ilo walked Rushil and Lee to Manley Hall around midnight. The street lamps were on and the sky was dark aside from the city lights collecting on dust particles in the air. Lee felt exhausted—the type of exhausted that put bags under his eyes from sheer stress. He swiped into the hall and, with the door propped open, he turned back to Milo and Rushil.

"Sorry about being such a mess," he said. His head still felt like cotton, but it was more sleepy than anything. He wouldn't be surprised if he knocked out the rest of the night and slept through his alarms. He rubbed the back of his head with a small, apologetic smile as he added, "I don't usually get paranoid when I'm high. So sorry about that."

"It's fine," Rushil said, smiling. "It was kinda cute."

"Sh-Shut up," Lee stammered, cheeks flushed pink.

Rushil beamed at him. Lee glanced at Milo, who stuck his hands in the pockets of his pants. He still felt the strong, magnetic urge to cling to Milo and not let go. Instead of doing that, though, he raised a hand and said, "Congrats on the win. Are you two heading back to the party?"

"I'm exhausted, so I'll be going back to Lockhart," Rushil said.

"The guys are still at Kappa, so I'll be over there," Milo said.

With that, they went their separate ways. Lee slumped to the Manley tower elevator and as he waited for it to drop, he checked his phone. There was a message from Milo asking that Lee let him into the building. Lee rolled his eyes and slumped back to the main door. The student worker at the front desk watched him all the way as he let Milo through the locked door.

"Did you hide in a bush or something until Rushil left?" Lee said.

Milo put his arm around Lee's back as they walked to the elevator together. "Maybe," he hummed in Lee's ear.

When they stood in the elevator together, Lee let himself, for a moment, hug his arms around Milo's neck and hold on tightly. He could feel Milo breathing against him—the rise and fall of his chest, his breath against Lee's hair. Lee tucked his face in close, hiding his eyes against the fabric of his oversized sweater. Milo's sweatshirt smelled like this—like the cologne Milo had dabbed onto his neck and the fabric softener on his clothes.

Lee's throat became tight with emotion. He tried to swallow it down but couldn't. When the elevator door slid open, Milo moved as if to pull away, but Lee couldn't budge. Milo put his hand out to stop the elevator door, his other arm holding Lee securely to his chest.

"Don't let me go," Lee whispered. Any louder and he feared his voice would crack.

"Do you want me to carry you?" he asked.

After spending a moment considering it, Lee nodded his head. Milo ducked down and hooked his free hand under Lee's knees. He tipped Lee back and into his arms just in time to sneak out of the elevator before the doors could close on them.

At Lee's door, Milo set his feet on the ground once more. Lee felt like a kid again—and not in the best way possible, since the floor was lava and Milo was immune to it. He couldn't control the way his feet danced impatiently like the carpet was burning the soles of his feet. Thankfully, Milo was quick to unlock the door and drag Lee inside. He locked the door behind them as Lee lunged for the bed and nestled in.

"No lights," Lee said when Milo reached for the switch.

Milo tossed the keys onto the end table and crawled up alongside Lee. He kicked his shoes off before reaching down and unlacing Lee's sneakers. Lee pushed himself up so that when Milo finished, he could hug his arms around Milo.

"So you've done this before?" Milo asked, a hint of amusement tugging at his lips.

Lee nodded, letting out a shaky breath. His throat still felt tight. "I used to party a lot with my brother. Just smaller house parties. Local bands, live music, that sort of thing," he said. He slipped his knees up, hooking his legs over Milo's lap. Milo leant back against the headboard and rubbed his hand idly up and down Lee's back. Lee closed his eyes and whispered, "I missed you."

"We saw each other yesterday," Milo said, which only brought to mind what Lee had done in the hammock.

Lee groaned and held on tighter, clasping his hand on his arm so his nails dug in through the knitted sweater sleeve. "You were so fucking hot," he breathed, eyes closed against Milo's neck. He brought his fingers up to the hickey on the opposite side of Milo's neck, just below the juncture of his jawline.

He wondered if anyone noticed it at the game. If he went through the playback, would he see it on TV?

Milo shivered underneath him and said, "Don't tempt me. I can't believe you fucking did that with Simon and Roland right there."

Lee smiled sleepily and hummed, "It's why I did that."

"You get off to public sex?"

Lee giggled a little. Milo cursed and rolled his eyes. The sound of Milo's laughter, though, lightened his chest. However, the subject that had been in the back of his mind all that night reared its ugly head once more. He bit his wavering lip, the bubbly sensation cutting off abruptly.

Milo seemed to notice it. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Lee pulled his head back a little. He rubbed his cheek against his shoulder and said, "I'm worried about asking Rushil to let me stay in SoCal with him."

"When's he going to SoCal?" Milo said. It took too long for Lee's brain to catch up with the question, but Milo gathered the information himself. "Oh, Winter Break. You aren't going home?"

Lee shook his head. "I can't go home. It's better for Kiki if I'm not there. She's able to handle herself better when I'm not collateral."

"Your sister?" Milo said, and Lee nodded. "Shit, I'm sorry. So you're gonna ask Rushil if you can stay with him?" Lee nodded again. "Well, why don't you just stay with me?"

Lee stared at him. It was dark in the dorm, but the streetlights provided ample glow to capture Milo's attentive look, studying Lee and his reaction. Lee never even considered that Milo's family lived anywhere in the area. USFC recruited from all over the country and for good reason, and Lee wouldn't have been surprised if Milo came all the way from the East Coast.

"Wh-Where?" Lee stammered.

"I have to stay on campus for Bowl Week. I'll be gone after the twenty-sixth, but before that I'll mostly be with the guys. Some of us are staying at Sigma Alpha, and Roland's giving me his room since his family doesn't live all that far away," he explained.

Living at Sigma Alpha all Break... with a dozen football players, Lee mused, dizzying at the thought.

"You can think about it," Milo said when Lee remained quiet, the shock still rippling through his system. "It'll be crazy there for sure, but just know that I have no problem sharing a bed with you over break. And the guys won't care since you're pretty low-key, and I'm guessing you'd be working over break anyway."

"Y-Yeah," Lee stammered, bewildered that Milo had put that all together. It sounded like a solid plan—to have Lee stay at Sigma Alpha. He nodded again and said, "Yeah, that sounds good. If... you're sure you don't mind."

Milo shook his head, smiling. "Not at all. It'll be fun. We already have movie nights lined up through the holidays when we're in San Fran."

That does sound nice, Lee thought. He settled in against Milo's chest, relieved now that he had his Winter Break secured. Now, he only had to deal with the end of the semester.

_________________

Since the last exam in OChem, the rest of the semester crushed together with enough force to demolish two colliding galaxies. Lee's semester came to a grueling head with a total of five research papers, four exams, and a comprehensive lab report due by December twelfth. It meant that the last two weeks were accurately defined as unusual and cruel.

The torture, however, was interspersed with the hours he spent almost religiously at the gym after every OChem lecture and lab. It became both easier and more difficult after each session with Milo—he could lift more but at the consequence of his aching muscles; he could run longer but at the consequence of his poor, burning lungs; and he could hold a plank for more than two minutes.

The sessions he enjoyed the most, though, were ones spent outside jogging in the chilly Pacific air. On those days, Milo jogged slower than usual so he could keep pace with Lee. Lee really couldn't be bothered to jog more than a mile, which was the exact distance USFC was to the peak of San Francisco.

"I—fucking—hate San Francisco," Lee gasped as he chased Milo down the mural steps. He turned on his heels at the landing and ran back up, the cold air sharp in his lungs.

The metal rail stood between them as Milo bounded up, knees high, posture perfect. He saw the concentration on Milo's face as he turned and ran back down, a full two laps ahead of Lee. "You don't mean that," Milo said.

"Fine—I love the pho, but hate the damn hills," he said, and took a break at the top of the steps. From here, he would most certainly die a tragic death if he fell down the mural steps. Milo jogged back up as Lee flopped his arms down, still out of breath, and said, "It's like God gave a toddler a stack of legos and said, 'Go ape-shit, my son,' and the kid stacked 'em like you do Smarties by color," Lee said.

"You separated your Smarties by color?" Milo said.

"Yeah, I'm not a heathen," Lee said.

Milo slowed at the top of the steps, arms swinging, and let out a gasp of breath, his chest rising and falling from the workout. Lee's thighs trembled, and while he blamed it on the suicides, he also blamed the fact that Milo looked killer in that muscle tank damp with sweat.

Milo put his hands on his hips and started up the road that curved around the top of the hill like some swirl of ice cream. Lee walked with him, each step heavier than the last, as Milo said, "I feel like that says a lot about you as a person."

"I think it says more about you than it does about me," Lee said. He ticked them off on his hand. "Food driven, impatient, sweet tooth."

Milo barked out a laugh and waved his hand. "No no, definitely not a sweet tooth. Unless you count."

"Please—we all know I'm spicy as hell. I'll send you to the ER like a goddamn jalapeño," Lee said.

"Ah, like your Noods," Milo said, and before Lee's brain could combust from going down the wrong train of thought, wondering, When did I send Milo nudes? Milo saved him. "Noodles and Company. I'm talking about pasta, Lee—you never send me nudes."

Lee hesitated at the base of the next set of stairs. He really did not want to traverse that shit, but alas, Milo was already marching up. "Why do you sound disappointed about that?" Lee said.

"Because that ass is good shit," Milo said. "Just know that I will never turn down nudes or Noodles and Company."

"Great, so next time, I'll say, 'Sending you nudes,' and it'll be up in the air whether or not I ordered you delivery or if I'm just horny. Perfect," Lee said.

Milo threw his head back and laughed so loud he startled Lee into slipping on a patch of ice. Milo cursed and flung a hand out to catch him, and they steadied one another in a brief moment of panic. Lee's heart flew up to his throat and nearly flopped straight on the shallow concrete steps as they stared at one another, gasping, until Milo said, "Are you all right?"

Lee stared at Milo's wide, brown eyes and could barely keep himself from laughing. Instead of doing that, though, he dropped all of his weight into Milo's arms and flung a hand up to his forehead, swooning, "I will always be all right—in your arms."

Milo held on tight and fast to Lee's midsection as he laughed and said, "You're such a sap."

"Takes one to know one," Lee said.

Milo leant in to kiss him, and Lee happily obliged even though his lungs were spasming from the workout. When Milo pulled away and Lee didn't ease up an ounce of his weight, Milo said, "Am I just gonna carry you back?"

Lee put his arms around Milo's neck. "Yes, please."

"Remind me why we're work out buddies again?" Milo sighed, but his smile reassured Lee that it was all in good fun.