It's Always Been You

Cleaning House

Nate had thoughtfully handed over his class schedule to make sure I could slip into his dorm undisturbed, giving me the space I needed to collect what remained of my things.

It was a quiet acknowledgment of how far apart we had drifted-no need for the stifling awkwardness of facing each other now.

We had both agreed it was easier this way, sparing us from standing in the ruins of what was once ours. It had only been a few days since he shattered what was left of our relationship, and I was keeping my head above water by burying myself in schoolwork. The frenzy of assignments and exams gave me something to hold on to, anything to stop the flood of memories from drowning me.

Three years together is a long time to simply forget.

Our story wasn't all pain. There were soft moments, sweet ones that still clung to the edges of my heart, refusing to let go. I couldn't just shake them off, no matter how much our relationship had unraveled in those final months.

But I also couldn't deny the relief that settled deep in my chest. As much as it hurt, this ending had been coming for a long time. The love we once had-the kind that made me giddy and hopeful-had faded into something unrecognizable.

It was the right decision. I knew that.

We had clung to each other for too long, fighting to save something that had died a quiet death long before we said the words out loud. And yet, standing in his dorm, packing up the fragments of our shared life, I felt the ache of nostalgia twist inside me. A faded t-shirt, one of his favorites, slipped through my fingers, and I had to blink back the sting in my eyes.

Shaking off the feeling, I folded the shirt neatly and placed it in the box. I wasn't going to let the weight of old memories crush me.

But then, the sound of the door creaking open behind me sent a jolt of panic through my body. My heart stammered in my chest as I spun around, bracing for Nate, dreading that we might have to face each other after all.

But it wasn't him.

Wes stood in the doorway, his eyes widening in surprise. The tension drained from me as I met his familiar gaze. He wasn't supposed to be here either, and for a moment, we just stared at each other, caught off guard by this unexpected meeting.

His face softened as he took in the scene-me, the boxes, the pieces of my life scattered around like debris.

"Hey, little one," he said softly, his voice filled with concern. "What are you doing here?"

And just like that, the weight of everything eased a little.

I shrugged, trying to appear casual, not wanting to dive into the tangled mess of emotions the breakup had left me with. Talking about it felt too raw, and honestly, this situation was hard enough without unpacking all the details in front of Wes.

Forcing a small grin, I shot back, "Just... chilling, you know. Did you just finish class, or are you back from sweeping some poor soul off their feet?"

Wes's laugh filled the room, a sound that was warm and familiar, one I hadn't realized I needed until I heard it. He set his backpack down on the desk, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Class, actually. You do realize I have more going on than dates, right?" He raised a playful eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching in that teasing way that always made me smile.

"Really?" I replied, my grin growing a little more genuine this time, wanting to lean into the lightness he brought. "Enlighten me, then. What else is so thrilling in the world of Weston Hamilton?"

Wes narrowed his eyes at me, his expression mock-serious. "Well," he began, leaning in as if he was about to reveal something incredibly profound. "I've been hitting the gym."