𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙊𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙐𝙥.

Facetime.

West balanced his phone against a jar of pasta sauce on the kitchen counter, angling it carefully so Killian could still see him while he cooked.

The Facetime call flickered occasionally as West moved around the apartment. Behind him, a pot of water boiled noisily on the stove while garlic crackled in a pan. The kitchen smelled like garlic, onions, butter, and the sharp scent of black pepper he'd probably added too much of. He wasn't much of a cook but he was trying. He was tired of eating cafeteria food and take out everyday. It was a waste of money.

Outside, Ann Arbor had finally escaped the rain that seemed determined to drown the entire state. The sidewalks below his apartment were dry for the first time in days, and everyone kept talking about the first snow like it was a certainty.

Across the screen, Killian sat in his car outside his house, one arm resting on the steering wheel. Snow covered everything behind him. The driveway. The mailbox. The roofs of neighboring houses. Easton looked like a Christmas card.

West hated how much he missed it.

"...and I miss skating," West admitted whilst stirring the pasta. "Like, really miss it."

Killian looked up from whatever he'd been fiddling with near the center console, "I miss watching you skate."

West smiled at the screen before continuing, "I haven't even gotten a board since I got here."

That felt ridiculous saying out loud.
Skating had been such a huge part of his life for years, now months had passed without it. He was always occupied now, one way or another.

"At least Thanksgiving break is next week." Killian pointed out. "You can skate then."

West didn't answer immediately. Killian kept going anyway.

"Actually, now that I think about it, I can't wait to see how you manage on a frozen rink."

West laughed despite himself, "I turn into you and start falling all over the place."

"Ha ha, real funny."

"It's not my fault you were unteachable."

"In my defense, I was a teeny bit distracted."

That pulled another chuckle from West, He was thinking about that day, how he was trying so hard to resist Killian, how every laugh that slipped from his lips every time he found himself on the ground made falling for him easier and easier. For a second everything felt normal again. Like before Michigan...

West drained the pasta and set the pot aside, the steam rising between him and the phone screen. Then he went quiet.

Killian noticed immediately. "What?"

West stared at the countertop.

"...I'm not coming back for Thanksgiving break."

The silence afterward lasted barely two seconds. But it still felt longer.

"Oh."

West hated that word. Not because of what Killian said... because of what he didn't. The disappointment was there anyway.

West rubbed the back of his neck. "It's just..."

He struggled for the right words. "We have our first performance that week."

Killian listened quietly. West continued.

"There's this open mic night at a coffee shop downtown."

His stomach tightened just thinking about it. "Lia and Franny have done it before. They know what they're doing..."

"But I've never played in front of actual people before. Besides you and the band and stuff..."

The admission felt embarrassing for some reason.

"Like, real people. Sitting there. Looking at you." He gestured vaguely with the wooden spoon.

"I'm practicing like a maniac."

That was putting it lightly. His fingertips were permanently sore. He was hard on himself for every mistake he made, to him those mistakes were proof he wasn't actually ready. And underneath it all sat a constant knot of anxiety that refused to leave.

"What if I screw up?"

Killian smiled softly. "You will."

West stared at him. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"I hate you."

"You called me."

That earned another reluctant laugh, then Killian's smile faded slightly.
"No, it's okay." He said after a moment.

"I just..."

His gaze drifted away from the screen briefly toward the house. "I was looking forward to seeing you."

The words landed harder than West expected because he'd been looking forward to it too. The thought of coming home to Killian... Of seeing him in person instead of through a screen. Getting to touch him, to feel him... to hear his voice without a speaker distorting it.

"I know," West murmured. "I was too."

For a while neither of them spoke.
The only sounds came from the kitchen, the soft bubbling of sauce on the stove and the occasional clink of a spoon against a pot. On Killian's end, West could hear muffled music from someone's house nearby and the faint hum of the car engine still running. Presumably to keep Killian warm while they were still talking on the phone.
They were in two different states living two different lives with one conversation trying to bridge the distance between them. They never could've imagined this for themselves.

Eventually Killian leaned back into his seat. "You're gonna kill it, though."

West rolled his eyes. "You haven't even heard us."

"I don't need to."

"Yeah... you kinda do."

"Nope." Killian shrugged.

"You care too much to half-ass it."

That shut West up. It was true... He cared about this more than almost anything. The band... the music, the future he was trying to build here.

He looked at Killian through the phone screen. The familiar face, the messy blonde hair, the tired eyes. The person who still felt the most like home.

"I wish you could be there."

Something flickered across Killian's face. Gone almost as quickly as it appeared. "Me too."

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I realized after writing this chapter that I skipped halloween🧍🏽‍♂️my apolo🧀

chat is it over for these 2???😔