𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙊𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙐𝙥.

A Promise.

The drive to Denton wasn't long, just about twenty minutes from Easton, but it felt like slipping into a different kind of day. Killian had the windows cracked open despite the chill, and the wind threaded through West's hair as they passed fields and fading leaves. Paul and Regina followed behind in his old pickup.

By the time they pulled into the lot near the fairgrounds, the sun had started its slow descent, throwing long shadows over the gravel and half-lit rides spinning lazily in the distance. It was the kind of fair that smelled like fried sugar and hay, where kids ran wild and parents clutched hot drinks to keep their fingers warm.

Killian and West walked in together, a beat behind Paul and Regina. They stayed close to each other, brushing hands every now and then. Everything smelled like grease and cinnamon. The lights blinked bright against the gray sky, and the cold didn't matter much with all the movement and noise.

They hit the classics... corn dogs, fried oreos and hot cider. Regina turned down the rides, claiming the baby didn't need to experience nausea just yet, so the boys jumped on a spinning one while Paul argued with a game booth guy about rigged basketball hoops.

Eventually the group split, Paul and Regina spotted a tent that sold handmade crafts and trinkets and decided to check it out. West and Killian made their way over to the ferris wheel line.

They slipped into the queue behind a mom and her two kids, the metal gate creaking a little as it closed behind them. The sun had started to dip lower, casting a cold orange light over the fairgrounds.
The line crawled forward, the wheel groaning every few minutes as cars emptied and filled again.

A burst of laughter echoed from somewhere deeper in the fair, kids running past with sticky hands and face paint starting to crack. Killian leaned a little closer to West, the air colder now as the sun continued to sink.

They were nearly at the front of the line when West nudged Killian gently with his elbow.

"You good?" He asked.

Killian hesitated, eyes still trained on the slowly turning wheel ahead of them. Then he sighed and finally looked at West, the corners of his mouth twitching like he wanted to fake a smile but couldn't bother.

"No." He admitted, "Not really."

West tilted his head, waiting.

Killian glanced away again. "You're leaving in a few hours."

The rest stayed in his head: how fast the weekend had gone, how the hours spent with West had felt like they slipped through his fingers. He hated the countdown. Hated that they had to part ways... again.

"I am."

His plainspoken response hung in the air between them.

West's expression softened. He reached out and took Killian's hand, palm to palm, warm against the growing cold.

"I get it." He murmured, his thumb brushing gently across Killian's. "I feel it too."

The heartache. The weight of their time running out.

The gate creaked open. It was their turn.

They stepped into the seat without another word, their hands still locked together.

As the ferris wheel creaked to life and lifted them off the ground, Killian shifted closer, his shoulder brushing against West's. Without a word, he rested his head in the crook of his neck. He wanted to hold onto a bit of warmth before it slipped away again.

West leaned into it, letting his chin rest lightly against Killian's head. The silence between them was heavy, but not uncomfortable.

"Did you know that when you clean a vacuum cleaner... you become a vacuum cleaner?" West stated once they were a few cars off the ground.