☆Blaze☽

Chapter 30:

I was sitting at my desk with my face nearly buried into my notebook when my roommate walked in.

"Hey, dude," Austin said. He slammed the door to our dorm room as he dropped his messenger bag onto the floor. I looked up and turned my head towards him, propping my face up with my fist.

"Hey."

"Y'all right, man?" Austin furrowed his eyebrows as he pulled on the sleeves of his black jacket, tugging until it fell to the ground next to his bag.

"Fine, just writing." My eyes were heavy from lack of sleep; I hadn't realized how much I had lost track of time. I got sucked into this stupid story I was writing and I couldn't stop. It was compulsive. I didn't need to eat or sleep, just write. At least I remembered to breathe.

"How long have you been up?" I looked over to the clock on the desk, having to squint to read the time properly. I needed new glasses but I didn't want to find a new optometrist, I figured I would just wait until Christmas when I went back home. Or maybe reading week, I hadn't decided yet.

It was about eleven in the morning, meaning that Austin had come back from his first class. He spent the nights at his girlfriend's usually, but eventually they would fight and he would be forced back into the dorm room we shared. "All night."

Austin rolled his eyes as he made his way across the room, looming over my shoulder. "You should get some sleep."

"Where were you?"

"I was out with Kenzie. Her friend was asking about you again; I can't remember her name." I sighed, remembering the night I met Kenzie's friends. Austin had promised to set me up with someone, but no matter how much I told him I didn't want to it hadn't mattered. I even tried telling him I had a girlfriend back home, going as far as to call Whiskey and pretend I was talking to my 'girlfriend'- he had forgiven me for the shit I did before summer after he called me because he had boy troubles- but I should have known that wouldn't have worked because being exclusive did not exist in Austin's sex life.

If I had told Austin I was gay, this never would have happened. But I wasn't sure how he would react. Now that I knew him better, it was obvious he wasn't homophobic, but not being homophobic and being comfortable sharing a room with a gay guy are two completely different things, and I really didn't want to have to move rooms mid-way through the semester, especially because we were lucky enough to get a dorm in one of the new buildings- the ones where every room had it's own bathroom instead of a communal one.

"Phoebe?"

"Yeah, her. You should hook up with her, man. She's like, an eight- nine on a good day. I heard she's pretty talented too." Austin was always crude when it came to girls, though he did value them as more than just for sex. When he actually liked someone, and I mean actually, I would listen to him go on about her for days. Eventually I would get so sick of it that I would just put in an ear bud and make some sort of noise whenever I sensed that he had finished a sentence. It was cute in a way, but obsessively annoying in another.

"I think I'm good," I replied, tapping my pen against my notebook.

"Suit yourself, but don't come whining to me when you're lonely, because there's a busty blonde ready and willing but you're too busy writing."

"I have to finish this today." I always acted like this one some sort of assignment I had to do for my Creative Writing class, because I knew Austin would think I was strange if I was sacrificing sleep, food, and most importantly girls, to write in my spare time. But writing was helping me cope, with everything. It made me feel like I was actually moving on in life instead of remaining stuck in the past of what if? and criticizing every stupid decision I made. It was my fantasy, and I could do whatever I wanted to in it.

"Whatever you say, man. I'm gonna shower."

Austin disappeared down the short hall that separated our bedrooms and lead to the bathroom, the sound of his feet against the floor echoing off the walls. I hated that hallway; it was so narrow I felt like I was in a coffin. I guess I should have just been grateful I got a two person room instead of three, though I did put my name in the lottery draw for a single room.

I chewed on the end of the pen, impatiently staring at my unfinished paragraph. Why was it so boring? How could I possibly finish this? There was no ending. I should have planned this out before devoting so much time into. I had a strong urge to rip the pages out of the notebook and start fresh, flushing at least two weeks of writing down the toilet. But I couldn't bring myself to do that.

I didn't even know if my writing was any good, my teacher had complimented me a few times and asked to use my works as examples, but then everyone would copy my titles- which were what I put the longest time into. A good title could inspire you, and make other people gain interest in what you had written, whether it be a best seller or a university essay.

I finally decided that was enough for today, throwing my pen down and sliding the chair back. I cracked my knuckles and stretched my back; I felt like I had been hunched over the desk for years instead of hours.

I got up from the chair clumsily, and started to walk towards the mini fridge. It was hard to process the amount of debt I would be in at the end of these four years. And that was just for a Bachelor's Degree. I always assumed my parents would pay for everything and anything. The reality never crashed down upon me that this was real, I was an adult now- or at least that's what I was told. I couldn't imagine myself going back home when I finished university, it would be like taking ten steps backwards. But at the same time, I wouldn't have money to do anything. It was hard enough to budget my money now.

I pulled the door to the fridge open and grabbed a bottle of water from the top shelf. I had a huge debate with Austin about how tap water was filtered so tap water and bottled water was practically the same thing, but he still insisted that he couldn't possibly drink it.

I struggled with the lid until my palms began to turn red; it was screwed on really tight. Someone knocking on the door interrupted my battle with the water. I set it down on the counter and walked towards the door, taking a moment to try and fix my hair in the mirror before giving up and twisting the knob. I hoped that my unruly hair would change with age, but it was starting to seem like it would be this way forever.

I stood with my mouth hanging slightly ajar in front of the door, staring at the person standing in the dorms hall. He had his hands shoved deep into his pockets and stared up at me through his lashes. I barely recognized him.

"Beatle?" I was stunned, shocked even. I had come to face the reality that I probably wouldn't see him again, that I wasn't worse changing for or going after because really, who was I to expect that from him? There was never a single call from him, or a text after that day in the art room, and that was completely my fault. Months I went by with only scraps of information I got from Whiskey whenever he happened to bring it up because I was too nervous to ask.

"Uh, I actually go by Lennon now." I wanted to hate him. I wanted to fucking hate him for doing this to me and I wanted to tell him to leave and that he should have called me months ago before I left for university and that it was too late now, that there was someone else and I didn't love him anymore, that I had moved on and it was just high school. But all that would be lies. That would be denying all my sleepless nights thinking about him, and all the hours spent writing down every word of every encounter I could remember and compiling it into somewhat of a book. And seeing him now, looking all clean with his button up shirt and dark blue jeans standing outside my door, I was never more in love with him.

"Can I come in?" His green eyes locked with mine as I fumbled awkwardly back into the room, making space for him to come in.

"Yeah, yeah." He smiled a little and took a step inside. It was a real smile, I could tell by his eyes. We stared at each other awkwardly for moment, like it had been years instead of months, and he let his eyes scan around the room, but I cut his search short .

"Why are you here?" I asked bluntly, and he turned to me with confused eyes and a creased forehead.

"Isn't it obvious?"

I turned away and rolled my eyes, setting my attention back on the unopened water bottle. My throat suddenly felt dry. I mumbled under my breath as I fiddled with the cap, "Don't answer my question with a question."

"I miss you." I banged the bottle against the table and hoped it would open, but when it failed to I realized that I would actually have to turn around and face him. I sighed and he stared at me expectantly, almost sad looking.

"Say something," he urged, moving his hands. I could tell he was torn between taking a step forward and I step back. I knew I was.

"Like what?"

"That you miss me too."

I was about to deny it. Tell him he was wrong and he didn't deserve me and he should just get out because it would make my life so much easier. But life isn't supposed to be easy. Relationships weren't easy. And Beatle sure as hell wasn't easy but I'd never wanted something so difficult so much before. I sighed, leaning against the table and repeating, "Isn't it obvious?"

"I've changed." I rolled my eyes at this. I highly doubted it, but I decided to play along.

"Do you still drink?"

"Yeah," he said confidently, though his hands shoved deep in his pockets gave away how uncomfortable he felt.

"Smoke?"

He nodded, finally averting his gaze to his shoes and losing the staring contest with me that he didn't know he was a part of.

"I stopped dealing."

"Congrats," I said with a laugh, and his face softened, becoming more desperate, more like the Beatle I saw the last time we talked.

"Come on, El. You know you miss me. Tell me what to do, anything, just tell me and I will do it. Stop smoking, stop drinking, anything." Even though he was practically pleading with me, I could hear the cockiness in 'you know you miss me', and I loved it. Maybe it had taken months for me, months of coming to terms with the fact I had screwed things up so badly I would never talk to him again, to truly appreciate the fact that he was here, in Toronto. I didn't know how he got here, only that he was crazy for coming here on a whim that I might not close the door in his face, but I had spent too long hoping- dreaming that this would happen to do that.

"No you won't."

He shrugged and crossed his arms with a stupid smirk. "You're right."

"I have every right to hate you. You chose drugs over me," I replied, throwing it back in his face. That was what this huge thing had rooted from anyways, from him not having my back. The more I looked over it though, the more I couldn't help but rationalize it. He would have been expelled, wouldn't have graduated for at least another semester. I didn't know if that was his thought process when he threw me under the bus, but I liked to hope it was.

"I know," he said smugly and I narrowed my eyes.

"Fuck you," I spat the words I never thought I would say, feeling nearly familiar on my tongue. It didn't have the same spite behind it as it did that day I tried to get him to leave my house, and I couldn't help but laugh when he said,

"Wouldn't you like that?" He raised an eyebrow and that was it, I was done. He had me since that day he put my beanie back on my head, maybe even before that. I had my palms pressed against his face in an instant, and then his lips were against mine, moving tantalizingly slow. I felt my eyes well with tears I couldn't really explain, other than the one thought that this wasn't actually happening. When he felt the wetness fall onto his own face he stopped and pulled back, surveying me as he swiped his thumbs under my eyes.

"You're crying," he observed. I shook my head and looked up at him, fisting my hand loosely in his nice shirt.

It was silent for a minute, but he broke it by brushing his fingers against mine to gain my attention. "El? I think –uh, I think I'm in love with you." I had to fight my smile from overtaking my entire face.

"I mean, I don't think, I know. Wait- I do think, about lots of stuff, like you, which is how I know I'm in love with you," he fumbled and I laughed,

"You really have a way with words." I brought my hand back up to caress his face.

"Kiss me," I murmured quietly, but he didn't hesitate in doing so. His lips were soft, just like a remembered and imagined. They started off on mine, it was all passion and longing, but as his tongue slipped into my mouth it was all lust, heat, and agony.

I twirled my fingers in his hair and pulled a little, eliciting a moan just like I had anticipated. The tips of his fingers dug into my hip and started to travel up my shirt, but I didn't care. He backed us up until I was trapped between him and the counter, and in the brief second where we had to pull apart to breathe I stated, "You never called."

And that became the thing we would do. We would kiss and release all of our emotions and our pent up need, and in those seconds we had to stop to breathe before we passed out we would take little stabs at each other, but then we would kiss again and it was okay.

Beatle left my lips to suck on my ear lobe, and I let out a breathy moan I barely recognized as my own. "You didn't want me to," he said next to my ear.

I closed my eyes as I dragged in a long breath and Beatle moved down to my neck. "I always wanted you to, I just didn't know it," I said and he paused for second to look up at me, flustered, "Lennon." He made a small noise at me saying his actual name and I couldn't tell if it was in annoyance, but then he was lifting me onto the counter and I realized it definitely wasn't annoyance.

Lennon. It would take some getting used to, but I liked it.

His hands slid under my shirt as I wrapped my legs around him and pulled his face back down to mine. It was like we couldn't get enough of each other. He was the one drug I had tried, and I was addicted.

The bathroom door opened suddenly and I pushed on Lennon's shoulders, but his grip was tight and it took a minute to loosen myself enough that I could actually see Austin from where I was sitting. I had gotten so caught up I forgot that he had gone for a shower and hadn't actually left. He eyed us for a second and I could almost see his brain processing the situation.

He shifted his weight, running a hand through his still wet hair. "So, you're gay? Makes sense why you weren't into Phoebe," he laughed.

"Austin, I-" I tried, but he cut me off with the wave of his hand. Lennon still hadn't loosened his grip on my hips.

"It's cool, you stay here. I'm going to Kenzie's," Austin said as he started to head out the door, but then grabbed the frame as if he just remembered something. "I'll call before I come back," he drawled out awkwardly, and then he made a gesture that had me hiding my blushing face in Lennon's shirt as he laughed.

After the door shut behind him I was laughing into Lennon's shoulder and his chin was resting on top of my head. It felt more natural than any giggle I'd faked in the past months. His fingers were still drawing patterns on the skin of my stomach as he cleared his throat to speak.

"I was thinking," he stared, and I resisted the urge to make a stupid joke, "that after this year I would transfer universities to one here, or maybe enroll in a college. Then we could get that apartment, and a cactus."

"If that's what you want. I don't want you to relocate your life for me," I said, trying to remain neutral and stopping the grin the poked at the edges of my lips, but I couldn't help it. He remembered the cactus.

"It's what I want," he reassured me, looking into my eyes and his fingers continued to trail across my abdomen.

"I was so stupid, El. I never showed you how important you were to me because I was too scared. And I know I really fucked up, trust me; it's all I can think about. But I'm not ready to give up on this," he gestured between us and a bit my bottom lip as my smile reached my eyes.

"Will you go out with me, again?" Lennon asked, his green eyes looking deep into mine, and I laughed a little.

"Wait, so you bring up getting an apartment and a cactus together, and then you ask me out? Kind of backwards isn't it?"

"Or we can just skip the whole awkward dating part and I can call you my boyfriend again."

"I like that option," I whispered, resting my head on his chest as his arms wrapped around me.

"I love you, Elliot. I love you so damn much."

*a/n there will be an epilogue. Dedicated to BoysSheWrote for helping me not delete this whole thing.

My later 2022 thoughts: I see lots of disappointed and sometimes angry comments about this ending nowadays. I agree! This ending could have been better- this whole story could have been better! As Marina Keegan said , "there can always be a better thing". And one day, I want to go back and do some huge restructuring on this story and give it the redemption is deserves. But for now, I've been focusing on finishing Bailey and Miles' story (Asymptote). After my ongoing books are finished, I will be going back and rewriting my previous works. My 24 year old self can not claim my 15 year old self who started this book. Please go easy on me guys 😅