When

To queer youth.

May you find your eventually.

One

Life has not been kind.

Such as it is for most, unfortunately. Life is not a kind force. It is not evil, necessarily, either. There is no quality to life that defines it as good or bad. It simply... is. For every individual, life either is, or it isn’t, and all of Theo’s life has been surrounded by isn’t.

Maybe that is what contributes to his cold demeanor, or lack of sociability. He was dealt a bad hand, and thus, he plays a bad game. He’s angry at fate, and he is tired of pain.

Day one of senior year. Last year of college. Last year of school as a whole, he hopes. He is exhausted by the assignments that haven’t been assigned yet; by the calendar already too full to manage; by the stress of his own procrastination. He has a heavy class load this semester— he tends to overload himself, you know, like an idiot. He always regrets it later, but he’d be damned if he doesn’t graduate on time. Especially during an Olympics year.

Theo’s roommate, Levi, is already home from his summer in Louisiana by the time Theo arrives back to their apartment in Ann Arbor from his own trip. The majority of Levi’s things are already returned to their rightful position, Theo notes, seeing the key hooks already cluttered again, and the white-board calendar already scribbled in with the month of August, rather than how they left it in May.

Theo sets his suitcase aside once he spills through the front door, hanging his lanyard on the last empty hook, heaving his backpack off his shoulders and onto the floor unceremoniously. He lets out a dramatic groan, stretching and shaking off his sore arms after a long day of traveling.

Is that you? Levi calls from the kitchen, just around the corner from the entry hallway.

Sure is, Theo huffs. Tell me why I bother going home in the summers? I fucking hate Orlando.

His apartment alone is easily ten degrees cooler than it was back in Florida, and the AC hasn’t even kicked on yet. He revels in the feeling of not dying from heat stroke.

Because you miss your siblings? Levi responds. And you like the food.

Not even, Theo sighs, abandoning his stuff at the door and moving deeper into the apartment. My sister is in that annoying phase, where she doesn’t know when to leave me alone.

So, she’s a sister? Levi cracks a smirk, grabbing a beer from the fridge and offering it to his friend. Theo takes it, cracking the cap off with the hem of his shirt and sinking down into a barstool at the peninsula counter. Levi leans back against the counter opposite of him, swigging his own drink. Did you get to see Jim at least?

Not once, Theo says, ruffling his hair and pushing it from his eyes. Called him a lot. Probably talked to him more than I talked to you. But otherwise… nothing. I think he’s enjoying his retirement from me.

I know I enjoyed my vacation from you, Levi teases. Sucks, though. I’m sorry. That was, like, the only thing you wanted out of this trip home.

Yeah, Theo nods, holding his bottle out to clink with his best (and only) friend’s. Welcome back, bud. How was Natchitoches?

Hot. And I almost didn’t fucking leave with that stupid hurricane charging toward Louisiana, Levi mentions. My sisters are good. Still in the cute phase. My parents are bickering like they’re still married. Same shit, different day.

Hear you there, Theo says with a tired smile, running a hand over his face. He puts his head down on the counter, the headache only worsening at the idea of having to go unpack all his things from his summer. Or worse: the idea of the party they are mandated to go to later. Are you going tonight?

Yes, dipshit, Levi rolls his eyes, and you are too.

I’m sick. Got the flu. Can’t, Theo attempts, giving a fake cough. Levi shoves him by the shoulder. I-I have swim practice. My flight got delayed. I died in a car accident on my way home. I don’t know-

You never go to practice anyways, shut the hell up. Stop being anti-social.

I don’t wanna, Theo whines. "I just got home. Can’t you come up with an excuse, or-"

No, Levi argues. You’re going. This is the first day of your last year. This party is for you.

This is stupid, Theo sighs, but stands anyways. Okay. Give me, like, an hour to unpack, and some time to feel like a person again, and we’ll go.

Theo abandons his drink and hauls his bags into his bedroom again, for what he hopes is the last time. Should all go as planned, he won’t have to spend any more summers away from Michigan. He won’t have to pack and unpack his apartment every few months in the shifting of the school year. He sits on the floor and sorts the laundry in his bags—what needs to be washed, and what can be put away. He purposefully takes longer than necessary to kill time. There’s such a thing as being fashionably late to your own party, right?

Clothes, chargers, laptop, books— little things he collected from his mom’s house in Florida to take home to Michigan with him, in hopes of saving himself any more trips of things to bring back with him. The more he has here, the less reason he has to go back. He's burnt out from the summer, both literally and emotionally. His face is pink from simultaneous sun exposure and exhaustion. Is it really so bad to want a night to rest?

He goes through his swim bag, unpacking the towels and swim gear that definitely need to be washed soon, and replacing it with exchanged swimsuits and towels that have sat in his closet, untouched for months. At the bottom of his bag, a laminated note, stapled to the fabric, as it has been for years:

you got this!  -A

Dammit.

He stuffs his gear into his bag and zips it closed again, more aggressive than necessary. He feels nauseous thinking about it— the note, and the handwriting, and the origin. It’s not what he wants hanging over his head before he goes to a party, before he goes into his senior year as a whole. He wants to spend his final year, and especially tonight, getting drunk enough to forget Florida, and all that resides there. He wants to start the semester off with a bang, interested in life as a normal college student without fear of what came first and what comes next. 

Somehow, the past always bites him in the ass.

He changes out of his airport clothes and into something presentable, putting in just enough effort to look like he tried. He stuffs his phone, wallet, and keys into his pockets and grabs his swim bag to put it in the car before he forgets tomorrow morning. Then, they set off.

Levi chooses the songs on the drive to the frats. He always knows the right vibe for playlists, always knows exactly how to get Theo pumped up. A little Quadeca, a little Travis Scott, maybe throw in some Juice WRLD and one or two Harry Styles songs. Theo is starting to think his best friend purposefully pays attention to every song he listens to in his free time and adds it to a "Theo’s Happy Playlist".

The frats are possibly one of Theo’s least favorite places. He needs the energy.

Sure, Psi Upsilon wasn’t the worst fraternity at University of Michigan, but it was a frat, nonetheless. It’s a place where you have to keep an eye on your drink, be wary of laced weed, watch sorority girls do lines right next to the chip bowl, and beer pong is a little too competitive and guaranteed to start a fight.

It’s not all bad— he actually has a couple friends from the football team in Psi Upsilon specifically, and they always order a shit ton of pizza, but the benefits typically stop there. He’s not a fan of cranked up music, so loud that you have to shout, or how most of the Greek-Lifers reek of vodka and get too handsy, or the uncomfortable hierarchy that half these college kids never grew out of when they left high school.

There’s a reason he didn’t rush like the rest of his teammates in Freshman year. Even if it made him an outsider from the team, even if he was missing out on brotherhood and the college experience, he prefers not OD-ing or roofied on accident because one of the guys thought his drink belonged to a girl they’ve been stalking.

He parks on the street between a Mazda and a BMW, despite his car most definitely not being expensive enough to care like the owners of the fancy ones beside him.

They go in, greeted with instant drinks pushed into their hands and dragged into the nearest conversation about the upcoming football season. Levi, significantly more skilled at anything social, takes lead of the conversation, and Theo lets him, nodding along and occasionally piping up with a tidbit of his own plan for the season. They slowly draw a crowd, right there in the foyer, the discussion rapidly growing in numbers of contributors and attention slowly increasing on them.

Theo dips out before anyone asks him too many questions, before anyone can try to snag him into some kind of conversation he doesn’t want to be in. It’s always the same questions— the same ones he gets at home, and the same ones he gets from coaches, and the same one he gets on Twitter: D1 athlete and potential Olympian without a girlfriend? Why?

That stupid fucking note in his swim bag. That’s why.

He transitions away from one group and into the next—a group compiled of people he doesn’t mind so much, all standing around the firepit. Among the group is Sam, the quarterback for the University of Michigan football team, Stella, one of Theo’s ‘friends’, two of his swim team friends—Hazel and Leander—and one of Sam’s frat brothers, whom Theo forgot the name of.

He stands between Stella and Leander, his arm resting on Stella’s shoulders, using her as a cover as he typically does when he’s at parties. It keeps people’s questions to themselves and saves him the tension of having to turn people down when they offer something or another. She looks up and beams, grinning ear to ear, and wrapping an arm around his waist.

Hey stranger! When did you get to town? Stella asks, eyeing his outfit over, picking a piece of lint off his hip. I thought you weren’t flying in until late.

Had to change my flight, Theo lies. The whole flying in late thing was meant to be an excuse to get him out of the party. Landed in Detroit around 4:30ish. Spent like, an hour, waiting for my stuff, unpacked, and came straight here.

How sweet, Hazel rolls her eyes. Happy senior year, big shot. You gonna actually go to any practices this year?

Pfft… no, he scoffs. When have I ever? I work out alternate plans with Gwen and show up to meets. That's it.

One hell of a Team Leader, Hazel jokes. I expect nothing less of you.

As you should, he nods, swigging his beer. If I took it as seriously as everyone else does, my times would tank and I would probably drown.

How the hell are you making it to trials again? Leander chuckles, shaking his head. You’re annoying as hell. I hope you know that.

I do, he nods curtly, squeezing Stella’s shoulder and looking at Sam, the only one in this group with absolutely zero knowledge of swim-team things. Theo always found his friend-group odd—swim kids, football players, and Stella. Are you ready for our first game?

Never, Sam shakes his head. I always get nervous on that field. Especially after the last game last season.

This will be a better year, Theo insists. You’re not gonna crack this time.

We’ll see, Sam jokes before turning to his frat brother and talking again.

Theo continues his rounds, barely scratching the surface of conversations with anyone, but being sure to talk to everyone, just to make sure his voice was heard and face was seen. The last thing he needs is the university thinking he’s an asshole. He doesn’t spend more than ten minutes in any group, giving him the chance to not have to deal with anyone intolerable for longer than a few minutes, and saves him from awkward conversations with people he barely knows.

After a while, he finds himself returning to the safety of Levi’s side, who since also migrated outside to the firepit, which no longer had Leander, Hazel, or Sam’s friend as part of the crew, but rather, just a bunch of the football guys, a few of Levi’s soccer buddies, a couple sorority girls and cheerleaders, and a couple exchange kids, all crowded around the fire with an assortment of drinks. Theo, since their arrival approximately two hours ago, has been through three beers and now was wielding Stella’s half-drank mixed drink for her, taking sips occasionally when he was bored.

As always, Theo defaults to Levi. He slides up, only to discover his best friend already talking with someone. More specifically: someone Theo has never seen nor spoken too before. From a basic glance, Theo can clock the boy as a soccer player. Basic deductions: surrounded by soccer players, combined with his stature and attitude as he spoke. If Theo is honest, Levi is the only soccer dude he can tolerate. There is a sense of competition between football players and soccer players, and the majority of Levi’s teammates are just shitty people overall. And sure, maybe it has something to do with his childhood, being bullied by soccer players who land one hell of a kick. Regardless, from the first glance, he isn’t a huge fan of the stranger.

While Levi talks with this unnamed kid, Theo searches the yard for familiar faces. He is lost in a sea of soccer players—he finally spots Stella over the heads of what feels like billions of people cramming into a tiny backyard. She slides and scoots between people to stand with him. He leans against her for backup. They still have another few hours of being here, and he’s already crashing. He has to be up early in the morning to swim before classes, and he just knows he will struggle to sleep tonight, too.

Stella takes his arm around her shoulders, her back pressed against his chest, and gives him a place to plant his chin so he doesn't have to hold up his own head. She tangles their fingers together, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand and continuing her conversation.

Yeah, Theo, you got no excuses, Levi mentions from his left. Theo picks his head up quickly again, blinking away his exhaustion. You’re out here whining about a couple hour flight. How long was your flight? The question is pointed at the stranger, and Theo stands straighter, adapting his presentation to look somewhat less miserable.

Long, Levi’s friend huffs, jamming his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels casually. Two layovers. Keflavik and Boston. I swear I spent all of Friday in an airport or a plane. Only then does Theo pick up on the stranger’s use of an accent. It’s not too out there as far as accents go. He’s had a couple exchange-student peers from various places- England, Russia, one from Japan- but this one sounds fainter, like it’s been slowly withered away. Definitely English.

Where’d you fly from? Theo entertains the conversation, interested in the friend he didn’t realize Levi had. Levi gives a grand smile to Theo, elated to see the two interact. As if only then recognizing Theo as part of the conversation, the stranger turns to include him in a triangular-like shape. Theo releases Stella, trying to blink away his exhaustion.

Depends on what's cheaper. Usually Gatwick, but this time I took Heathrow, he says, earning an understanding nod.

So I’m guessing you’re from Southern UK? Theo says in an effort to be friendly. Keep the conversation moving. Give the guy a shot.

Kinda… born in Plymouth, but I grew up in Nice, France. All the way at the bottom. I spent most of my summer doing an internship in London, he nods. Speaking of- you said you were going to visit this summer, idiot. What happened there? This is directed back toward Levi in a casual way that makes Theo feel stirred, exiled from the conversation. He takes a small step back out of the conversation, recognizing the rejection with ease.

Theo tries to not be possessive with his best friend. Levi is allowed to have other friends. He is allowed to be in relationships, and hang out with new people without Theo, and he is allowed to be happy regardless of if Theo is at his side. But insecurity and anxiety take over, without fail, every time Theo is put in this situation. Fear of being replaced. Uncertainty if he is a good enough friend. Afraid of being abandoned or forgotten.

Theo does his best to step aside, and not think about the British Invasion upon his friendship.

It’s nearing one in the morning, and Mr. International is still laughing and hanging out with Levi, rather brutally shutting Theo down every time he even tries to talk to Levi. Sam is inside as the party starts to wind down, cleaning up bottles and people. Theo is trying to insist to himself that people walking away from him, that people departing from his immediate vicinity, isn’t about him. It’s not his fault. He did nothing wrong. People have lives that don’t include him, sometimes.

Despite growing up as the middle child of five, he doesn’t share well with others.

Hey, Stella nudges his waist, tired eyes and a soft smile on her face. Her hand slides along his back and over his ribs on the other side of his body. I’m going home.

Okay, Theo says, somewhat apologetic that he didn’t entertain her much tonight. I’ll see you this week?

You better, she smiles, a certain exhaustion in her tone. She leans up on her toes to press a sweet kiss to his cheek.

You good to drive home? Theo asks, just to be sure.

Chloe’s got my keys, she reassures. You?

I’ll be fine, Theo insists. She raises her eyebrows. Worst case, I stay the night here. Go, before Chloe threatens to stab me again.

No fun, she pouts playfully. Bye.

Night. He rolls his shoulders off and stretches out his arms after she leaves, only then realizing the weight of his exhaustion, and how long he’s been carrying it.

She is helplessly in love with you, one of the soccer guys says, smirking and elbowing him in the ribs. How long has it been now?

We aren’t together, Theo rolls his eyes.

Yeah, and I’m the president of France, the same guy teases. Hop on that while she’s interested. Lord knows you aren’t the only one with your eyes on her.

I’m not- he starts, then stops himself. Whatever. I’m tired. Lev’, you ready to head out?

You are such a buzzkill, Levi groans, but immediately grabs his keys, a silent signal of yes, my social meter is dying. Let me say my goodbyes. You go make sure Sam doesn’t need anything from us before we go?

It’s the same routine. Levi does the remaining socials for him. Theo does the niceties for Levi. Offer to stay and clean up some, maybe reimburse for drinks and food (most of the time, Sam insists he’s fine. He only ever really requests help on game night parties that get really messy). Levi tends to do a Theo is MIA show to give him a cover and keep him from having to speak to everyone on the way out. Their system works.

Levi drives, having only had half of a drink. Theo is pretty convinced he’s sobered up too, but better safe than sorry. Theo tips his head back, eyes closed and arms folding around himself as he comes dangerously close to falling asleep.

Who’s the guy? Theo finally asks after too long of silence.

Hm? Levi turns his head slightly but keeps his eyes on the road.

Short. British. Ignored me all night?

Ezra? Levi laughs. He wasn’t ignoring you.

That man had the driest conversation with me and then immediately turned around and acted like he’s hot shit, Theo argues. I don’t think he likes me very much.

Maybe be a little less you then, Levi teases. Theo frowns, unsure what that even means. We’re on the soccer team together. Half of the soccer guys are try hard idiots. He’s the only one with half a personality. I actually think you’d like him.

I don’t tend to get along with your soccer bros, Theo says.

You don’t tend to get along with anyone. That’s why you’re stuck with me and that girl you cling to every time you have a sip of a drink.

Ouch, Theo chuckles. You really just hit me with that.

I say it lovingly, Levi smiles, reaching over and squeezing his shoulder. You really need some friends that aren’t me.

Are you seriously parenting me right now?

Lord knows someone has to.

He means it kindly, but it still made Theo shift uncomfortably. Sometimes, these jokes don’t hit the way they should. Maybe that's just Theo, unsure of when people are genuinely upset with him or not.

He doesn’t sleep very well that night, but he never does on the first couple days back from Orlando. He’s almost always sick with stress that first week of moving in and settling, because he’s overrun by school, swim team, football, responsibilities, and still trying to process all that happened in Orlando. Even in his briefest, easiest Orlando trips, he has a lot to unpack, physically and emotionally, upon his return.

But, like always, he’s up at 4:30 AM. His alarm went off, but he was already awake anyway, staring at the ceiling, and trying to shake off that feeling of unsettling stress.

He makes a pot of coffee, mostly for Levi, and he guzzles a cup of black coffee in two gulps. He hates the taste, but needs the energy. He grabs his keys and a hoodie, shuffling out to his car and dropping into the driver's seat. He double checks the backseat for his swim bag before he sets off for the natatorium.

He is one of three people there when it opens at 5AM. He showers in the locker room, waking himself up with cold water, and changing into his suit.

Post shower, he steadily unties a pair of string friendship bracelets that only ever leave his person for his swims. Careful, diligent fingers untie the easy knot and slip the matching bracelets into a sandwich bag to protect them from the chemicals of the pool deck, and then in his swim bag, which sit on a bench just across from his lane. He sets his waterbottle and a stopwatch timer at the edge of the pool.

As always, he takes up lane six. His lane. Not just here in Ann Arbor, but in Florida too—number six belongs to him.  Typically, in the twelve lane pools he’s used to, lane six is the middle one, but even in six lane pools, he will gladly take an edge lane if it means keeping his number. He’s done this long enough to have a routine down, and he does not stray from it. Not here. Not anywhere. He doesn’t share lanes, either. For good reason. His trust is not easily given.

An ever-present memory lives in the back of his mind every time he gets to the water. His older brother, Elliott, holding him under. A power struggle to the surface, fighting to come up for air. Splashing with his frantic arms, kicking with his frail legs. He was young—maybe eight or nine. His brother was six years older, and significantly stronger. Theo thought he was going to drown, but when he resurfaced and sputtered for air, he recalled feeling like he was breathing for the first time.

Back then, he cried, and he ran from the pool, straight to Mom to protect him, but she didn’t believe her oldest son could do such a heinous thing. And, in all fairness: Theo doesn’t think Elliott wanted him to drown, either. Theo thinks he was being a rough older brother who didn’t know when to quit. So, Elliott got away with it, and Theo learned how to not drown. It was the only time his brother did it, but it stuck. The memory of the struggle stays true in Theo’s mind, without fail.

Mom put him on the swim team immediately after to break him out of his phobia.

At first he was scared. He didn’t like people being close to him while he swam, and he didn’t like being so exposed in front of people, but it only took a couple weeks’ worth of practice and the coach giving him a firm pat on the back, amazed by his natural talent, to make him love it. He loves the feeling of his arms cutting through the water, the pressure and weight of over 5 million pounds of water— 660,000 gallons of it— pushing him back despite his effort to get across the pool and back.

He was always talented. Unlike the others on the swim team, he was accepted onto the team within the first lap of his tryout. When he got out of the pool on that first day over ten years ago, a towel around his shoulders and looking at the time marked down for him at the table, one of the four coaches pats him on the back.

What’s your name, kid? He asked back then, also scanning the sheet to find the fastest lap time out of everyone in the pool. Theodore Emerson… hm.

That’s me, Theo had said quietly, intimidated by the way Coach Jim looked at him— like he was looking at a gold medalist in the making. Like he personally witnessed the birth of a star.

How long have you been swimming?

I don’t know, he shrugs. I swim at home with my siblings. But never competitively.

Really? Coach Jim’s smile gets wider. You stick with me, and we’ll get you somewhere good with this. You're a kid with a dream?

Isn’t everyone?

Thus, Theo stuck with Jim.

Coach Jim followed him, from nine years old, all the way through his teens. Even after he retired from coaching as a whole, he still came to every practice, was at every meet, making sure his prodigy rose to the top of every competition. Jim was not one to openly pick favorites, but they all knew that Theo and Jim were a package deal. One does not succeed without the other.

Theo was 14 in his first state-wide meet. He always did the district meets, but state was huge. Coach Jim stood with him, pulling him away from the rest of the team. Just him. A hand on his shoulder, quiet instructions to keep his breath, to keep his eyes forward and not at the next lane over. Reminding him to not get in his own head. They were in Miami. This was huge for not just Theo, not just his family, but for the Orlando team he swam for in the first place. He was already a projected medalist, top five for sure. That's why he was in the middle lanes. Number six was his. But he can’t let himself get an ego for it.

That day, he stood on the launch pad, arms and legs stretched. He gave his fingers a satisfying snap, rolling his shoulders and taking one breath in. The buzzer sounds, and he dove headfirst into his first medal.

Coach Jim was thoroughly disappointed when Theo picked up football in high school as a side sport. But, it turns out, any sport Theo picked up, he was a master at. With a solemn promise to stay with the swim team, he joined the football team. He was benched the first half of his first season anyways, until a running back broke his collarbone and he was subbed in for the Thanksgiving game and successfully won them the game single handedly.

He was rapidly rising as a hometown hero to Lake Mary, Florida. He grew up wealthy, in a place where families could buy their way to the top. Not only did his family have money, but he had authentic talent. Not spurred by substance or paid off coaches, but by his own genuine self-determination.

Theo likes to think back on his childhood in that way, as a kid who succeeded at everything he did, with a support system that pushed him up, and a family he loved.

In reality, he was applying to colleges before he hit senior year and got accepted into most of them almost immediately.

When you were a runner up in Olympic trials, schools tended to want you. He had trouble time getting acceptances to any schools, even the big named ones. He more so struggled finding a school far enough from his family.

He eventually settled for University of Michigan. It was still across the country, and gave him space, but a big-name University that could get him somewhere. He would have done Georgetown, but to be fair, their sports teams falter after basketball half the time. Michigan was the only one to promote both swimming and football, and historically did well.

It was the best decision he ever made. Here he is, at 20 years old, living in an apartment with his best friend. They play football together. Levi does soccer, too, so he understands the busy schedule. They tend to try and attend at least one event for each other per season. It works. It’s all… working.

He’s not sure how many laps he’s done by the time Levi arrives at the poolside, taking up the role of his timer. Theo is in the zone, as he typically is first thing in the morning. Levi is bleary eyed but happy to see his friend doing something he loves. Their bonding time wasn’t the most conventional activity type, but it worked for them. Levi times Theo’s laps, encouraging him to stay at the Olympic pace he needs to be in, and when Levi has soccer practice, Theo will sit on the bleachers, writing both of their papers for them. When they’re on the football field, they’re a powerhouse, a team unmatched.

Theo does another lap. Then another. One more. Or two. He just keeps cutting through the water- a hot knife through butter. Every morning, the lifeguard on duty is fascinated by him. As he hits the two-hour mark, and the pool steadily fills with other routine swimmers, they all know the drill too. Leave lane six to him.

Day one of his final year has begun. Time to go out with a bang.

Two

Fuck running.

There’s a reason he never tried track and field, and it’s a good reason at that. Yeah, maybe he’s in several sports, and maybe he’s good at running, but that doesn’t make him hate it any less. He’s just trying his damndest to run the five miles he was subjected to, and preferably, do it before the track or soccer guys start their evening rounds on the track.

He couldn’t be so lucky.

His headphones are blaring some songs that his little sister downloaded onto his phone over the summer. He took a quick screenshot of the song and sent it to her with a simple text: miss you. Be good. Riley responds almost immediately with a grinning emoji and a heart.

He pockets his phone again and starts his run.

He can feel his heart in his throat, and his lungs want to explode. He hates sprints. If he’s running, it’s only ever for a game or practice, but today was a busy day, and this is his only personal workout time aside from his 5AM swim. There’s not a chance he’ll be making it to the campus gym today to meet with any of the football guys.

By total accident, he realizes he’s keeping pace with one of the other guys on the track, slowly gaining on him from behind. Theo averts his eyes and picks up speed to pass them in hopes of preventing any unwanted eye contact or conversation. But the worst of the worst happened: the other guy picked up speed too. Theo couldn’t tell if he was trying to race, or keep pace, or just didn’t realize Theo was a lane away. In an effort to lose him, Theo fell back again, and carefully crossed over the track to get some water.

The world is cruel, because he was doing the same damned thing.

He keeps his head low, panting for breath and climbing the stairs up to the top of the bleachers, plopping onto a seat. Only then does he notice who he was running next to.

Damned English people.

By total accident, he makes direct eye contact with Ezra. In less than a second, Theo was looking away again, and instead, trying to appear busy and social, anything to save him from potential pain and awkwardness. He went to text his sister again, but he came up with nothing to say. He considered calling her. Look busy. Look important.

Ezra is climbing the bleachers toward him.

Fuck.

Hey, Ezra greets, his voice lower and exhaustion written across his face from a long run. I realized I never introduced myself the other night. I’m Levi’s friend, Ezra.

Hi, Theo says with an exhale, scanning his stance and wondering what the hell he does in this situation. Theo.

Figured as much. Levi talks about you a lot, Ezra responds simply. How long have you been friends with him?

We talked online before we started, but I met him in person at his orientation. We’ve been roommates since his freshman year.

Cool.

Cool.

In the daylight, Theo has an easier time identifying key features of the Brit stood, blocking the sun from his eyes. Curly brown hair, a little too long, as seen by Ezra’s hand constantly ruffling it out of his eyes. His eyes, a familiar dark brown. Dimples, and a perfect smile.

Gross.

I just wanted to make sure I said hi formally. Levi said I might see you in some of the classes I have with him. Figured I better actually introduce myself before we get put into any group projects together, Ezra smiles. Theo finds the smile a little too comfortable. Have a good rest of your run.

Instead of returning to the track, Theo leaves. Because fuck running. He doesn’t need the five miles that badly.

He comes home and finds Levi in the kitchen, sorting through his backpack for homework. They move around one another, synchronized, without bothering or getting in the way of anyone as they make food and prepare themselves for tomorrow, a day filled with practice, classes, more practice, and a team dinner.

I have a swim meet on Saturday, Theo reminds him, settling on leftover mac and cheese he found in the fridge, eating it cold. "So I’m leaving the house around… like, 7AM, won’t be home until late. Probably have to do a post-meet party thing, so we’ll hang out around 9?"

I have a game Saturday night, Levi mentions, too. Sundays pre-game?

Swim practice, Theo shrugs.

You never go to practice, shut the hell up, Levi rolls his eyes.

It’s not for team, it’s for trials, Theo reminds. Trials in June, dude. I’m not screwing myself out of another Olympics.

We’re not hanging out at all this year, are we?

Not a chance, Theo chuckles, sitting on the counter. Only games and parties.

And you never show up to parties, Levi sighs. Are you eating that cold? Oh my God you are the worst type of person. I need- I need better friends.

We’ll figure out something. I can do anything before Crit Theories.

"Which are mornings. I am not a morning person, Theo. Only sometimes to tag along to time your laps. Levi groans. Weekends are our time. We sit and complain about shitty things in our lives and then we burn off steam by tackling our friends."

It’s fine. We still have our study group on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and after my meets on Saturdays we always-

I have games on Saturdays, dude, Levi says again, already tired of repeating himself. You are the worst.

Fine. Hang out with someone else. Or come to the pool! It’s fine.

I’m texting Ezra that you bailed and that he’s my best friend now, Levi states. He meant it jokingly, but Theo is quiet. I’m kidding. Lighten up. I can have two best friends.

I know. Just figured you had better taste in friends.

I’ve been stuck with you for the past three years. Hell no I don’t, Levi pulls out his phone and texts Ezra. He’s coming over tonight, by the way. We’re gonna watch the Ohio State and Nebraska game.

Seriously? Theo whines. You couldn’t give me a little warning?

"This is a warning."

You don’t understand introversion at all, do you? Theo deadpans. Okay. Fine. Clean up the shit in the living room before he gets here.

"Yeah, yeah, Mom."

Suddenly nerve wracked and anxious about the idea of someone entering his home, his place of comfort and solitude, he, too, works on making it presentable and less his-own. If Theo shows little sign of attachment, little sign of love and comfort, perhaps nothing of his will be disturbed. Perhaps, nothing will be lost or taken from him. He doesn’t think Ezra is a thief, per se, but he doesn’t trust that his hands are clean, and that he is perfectly delicate.

It took almost a full year to even trust his own belongings with Levi, a person he loves and cared for like a brother. Or, maybe more. Brother feels like the wrong term for someone who has a poor relationship with one of his brothers.

Theo loves Levi like the family he wants, rather than the family he has. But even then, his trust and comfort are thin and fragile. He’s felt familial comfort and love in people before, and he’s lost it all too. He doesn’t like taking unnecessary risks.

Luckily, they moved back in only at the beginning of this week; there isn’t much to do, much to clean or put away. Theo rarely keeps photos out in the apartment, or any kind of valuables. But he is wary of even some of his less sentimental things, like the throw blanket he specifically always uses on late nights on the couch when they’re drinking or watching a movie. It gets folded and put in his room.

Levi doesn’t question his traditions- he’s learned over the years that Theo will be how he is, and whatever keeps him happy and sane is worthwhile. Things like obsessive cleanliness and protecting his belongings are not worth a fight. Whatever makes Theo happy will make Levi happy.

When Ezra arrives, Theo is off in his own world of homework in his room, headphones in and ignoring any movement or sound from the main apartment. He twiddles his pen in his fingers and types when the words come to him and writes test answers when the thoughts make sense. Several projects and assignments cover his desk all at once. To any other set of eyes, it would look messy, overwhelming. To Theo: it was a managed chaos.

But his head is pounding, and he wants to be on the couch with a beer and some popcorn, watching something like Mean Girls or Pursuit of Happyness until he inevitably falls asleep in the middle of the movie. He wants a night with his best friend, and his best friend alone. He wants to settle into his home without worry or concern of presenting himself as unpresentable.

Closing in on 10PM, he realizes he never had dinner—only whatever snack that cold mac and cheese was, and braves the rest of the apartment. He mentally prepares himself for whatever he will face, stuffing his hands into his pockets and shuffling out to the kitchen. He can hear the laughter and chatter the second he opens his door. Doing his best to ignore it, he shuffles straight to the kitchen and looks for something quick and easy so he can retreat as quickly as possible.

Ohio State is winning, Levi tells Theo when he notices his presence. Theo nods. Wanna sit and hang out for a bit?

Gotta submit an assignment, Theo mumbles back, furrowing his eyebrows. He could’ve sworn he had leftovers from yesterday in here.

Ten minutes. Don’t be a buzzkill, Levi groans.

Can’t, sorry. Submitting the paper then going to bed. Gotta be up early.

"When are you not up early? Levi sighs. There’s pizza… Theo hesitates, closing his eyes and puffing out a breath. Grab your laptop and do your stuff out here."

Fine, fine, Theo surrenders, earning a cheer. He returns to his room, grabbing his laptop, and waiting rather impatiently for his best friend to scoot so he doesn't have to wedge himself between Ezra and a cushion. Move, dipshit. You’re in my seat.

Levi moves so he’s placed strategically between Ezra and Theo. Theo tucks into the corner of the sectional, his favorite place on any couch. He pulls his legs up with him and opens up what he was working on, eyes trained on the two-page document that he’s been editing like a maniac all evening. It’s an easy assignment- at least, it should be. God he hates introduction assignments.

He’s never sure what to say about himself, what to make of himself in writing. There’s little he’s willing to share in the first place, but professors have already seen the star athlete story. They’ve seen the move across the country story. They’ve seen it all. He had the same trouble writing his college essay for his admission.

He types quickly, and backspaces quicker. For every line he writes, he erases another. Stupid fucking writing classes. No matter what he submits, it won’t be enough. But in all honesty, it is impossible to categorize him in a total of three pages, no more than 1,500 words. He’s not sure an infinite page number would allow enough space to say it all. He could outline every day of his 20 years, each year with a full 365-page chapter, and he still wouldn’t have enough words to describe who he is. Perhaps, it’s not about character limit, but his own limitations, his own inability to sum up himself. His own inability to come to terms with what happened to make him the person he is.

So, he writes the boring paper that professors have seen hundreds of times. About a white boy from wealthy suburbs, who excelled in every sport he touched, but has a passion for one in particular. He reads it three, four, five times, trying to spice up his diction with unnecessary synonyms and hopeful that his passive voice comes off as studious and intelligent rather than dense and trying too hard. He glances up at the TV every few seconds to keep an eye on the score, confused as to how Ohio State was getting such an insane lead, but determined to hit submit. Eventually, he gives up on perfecting an assignment that he will never truly enjoy, and he turns it in.

He’s heavy with exhaustion, and since his surrender to sitting with Levi and Ezra, he’s entirely forgotten his entire point of coming out: to eat dinner. Half awake, he scrolls through emails and eyes the game, listening to Levi’s hysterical laughter and how Ezra’s inflection rises as he gets excited. Theo tucks his head onto his arm, resting his eyes shut for a moment. Just a moment.

The back of his eyelids is painted with gore and gruesome death, with letters and a cold pool deck, flooded by police officers who talked to everyone as a group, but cleared the deck before they talked to Theo. The sounds of lapping waves, of creaking tire swings, and old floorboards. The smell of floral scented bed sheets, coconut oil products, and chlorine. The smooth texture of untouched, unharmed skin, and curly hair.  Taste of peach tea, watermelon bubble gum, and blood. He runs, and runs, and runs, from a past he didn’t want, and from a future that was uncertain. His dreams aren’t safe. They never are.

When he opens his eyes again in a flash, the apartment is hushed quiet, and he has his blanket on him. His laptop has been moved to the safety of the coffee table, and Levi and Ezra were talking significantly quieter in the kitchen at the peninsula. His heart rate skyrocketed, his lungs hurting. He’s not sure if he was holding his breath or was hyperventilating.

He doesn’t like me very much, Ezra scoffs softly, sipping his drink and nudging Levi. He’s kind of a grump.

He doesn’t dislike you. Jesus, you guys are dramatic, Levi sighs. He’s reserved.

And you just… go along with whatever he wants? Ezra raises an eyebrow.

No. I’m an adult. I do what I wanna do, Levi argues.

You sure?

Yes, I’m sure, Levi rolls his eyes. I go along with his plans because I like seeing my friends happy. Kinda like how I do whatever you tell me to do on the field. Because I like seeing you succeed. I’m not a pushover.

I never said you were, Ezra held his hands up in defense. I’m just saying. You’re… your own person.

Yeah, yeah, shut up, Levi sighs. "I don’t need the mothering. I swear, you guys are so alike, I’m amazed you don’t get along."

Theo rubs his eyes, stretching out slightly. At the sound of ruffled movement, the kitchen goes quiet. Theo pushes himself upright, checking the time on his phone. Two in the morning. He blinks a couple times, looking at the TV. The game has been over for a while, highlights and commentators still talking about it on ESPN though.

Were we too loud? Levi asks apologetically. Theo looks at them for a moment, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. You good, buddy? He nods, tracing a tongue over his own chapped lips. His mouth still tastes coppery. For a moment, he thought it was the dream bleeding into reality, until he recognized the sting in his cheek, his teeth having bitten and chewed it raw. He rolls his head around his shoulders and tests his feet against the floor. His legs hurt from a marathon he didn’t run. He slid a hand over his chest and checks his phone again. Levi quietly excuses himself from Ezra, joining Theo on the couch, patting his arm gently, for merely a moment. A fleeting second that startles him from his own skin. You got a couple hours before your swim. Try to sleep a little longer. Theo nods once. Headache? Another nod. I’ll grab Tylenol. Catch your breath.

From an outside perspective, perhaps Theo’s dependence on Levi can be disturbing. From a fresh set of eyes, maybe Levi’s care and diligence for Theo is annoying. But it works, and it works well. It took a lot to get into a comfortable space like this; to learn to trust like this.

Their first semester living together was… hard. October as a whole was completely a wash- Levi even considered moving out. But here they are, three years later. Levi has seen a lot, heard a lot. Oftentimes, he’s unsure if Theo even intended to say what he did over the years. Most of those conversations were grown from nightmare-broken sleep or panic attacks that came from nowhere. Theo’s moments of panic are silent, barely noticeable, barely there. To the naked eye, there is no difference between the quiet, reclusive Theo who isn’t fond of parties and loud events, and the silent, hurting Theo that comes from nightmares and anxiety.

Levi won’t say he is perfect. He won’t say he gets it entirely, but he knew enough. He knew the misery of Halloween and Christmas. He knew the emotional attachment to his sports, and he knew the nightmares were ones that make your skin crawl. He knew what direction to push his best friend in. He knew the signs of a bad day, or a worse night. Theo doesn’t have to be explicit in every detail for it to make sense.

With Tylenol and lots of water, Theo tries to sink back to sleep there on the couch. He doesn’t ever fall entirely asleep again. Close, but not quite. He’s awake enough to know Ezra left about half an hour later; awake enough to know Levi stayed up another hour to keep an eye on him. Come four in the morning, though, his alarm sounds, and he’s up for the day. His headache is gone, and his cheek is sore, but he moves.

He brushes his teeth. His spit is still slightly pink, but nothing out of the ordinary. The dark circles are darker than usual. God, he despises the first semester.

For a moment, he thinks about not going today and skipping his morning swim. Skipping today, emailing his coaches and professors that he’s sick and needs a day off. Thinking about it— his chest still hurts, and his lungs are sore too. That’s not good for swimming. Breathing is a key component for swimming.

Just as he’s about to give in, just as he’s about to let himself go back to