MasukCAMERON’S POVI didn’t realize healing could be inconvenient.Everyone talks about it like it’s this graceful, upward line. Like once you start getting better, things just… keep getting better.No one tells you about the days when you wake up okay and still feel like something is off. Like your body remembers things your mind has already forgiven.That was today.I noticed it when Brandon kissed my cheek before leaving for class and my first instinct was to hold on a second longer. Not because I was scared—but because my chest felt too full, like if I didn’t anchor myself, I might tip over.“You good?” he asked, pausing.“Yeah,” I said automatically.He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push either. He never did anymore. That was something we’d learned the hard way—how to give each other space without disappearing.Still, the moment the door shut behind him, the quiet rushed in.I tried to distract myself. Showered. Made coffee. Opened my laptop to work on my research notes.And th
CAMERON’S POVThe first time I actually broke down this semester, it happened in the campus library.Which felt rude, honestly. Libraries are supposed to be quiet and peaceful and not witness you realizing you might be doing too much all at once.I was sitting in the back corner, surrounded by books and printed research articles, staring at my laptop like it had personally betrayed me. My brain felt foggy. My chest felt tight. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.And the worst part?I didn’t even know why.I closed my laptop slowly, like maybe if I moved gently enough, the spiral wouldn’t notice me.It noticed me anyway.I pressed my palms into my eyes, breathing in, out, trying to ground myself like my therapist taught me. Name five things you can see. Four you can feel. Three you can hear.But all I could hear was my own heartbeat, loud and fast, like it was panicking on my behalf.I texted Brandon without thinking.Me: Are you busy?The reply came almost immediately.Brandon: For you? N
BRANDON’S POVI used to think love was loud.Big gestures. Big promises. Big moments that felt like they belonged in a movie trailer.But being with Cameron taught me that love is quieter than that. Heavier. More intentional.It shows up when no one’s watching.Like now.I was sitting on the edge of his bed, scrolling aimlessly through my phone, while Cameron sat cross-legged on the floor, back against the mattress, reading something with that serious expression he always got when he was thinking too hard.“You’ve been staring at that page for five minutes,” I said.He didn’t look up. “I’m processing.”“You’re spiraling,” I corrected.He sighed and finally dropped the book onto his lap. “Okay, maybe a little.”I shifted closer, leaning down until my elbows rested on my knees. “Want to talk about it?”He hesitated. That tiny pause told me everything.“I got an email today,” he said slowly.My stomach tightened. “Good email or bad email?”“Complicated email,” he replied. “They want me t
CAMERON’S POVI didn’t realize how quiet my life had become until it suddenly wasn’t.It started with a knock on my door.Not a text. Not a call. An actual knock—three soft taps like whoever it was didn’t want to scare me away.I was halfway through highlighting notes for a class I wasn’t even paying attention to when I stood up and opened it.Brandon.Again.I stared at him like the universe had glitched.“You’re really bad at announcing your arrivals,” I said.He smiled, a little tired, a little nervous. “You didn’t seem to mind last time.”I stepped back without thinking. “Get in here.”He dropped his bag and wrapped his arms around me, and for a moment I let myself melt completely. No overthinking. No bracing. Just warmth and familiarity and the quiet relief of him being real and right here.“You okay?” he asked against my shoulder.“Yeah,” I said. Then corrected myself. “I think so.”That answer felt more honest lately.We didn’t rush anything. We never did anymore. We made tea.
BRANDON’S POVLeaving the second time was harder.I didn’t expect that. I thought the first goodbye had taken all the fear with it, burned it off like nerves before a big jump. But standing in Cameron’s apartment again, my bag by the door, the sun barely up, my chest felt tight in a way I couldn’t joke my way out of.Cameron noticed.He always did.“You’re doing the thing,” he said quietly.I sighed. “What thing?”“The staring at nothing but thinking about everything thing.”I smiled a little. “That’s a very specific diagnosis.”“I know you,” he said simply.We stood there for a moment, neither of us moving. The apartment felt too familiar now—like something I was borrowing instead of living in. His mug on the counter. My hoodie on the chair. Proof that we existed in the same space, even if not all the time.“I’ll be back before you know it,” I said.“I know,” he replied. “I’m just… letting it be hard without making it scary.”That sentence stopped confirm everything.“Therapy’s worki
CAMERON’S POVSummer didn’t arrive loudly.It crept in through open windows, warm air, lighter clothes, and the way campus slowly emptied out like a party winding down. Finals ended. People left. The world got quieter again—but this time, it felt earned.Brandon’s internship offer sat between us like an unopened letter.We hadn’t ignored it. We’d talked around it. Mentioned it in passing. Made jokes about long-distance FaceTime dates and shipping hoodies across state lines.But we hadn’t really talked about what it meant.Until one night, when the power went out.We were in the kitchen, halfway through making pasta, when everything went dark. No lights. No fan. Just the hum of the city outside and Brandon’s voice saying, “Well… that’s inconvenient.”I laughed softly. “Guess dinner’s canceled.”He lit his phone flashlight and leaned against the counter. “Or dramatically postponed.”We ended up sitting on the floor, backs against the cabinets, sharing a bag of chips and letting the quie







