Mix didn't mean to walk that way.
His feet just moved on their own, dragging him out of the building, down the back steps, and past the art block courtyard. The sky had started to change colors. That in-between blue and gold that made shadows feel longer than they really were.
He didn't hear the voice until he was already too close to turn around.
"Mix?"
Tarn.
Standing by the vending machine near the edge of the quad. A half-drunk soda in his hand, his shirt wrinkled like he'd been leaning on it too long.
Mix exhaled.
He didn't run. He didn't fake a call or pretend not to hear.
He just walked over.
"Hey."
"You look like your head's somewhere else," Tarn said, trying to smile.
"Been a long day," Mix replied.
There was a pause.
Then Tarn said, "You want to sit?"
The bench by the fence was empty, shaded by trees. A little too quiet. A little too intimate. Mix hesitated.
Then nodded.
They sat with a full body of space between them. Like something had been wedged in unspoken words or ghosts of what almost was.
Tarn broke the silence first. "I was gonna wait. Thought maybe you'd come see me."
"I almost did."
"I saw you," Tarn admitted. "Outside the restaurant."
Mix turned his head. "You didn't look up."
"I didn't want to make it harder."
Another silence. A longer one.
"I meant what I said, you know," Tarn said quietly. "That night we got coffee. That you made things easier just by showing up."
Mix didn't look at him. "I remember."
Tarn laughed softly, no humor in it. "I'm not stupid. I saw the way you looked at him. Even back then."
"I wasn't ready to admit it."
"I know."
Tarn finally turned to face him. "But I still hoped. Not for a grand romance. Just… that maybe, with time, you'd choose me."
Mix's voice came out like air slipping from lungs. "Tarn..."
"You don't have to explain," Tarn said quickly. "I think I've always known."
Mix looked down at his hands. Fidgeted with the edge of his sleeve.
"I don't want to hurt you."
"You didn't," Tarn said. "You were kind. You were present. That's more than most people ever give."
Mix swallowed. Then met his eyes.
"I love you," he said. "Just not like that. Not in a way that would be fair to either of us."
The wind picked up. Tarn blinked hard.
"I know."
"You were the first person who made me feel seen. Like I could talk without hiding. That matters to me."
"I know," Tarn said again, softer this time.
Mix exhaled. "I'm sorry if my silence made you hope."
"It did," Tarn said. "But I think I needed to."
They sat in that stillness for a while. No rushing. Just letting the weight of it settle.
Tarn eventually stood.
"I might need some space," he said. "Not forever. Just long enough to remember who I was before this."
Mix nodded. "You can have that."
"I'm glad you told me," Tarn said. "Even if it hurts. Honesty beats wondering."
He stepped forward and, after a pause, pulled Mix into a hug. It wasn't romantic. It was heavy, warm, and real.
When they pulled apart, there was a wet shimmer in Tarn's eyes. But he smiled.
"Take care of yourself," he said.
Then he walked off.
Mix sat there for a long time.
The air smelled like dusk and wet leaves.
His chest ached.
But not from guilt.
From letting go of something fragile. With love, not lies.
---
Mix wasn't sure how long he stood outside the cafe after Tarn went back in. The sky was bruising over with sunset, and he still hadn't moved.
He took one step.
Then another.
And then...
"Twice in one day," Peat's voice said behind him, soft but surprised.
Mix turned. Peat was leaning against the corner of the building, a half-eaten protein bar in one hand, his jacket slipping slightly off one shoulder.
"You following me?" Mix asked, too tired to sound playful.
Peat shrugged. "Nah. Just on my way to existing."
Mix huffed a sound that could've been a laugh if it didn't catch halfway.
Peat studied him for a second. "You look like someone who needs a drink."
Mix gave him a sideways glance. "You always keep alcohol in your backpack?"
"I know a place."
Pause.
Then Mix said, "Let's go."
---
At small rooftop bar just off-campus.
The place was nothing fancy plastic stools, string lights, too-loud pop music playing from someone's dying Bluetooth speaker. But it was quiet enough to not be campus, and warm enough to feel like escape.
They sit near the edge. Peat orders something green. Mix doesn't ask what.
"You ever wonder what version of yourself would've turned out if you picked a different dorm?" Peat asks after their second round.
"I think about the version of me that never met Arm," Mix says, too honest.
Peat's silent for a beat. Then: "Would you like that version better?"
Mix doesn't answer.
He just drinks.
---
Later that day drunk honesty started to creep in.
Peat was the kind of drinker who talks slower. Mix just goy quieter.
"I saw him," Mix says eventually, voice flat. "With someone else. An ex, They kissed."
Peat flinches, but doesn't interrupt.
"I wasn't even mad at first. Just… empty."
"Because you still want him?"
Mix looks at his glass.
"Because I don't know what he wants. Or if I ever really did."
Peat leans back, tipping his head to the stars. "You think it's harder to be wanted or to be understood?"
Mix doesn't answer that either.
---
They walked back to the dorms.
Still not talking much.
Peat nudged him lightly with his elbow. "Let me know next time you wanna be found."
Mix nods. "Same."
They parted ways at the stairwell. No big moment. Just that subtle weight of being seen and not judged.
Mix didnt go back to the room.
Not yet.
Eventually, he still had to
---
After one long minute of staring around aimlessly, Mix decided to go to his room, still wobbly from the alcohol
The hallway lights buzzed overhead. His steps were uneven but steady enough. His hoodie was unzipped, shirt rumpled, eyes glassy from more than just exhaustion. He smelled like beer and city air.
He didn't even notice the room light was on until he opened the door.
Arm looked up from his bed. Startled. Hoodie halfway pulled over his head like he'd been trying to disappear into it.
They stared at each other.
"Mix?" Arm asked carefully.
Mix stepped inside. Kicked the door shut behind him. The sound echoed louder than it should've.
"Hey," Mix said, dragging out the word like it had weight.
"You've been drinking," Arm said.
"No shit," Mix mumbled. "You were gonna kiss me and then kiss someone else. I think I earned a drink."
That landed with a quiet thud.
Arm stood slowly. "It wasn't like that."
Mix laughed, a sharp sound. "Then what was it, Arm? Enlighten me. I'm all ears ."
"You saw something you didn't understand."
"I saw your mouth on someone else's. Don't need subtitles for that."
Arm flinched. "She showed up. I expect that to happen plan it. I was take. Unaware"
"Right. And I'm what? New hobby?"
"Don't say that."
"Then make it mean something."
The room felt smaller. Like the air itself was pressing them closer.
Mix stepped forward.
Arm didn't move.
Mix's voice dropped. "Do you still want me?"
"Yes," Arm breathed. "Always."
Mix reached up. Fingers brushed the side of Arm's face. Slow. Careful. Like he was daring himself.
He leaned in. Not fast. Not demanding.
Just close enough.
Arm didn't stop him.
So Mix kissed him.
This kiss wasn't like the one before. It was messier. Hotter. Laced with frustration and alcohol and need. His hands gripped Arm's hoodie, tugging him closer. His body leaned in like it forgot how to be separate.
Arm kissed back.
But it didn't last.
Arm broke it first. Breathless. Hands on Mix's shoulders, not pushing him away, but holding him still.
"Mix," he said, voice rough. "Wait."
Mix blinked, slow and dazed. "Why?"
"Because you're not sober. Because I want this to be real. Not just convenient."
Mix leaned his forehead against Arm's. "It is real."
"I know," Arm whispered. "But not like this."
Mix's hands loosened. His chest rose and fell like he was trying to steady a storm.
"I still want you," he murmured. "Even when I'm angry. Even when I hate myself for it. I want to touch you and yell at you and… fall asleep next to you."
Arm shut his eyes. That admission sliced through the tension sharper than anything else.
"Okay," Arm said. "Then you can have all of that. Just… not while drunk."
"I'm not"
"You are."
Silence.
Then Mix, softer: "If I wake up tomorrow and still feel the same, will you still be here?" Mix couldn't get a hold of his tongue, but he still said it anyway.
Arm nodded. "Yeah. I'm not going anywhere."
Mix let out a breath. Pulled back.
"Okay," he said. "Then I'll wait. But only if you hold me tonight."
That, Arm didn't hesitate on.
He pulled Mix gently into bed. No kissing. No heat. Just arms around each other, warm and careful. The kind of holding that said stay. That said tomorrow matters.
Mix curled into him. Breathing steady.
This time, he slept first.
---