LOGINCAMERON’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
CAMERON’S POVI didn’t realize how much I missed being bored.That sounds stupid, but hear me out. Bored meant nothing was actively trying to ruin my life. Bored meant the biggest problem of the day was choosing between pasta or rice for dinner. Bored meant peace.So when Brandon and I were sprawled on the living room floor on a random Tuesday night, textbooks open but untouched, arguing about which movie to watch, I felt something settle in my chest.Normal.“You always pick sad movies,” Brandon complained, scrolling through the streaming app.“That’s not true,” I said. “I pick emotionally rich movies.”“Where everyone dies.”“Character development,” I corrected.He snorted and tossed a pillow at me. “We are not crying tonight.”I caught the pillow and hugged it to my chest. “You cried during that dog commercial yesterday.”“That dog was abandoned,” he said defensively. “That’s different.”I smiled, really smiled, and realized something else too.I wasn’t checking my phone.That shou
BRANDON’S POVNormal came back slowly.Not like a switch flipping on, but like a bruise fading—still tender if you touched it too hard, still visible if you looked closely, but not screaming anymore.Campus started acting like campus again.People rushed to class. Complained about deadlines. Argued over coffee orders. Cameron and I walked hand in hand without whispers following us like ghosts. Some people still stared, sure—but most had moved on to the next drama.I envied how easy it was for them.Cameron tried to pretend he was fine.That’s how I knew he wasn’t.It showed up in small ways. The way he checked his phone too often. How loud noises made his shoulders tense. How he hesitated before posting anything, even something stupid and harmless.One afternoon, we sat on the grass near the library, books open but ignored.“You’re spacing out again,” I said gently.He blinked. “Sorry. What were you saying?”“I wasn’t,” I admitted. “Just watching you think yourself into knots.”He smi
CAMERON’S POVThe quiet felt illegal.That was the first thing I noticed the morning after everything ended. No buzzing phone. No anonymous messages. No trending hashtags attached to my name. Just sunlight slipping through the curtains and the soft sound of Brandon breathing beside me.I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the anxiety to kick in.It didn’t.Instead, my chest felt… lighter. Not healed. Not perfect. Just less crushed.Brandon stirred beside me, groggy and half-asleep. “You’re staring again.”I smiled. “You snore.”“I absolutely do not.”“You do. Softly. Like an offended kitten.”He cracked one eye open. “Rude.”I laughed quietly, then immediately froze—like laughing too loud might break something fragile. Brandon noticed.“Hey,” he said softly, rolling onto his side to face me. “You’re allowed to be okay.”“I know,” I said. “It just feels weird.”“Yeah,” he agreed. “Peace does that.”We stayed in bed longer than necessary. No rush. No plan. Just u







