Chapter Text
…and you didn’t see him for three months.
The shifting grace of Autumn gave way to ice. A once verdant campus green now muddled under gray snow, crunched with grit and soot. Passerbys did not linger. Bundled under layered coats and coiled up scarves, students hastily searched for warmth, leaving the sidewalks barren and lonely.
You relied on consistent distraction. School work that numbed your fingers. A fleeting, creative hobby that lasted all of a week. Outings with peers who’d never consider you a friend. None of it seemed to fix you.
And God, you missed him. More than anything in the world.
But the words looped in your head. The stinging from that night boiled into agony.
I don’t fucking need you.
He didn’t mean it. You knew better than to take his venom at face value. But it nurtured the foulest parts of yourself. Self-loathing feasted like a gluttonous beast, growing fat on the careless anger of his beer-fueled tantrum. Because if there was even the slightest chance of it being true…what had it all been for?
Were you truly just a warm body he used for shallow company? Is it possible you were just as disposable as all the rest?
But those thoughts were never allowed to mature. You snipped the buds and opened another lecture video, paralyzing any hint of an emotional response.
Sometimes you’d see him. In the distance, hovering at the edge of his usual crowd, smiling. Once or twice you even made eye contact, but he’d break it within the first moment, as if he had seen nothing but a fly among trash. It’s on those days that you cried. Cried and cried, until all that remained was bitter apathy.
Angrily, you wished he felt the same. You wanted him to break. You wanted him to regret every moment of that night from the instant his eyes opened that morning. You wanted him lost and abandoned and miserable, just like you.
And, truly, it only confirmed your worst fear. If you were always this hateful beneath it all, he never really needed you.
December bit frost under the brittle edges of your fingernails, and you conquered every day with the determination of an undying plague. Christmas was only a week away, and if you could just make it to the holidays, maybe you’d finally start to heal. There’s catharsis in the new year, meaningless or not. It might’ve been what you needed to forget everything. To forget him.
You trudged back home, your evening class wrapped up and concluded for the day. Friday used to mean something. It meant a weekend with Leon. Drunk, covered in gummy worms, squealing at some god-awful horror movie he rented just to get you to hold him. He used to wrap an arm around you, hugging you tight, promising to the moon and the stars he’d keep you safe from anything.
It was hard to take him seriously with popcorn in his teeth, but now you found yourself fantasizing the memory with teary eyes, although it’s probably just the cold weather.
With rosy cheeks and a dripping nose, you turned your key into the lock, kicking open your door with a disgruntled shove. It was dark. Your roommate left for the holiday early, leaving your dorm hollow and unwelcoming. You hovered in the common area, letting the mask you wore crumble off piece by piece.
Friday used to mean something. Now all you did was rot. You stepped over towards your half of the flat, reaching forward on instinct before a reactionary tug gave you pause. Your door was closed. It wasn’t when you left for class.
You listened, straining to hear beyond the chipped oak, but you received nothing. With a dry mouth, you closed your fingers around the knob, twisting, pushing your way in.
What awaited you inside nearly sent you to the floor.
He sat cross-legged by the bed, curled up on your little, brown rug. All you could see was his back, and the gaudy, expensive headphones clamped shut over his head. His head nodded gently to a beat you could barely make out, and he thumbed slowly through a book yanked off your shelf. It wasn’t the careless flipping of empty words, but the patient turning of pages of someone actually reading.
He never read around anyone but you.
You crept closer, letting your backpack drop to the ground like a lead weight, crashing and jolting Leon out of whatever paragraph he was enjoying. He batted the headphones off his ears, swirling to gape at you with wide, fearful eyes. His eyes.
Your favorite shade of blue.
“Jesus! Scared the fucking shit out of me–” He pressed a palm to his temple, panic easily bleeding away, but in its place you saw him tense, awaiting your anger.
“I scared you? You…how’d you even…did you break into my room?” You met him with accusation, though all you wanted was to hold him.
“...I mean, yeah. Duh. Not like you’d ever let me in willingly.” The dismissive tone of his voice riled you up more than you’d care to admit, and you stepped closer.
“Of course you’d stoop to this instead of just asking. What the hell is wrong with you?” The seasonal chill you felt walking home has all but melted completely. You were a live wire. “How’d you even get in here?”
“Come on. You know I bribe the janitor. We’re bros, me and Jeff.” He donned a cocky smirk.
“Oh, well, that’s great. I’m so happy for you, Leon. Now get the fuck out.” You vaguely gestured towards the exit, glowering down at him with an impatient scowl.
Leon’s smirk dropped. He set down the book, standing to his full height. You forgot how much taller than you he was.
“...no. I’m not leaving. Not this time.” His face hardened into a devastating intensity, prying out your seams one by one. “We need to talk. I need to…fix this.” You watched him flail his hands a bit, attempting to sculpt form to whatever this was.
You knew it would never be enough. No apology or heartfelt confession would repair the damage carved from three months of absence after the worst night of your life.
But you’ve always had shitty taste in guys, and he was the shittiest. You missed him more than anything in the world.
“Fine. Speak.” You settled on an impartial response, arms folded across your midsection. “But I’m really not in the mood for bullshit, Leon. I’m not.”
“I know,” he hung his head. “I know. I…” You were kind enough to grant him patience. The time you knew he’d need. Emotionally stunted didn’t even come close to describing Leon, and any effort on his part to offer honesty is effort you needed to encourage, in your own quiet way.
“I fucked up, okay? I really fucked up. Just like I always do and–” You noticed him halt, sucking at his teeth and wincing as if cinched with pain. “No. I’m not…fuck, listen. I’m not trying to like, make you feel bad for me I just…I always do this. I do, and you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
The words came out stuttered and unsure, as if the mere concept of an apology churned the acid in his gut. And maybe it did. What little you knew of his childhood easily explained his behavior. A blood-red thread woven into his heart like stripes on a cobra.
You nodded, coaxing him to continue. You would not shelter him with yielding platitudes.
“...all that shit I said…I was…god, I was scared. Do you realize what the hell you are? What, fuck, what you mean to me? The most fucking important person in my life and I thought I was gonna lose you over a shitty party.” He was too frustrated to look you in the eyes anymore. You felt cold again. “And you’re right. About all of it. I made you go and I ditched you and then I blamed you for – fuck, and then I didn’t have the balls to do anything for two months–”
“Three months.” You interjected, your lips a thin line, the ice he walked on.
“Three…three months? Jesus, I didn’t…” Leon ran a trembling palm through his hair, wrestling his own relationship with time. “Has it really been that long?”
You nodded.
“...I’ve been a mess. I…my grades are tanking, man, and I can’t even eat.”
Against your will, you deflated with a sad sigh. He did seem skinnier. His face sunken in. His body looked frail under his sweatshirt. You wondered if any of his other friends had noticed.
“You shouldn’t forgive me. I’m not really like, expecting you to. But I…I’m…” The word dangled off his tongue, the teetering step into territory unknown. “I’m sorry.”
For the past three months, you dreamed of this moment. Twisted visions of him crawling back to you on his hands and knees, begging for mercy when he deserved nothing of the sort. Over and over again, you extracted pleasure from the possibility of denying him, turning your back and thriving in spite of him.
You were sure the words would feel great. Amazing, even. But hearing them in person, hearing the shriveled warble of a man reduced to his own imitation, you felt nothing.
The silence stretched for miles. Both of you were too hurt to say anything. From the floor, his headphones faded into quiet before transitioning into another song, lyrics incomprehensible from where you stood, mirroring the noise of your own thoughts.
He broke the emptiness with a cough, and scratched his neck.
“...damn, well, I should…I’ll let you enjoy your Friday, I guess. I’m sorry. I really am, I–”
“You said you weren’t leaving.” The words came out without thinking. Leon blinked.
“...what? I–”
“You said. You weren’t leaving. Not this time. Are you really going to break another promise, Leon?” You’re not stupid. You understood your challenge was nothing more than a thinly-veiled plea to get him to stay. You couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your dignity died with the autumn leaves.
“...oh, I was…I didn’t think you’d – yeah. Okay. Yeah, I’m not leaving. Not going anywhere. Swear on it.” Leon puffed his chest a little, the hopeful beginnings of a smile creasing his cheeks. A real smile.
You shuffled closer, breathing in, filling your lungs with mercy.
“Did you really mean what you said, Leon?” It was spoken so softly, and he leaned closer to hear, just as you hoped he would.
He smelled like cedar.
“...what I said?” There’s confusion in his stare, yet he tilted his head, an eagerness to understand.
“When you said you…when you said you didn’t need me. That I was–” Whatever else you were going to say didn’t matter. In an instant, you’re strangled with warmth. Arms latched tight around your chest, your face smashed into the flesh above his heart.
“I need you.” It’s said so easily. And you knew he didn’t need to think twice. “I needed you every day and I will need you every day after today and…every year and…just, so much, man.” Ruefully, you couldn’t help but laugh. Such an indelicate way of speaking. So thoroughly Leon.
Your arms wrapped around his stomach, squeezing with a reluctant pressure. You still couldn’t believe he was real. But here he was.
“Okay. That’s all I needed to hear.” You went slack in his hold, forgoing oxygen in favor of him. He filled your mind and soul, and you never knew you could miss the scent of Irish Spring so much.
“...okay. Is…Is that it? I mean, not that I– shit, are we good? We chill?” He pried you off, cupping your cheeks with burning palms, searching your eyes for safety. Reassurance.
You wanted to give him that. But pretty words and a warm hug were only enough to quiet your demons. They did nothing to heal.
“No, we’re still not friends.” You said finally, staring away, unable to face his reaction.
“Wait, seriously? What…but I–”
“I don’t forgive you, Leon. Not…not yet.” Cautiously, you gripped his wrists, lowering his hands back to his sides. “I missed you. A lot. But it took you three months to tell me all of this. Three. Months.”
“Yeah, but…you’re actually just…gonna leave me forever? For three months?” It’s not anger in his voice, simply the aching desperation of a heart longing for closure. An answer to every question he had.
“Listen, I…we can be friends again, maybe soon, maybe later. I still wanna see you and hang out and stuff, but…it’s gonna take time, okay?” His shoulders sagged. “You have a lot of things you need to work on, and I can’t be the one to fix them. It has to be you, Leon. It has to be different.”
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him clench his fists. A vein pulsed on his neck, and you braced yourself for the backlash. The brewing storm he hid behind when he was afraid.
But whatever happened the past three months has drained the fight from his body, and he went soft again, his posture slouching.
“I’ll get better. I will. But…can I ask you something? Can I ask you to promise me one thing? Just one?”
You stared at him again. His ocean stirred, but you stayed afloat.
“Sure, Leon.” you whispered.
“...wait for me. Promise me you’ll still be here when I come back. When I’m…when I’m fixed.” He was so close, you could study each twitch and crinkle of his face. All the voiceless ways he loved you. “Will you let me come back to you?”
It wasn’t even a question.
“I promise, Leon.”
And you loved him, too.