“come on, let go of the wall ⁠— i’ve got you!” he said, holding out both of his hands to lydia as he skated backwards in front of her. the smile that lit up his face was like nothing that had shown in years, something that only lydia had been able to pull out of him. and how could he not smile at her like she put the damn sun in the sky when she looked that cute in her winter gear? “i promise, i’m not gonna let you fall. okay ⁠— maybe i can’t promise, but if i feel you falling, i’ll pull you towards me so you can have a soft landing.” falling on the ice wasn’t a foreign concept to him ⁠— hell, he’d gotten into full-on brawls on the ice before. granted, he’d been wearing a lot more padding then, but he would take the hit for her. he skated a little closer, fingers grazing her arm. “you can trust me, lyd.” | @radlydias​

“yes. almost everyday.”

“honest? the girl right before i left. not because i didn’t want to be with her, but because i hurt her and she didn’t deserve that.” | @ofhenry

“his laugh. god, he had the stupidest fucking laugh. you could always find him in a crowd because of it, and i didn’t appreciate it enough the last time i heard it.”

“tomorrow afternoon, skinny dipping in the lake? night’s no fun because we can’t get caught.”

“why do you still pretend like you’re not into it?” @saffiealbright

“they pay you for that now? shit, wish i would’ve known that when i dated my last boyfriend; at least i would’ve gotten something out of it.”

he’d managed to keep his temper under control until that point, millie being the only person he could never be mad at. and it wasn’t even that he was angry ⁠— a different pent up emotion was threatening to surface, and anger was the only way to mask it. she wanted a fight? drew would give her one. he took a step towards her, so close he swore he could feel the energy radiating off of her. shoulders squared, jaw set; he looked her straight in the eyes and refused to look away. “then let me show you. give me a chance to prove that i’m worthy of your trust again, because there’s nothing i can fucking do right now.” he worked double time to keep his voice even, eyes intense as they stared into hers. he needed her to see how much he meant his words, even if she would still only see them as empty. “unless you’re expecting me to turn back the clock and undo the shitty things i said and did, all i have at this moment are words. say the word and i’ll do whatever, no questions asked. but i can’t do anything unless you give me another chance.”

there were only a few things drew could do to shut his brain off: fights, running, and random hook-ups. fights were still on hold while the local group waited to add him to their roster, and random hook-ups were proving to be less effective than they used to be, so that left running. though, unfortunately, he’d forgotten one variable: his old roommate. over the years he’d forgotten about grey’s routine, and though he’d heard the guy was also back on campus, drew didn’t think they’d actually be running into each other so soon ⁠— it wasn’t like they ran in the same circles anymore. and even though that one fateful night in their dorm barely registered on his radar anymore, drew could see that grey was still content to pretend it never happened. “guess so,” he answered, one earbud falling out of his ear as though it were planned. he lowered the speed on the treadmill, making it easier for himself to talk. “forgot this was your treadmill of choice. my bad.”

half-unpacked boxes were scattered around the apartment, the floor a mess of newspaper and items he hadn’t found a place for yet. he liked to think he’d become something of a minimalist while in los angeles — no space for acquired shit in his tiny apartment nor the funds to acquire it — but it was hard to believe that now that he’d retrieved all of his stuff from his childhood home. overwhelmed, he’d abandoned the task for the moment, sprawling out on the couch and ignoring the netflix movie he’d put on at random. the front door opening pulled him back to reality, head barely peeking over the back of the couch to see darby entering without knocking, which wasn’t unusual or even remotely a surprise. but before he could prepare himself, she’d flung herself over the back of the couch and drew couldn’t breathe. once released from her grip, he drew in a dramatic breath, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “jeez, darb, warn a guy next time.” his tone lacked any sort of malice, though, and he gave her an easy smile. “okay, so one: they can barely stand to be in the same room as me, let alone anything else, so you’re safe from walking in on that. two: los angeles. three: i knew you’d still love me even if you found out from someone else, which is a given with how fast shit travels here. four: i missed you too, dork.” turning his attention to the tv for a second, he realized the random netflix movie he’d chosen was actually one of their original dating shows, and he cringed. “we don’t have to watch this; i honestly couldn’t tell you a single name from this show. you hungry?”

god, how many times did he have to hurt her while she was standing right in front of him? he’d messed things up between them so badly that the damage was beginning to look irreparable. he’d thought he’d been doing what was best for everyone when he left, but it was becoming clearer that his actions had been solely selfish. he was an idiot. “even if you wouldn’t have followed me in the first place, i ⁠— i had to make sure. i was doing something so stupid and reckless that i couldn’t bear the thought of bringing you down with me. i care about you so much, mils. i know it doesn’t seem that way after what i did, but it was what made the most sense to me at the time.” if he could go back, he wouldn’t have shut her out the way he did. her words ripped through him, the way they had all night. it was enough to bring tears to the brim of his own eyes, and he forced himself to look away before they could fall. “you think i don’t know that?” she didn’t know the years of therapy it took for him to stop believing the wrong upston brother had died, that if only one of them were to walk this earth, it should’ve been tate. tate was the better brother in almost every sense, and the one who was missed so much more. there was nothing he could do about that, though, and he’d learned to channel his grief into his writing, breathing life into tate’s character as though he were still here. “tate was...tate. i could never be what he was to you.” we were never just friends, a voice at the back of his mind told him. something he hasn’t realized until halfway through his first draft, when the character based on millie started to steal the spotlight and the main character’s heart. just like the main character, though, he’d ruined any chance he had before he was able to figure out his own, conflicted feelings. the theme of what-ifs and almosts ran heavy through the pages of rapidfire, but with her mere feet from him, he knew instinctively that he’d been right to distance himself. he seemed destined to hurt her no matter what; at least this way she could make a cleaner break if needed. “i do understand that. i shouldn’t have —” more what-ifs sat heavy on his tongue, and he swallowed them down. “i’m here now. and i’m not planning on leaving until graduation. not if i can help it.” 

“i’ll see if i can dig up my old flash drive; i’ve only got about twelve of them in a box somewhere in my apartment.” how could he deny her that when she gave him that look? “have you ever read a scholarly essay? i swear, sometimes the titles are longer than the actual papers.” he watched her movement, smile forming on his lips as he resisted the urge to move her hair behind her other ear ⁠— just another excuse for physical contact. “you’re really gonna make me take the fall for this? i’d never survive in jail; i’m too pretty,” he joked, hand running through his hair and sending some curls falling loose. “nah, don’t worry about me; i ran track for a long time, so i’ll be fine making my getaway. you sure you don’t wanna just hop on my back? i can probably outrun some security guard, even with both of us.”

r a p i d f i r e  by alexander reed

drew took a step back, his hands up in surrender. millie had reached her threshold of closeness and drew didn’t want to push the envelope, not if he ever wanted to begin mending his relationship with her. he mumbled an apology before dropping his arms, shoving his hands deep into his pockets ⁠— if he had to physically grab onto his slacks to keep from reaching out to her again, he would. “it’s not the mafia ⁠—” he started, pursing his lips as he tried to determine how much he could let slip. “yes, it’s part of why i left. no, i’m not on the lam. it’s not me in hot water.” he shook his head; he’d probably said too much already, but he wanted desperately for millie to trust him again. “i really can’t say anything else. if they start questioning the people i’m close too ⁠—” he paused, “used to be close to… i don’t you dragged into this too, mils. but the second i’m able, you’re the first person i come to. promise.” hesitant eyes looked up, searching for hers though she wouldn’t look at him again. “i couldn’t let you follow me. i didn’t know what else to do. i’m sorry.”