the harshness of it. Ajax had never been particularly kind to you, nor you to him, but the rough edge to it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. 

“Forgive me for trying to show an interest,” you huffed, turning on your heel and holding your hands up in mock surrender. 

You heard a sigh behind you before he called out again, “Wait–” You steps slowed but you didn’t turn around quite yet, “I– Sorry, I’m just tired.” 

Finally, you glanced back at him, his expression having softened as he caught up to you, the two of you falling into step. 

You swallowed thickly, “I know we aren’t… friends or anything, but… I’m here for you. If you need that sort of thing.”

You couldn’t quite believe the words had left your lips until they were aired. Apparently, neither could Ajax, the gorgon practically tripping over his own feet with the shock of it. 

“Huh.” You frowned, risking a glance at him. “You know–” he started again slowly “– you aren’t nearly as obnoxious as I was led to believe.” 

“Wow, thanks, I think?” you snorted, not entirely sure if you were offended or not. 

“No, not like that,” Ajax cursed himself quietly, his steps slowing again until you were forced to stop and turn to him. He breathed out heavily, his lips pressing into a line as he thought over his next words. “I was always told that people like you...”

“–Nereids?” you filled in for him, watching as he shifted uncomfortably. 

“Yeah… were cruel. Selfish, even. Couldn’t be trusted. And I guess I kinda blamed you – not you specifically –” he added quickly, eyes widening, “for, well…” he trailed off, gesturing loosely to his beanie. 

You wet your lips awkwardly, puffing out a weak laugh, “kind of a dick move.” He cringed as rubbed the back of his neck. “Is that–” you nodded towards his beanie “–where the 'scary' comment came from?” you pushed gently, falling back into step with him naturally, giving up on your flashlight and deciding to share his. 

He hesitated for a moment. “I guess.” 

You nodded slowly, your tongue rolling into your cheek, “You don’t like being a gorgon?” 

It took a moment, but he finally shook his head, fixing his gaze firmly on the floor in front of him. “The constant fear of turning everyone to stone? Being told to stay away from people? People always staying away from me? Not exactly the most fun thing in the world.” 

You mulled his words over for a moment, a dull twist in your chest unsettling you slightly. “I guess I never thought of it that way.” 

His soft laugh returned, the dull twist almost fluttering, “Not many people do.” 

There was silence for a beat, the only sound being your padding footsteps as you patrolled down the carpeted corridors. Then, so softly you almost thought you imagined it, “I don’t really blame you for it as much anymore.”

Your mouth dried out, his fingers brushed yours so slightly that you were sure you had imagined that, coughing awkwardly to try and clear your throat. 

You bumped his shoulder, “You know, you’re not awful company when you’re not trying to ruin my day.” 

He glanced at you, a soft smirk just visible in the dim light, “You like me now?”

You scoffed, “I’ve learned to bear your presence. Don’t mistake that for forgiveness.” 

“I’ll take it.” 

Week 8

“There you are, I have been looking everywhere for you.” 

You pressed your fingers to your lips as you chewed, trying to avoid spitting your food out in surprise as Ajax set his lunch tray down opposite you. 

You pulled one earphone out as you swallowed thickly, chasing it with a sip of water, “You’ve been looking for me?” you repeated, brow furrowed.

After that one night on patrol, the two of you had barely spoken to one another. You excused it as simply not having anything else to plan or work on, but you knew deep down it was because you had been avoiding him.

Despite what Enid said it was not because you were scared of the change. You just still found him… irritating – and you were still a little pissed that he based everything on some story his mom probably told him when he was six.

“Why wouldn’t I?..” He asked slowly, frowning at you and picking up his fork. 

“Because I don’t think we have spoken outside of our mandated collaboration since first year,” you pointed out, pulling your other earphone out and tucking them back into their case. 

You had to do a double take, but you were sure Ajax flushed as you called him out, training his eyes on his lunch to avoid yours. He ignored your point, however.  

“I’ve been asked to do another patrol tomorrow night, I didn’t know if you wanted to tag along?”

Your fork paused halfway to your mouth before you lowered it again, brow furrowing, utterly baffled. “You want that?” 

“You know what, forget I asked,” he sighed, going to pick up his tray again. Before you could stop yourself, your hand shot out, fingers wrapping around his wrist gently. He froze immediately, gaze fixating on where you grabbed him before glancing up at you, bewildered. 

“Why?” you retracted your hand, something in you oddly comforted when he sat back down again slowly. 

“Easier to stay awake,” he brushed it off. “Plus we can talk through options for next term.” 

“Fine,” you gave in. “I’ll come with.” 

For some reason, Ajax smiled, just briefly, his shoulders visibly relaxing again. “Cool.” 

You tried to ignore the strange warmth curling in your chest at the look on his face. 

The next evening came faster than you expected. It felt like everyone else was asleep by the time you found Ajax – he was leaning against the wall at the far end of Caliban hall waiting for you, blazer long abandoned, the sleeves of his Caliban hall hoodie pushed up to his elbows.  

He glanced up as he heard your footsteps, kicking off the wall as you approached, 

“I was starting to think you’d bailed.” 

You almost had, you thought, but offered him a tight lipped smile instead. “Nap lasted longer than I planned,” you lied. In reality, you had tried to nap, only to end up tossing and turning for an hour instead. 

He nodded, a sudden awkwardness descending over you that neither of you were familiar with. Things between you and Ajax had always been tense, but ever awkward. Now, it felt like being swallowed up by the school’s definitely haunted shadows wouldn’t be the worst way to end the evening. 

“Shall we?” He gestured down the corridors with his flashlight, flicking it on as you started walking, quickly falling into step beside you, the hand not holding the light burried deep in his hoodie pocket. 

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you, broken only by the soft squeak of your shoes against the stone floor and the occasional groan of the building settling.

“Why me?” you finally asked. The question had been burning in your mind since the moment he asked you.

“Why you what?” 

You huffed, lips pursing slightly. “Why have you started hanging out with me?” you clarified. “You hate me – or did. I don’t know any more.” 

His butter laugh knocked you off balance. “You really still think that?” he shook his head, “And they say that gorgons are slow.”  

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means,” Ajax said, swinging the flashlight beam across the wall as if the shadows were easier to look at than you, “if I hated you, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t keep looking for excuses to talk to you.”

You frowned, not satisfied with his half-answer. “So what, then? You trying to make up for all the time blaming me for something that wasn’t my fault?”

His jaw clenched, a flash of irritation breaking through. “God, you’re impossible.” He turned sharply, careful despite his frustration to angle the flashlight so it didn’t hurt your eyes. “I don’t hate you, okay? That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I started feeling things for you that… aren’t hate. And I don’t know what to do with that.”

Your chest tightened, but before you could reply, he finally faced you fully.

“You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to start falling for you?” His voice cracked on the words, anger and vulnerability colliding in his tone.

You froze, mouth slightly agape. The beam of the flashlight threw harsh, shifting shadows across his face. After a beat, he huffed, “Trust me,” Ajax added, softer this time, “I’m still trying to understand how this happened, too.”

He paced off ahead of you, leaving you stood frozen in the middle of the corridor. 

Finally, you let out a sharp breath, crossing your arms. “You’re not the only one confused, you know. You think I asked for… whatever this is?” you gestured between the two of you as he stopped. “For you to get under my skin like this?”

“I keep telling myself it’s nothing,” you continued, forcing the words past the lump in your throat, “that it’ll pass, that I don’t… feel anything. But every time I see you, every time you look at me like that—” You broke off, shaking your head, unable to name it.

A flicker of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “So we’re… both screwed, then?”

You let out a dry laugh, almost a sigh. “Yeah. Guess we are.”

He altered his beanie awkwardly, glancing down the dark corridor, then back at you. “So… what now?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your voice steady, though your heart was doing a thousand somersaults. “I… don’t know. Keep walking, I guess. Pretend nothing’s different?”

“Pretend?” he echoed, raising an incredulous brow. “You’ve got to be kidding. We’re way past pretending.”

“Then… what do you suggest?”

He hesitated, stepping closer, “I don’t know. Figure it out… together?”

You felt the words hit somewhere deep, somewhere you hadn’t let yourself acknowledge yet. “Together,” you repeated softly, letting the word hang between you.

He offered a crooked grin, awkward but real. “Yeah. Together.”

This time, with the silence that little bit less suffocating, you definitely didn’t imagine it when his fingers brushed past yours as you both started walking again, his pinky curling tentatively around yours. 

And you didn’t pull away.