The Morning After
Mix woke up alone.
The other side of the bed was cold. The room was too quiet. And for a few full seconds, he forgot where he was, what he'd said, what had happened.
Then it hit him all at once the kiss, the way Arm had pulled him close, the way he'd fallen asleep first for the first time in months.
He sat up, groggy. Heart beating faster than necessary.
The hoodie Arm had given him was still tangled around his waist. The pillow beside him smelled like sweat and faint shampoo. But Arm was gone. No note. No shoes by the door. Nothing.
His throat tightened. Of course he left. That's what they do.
He didn't cry. He didn't panic.
But he sat there too long.
Then soft footsteps. The door opened.
Arm walked in holding two paper bags and a coffee tray. His hoodie sleeves were pushed up. Hair a mess. Shoes still half-tied.
"Morning," he said, almost shyly.
Mix blinked. "You left."
Arm froze. "I thought I wanted to get you breakfast. You said once you liked the egg wraps from the cafe."
Mix stared at him.
Then down at the tray.
Then back up.
"You remembered that?"
"I remember everything," Arm said, setting the bags down carefully.
Silence settled again. But it wasn't sharp. It was… tired. Waiting.
Mix pulled his knees to his chest. "I thought you ran."
Arm shook his head. "No you are the last person I would run from."
He sat at the edge of the bed. Not too close. Just close enough.
They didn't talk for a minute.
Then Mix said, "So… what now?"
Arm didn't hesitate. "We stay. We try. We go slow."
Mix gave a breath that was almost a laugh. "Slow sounds nice."
Arm nodded. "I'll mess up. Probably say dumb things."
"I'll overthink everything," Mix said.
"Cool," Arm replied. "We'll suck together."
This time, Mix really did laugh.
It wasn't loud. But it was real.
---
Later that day
There was something new about them. Something quiet but noticeable.
They moved in sync without even realizing it.
Mix handed Arm his charger without being asked. Arm brought him a snack before Mix could mention being hungry. They bumped shoulders and didn't pull away. They sat closer than necessary on the dorm couch. They shared earbuds.
No kissing.
No big conversations.
Just… choosing each other. Over and over. In the little things.
That meant more than labels.
---
Gun had messaged everyone about a movie night in the dorm lounge. Something silly. No pressure. Just show up if you're not a ghost.
Peat came first. Then Jack, looking sheepish. Bave ignored him. Sat by herself scrolling her phone.
When Mix and Arm walked in together the room changed.
No one said anything at first. Not about the way they moved or how Mix casually nudged Arm with his elbow when he picked the wrong drink.
Gun gave them a once-over and smirked. "Look who's alive."
Mix raised a brow. "Barely."
Jack cleared his throat. "Glad you're here, though."
Bave didn't look up. "You're late."
Mix took a seat. Arm sat beside him.
"We're here," he said simply. "Let's start."
---
The movie was a blur.
Some forgettable romcom with predictable jokes and a too-loud laugh track. But no one was really watching.
Peat sat beside Gun, legs stretched out, arms crossed, eyes flicking now and then to Mix. Gun didn't try to reach for him, but his fingers tapped restlessly against his thigh.
Jack kept glancing over at Bave. Every time he looked, she leaned farther into her phone. Her silence was louder than the film.
Mix could feel eyes on him.
Not harsh ones. Just… watching.
Arm whispered, "You okay?"
Mix nodded. "Weird, but yeah."
Halfway through the movie, Gun muted the volume and stood.
"Okay," he said, "we're not doing this thing where we pretend nothing happened. We all kind of exploded. And then imploded."
Peat rolled his eyes. "Wow. Therapy mode unlocked."
Gun ignored that. "I just think… if we're all gonna sit in the same room pretending, we might as well be real about it."
Jack groaned. "Can't we just stop with the fake-laugh and avoiding each other in the hallways?"
"No," Bave said flatly. "You don't get that luxury anymore."
Jack opened his mouth, closed it, then looked down.
Mix didn't speak. But he shifted closer to Arm. Subtle. Quiet. Intentional.
Peat caught it.
He leaned forward, arms on his knees. "So what are we doing now? Group confessions? A cleansing circle?"
Gun shrugged. "Say something real. Anything. Start there."
Silence.
Then Bave, of all people, broke it.
"I hated how quiet it got between us. It made me feel like I was the only one yelling in a vacuum."
She didn't look at anyone when she said it.
Peat followed. "I felt like… I was fading into someone else's rhythm. And didn't know how to ask for mine back."
Gun nodded. "Fair."
Jack finally spoke, voice soft. "I didn't realize how much damage silence does. Or how much I was causing just by… not showing up."
His eyes flicked to Bave. She didn't answer. But she didn't leave either.
Then everyone looked at Mix.
He blinked. "Why me?"
"You've been through the most drama," Gun said.
"You feel different now," Peat added.
"You got better taste in hoodies now," Bave muttered.
Mix sighed. "Okay. I'll say something real."
He looked at Arm. Held his gaze.
"I'm scared. Of how much I feel. Of what it'll take to make this work. But I'm done lying to myself."
Arm didn't blink.
"I'm scared too," he said quietly. "But I'm not letting that stop me anymore."
Gun clapped. "There it is."
The mood shifted. Not solved. Not perfect.
But cracked open.
---
The lounge had cleared. The movie was off. The air was still heavy with half-said things and echoes of who they all used to be.
Mix stood slowly. Arm followed.
"Wanna walk?" Mix asked.
Arm nodded. No words needed.
They left the building, sneakers tapping lightly on pavement. The night had cooled just enough to make the space between them feel warmer.
They didn't talk much at first. Just walked. Through the quad, down past the darkened greenhouses, around the music block. A route with no end, just movement.
Eventually they ended up outside the practice rooms. Empty this late. Mix opened the door and let the silence greet them.
Arm walked to the piano, ran his fingers over the chipped keys but didn't play. Mix sat on the floor, legs crossed.
"This room makes me feel like I can think without yelling," he said.
Arm joined him. Close, but not too close.
"You don't have to yell anymore," Arm said.
Mix leaned his head back against the wall. "Still feels weird. Like I'm waiting for the good part to vanish."
Arm looked at him. Really looked. "It's not going anywhere."
Mix turned to face him. "You say that now."
"I mean it now."
They sat like that for a while. Talking about nothing. Their first concerts. The worst meals they ever ate. Who had the better taste in candy.
It wasn't deep. But it was real.
Arm leaned in. Rested his head on Mix's shoulder. No kiss. No rush.
Just peace.
---
Peat didn't go straight back. The lounge had felt like a bruise pressed too long. Like everyone was holding themselves together with masking tape.
He wandered.
Ended up sitting at the edge of the outdoor amphitheater, empty at this hour. Legs dangling. Wind soft.
His phone buzzed.
Gun: You okay?
He didn't reply.
Another buzz.
Gun: I'm sorry. For the shape I made you into.
Peat stared at that line. Typed something. Deleted it.
Then footsteps.
No voice this time.
Just the quiet creak of someone sitting down beside him.
He turned slightly. Gun.
Peat sighed. "You really don't quit, do you?"
Gun offered a small, tired smile. "Not with the things that matter."
Silence wrapped around them for a bit.
Then Peat said, "You weren't supposed to chase me tonight."
Gun looked at him. "Then stop walking away."
That landed.
Peat looked up at the stars, hands braced on the edge of the concrete step. "I wanted you to notice before I had to break."
"I noticed," Gun said. "Too late. But I did."
"I'm not angry anymore," Peat admitted. "I'm just… tired."
"I'm still learning how not to take up all the space."
Peat's voice was quiet. "Just don't make me beg for some."
Gun shifted closer not enough to touch, but enough to be felt.
"I don't want to fix us right now," Peat said. "I just want to feel like we're still real."
Gun nodded. "That's enough for tonight."
And it was.
They didn't speak much more.
But they didn't move apart either.
---
Jack found her in the stairwell. The one no one used. The quiet one.
Bave sat on the steps, knees up, staring at nothing.
He didn't speak right away.
Then: "You left your headphones. Back at the lounge."
She didn't look up. "Keep them."
"I don't want to keep things anymore," Jack said. "I want to give them back."
"Little late for that."
Jack sat a few steps below her. Not facing her.
"I screwed up. I thought I could balance everything. Training. Us. Life."
"And you dropped me first."
"Yeah. I did."
Finally she turned. Her eyes were tired. But not angry.
"Why are you here, Jack?"
He looked up at her. "Because I want to say goodbye right. Not with silence. Not with excuses. But with a full stop."
Bave nodded slowly.
"Okay. Then say it."
Jack exhaled. "Goodbye, Bave. You deserved more than half-attention. You deserved someone fully in it."
She nodded again. "Thank you. For finally meaning that."
He stood.
She didn't follow.
Closure isn't always peace. But it's still something.
---
By the time Mix and Arm made it back to the dorms, the hallway was empty.
Arm brushed his hand against Mix's.
Mix didn't pull away.
They didn't need to say they were trying. They already were.