Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Make me my pizza boy."

"What??"

Chance stepped inside the familiar surroundings of Builder Brother's Pizza, spotting a familiar friend of his in the corner, enjoying a break.

"Chance!" Elliot perked up, his eyes lighting up as he saw his friend. He quickly pushed his drink aside and stood up, a shy smile forming on his face.

"Hey, Ellio." Chance grinned, sliding into the booth next to him with a casual air.

"So, you're on break... or something?" Chance asked, raising an eyebrow as he eyed the pizza boxes stacked up on the counter.

"Yeah!" Elliot said quickly, perhaps a little too quickly, his nervous smile tugging at his lips. He adjusted the collar of his uniform, his fingers fidgeting slightly. "Just... taking a quick rest. You know how it is. How about you?"

Chance tilted his head, his eyes glinting with curiosity. "I was just passing through and thought I'd stop by. I could use a little something to snack on. How's everything going here?"

Elliot scratched the back of his neck, trying to calm the fluttering in his chest. "Oh, you know. Same old. Pizza's good. Busy, but good." He laughed softly, glancing at Chance out of the corner of his eye. "I’m... uh, glad you came by."

Chance raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Glad to see me, huh?" His tone was teasing, but there was a genuine warmth to it that made Elliot’s heart race.

Elliot’s cheeks turned a soft pink, and he quickly looked away, biting his lip to hide his shy smile. "No, I mean—yeah, I guess, but I wasn’t expecting you, you know? It’s just… a little weird, seeing you here."

Chance chuckled, a low, smooth sound that made Elliot’s stomach do flips. "Weird, huh? How so?"

Elliot shifted in his seat, trying to find a way to explain without sounding too obvious. "I mean, you’re usually... somewhere fancy, right? Like, you don’t exactly hang out here at Builder's Brother Pizza."

"Well, I have to eat, don’t I?" Chance’s smirk was teasing, but his eyes softened when he looked at Elliot. "Besides, I’m not so high and mighty I can't grab a slice of pizza."

Elliot shifted again, his fingers tapping the edge of his drink cup. "I guess so..." he murmured, his voice a little softer than usual.

Chance noticed, of course. He always noticed the little things. And maybe that’s why, just for a moment, he leaned a little closer to Elliot, his grin more genuine than before. "So, how about making me a special pizza, Ellio? I’m thinking something with a little extra... charm."

Elliot blinked, his fluster turning to full-on embarrassment as he looked up at Chance, trying to hide his flustered expression by burying his face in his hands. "I—um, sure... I'll... get right on that." He mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

Chance just laughed, clearly enjoying how flustered Elliot was getting. "Take your time, pizza boy."

Elliot groaned softly, not sure if he could handle much more of this teasing. But, despite the teasing, he couldn’t help but feel a little happier when Chance was around.

Chapter Text

Elliot should have known Chance wasn’t going to make this easy.

He tried—really, he did—to focus on making the pizza. But it wasn’t exactly simple when Chance decided to hover near the counter, leaning against it like he owned the place. Which, to be fair, he probably thought he did.

“So,” Chance drawled, watching Elliot toss the dough, “do I get the special treatment, or is this just a regular old pizza?”

Elliot huffed, determined to keep his cool. “It’s a pizza, Chance. Not everything has to be fancy.”

“Hmm.” Chance pretended to think it over, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I dunno. Feels like you’d want to impress me a little, pizza boy.”

Elliot nearly fumbled the dough.

He turned away quickly, hoping Chance didn’t catch the flush creeping up his neck. “You’re impossible,” he muttered, shoving the pizza into the oven a little too forcefully.

Behind him, Chance laughed, low and smooth. “C’mon, you love it.”

Elliot didn’t dignify that with a response. He busied himself wiping nonexistent crumbs from the counter, hoping his face would cool down if he just focused hard enough.

Unfortunately, Chance didn’t believe in giving him a break. “So, how long until I get my masterpiece?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Elliot said without turning around. He hated how his voice cracked a little. “You’re surprisingly patient for someone so… you know.”

“So what?”

Elliot swallowed. “Annoying.”

Chance let out an exaggerated gasp. “Me? Annoying? You wound me, Ellio.”

“Don’t call me that,” Elliot mumbled, dragging a hand through his hair in an attempt to hide his smile.

“What, no cute nicknames allowed?” Chance grinned, leaning further over the counter. “I think it suits you.”

Elliot gave him a flat look. “Do you flirt with everyone who makes you pizza?”

“Mm,” Chance said easily, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Just you.”

Elliot immediately turned back to the oven, pretending to check on the pizza even though it had barely started cooking.

"Don't take it too serious, all jokes, yeah?"

"...Yeah...all jokes."

“You’re awfully quiet over there,” Chance remarked after a moment. “Did I break you?”

“No!” Elliot’s voice came out higher than he wanted, and he winced. “I’m just—focused. On the pizza. For you.”

“For me, huh?” Chance’s grin widened. “You do care.”

“I care about doing my job,” Elliot shot back, but the warmth on his face betrayed him.

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

Elliot groaned softly to himself, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here I am, supporting your fine establishment,” Chance said smoothly, drumming his fingers on the counter. “Really, you should be nicer to your favorite customer.”

“You’re not my favorite customer,” Elliot muttered, but it lacked any real heat.

“I’m definitely your favorite.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“I will,” Chance said, and the cockiness in his voice made Elliot want to scream. “Anyway, when’s your next day off? Maybe I’ll stop by and we can hang out somewhere that doesn’t smell like pepperoni.”

Elliot’s heart skipped. “You—you want to hang out?”

Chance tilted his head, giving him a look that was somehow both playful and serious. “Yeah. Why not?”

Elliot scrambled for something—anything—cool to say. “Well, I mean, I—uh, I guess I’m free Thursday… if you’re, um, serious.”

“Thursday, huh?” Chance tapped his chin like he was deep in thought. “Sounds like a date.”

Elliot’s brain short-circuited.

“It’s not a date.” He felt his entire body heat up. “It’s—it’s hanging out. Just—normal hanging out.”

Chance laughed again, a rich, genuine sound that made Elliot want to melt into the floor. “Relax, pizza boy. I’ll see you Thursday.”

Elliot didn’t relax. Not even a little.

Chapter Text

Chance flopped onto Elliot’s couch like he owned the place. His legs stretched out, one arm draped casually over the backrest as he scanned the room. “You know, for a guy who works at a pizza place, I expected your house to smell like, I don’t know—pepperoni or something.”

Elliot rolled his eyes, handing Chance a soda before settling into the armchair across from him. “Yeah, because I’m dying to bring my work home with me.”

Chance cracked open the can with a hiss, flashing him a lazy grin. “Hey, no shame in living the pizza life. I could go for a lifetime supply.”

“You already freeload off me enough.”

“Yeah, but you love it.”

Elliot snorted softly, but his heart did a little flip anyway. “You keep telling yourself that.”

For a moment, the room fell into an easy quiet, the kind that only comes with knowing someone long enough that silence didn’t feel awkward. Elliot tried not to think too hard about the fact that Chance was here—again—just hanging out like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“So,” Chance said, tapping his fingers against the soda can, “what do you do for fun when you’re not slaving away at that pizza place?”

Elliot shrugged. “Nothing as exciting as whatever it is you do.”

“Come on, you’ve gotta have hobbies.”

“I mean, sometimes I bake stuff.”

Chance raised an eyebrow. “Baking? Didn’t peg you for the domestic type.”

Elliot shrugged, playing it off. “It’s relaxing.”

“I mean, if you’re offering baked goods, I’m not gonna say no.”

Elliot rolled his eyes, fighting the smile tugging at his lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet you keep letting me in.” Chance’s voice was teasing, but there was something softer underneath that made Elliot’s chest tighten.

He stood up, trying to shake the feeling off. “You want snacks or not?”

Chance tilted his head back against the couch, watching him with that unreadable look he always got when he was about to push too far. “I’ll take whatever you’re giving.”

Elliot turned sharply toward the kitchen to hide the heat creeping up his neck. He rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out a bag of chips to give himself something to do.

When he came back, Chance had shifted to sit properly, one leg bouncing lightly as he took the bag from Elliot’s hands. “You’re a saint,” he said, tearing it open immediately.

“Uh-huh.” Elliot dropped back into the armchair, watching Chance out of the corner of his eye. He shouldn’t care about how comfortable Chance looked sprawled across his furniture, or how easy it was for him to slide into his space like he belonged there.

But he did.

“So,” Chance said through a mouthful of chips, “when are you gonna admit you like having me around?”

Elliot scoffed. “Don’t hold your breath.”

Chance’s grin widened, like he knew something Elliot wasn’t ready to say out loud. “We’ll see.”

And the worst part? Elliot kind of hoped he would.

Chapter Text

“I should probably get going,” Chance said, standing up and stretching like he wasn’t overthinking everything. Which he definitely wasn’t. Probably.

Elliot, still curled up on the couch with a faint blush on his face, tilted his head. “Already? You’re usually the one overstaying your welcome.”

Chance grinned, slipping on his jacket. “Yeah, well, gotta leave while I’m still mysterious and charming.”

Elliot snorted softly. “Good luck with that.”

“Hey,” Chance drawled, leaning against the doorframe just a little too casually. “Admit it—you’d miss me if I stopped showing up.”

Elliot rolled his eyes, but his voice softened. “You wish.”

For a moment, Chance almost lingered. Something about the way Elliot looked—relaxed, comfortable, and just a little too adorable—made it hard to walk away. But he shook it off and gave a lazy wave as he opened the door. “Later, pizza boy.”

“Night, Chance.”

The door shut, and there was a warm, buzzing feeling in his chest. He ignored it. Just a casual hangout—no big deal.

The next day, Chance strolled into Builder Brother's Pizza like he owned the place—because, honestly, who was going to stop him?

He was halfway through a mental debate on whether to tease Elliot about last night when the door opened behind him.

Guest 1337.

“Hey,” Chance grinned, “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Guest's lips tugged into a slight smile. “Did you miss me?"

“Maybe.” He hummed, “Buy me a pizza and I might forgive you.”

“Done.”

They walked up to the counter together, their conversation light and easy. And that’s when Chance spotted Elliot.

Elliot, who was very clearly not amused.

“Hey, pizza boy,” Chance said, flashing his usual grin. “Busy day?”

Elliot’s jaw tightened slightly. “Yeah. Real thrilling.”

Guest squinted, eyes flicking between them before leaning closer to Chance. “Elliot works at the register?”

Chance didn’t miss the way Elliot’s hand twitched on the register. “Mhm, told you he was cute,” he said, because if Elliot was going to look like that, he might as well push a little.

Elliot’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Glad I could entertain you,” he muttered, punching in their order with a little more force than necessary.

Chance raised a brow, catching the sharpness in his voice. Interesting. “Relax,” he said smoothly. “We’re just grabbing a pizza.”

“Right,” Elliot said flatly. “One pizza coming up.”

He barely looked at them as they walked toward a booth, and for once, Chance wasn’t entirely sure if his usual charm was working. Not that it mattered. Right?

Still, as he slid into the booth across from Guest 1337, his eyes lingered a little too long on the guy behind the counter.

Chapter Text

Elliot walked over to the booth, a pizza box in hand. His gaze was steady, but there was something slightly more… sharp in the way he moved. He set the pizza down with more force than necessary, a little too much clatter for the usual calm delivery.

“Here,” he said, his voice tinged with a dry edge, “enjoy.”

Chance couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Normally, Elliot was all smiles when handing over pizza, or at least trying to sneak in a lighthearted comment. But today? Today, he was a little off.

“Thanks, pizza boy,” Chance said, voice teasing, but there was a hint of curiosity behind his usual smirk. He motioned to the seat across from him. “You gonna stand there all day, or are you gonna join us?”

Elliot hesitated, his lips pressing together before he shook his head. “I’ve got stuff to do.” His eyes flicked to Guest, who had already made himself comfortable in the booth, looking at the menu like it was the most interesting thing on the planet.

“Aw, come on,” Chance said, stretching lazily in the booth, his grin widening. “I’m pretty sure you could use a break. You work hard, pizza boy. Come sit with us.”

Elliot's gaze flicked to him, and Chance caught the brief flash of annoyance in his eyes before it was gone. He could tell Elliot wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea. But Chance wasn't going to drop it that easily.

“I’ll pass,” Elliot muttered, turning to leave.

But then Guest chimed in, his voice smooth and polite, if not a little too pleasant. “Come on, don’t leave us hanging. You seem fun. Why don’t you join us?”

Elliot froze, his shoulders stiffening as his eyes locked onto the guest. He gave a short, clipped laugh. “Sure, fun. That’s one word for it.”

Chance glanced between the two of them. The tension was palpable, and it wasn’t just because of the pizza in the middle of the table. Elliot’s whole posture had shifted the moment Guest 1337 spoke. His usual warmth was gone, replaced by something colder, sharper.

Chance nudged the pizza box toward the middle, as if trying to soften the atmosphere. “C’mon, Elliot. No need to be all cranky.”

But Elliot wasn’t hearing it. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave a short, dry response. “I’m not cranky. I’m just… not in the mood.”

"Take a break."

Elliot’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he glanced down before glancing back at Chance. "I’m good," he muttered. "I have work to do."

"Work, work, work," Chance sighed dramatically, resting his head against his hand. "No time for fun, huh? You sure? Because I’m pretty fun." He let the words linger, playful.

Elliot’s lips twitched into something that might’ve been a smile, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "I’m not interested in your idea of fun."

Chance raised an eyebrow, but instead of responding to the challenge, he turned to Guest with a smile that was just a little too wide. "Don’t mind him," he said, gesturing to Elliot. "I don't know why he's so cranky today."

Elliot, who had been halfway to turning away from the booth, froze at the words, his jaw tightening visibly. He didn’t say anything.

Chance saw the shift, and though he wasn’t sure what exactly was going on, he felt a sudden, strange discomfort hanging between them all. He shrugged it off.

Chance, feeling the weight of the quiet tension, broke it with a forced smile. "ou really need a break, come on."

Elliot's eyes narrowed, but after a long, awkward pause, he sighed and walked over, sitting at the far end of the booth. He didn’t speak, just folded his arms, leaning back in his seat.

"You know," Chance said, trying to make light of the moment, "this is nice. Just the three of us, all cozy in a pizza booth."

"Yeah," Elliot muttered, tone flat. "Real cozy."

“Relax,” Chance said, trying to lighten the moment, though he was starting to pick up on Elliot’s increasing discomfort.

Elliot didn’t answer. Instead, he shot Guest a sideways glance, his tone now dripping with passive-aggressive sweetness. “So, how’s it feel to get that pizza, huh? Everything you ever wanted in life?”

Guest, clearly catching on to the sarcasm, raised an eyebrow in response. “I mean, it’s, a pizza. Nothing life-changing.”

“Right,” Elliot said, leaning forward and giving him a sarcastic smile. “No big deal. Just the pinnacle of culinary achievement.” His words were almost too sweet, a stark contrast to the coldness in his eyes.

Chance chuckled, amused by the exchange, but something in the air shifted. Elliot’s attitude was sharper now, colder. Maybe he wasn’t just in a mood—maybe he was annoyed by something else entirely.

Chapter Text

The pizza was good—maybe too good for how tense the air felt. Guest 1337, to his credit, seemed determined to ignore the weird energy hanging over the booth. He chewed thoughtfully, as if he hadn’t walked straight into a battlefield.

"So," Guest said after a beat of silence, offering a polite smile, "how long have you been working here, Elliot?"

Elliot, who had been stabbing a stray pepperoni with a plastic fork, didn’t bother looking up. "A while," he said flatly.

Undeterred, Guest tried again. "I mean, it’s kind of neat, right? Free pizza, nice environment—beats some jobs."

"Yeah. Living the dream," Elliot muttered, flicking a glance at Chance. "So thrilling watching grease stains set in real time."

Chance smirked around his pizza slice. "Hey, someone’s gotta keep the lights on. And besides—" He tilted his head, his voice going extra smooth. "—you’d be bored without me showing up to brighten your day."

Elliot’s jaw twitched, and for a moment, it looked like he might snap back. But instead, he just exhaled sharply through his nose, muttering, "Sure. Because that’s what I needed."

Guest blinked, clearly picking up on the growing edge in his voice. "I wasn’t trying to be annoying or anything," he said, tone softer. "I just… thought it was cool that you put up with him."

"Someone’s gotta do it," Elliot said, cutting a glare at Chance, who had the audacity to wink at him.

Chance leaned back in the booth, stretching his arms across the seat like he had all the time in the world. "Aw, admit it—you’d miss me if I stopped coming around."

Elliot let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Yeah. Just devastated."

"You’re really giving me mixed signals here, ellio." Chance teased, biting into another slice. "You’re always acting all grumpy, but you never kick me out. It’s cute, honestly."

Guest chuckled softly, clearly trying to ease the tension. "I mean, I get it. It's like getting rid of a stray cat."

Chance grinned wider. "A charming stray cat."

Elliot’s fork scraped against the booth table, the sound sharp and grating. "Right. Adorable."

There was a pause—one of those heavy, uncomfortable silences where every word felt like a match near a powder keg. And, predictably, Chance struck it.

“C’mon, you in a mood or something?” He pressed, a teasing edge creeping into his voice.

“I’m not in a mood,” Elliot snapped, his voice a little louder than he meant. “I’m fine.”

Chance tilted his head, watching him with that same irritatingly smug expression. “You’re really selling the ‘fine’ thing, pizza boy. Super convincing.”

Elliot’s fingers twitched against his arms. “Why do you care?”

“Because it’s funny when you get all flustered like this,” Chance said, grinning wider. “I mean, usually you’re all sweet and smiley—what happened? You jealous?”

The word hung in the air longer than it should have. Elliot’s face darkened, and for a brief moment, he didn’t respond. His knee bounced faster.

“Jealous,” he echoed under his breath, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Oh, please.”

Chance leaned back in the booth, folding his arms behind his head. “Hey, no shame in it. If I were you, I’d probably be jealous too. I mean, you get stuck here dealing with pizza orders while I’m out living my best life. Must be rough.”

That did it.

He snapped his gaze to Chance. "Oh my God, do you ever shut up?" His voice was sharp, louder than it should’ve been, making Guest blink in surprise.

"Whoa—"

"No," Elliot cut in, his fists clenching against the table. "I’m not your entertainment, and I’m not here to stroke your ego while you fuck around and laugh it off like nothing matters." His voice trembled slightly, edged with something more than just irritation. "Not everyone finds you as charming as you think you are, Chance."

"Someone's in a mood."

“I’m not mad or in a mood, alright? I’m only mad because you keep acting like I’m some joke every time I don’t feel like playing along. It’s—” He let out a sharp breath, barely holding himself together. “It’s not even a big deal until you make it one!"

Chance blinked, his usual grin faltering for half a second. For once, he didn’t have a snappy comeback. His mouth opened like he was about to say something, but nothing came out.

"And for future reference," Elliot snapped, "I don’t need your pity anymore. So you can quit acting. I’m not some sad little charity case.”

Chance's snarky demeanor faltered, his face shifting into something more guarded. "I wasn’t—"

"Whatever," Elliot spat, shoving out of the booth with enough force to rattle the table. "I’m done with this."

Without another word, he stormed off toward the back, his footsteps echoing across the floor.

The silence he left behind was heavy, buzzing with all the things no one had said out loud until now.

Chance just stared after Elliot, his usual playful mask slipping—just a little.

Chance huffed a breath, dragging a hand through his hair. "He’s just… complicated."

Guest tilted his head. "And you’re not gonna go after him?"

Chance hesitated for a moment too long. "He needs space," he said, but it didn’t sound like he fully believed it.

They both fell quiet again, but this time, the pizza didn’t taste quite as good.

Chapter Text

Elliot didn’t consider himself a jealous person—or at least, that’s what he told himself while wiping down tables for the third time that afternoon. The bell above the door chimed, and sure enough, there they were.

Chance and Guest.

Laughing. Again.

Elliot didn’t mean to watch them. Really, he didn’t. But it was hard to ignore when Chance strolled in like he owned the place, all easy smiles and too-loud jokes, and Guest following close behind, matching his energy like they were cut from the same cloth.

And the worst part? They looked good together. Like, really good.

He caught the tail-end of a joke as they approached the counter, something about a pizza shaped like a heart. Guest laughed, and the sound of it crawled under Elliot’s skin. He turned back to the register, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to sting.

Chance leaned against the counter, flashing that grin Elliot used to think was just for him. “Hey, ellio. Busy day?”

Elliot’s fingers hovered over the register keys. “Yeah,” he said, voice flat. “Real thrilling.”

He didn’t miss the way Guest tilted their head, like they were studying him. Great. Because what he really wanted was to be some inside joke for the two of them later.

Chance, being Chance, either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “One pepperoni, extra charm.”

“Sure,” Elliot muttered, punching in the order a little harder than necessary. “One pizza coming up.”

As he turned toward the kitchen, he heard Guest lean closer. “Is he always this friendly?”

Chance laughed, and it was too easy, too familiar. “Mm, he’s usually worse.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Elliot shoved the order slip onto the line and leaned against the wall, hoping the heat from the ovens would burn away the gnawing ache in his chest.

It wasn’t like he cared. He and Chance weren’t a thing. He knew that. Chance teased everyone—it wasn’t special. Still, it stung in a way he couldn’t explain. Maybe it was because, for a while, he thought he had a place in Chance’s orbit. That no matter how easy the guy was with others, there was something different when it was just the two of them.

Lately, though? Lately, it felt like he was watching from the outside.

And that feeling was nothing new.

He swallowed against the tightness in his throat, forcing his mind to quieter places. He’d been here before—the third wheel, the afterthought. The one people kept around until someone better came along. It didn’t matter how much he gave or how hard he tried to stay; eventually, they all got tired of him. Too sensitive. Too much. Too exhausting.

And it’s happening again, and no matter how much he wanted to shake it off, the thought stuck.

He took a breath before grabbing the pizza box and sliding it across the counter. “Order up,” he said, sharper than he intended.

Chance blinked at him, like he was noticing the edge in his voice for the first time. “Thanks, El,” he said, and the softness there almost made Elliot cave.

Almost.

Guest plucked the box off the counter. “Catch you later,” they said, flashing a polite smile that made Elliot’s skin itch.

Elliot didn’t answer. Just turned back to the kitchen, already feeling the familiar weight of being left behind.

Chapter Text

The shift stretched on longer than Elliot thought possible. Every tick of the clock felt sluggish, every interaction distant. He tried to focus on cleaning, on keeping his hands busy, but his mind wouldn’t stop replaying that moment—Guest’s voice was enough to slice through him like broken glass.

“Come on, Chance. You could do better with the people you hang out with.”

Laughter followed. A joke. Just a stupid, offhand comment. But all Elliot could hear was confirmation of what he already knew—what he had been too scared to admit.

Chance didn’t defend him. Didn’t even hesitate before laughing along. He didn’t glance over at Elliot, didn’t reassure him, didn’t say anything at all.

And that silence said everything.

By the time his shift ended, the restaurant had emptied out. The buzz of conversation, the clinking of dishes, even the warmth of the ovens—it had all faded into the kind of quiet that made his thoughts louder. Elliot locked up without saying goodbye to the others, his movements mechanical, his breath shallow.

He walked home in a daze, barely registering the cool night air against his skin. The streets were empty, dimly lit by flickering streetlights. Each step felt heavier than the last, his thoughts spiraling faster, crashing into each other like waves in a storm.

You could do better.

Of course Chance could. He probably already was. Elliot was just the placeholder—the guy who filled space until something better came along. He had seen it before, lived it too many times to ignore the pattern. People left. That was just how it worked.

Inside his small apartment, the air was thick with stillness. No messages from Chance. No messages from anyone. His phone remained silent, the void stretching wide, suffocating.

His hands trembled as he set it down. He had tried so hard. He had done everything right. And still, it wasn’t enough.

His breath hitched as the weight settled in his chest, pressing down until it hurt. He needed to breathe. He needed to stop thinking. He needed to feel something—something that wasn’t this drowning emptiness, this hollow ache that no one else seemed to notice.

His fingers twitched, an old impulse creeping back like an old friend. He told himself he was past this. He told himself he had moved on.

But the thing about old habits? They never really left. They just lingered, waiting for the right moment to sink their claws in again.

And tonight, they did.

In the silence of his bathroom, Elliot pulled down his sleeve, his breath coming unsteady as his fingers traced over faded lines. The scars were old, but the memories were fresh.

The sharp relief, the temporary calm—the illusion of control when everything else felt like it was slipping through his fingers.

His vision blurred, his chest tightening as a sob broke free before he could stop it. His knees hit the floor, the cold tiles grounding him just enough to feel the weight of it all crashing down at once. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to will the tears away, but it was useless. They fell anyway, silent and bitter, tracing paths down his cheeks.

He hated this. Hated how weak he felt. Hated that even after all this time, the urge still lingered. He hated that no matter how much he told himself he was okay, nights like this proved otherwise.

He gasped for breath, clutching at his sleeves like they could somehow hold him together. He didn’t want to go back to that place. He didn’t want to be that person again.

But the fear remained.

Because deep down, he wasn’t sure if he ever really left.

Chapter Text

The days blurred together, each one feeling heavier than the last. Elliot barely spoke at work, only saying what was necessary to get through his shifts. He didn’t joke around anymore, didn’t try to insert himself into conversations that felt like closed doors. Instead, he watched from the sidelines, his presence shrinking into something unnoticeable.

Chance didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t care enough to ask.

When Friday rolled around, Elliot overheard Chance inviting Guest over. Not just for a quick hangout—but for the whole night. There was no invitation sent his way. No casual, “Hey, wanna join?”—not even an afterthought.

The gap between them widened, stretching into something impossible to ignore.

Elliot’s phone remained silent, except for the occasional group chat message that he didn’t have the energy to respond to. When Chance did text him directly, it was short—things like “You good?” or “Busy tonight.” Elliot would reply with dry, empty words, or not at all.

And Chance never pushed for more.

That should have made it easier. Should have given Elliot the space to breathe, to let go of whatever it was he’d been holding onto. But it only made the silence in his life louder.

The numbness came in waves. Some days, it was just a dull fog that made everything feel distant. Other days, it was suffocating—like something clawing at his chest, desperate to get out. And on those nights, the old habits crept back in, whispering promises of relief.

It wasn’t about wanting to die.

It never was.

It was about feeling something when everything else was slipping away. About reminding himself that he was still here, still real, still able to break through the static that dulled everything else.

He told himself it didn’t matter. That no one would notice anyway. That Chance was happier without him in the way.

For a moment, he thought about reaching out. Thought about typing out a message, about saying something—anything—to see if maybe, just maybe, Chance would pull him back from this edge before it got worse.

But his fingers hovered over the screen, hesitation twisting his stomach.

Would Chance even care? Or would he just brush it off, tell him he was being dramatic again?

Elliot exhaled shakily and deleted the message before he could second-guess it.

He already knew the answer.

Chapter Text

The restaurant buzzed with its usual Friday night crowd, but Elliot barely heard any of it. He moved through his shift on autopilot, taking orders, cleaning tables, pretending like he wasn’t suffocating under the weight of his own silence.

And then Chance showed up.

Elliot barely had time to brace himself before Chance was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching him with that easygoing grin that used to feel familiar. Used to feel safe.

“Damn, man. You’ve been a ghost lately,” Chance teased. “Figured you finally got abducted or something.”

Elliot didn’t smile. Didn’t give him the reaction he was expecting. Instead, he just muttered, “Busy,” and wiped down the counter with more force than necessary.

Chance raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been weird.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, see, I’d believe that if you weren’t talking to me like I killed your parents, or something.” Chance leaned in a little, voice still light, still playful. “Come on, Elliot, what’s your deal?”

And maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the weeks of feeling invisible, of watching Chance build a life without him in it, of feeling like he was screaming into a void and getting nothing back.

Whatever it was, it made something in Elliot snap.

He slammed the rag down, his breath uneven, his heart pounding. “My deal?” he echoed, his voice shaking with barely restrained frustration. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Chance’s smirk faltered. “Elliot—”

“I’m not a toy, Chance. I’m not here for your amusement while you run off with someone better.”

The words hung between them, sharp and unforgiving.

Chance blinked, caught off guard. And then, just as quickly, his expression hardened. “Are you serious?” He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Dude, if this is about Guest—”

“It’s not just about him!” Elliot’s voice cracked, and he hated how raw it sounded. “It’s about you treating me like I only matter when it’s convenient for you. Like I’m supposed to just be okay with being pushed aside—like I don’t notice when you stop caring.”

Chance scoffed, shaking his head. “Jesus, Elliot. You always do this.”

“Do what?”

Chance met his eyes then, something sharp and defensive flashing across his face. And then he said it.

“Maybe if you weren’t so exhausting all the time, you wouldn’t be so easy to leave.”

Silence. A deep, suffocating kind of silence that swallowed the entire room whole.

Elliot felt the air leave his lungs, felt the sting behind his eyes before he could stop it. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Because what was there to say to that? What was there to say when the person he cared about most had just confirmed everything he’d been afraid of?

"Elliot I—"

His hands curled into fists at his sides. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay steady even as his chest ached.

“Right,” he said quietly, nodding to himself. “Got it.”

And then he pushed past Chance, walking straight out the door without looking back.

For once, Chance didn’t chase after him.

Chapter Text

Hey it’s me Maxxie :3 I don’t do much in this account and I honestly am not planning to at all. This is most likely going to be my last message on here as well as on earth I’m tired and I can’t handle things anymore so just keep up with good work rwabbit 😋

Rwabbit here.

If you ever log back on, if you see this, PLEASE. please don't do anything stupid. I care about you a lot, you've done so much for me. Please just talk to me instead of keeping things to yourself, I'm worried. I wouldn't forgive myself if anything happened to you, Maxxie.

Chapter Text

The silence stretched on for days.

Elliot barely checked his phone anymore. It sat on his nightstand, untouched, except for the occasional buzz of a notification he never opened. Not that it mattered. There was nothing he wanted to see. Nothing that would make this feeling go away.

Work felt distant. He went through the motions, nodding when expected, speaking only when necessary. The rest of the time, he kept his head down, pretending like he wasn’t unraveling from the inside out.

The only thing that felt real anymore was the sting, the sharpness, the relief that came after. It wasn’t about dying—it was never about dying. It was about control. About proving to himself that he could still feel something when everything else felt numb.

And no one noticed.

At least, that’s what he thought.

Until Noob showed up.

It was late, the kind of late where everything felt heavier. Elliot was curled up on his couch, staring blankly at the ceiling when there was a knock at his door. He almost didn’t answer it, but something in him—some small, exhausted part—decided to check.

He opened the door to find Noob standing there, hands in his hoodie pockets.

“Hey,” Noob said. “Can I come in?”

Elliot hesitated for only a second before stepping aside.

Noob didn’t waste time. He flopped onto the couch, looking at Elliot like he already knew. Like he saw straight through the half-hearted excuses, the tired eyes, the way Elliot’s sleeves were always pulled down just a little too far.

“You’ve been reaaaally distant.” Noob said finally. “And don’t try to tell me you’re fine, because I know you’re not.”

Elliot exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. He thought about lying, thought about brushing it off like he always did—but he was tired. And Noob wasn’t Chance. Noob wouldn’t dismiss it, wouldn’t turn it into some joke or make Elliot feel like he was being too much.

So for the first time in what felt like forever, he told the truth.

“I don’t know how to stop it,” Elliot admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “The thoughts, the feelings… it just—it doesn’t go away. And I don’t know what to do.”

Noob leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You mean—"

Elliot hesitated before nodding.

Noob sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I get that.”

Elliot blinked, looking up at him. “You do?”

“Of course I do,” Noob said. “Maybe not exactly like you, but…It's like everything’s slipping away and you don’t know how to stop it, right?” He paused, then looked Elliot dead in the eyes. “But, dude, hurting yourself? That’s not the answer.”

Elliot swallowed hard, his fingers curling into his sleeves. “I don’t do it to—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I just need to feel something. I need to remind myself that I still exist.”

Noob was quiet for a moment, but there was no judgment in his expression. Just something softer. Something understanding. “I get that, too,” he said. “But you don’t have to do this alone.”

Elliot scoffed, but it was weak. “Feels like I do.”

“You don’t.” Noob shifted, his voice firm but gentle. “Look, I’m not gonna pretend I can fix this for you, but I can sit here with you. I can remind you that you’re not alone, even if it feels like it.” He nudged Elliot’s knee with his own. “And if you ever need to talk, or just… sit in silence with someone who won’t let you disappear, I’m here. Got it?”

Elliot stared at him for a long moment, something in his chest tightening. He wasn’t used to this—to someone seeing him and not turning away. To someone staying, even when he wasn’t easy to be around.

Slowly, he nodded. “Got it.”

Noob gave him a small, lopsided grin. “Good. Now scoot over, I’m stealing half your couch.”

And for the first time in a long time, Elliot didn’t feel completely alone.

Chapter Text

Elliot tried. He really did.

For weeks, he kept his sleeves rolled up, letting the fresh air touch his skin instead of hiding away. Noob checked in on him often, and even though the weight in his chest never fully disappeared, there were moments when it didn’t feel unbearable. He responded to texts, showed up to work, even smiled sometimes.

But it never lasted.

The numbness crept back in like an old habit, whispering that he was still alone. That Noob cared out of obligation. That Chance had already moved on. The weight got heavier, suffocating in its quiet persistence. And one night, when the silence became too loud and the walls felt too close, Elliot relapsed.

The release was brief. Temporary. But it was something.

And then came the guilt.

He hid the evidence, like he always did. Wore long sleeves again, avoided mirrors, let his phone gather dust. Noob still texted, but Elliot started responding less. Work became a blur. The apartment turned into a mess—takeout containers piling up, dirty clothes left where they fell, unopened notifications stacking one after another. He knew he should care.

But he didn’t.

Days Passed.

Feeling uneasy, Chance finally went to Elliot’s apartment.

Something felt off. The place was a mess—half-eaten food, unopened texts, signs that something wasn’t right. The air was stale, like no one had cared enough to open a window in days. The couch cushions were slightly askew, blankets tangled like someone had spent too many nights sleeping there instead of in a bed.

Then he saw it.

A bloodied tissue in the trash. Then another. And another.

"Elliot?" His voice was sharp, breaking the quiet.

No answer.

He moved faster, pushing open doors, checking corners. The bathroom was empty. The kitchen, silent. He turned toward the bedroom, swallowing thickly.

He shoved the door open—and froze.

Elliot was there. Curled up on the bed, pale, quiet, distant. His sleeves were pulled down, his hands tucked under his arms as if trying to disappear. The room was dim, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside casting a dull glow against the wall.

Chance exhaled shakily. “Elliot.”

Elliot blinked, barely looking up. His voice was hoarse, exhausted. “What are you doing here?”

Chance didn’t have an answer. He just knew, with a sinking feeling, that he might’ve been too late.

Slowly, he stepped forward, heart pounding. “You okay?”

Elliot let out a breath—tired, almost like a laugh but without humor. “Not really.”

Chance hesitated before kneeling beside the bed. “Elliot,” he said, softer now. “Talk to me.”

For a moment, Elliot didn’t say anything. Then, finally, in a voice so quiet Chance almost didn’t hear it, he whispered, “I don’t think I know how anymore.”

Chapter Text

The apartment was too quiet. It felt wrong—too still, too heavy, like the silence itself could crack under the weight of everything left unsaid.

Chance sat on the edge of Elliot’s bed, hands clenched into fists against his knees. The air was thick, and for once, he couldn’t think of anything clever to say. No teasing remark. No lazy grin to smooth things over. Just… this—the raw ache of realizing how badly he’d screwed up.

Elliot was curled under the blankets, facing the wall. His shoulders were tense, but there was a fragile stillness to him—like if Chance said the wrong thing, he might break apart completely.

“I didn’t know,” Chance said quietly. It wasn’t an excuse. It didn’t feel like enough. “I—Elliot, if I’d known you felt like this…”

Elliot’s voice came soft but sharp. “Yeah? What would you have done?”

Chance flinched. He deserved that. “I wouldn’t have let it get this bad.”

Elliot let out a bitter laugh, muffled against the pillow. “It’s not like you noticed. You were too busy with him.”

That landed harder than Chance wanted to admit. The worst part? Elliot wasn’t wrong.

“I never wanted to make you feel like you didn’t matter,” Chance said, his voice rough around the edges. He leaned forward, trying to catch even the smallest glimpse of Elliot’s face. “I’m… an idiot. I know that. But you’re not—” His voice cracked, and for a second, all the playful charm he usually hid behind crumbled. “You’re not replaceable. Not to me.”

For a long moment, there was only silence.

Then Elliot shifted, turning just enough for Chance to see the tear tracks glistening down his cheeks. His expression was raw—no sarcasm, no forced smile—just open hurt.

“I’m so tired,” he whispered. His voice shook, but he didn’t try to hide it. “Of always feeling like I’m the afterthought. Like the minute I’m not fun, I’m not… worth it. And when it gets bad—I don’t know how else to deal with it.”

Chance’s heart clenched. He wanted to fix it—to rewind everything and be better before it got this bad—but there were no easy fixes for this. And the worst part? He hadn’t even seen how much Elliot had been hurting. He thought it was just moods. Just Elliot being dramatic.

But it wasn’t. It never was.

“I’m sorry,” Chance said, and for once, the words didn’t feel hollow. “I should’ve been paying attention. I should’ve been here for you.”

Elliot let out a shaky breath, some of the tension finally draining from his body. “It’s not your job to fix me, Chance.”

“I don’t care,” Chance said firmly. “I still want to be here.”

The vulnerability in Elliot’s eyes twisted something deep inside him. This wasn’t some petty jealousy over Guest. This was so much bigger. So much deeper. And the fact that Elliot had been carrying this weight alone? It made Chance feel sick.

Elliot didn’t argue. Didn’t push him away. He just closed his eyes, exhaustion settling into his bones. And when he finally fell asleep, Chance stayed right where he was—watching over him, because for once, there wasn’t anywhere else he’d rather be.

But the next morning, when the sun crept through the blinds, the bed was cold.

And Elliot was gone.

Chapter Text

It had been a week. Seven days of silence. Seven days of calling and texting, hoping for even a single response.

Nothing.

Chance hadn’t realized how much Elliot filled up his life until he was gone. Until the world felt too quiet without his sarcastic comments, his soft laughter, the way he somehow made everything feel a little less heavy.

He thought about showing up at his door—demanding to talk—but some part of him knew that wouldn’t work. Elliot had shut down before, but never like this. If he pushed too hard, he’d only drive him further away.

So, instead, he waited.

And then—on the eighth day—his phone buzzed.

"i'm srry, I shouldn’t have js disappeared."

Chance didn’t even think. He called immediately.

“…Hey,” Elliot answered softly, and the sound of his voice hit Chance like a punch to the chest. Tired. Fragile. But there.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Chance said. “I just—I was worried. I still am.”

There was a pause on the line before Elliot spoke again, quieter. “I needed time. I… I’m trying to figure stuff out. And I didn’t want you to feel like you had to fix me.”

“You’re not some problem I need to fix,” Chance said, his voice sharper than he meant. “You matter to me, Elliot. I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you make me.”

Another pause. But this time, when Elliot spoke, his voice wavered. “I don’t want you to go.”

“Good,” Chance said, softer now. “Because I’m staying.”

They took things slow after that. No forced conversations. No pretending things were fine. Just… honesty. Bit by bit, Elliot let him in—let him see the cracks he usually hid behind humor and fake smiles. And for once, Chance didn’t tease. He listened.

Elliot started therapy again. It wasn’t easy—but he was trying. The self-harm didn’t disappear overnight, but he was learning to ask for help before things got bad. And when it did? He didn’t have to face it alone.

And Chance? He changed, too.

He paid attention. Learned when to back off and when to stay. And instead of pretending everything was fine, he let himself care—really care—even when it was messy.

One night, a few months later, they sat together on Elliot’s couch. Pizza boxes scattered across the coffee table, the kind of easy silence that didn’t need to be filled.

“Hey,” Chance said, nudging Elliot’s leg with his foot. “You know you’re kind of stuck with me, right?”

Elliot rolled his eyes, but there was a faint smile on his lips. “Yeah, I figured.”

“I mean it,” Chance said, quieter. “I’m here for the long haul. Even when it’s messy. Especially then.”

For a moment, Elliot didn’t say anything. But when he did, it was soft. Honest.

“…Thanks for not giving up on me.”

“Never,” Chance promised.

And for the first time in a long time, Elliot believed it.

There was a peaceful moment of silence, one that didn't feel suffocating.

Chapter Text

Elliot shouldn’t have come.

He knew that the second he spotted Chance—leaning against the side of Builder Brothers Pizza, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world. The familiar cocky tilt to his head, the lazy curve of his mouth—it should’ve felt normal. Comforting, even. But instead, it made Elliot’s stomach twist painfully.

He looked fine. Too fine. Like nothing had changed. Like Elliot hadn’t spent nights alone, unraveling while Chance laughed at texts that weren’t his.

Chance’s thumb paused on the screen, and when his gaze lifted, locking onto Elliot from across the street, the smirk faded.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Elliot wanted to turn around. Run. Pretend he hadn’t come at all. But before he could, Chance pushed off the wall, shoving his phone into his jacket pocket and watching him like he was afraid Elliot might disappear if he blinked.

Elliot’s heart slammed against his ribs as his feet dragged him forward—too slow, too heavy. Each step was harder than the last, like his body knew this was a mistake before his mind could catch up.

By the time he crossed the street and stood in front of Chance, his throat was already tight.

“Hey,” Chance said, and the softness in his voice—like he actually cared—nearly broke him on the spot.

Elliot tried to respond. Tried to be normal. But the moment he opened his mouth, his breath hitched, and the words tangled themselves into a knot he couldn’t untie.

Chance noticed. Of course, he did. His teasing was gone—no playful jab, no snarky grin—just quiet concern as his brows pulled together. “Elliot?”

Elliot bit his bottom lip, hard, willing himself to get it together. But the pressure in his chest only grew heavier, and before he could stop it, his vision blurred, eyes stinging as tears welled up.

No. Not now. Not in front of him.

But it was too late. His lip trembled despite his best effort to hold it still, and when he blinked, a tear slipped free, trailing down his cheek.

“Shit—hey, hey.” Chance’s voice dropped lower—softer—like he was afraid to push too hard. Without thinking, he took a step closer. “What’s going on?”

“I—I don’t—” Elliot shook his head, his voice cracking around the words he couldn’t finish. His hands curled into fists at his sides as more tears slipped through, hot and fast, no matter how much he wanted to shove them down.

Chance hesitated for only a second before moving—gently, like he thought Elliot might bolt if he touched him the wrong way. His hand ghosted against Elliot’s arm before settling there, warm and steady.

“Come on,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s get out of here.”

Elliot couldn’t answer—his throat felt too tight to speak—but when Chance gave the slightest tug, he followed.

He let Chance pull him around the corner of the building, away from the street, into the narrow alley between the pizzeria and the shop next door. It was quieter there—hidden—like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

The second they were out of sight, the dam inside him cracked wide open.

A shudder ripped through his chest as the sobs he’d been holding back finally broke free. He pressed a trembling hand against his mouth, trying to muffle the sound, but it didn’t stop the tears—it didn’t stop anything.

“Hey, hey—no, don’t—” Chance caught his wrist, gently pulling his hand away. “You don’t have to do that. You don’t have to hide.”

That only made it worse.

Elliot shook his head weakly, tears streaking down his face as his shoulders trembled. “I—I can’t—” His breath hitched, choking on the words. “I can’t even look at you without—”

Without what? Falling apart? Wanting to scream? Wanting to crawl out of his own skin just to make it stop hurting?

Chance’s grip on his wrist tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to ground him. “Without what?” His voice wasn’t teasing, wasn’t distant—it was raw. Real.

“Without—” Elliot’s lips quivered as another sob slipped free. “Without feeling like I’m not enough.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of his own shaky breathing and the distant hum of the street.

Chance’s hand slid up his arm, slow and careful, until it settled on his shoulder. “Elliot…” His voice softened—more serious than Elliot had ever heard it. “You’re not—” He stopped himself, like he wasn’t sure if words were enough.

But Elliot was already spiraling, the weight of everything crashing down at once. “I—” His voice cracked again, and he couldn’t stop the flood of words from pouring out. “I tried—I tried so hard to keep up. But you—you and Guest—you don’t even—” He swallowed the next sob, barely. “You don’t need me, Chance. Not like I need you.”

The confession hung heavy between them, raw and exposed.

Chance didn’t speak right away. Instead, he pulled Elliot in—slowly enough to give him the chance to pull back. But Elliot didn’t. He couldn’t. The second Chance’s arms wrapped around him, something inside him crumbled completely.

Elliot buried his face against Chance’s shoulder, shaking as the sobs wracked his chest. And Chance—for once—didn’t let go.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice rough around the edges. “I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

Elliot wanted to believe him. God, he wanted to. But part of him still ached—still feared that one day, Chance would let go.

And this time, he might not come back.

Chapter Text

The air between them was heavy—not tense, exactly, but weighed down by everything they hadn’t said. For once, Chance wasn’t leaning back with a cocky grin or tossing out snarky remarks. He just sat there, across from Elliot, quiet and patient in a way that felt almost unnatural.

Elliot hated how much it made his chest ache.

“So…” Chance started, his voice softer than usual, “are you gonna tell me what’s really going on, or do I have to guess?”

Elliot let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His fingers toyed with the hem of his sleeves, pulling them down just a little further. “You wouldn’t get it,” he mumbled, but the usual bite in his words was missing. “You don’t… You don’t understand how it feels to be left behind.”

Chance frowned, tilting his head slightly. “Try me.”

There was something about the way he said it—steady, sure—that chipped away at the wall Elliot had been trying so desperately to keep up. His lips trembled for just a second before he bit them to stop it.

“You’ve always been the center of everything,” Elliot said quietly, the words falling out before he could stop them. “People like you. They want to be around you. You could drop anyone and find someone new by tomorrow.” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “But me? I’m just… there. And I always feel like it’s only a matter of time before people get tired of me.”

Chance didn’t respond right away. For once, he wasn’t rushing to smooth things over with a joke. Instead, he just looked at Elliot—really looked at him—like he was trying to piece together everything he’d missed.

“You think I’m gonna get tired of you?” His voice was softer now, but there was a thread of something else in it—something almost hurt.

Elliot shrugged, gaze dropping to the table. “Isn’t that what’s already happening?”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and unbearable. For a moment, Elliot wished he hadn’t said anything at all. It was easier when everything stayed unspoken—when his fears stayed in his head where no one could touch them.

But then, Chance moved.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice barely above a whisper. “Hey… Look at me.”

Elliot hesitated before lifting his head, and when their eyes met, his throat felt tight.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Chance said. It wasn’t a grand declaration, no flowery speech—just those simple words, but God, they made something in Elliot’s chest twist painfully. “I know I mess around a lot, and I’m an ass sometimes, but…” He exhaled, fingers tapping lightly against the table like he wasn’t sure how to say what came next. “I care about you, Elliot. And I’m not gonna just walk away.”

Elliot’s vision blurred slightly as he tried to blink back the tears threatening to fall. His lip quivered despite himself, and he hated how exposed he felt.

“You say that now,” he whispered. “But people always leave. And I’m always the one who cares more. I’m always the one who—”

“Stop.” Chance’s voice was firm, but not harsh. “I’m not ‘people.’ I’m me. And if you think I don’t care, then you’re not paying attention.”

For a moment, Elliot couldn’t breathe around the ache building in his chest. Everything he’d been holding back—the fear, the self-doubt, the crushing belief that he was always too much—was bubbling to the surface faster than he could stop it.

“But why?” His voice cracked, raw and desperate. “Why do you even care?”

Chance let out a quiet, breathless laugh like the question itself was ridiculous. “Because it’s you, idiot.” There was no teasing in his voice this time—just a strange, almost vulnerable honesty. “And maybe I’m the one who’s scared you’ll get tired of me. Ever think of that?”

Elliot stared at him, wide-eyed and unsteady, his heart pounding loud in his ears. He wanted to believe it. God, he wanted to believe it so badly—but years of feeling unwanted had rooted themselves deep inside him, and digging them out wasn’t that easy.

“I’m not leaving,” Chance said again, softer this time, and it wasn’t a promise made out of obligation—it felt real. “I don’t care how much you push me away. I’m still here.”

Elliot’s throat tightened painfully, and this time, when a tear slipped down his cheek, he didn’t bother to hide it.

“I don’t know how to believe that,” he admitted in a broken whisper.

Chance’s face softened, his usual sharp edges fading. He reached across the table without hesitation, fingers curling gently around Elliot’s trembling hand.

“Then let me prove it,” he said quietly. “However long it takes.”

And for the first time in a long time, Elliot didn’t pull away.

Chapter Text

The days after their conversation felt like uncharted territory. For the first time, there were no jokes to cover the cracks, no playful bickering to dodge the truth—just silence. And Elliot needed that silence.

He kept his phone on do not disturb most days, avoiding social hangouts and meaningless small talk. Being around people felt too loud, too much when everything inside him already felt raw and fragile. He needed to breathe.

So, he did.

Elliot took long walks in the evening when the world felt quieter. He deleted the group chats that made him feel like an afterthought. He spent hours in his room, listening to music and journaling—trying to untangle the mess inside his head one thought at a time.

But the hardest part? Letting himself be soft.

For years, he had trained himself to bury the ache. Smile, laugh it off, push people away before they could hurt him. But every time he stared at the faint, healing scars on his skin, he knew—that wasn’t working anymore.

And in the middle of all of it, there was Chance.

Even with the distance Elliot created, Chance never stopped reaching out.

At first, the texts were simple:

“Hey. You good?”
“Still alive?”
“Not to be dramatic, but the place is boring without you.”

Elliot didn’t always respond. Sometimes, the words felt too heavy to form. But that didn’t stop Chance.

One day, Elliot found a note tucked under his apartment door. The handwriting was messy—Chance’s usual chicken scratch—but the words made his chest ache.

“Still here. Not leaving. Even if you hate me a little.”

He didn’t hate him. God, he didn’t.

And maybe that’s why, little by little, the distance started to feel less impossible.

One night, when the silence felt too loud again, Elliot finally texted first:

“Do you actually mean all of it? Or are you just saying what I want to hear?”

He hadn’t expected a response right away—but his phone buzzed less than a minute later.

“I mean all of it. Every word.”

He bit his lip, heart pounding against his ribs, and before he could overthink it, he typed out the words he’d been holding back:

“I’m trying. I don’t know how to fix everything, but I’m trying.”

Chance’s reply was immediate.

“That’s enough for me.”

They didn’t go back to how things were overnight. Healing wasn’t some linear, perfect process—and there were still days when the darkness crept in, when Elliot felt like slipping back into old habits. But now?

He didn’t feel alone.

When work overwhelmed him, there was a stupid voice memo from Chance telling him to quit and become a professional pizza taster.

When he felt like disappearing, there was a knock at the door and a bag of takeout waiting for him.

And when his hands shook too much to type, there was always a simple, steady message waiting in his inbox:

“I’m still here.”

Slowly—so slowly—he started to believe it.

And for the first time in forever, he started to believe he was worth staying for.

Chapter Text

Elliot had been avoiding this moment for weeks.

It would’ve been easier to let things stay broken—let the silence stretch between them until it faded into nothing. But if there was one thing these past few weeks had taught him, it was that avoiding things didn’t make the ache go away. It just made it fester.

So, here he was—sitting at a worn-down booth in Builder Brothers’ Pizza, fingers twisting anxiously in his lap as he waited.

When the door chimed, Elliot’s breath caught in his throat.

Guest slid into the seat across from him, quiet and careful in a way that felt so unlike him. Gone was the easy confidence and teasing remarks—now, he just looked… unsure.

“Hey,” Guest said after a moment, his voice softer than usual. “You, uh… wanted to talk?”

Elliot swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah.”

The silence between them was thick—too thick—and for a moment, he thought about bailing. About pretending everything was fine and plastering on the fake smile he’d mastered.

But that’s not why he was here.

“I heard what you said,” Elliot blurted, his voice trembling despite his best efforts. “About how Chance could do better.”

Guest’s face fell immediately. “Elliot—”

“No,” he cut in, a sharpness edging his words. “Let me finish.” His heart pounded against his ribs, but he pressed on. “I know you didn’t mean for me to hear it, and maybe it was just a joke to you—but it wasn’t to me. Because all I could think was… you’re right.”

He laughed bitterly, more to himself than anything. “I’ve spent so much time being scared that I’m a burden. That everyone—Chance, you—would eventually get sick of me and move on. And when you said that… it felt like everything I was afraid of was true.”

Guest’s face softened, guilt flickering behind his usual cool exterior. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, and for once, there was no sarcasm or teasing—just genuine regret. “I didn’t—I didn’t realize how much that would affect you.”

Elliot’s lip quivered despite himself, and he bit down on it hard—too hard—to keep his composure. “Yeah, well,” he muttered, “it did.”

Guest leaned back slightly, exhaling. “You know… I never thought of you as a burden,” he admitted. “And I’m an idiot for making you feel like one. You’re important—to Chance, yeah, but… to me too. I didn’t realize how much you were struggling, and that’s on me.”

The words hung heavy in the air, settling into the cracks Elliot had tried to hide for so long. He didn’t know what he’d expected from this conversation—maybe another careless joke, maybe some attempt to brush everything under the rug—but not this. Not honesty.

And suddenly, it was too much.

Elliot pressed his hands against his face, trying to smother the tears before they could fall, but his voice broke anyway. “I’ve been trying so hard to keep it together,” he choked out. “And it just… it felt like no one even noticed.”

“I noticed,” Guest said softly. “I just didn’t know how to help.”

Elliot dropped his hands, blinking hard against the blur of tears. “You could’ve just… been there,” he whispered. “I didn’t need fixing—I just didn’t want to feel so alone.”

For the first time, Guest looked… small. Like maybe he’d been carrying his own weight, too. “I’m here now,” he said, almost like a promise. “If you still want me to be.”

Elliot wanted to say something sarcastic—to deflect, to lighten the mood—but he didn’t. Instead, he nodded, the tension in his chest loosening just a little. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I do.”

And maybe it wasn’t perfect. Maybe there were still things to untangle between them—but for the first time in a long time, it felt like a start.

They sat in silence for a while after that—not the heavy kind, but the quiet, comfortable kind that felt a little more like healing.

And for once, Elliot let himself breathe.

Chapter Text

For the first time in a long time, things felt… almost normal.

Elliot sat on Chance’s worn-out couch, curled up against the armrest while the sound of some cheesy movie played in the background. He wasn’t really paying attention—his focus kept drifting to the warmth beside him.

Chance, legs stretched out and comfortably lazy was too casual, considering how tense things had been lately. But here, in the dim glow of the TV, the air between them felt easier—lighter.

And Elliot didn’t know if that comfort scared him or not.

“You gonna keep brooding over there?” Chance’s voice cut through the quiet, teasing but softer than usual. “Or do I need to call the broody police?”

Elliot rolled his eyes, biting back a smile. “I’m not brooding.”

Chance grinned like he didn’t believe him. “Sure. And I’m the model of emotional stability.”

That earned a snort. “I’d pay money to see that.”

The banter came naturally, like slipping into old habits. And yet—underneath it all, there was still that nagging ache, the things neither of them wanted to say out loud.

Elliot wanted to believe this could last—that they could go back to the way things used to be. But a part of him still felt like he was holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And Chance? He was trying. God, he was trying.

He still cracked jokes when things got too heavy, but lately, he caught himself. He was more careful with his words. Less dismissive when Elliot needed to be taken seriously. It wasn’t perfect—but it was something.

“I missed this,” Elliot murmured before he could stop himself.

Chance’s expression shifted—just a flicker of surprise before something gentler settled in. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Elliot admitted. “I mean… when everything got weird, I thought I lost you.”

The words hung heavy between them. For once, Chance didn’t deflect. Didn’t laugh it off.

“I never wanted to lose you,” Chance said quietly. And there it was—the truth. No teasing. No smooth-talking. Just honesty. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t… important.”

Elliot’s chest tightened, and for a moment, all he could do was nod. Because he wanted to believe it. And maybe, just maybe, he was starting to.

For a while, they sat in comfortable silence—neither of them rushing to fill the space with meaningless words. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t heavy. It just… was.

And then—

“Hey,” Chance nudged his shoulder gently. “Wanna stay over?”

It was an innocent enough question—just two friends hanging out—but the way his voice softened at the edges made something twist in Elliot’s stomach.

He hesitated. Not because he didn’t want to—but because part of him wondered if this fragile thing between them could survive if they got too close again.

But Chance was looking at him like he meant it. Like maybe he was just as scared of things slipping away.

“…Okay,” Elliot whispered.

And for tonight, that was enough.

Because maybe they were still learning. Maybe they were still figuring things out. But for now, they had this—warmth, laughter, and the quiet, unspoken promise that neither of them wanted to let go.

And maybe—just maybe—that was a start.

Chapter Text

Elliot didn’t know why he said yes.

Maybe it was the way Chance looked at him—soft, sincere, like he wasn’t going to push if the answer was no. Maybe it was the exhaustion curling in his bones, the weight of holding everything inside for too long. Or maybe… maybe he was just tired of pretending he was fine.

Whatever the reason, he stayed.

And now, as the night stretched on. The movie had ended, leaving behind a quiet hum in the air. Chance hadn’t moved far—he was sitting next to him, close enough for their knees to brush. Close enough that Elliot could feel the warmth radiating off him.

But his mind wasn’t here. It was somewhere else—somewhere colder, darker. And he couldn’t pull himself out of it.

“You’re quiet,” Chance said softly, breaking the silence. No teasing. No playfulness. Just… concern. “Too quiet.”

Elliot’s throat tightened. He should’ve brushed it off—said something sarcastic, changed the subject—but the words wouldn’t come.

Because the truth was, he was tired of lying.

“I’m fine,” he tried, but even to his own ears, it sounded hollow.

Chance didn’t buy it. “You don’t have to do that,” he said, gentler this time. “Not with me.”

Elliot bit down on his lip, hard enough to sting, but it didn’t stop the ache in his chest. His vision blurred, and when he blinked, a tear slipped free before he could stop it.

“Hey—” Chance’s voice softened in an instant. “Hey, what’s going on?”

And suddenly, it was too much.

Elliot’s breath hitched, and before he knew it, he was shaking—his hands trembling as he tried to hold himself together. But it wasn’t working. Not this time.

“I—” His voice cracked. “I don’t… I don’t know how to do this, Chance.”

Chance shifted closer, careful not to touch him—not yet—but his voice stayed steady. “Do what?”

“This,” Elliot whispered, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “Being okay. Pretending I’m fine when I’m—when I’m not. I tried. I tried so hard to keep it together, but I couldn’t.” His breath shuddered out of him. “And I… I messed everything up.”

Chance’s face softened, his usual smirk replaced by something raw and worried. “You didn’t mess anything up.”

Elliot let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Yes, I did. I—I fell apart, Chance. I hurt myself again, and I swore I wouldn’t. I swore I was past all of that.” His voice broke on the last word, and his nails dug into his palms. “But I wasn’t. And I’m so—so tired of feeling like this.”

The confession hung heavy in the air, too real, too raw. And for a terrifying moment, Elliot couldn’t look at him—couldn’t bear to see the judgment.

But when Chance spoke again, his voice was soft. Careful. “Elliot…”

When Elliot finally dared to lift his gaze, there was no judgment in Chance’s expression. No pity. Just understanding.

“I’m sorry,” Elliot choked out. “I shouldn’t—”

“Don’t,” Chance interrupted gently. “Don’t apologize for feeling like this. You’re allowed to be honest with me, you know? You don’t have to carry all of this by yourself.”

Elliot’s lip quivered, and before he could stop himself, a fresh wave of tears fell. “I didn’t think you’d care,” he whispered brokenly. “Not really. Not when you had… other people.”

Chance let out a breath—one that sounded a little shaky, a little too close to breaking. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

And then—finally—he reached for him. His hand found Elliot’s, warm and solid, grounding him when everything felt like it was slipping through his fingers.

“I care,” Chance said, his voice firm in a way that left no room for doubt. “I care so much more than you think.”

Elliot clung to his hand like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. “Why?” he asked, barely above a whisper. “Why would you?”

Chance didn’t answer right away. He took a breath, as if he was choosing his words carefully. “Because you matter,” he said. “To me. And… maybe I’m an idiot for not showing it sooner, but you do. I don’t want to lose you.”

Elliot’s heart twisted painfully in his chest, because he wanted to believe it so badly. “I’m not easy to deal with,” he admitted quietly.

“I know,” Chance said, squeezing his hand a little tighter. “And I’m not exactly a walk in the park either.” His voice softened. “But I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere, Elliot.”

The words cracked something wide open inside him. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Elliot let himself believe—just a little—that maybe he wasn’t completely alone.

And maybe—just maybe—he didn’t have to carry this weight by himself anymore.

Chapter Text

The phone felt heavy in Elliot’s hand. He stared at the screen, thumb hovering over Chance’s name longer than he wanted to admit.

He didn’t even know why he wanted to call. Nothing awful had happened. No fresh breakdowns, no spiraling thoughts threatening to pull him under. Just… an ache. A quiet, persistent ache that wouldn’t go away.

He bit his lip, debating with himself for too long—until the weight in his chest became too much to hold alone. Before he could overthink it, he tapped the call button.

It barely rang twice before Chance picked up.

“Hey,” Chance drawled, his voice warm and familiar. “Miss me already?”

Elliot exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Somehow, just hearing Chance’s voice made everything feel a little lighter. “You wish.”

A soft chuckle came through the line. “Fair point. So, what’s up?”

“I… I don’t know,” Elliot admitted, shifting against the pillows. “I just—” He hesitated, feeling ridiculous. Why did he even call?

“You just what?” Chance’s voice lost its teasing edge, turning softer. Patient.

Elliot swallowed hard. “I just… wanted to talk. Or, like—not even talk. Just…” He trailed off, words failing him.

“Be here?” Chance finished quietly.

Elliot’s throat tightened. “Yeah.”

A pause. Not the heavy, awkward kind—just silence. Easy. Comfortable.

“Well,” Chance said, a smile in his voice, “I can do that.”

And he did.

They didn’t talk about anything deep. No heavy conversations or fragile emotions. Just… ordinary things. Chance rambled about some guy at the casino who tried to cheat and failed miserably. Elliot snorted at his dramatized retelling, and when he vented about a customer who spent five minutes arguing over a two-dollar coupon, Chance’s laughter made the whole thing feel a little less awful.

It wasn’t forced. It wasn’t performative.

It was simple—and Elliot hadn’t realized how much he needed that.

“You still there, pizza boy?” Chance asked after a while, his voice quieter now.

“Yeah,” Elliot murmured, biting his lip against a smile. “Still here.”

“Good.” A rustle of movement on the other end—Chance probably stretching out in that lazy way he always did. “You know you can call me, right? Whenever. Even if it’s stupid.”

Elliot hesitated. “I don’t wanna be… I mean, I don’t wanna bother you or anything.”

“You’re not,” Chance said immediately—like it wasn’t even a question. “You never are.”

The words hit deeper than they should have. Elliot blinked hard, his vision going glossy despite himself. “Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll try to remember that.”

“I’ll remind you if you forget,” Chance promised, voice softer now. “I’m not going anywhere, Elliot.”

And for once, Elliot believed him.

They stayed on the line for hours—until Elliot’s eyelids grew heavy and his breathing evened out. He never heard the soft “Goodnight” Chance murmured before hanging up.

But for the first time in a long, long time—he didn’t fall asleep feeling alone.

Chapter Text

The night air was cool against Elliot’s skin as he leaned against the railing of his apartment balcony. Everything felt far away. Too far away.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Chance.

Elliot hesitated, fingers tightening around the cold metal railing. He’d been doing better—mostly. He hadn’t slipped back into old habits, hadn’t felt that sharp, aching spiral in weeks. But tonight? Tonight felt… heavy.

He didn’t want to fall back into that place.

With a quiet breath, he answered. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Chance said easily, but there was a softness in his tone—a carefulness. Like maybe he knew. “You okay?”

Elliot bit his lip hard enough to sting. “I’m fine.”

A beat of silence. Not buying it.

“Liar,” Chance said gently. “Talk to me.”

And just like that, the weight cracked open.

“I’m scared,” Elliot whispered, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I’m scared I’m gonna mess everything up again. That I’ll push you away—push everyone away. I always do, and I can feel it happening, and I—”

His voice broke. He swallowed it back, but it was too late.

“I don’t want to ruin this,” he finished quietly.

The line was too quiet, and for a split second, he feared Chance would brush it off—make a joke to lighten the mood like he always did. But instead, Chance let out a breath, shaky and raw.

“You’re not ruining anything,” he said, and for once, there was no teasing in his voice. Just honesty. “But… I get it.”

Elliot blinked. “You do?”

“Yeah.” A soft, humorless laugh. “You think you’re the only one scared here? I—I’ve been sitting with this knot in my chest for weeks. Every time I see you, I wonder if I already screwed things up too much. If you’re gonna wake up one day and decide I’m not worth it anymore.”

Elliot’s heart twisted. He’s scared, too.

“I’m trying,” Chance continued, his voice quieter. “I know I’m not great at… serious stuff. And I know I messed up before. But, Elliot—I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to.”

Elliot pressed the heel of his hand against his chest, like that could stop the ache spreading there. “I don’t want you to go,” he admitted, barely above a whisper.

“Good.” Chance’s voice softened, warm and steady. “Then we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Elliot’s breath hitched. “You mean that?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

He wanted to believe it. God, he wanted to. But the fear still clung to him, a shadow he couldn’t shake. “What if I fall apart again?” he asked quietly.

“Then I’ll be there,” Chance said without hesitation. “And if you push, I’ll pull you back. I’m not scared of you, Elliot—not the messy parts, not the dark stuff. I’m scared of losing you.”

Elliot bit down on his lip, his vision blurring.

“You’re not losing me,” he whispered. “I promise.”

Silence settled between them—heavy and fragile—but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t empty. It was real.

“Come over,” Elliot said softly. “Please.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Chance’s voice warmed, like he was smiling. “I’m on my way.”

For the first time in a long time, the weight in Elliot’s chest felt a little easier to carry.

Maybe, just maybe—they were going to be okay.

Chapter Text

The warmth of Chance’s hand against Elliot’s cheek sent a shiver down his spine. They stood in the soft glow of the living room lights, closer than they’d ever dared to be before. For once, the teasing was gone. No jokes. No walls. Just them.

“You really meant it?” Elliot’s voice trembled—half disbelief, half fragile hope.

Chance’s thumb brushed along his jaw, gentle and steady. “Every word.”

The world felt too quiet, too fragile, like one wrong move could break everything. But then Chance tilted his head and leaned in—slow, deliberate—giving Elliot every chance to pull away.

He didn’t.

When their lips finally met, it wasn’t perfect. It was a little awkward, a little desperate—but it was real. A soft sound slipped from Elliot’s throat as he clung to Chance’s jacket, afraid he’d disappear if he let go.

Chance pulled back just enough to murmur against his lips, “I love you.”

Elliot froze.

His heart pounded so hard it hurt. No one had ever said those words to him like that—like they meant it. Like they weren’t planning on leaving.

A shaky breath escaped his lips as tears burned at the edges of his vision. “That’s… all I ever wanted to hear from you.”

Chance smiled softly, leaning his forehead against Elliot’s. “Then you should’ve told me sooner, ellio."

Elliot huffed out a watery laugh, shoving at his chest. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, the ache inside Elliot wasn’t so sharp. The shadows that had wrapped around his heart felt lighter—like maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t always feel so alone.

And for once… he let himself believe they could be okay.

As for until,

A sharp, cold sting snapped him back to reality.

Elliot blinked, his vision blurry and unfocused as the warmth of that perfect moment shattered around him. The kiss—the words—where was it? Where was he?

His back hit the cold tiles of his dim bathroom, the harsh fluorescent light buzzing faintly above him. His sleeves were shoved up to his elbows, trembling fingers clutching at his arm.

The razor sat abandoned on the sink.

His breath came out in ragged, broken gasps as the weight in his chest crashed back down—heavier than before. The ghost of Chance’s voice still echoed in his ears, but it wasn’t real. None of it was real.

“I love you.”

He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, trying to keep the sobs from spilling out. His hands shook as he curled into himself, hot tears sliding down his face.

He didn’t say it. He never said it.

And maybe… maybe he never would.

Elliot squeezed his eyes shut, the ache swallowing him whole as he broke apart in the silence.