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Summary
“Hey—” Connor started, but the greeting died in his throat.
Fraser stood there, framed by the dim hallway light, looking like he had just stepped out of a dream—or a very confusing hallucination. He had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and his baseball cap pulled low, but it was the expression on his face that stopped Connor’s heart. It wasn't the exhausted look of a man who had just flown across the country; it was a look of pure, concentrated anticipation.
Connor’s brain simply stalled. He didn't move; he didn't even seem to breathe. He just stood there, hand still gripping the door handle, staring at the physical impossibility of Fraser standing in a Chicago hallway on a random Tuesday in the middle of the season.
Or how Connor and Fraser go from summer reunions to forever