f Lee dragged his dorm desk around the room at the start of the semester, he would have laughed and died of a heart attack during the first shove. But now? Now he could drag it across the floor himself. He pivoted it away from the radiator and shoved it out into the open, off of the wall along with his dorm bed. And he did it all on his own.

When that was said and done, he stepped back, hands on his hips. He looked down at his twig arms that were still scrawny but somehow... fuller. He felt fuller. Like he was less likely to let the wind knock him down.

In the midst of packing his duffle for Break, a knock sounded on his dorm door. He leaned over to unlock it and said, "It's open now."

He went back to folding up his prime selection of sweaters when the door creaked open. He looked over and found Rushil peering in at the mess of his room. Rushil dragged his eyes across the mis-matched furniture strewn hazardously across the floor. "Dude... I thought we were studying."

"We are," Lee said. "I just—Getting things in order."

"The opposite of order, more like," Rushil laughed. "Shit, Milo and I haven't even gotten this far yet and I'm leaving tonight."

He wandered into the room and sat on the edge of the futon as Lee finished folding clothes and stuffing them into his bag. He tucked his toiletry bag in with it all because after OChem, Lee had a date with the gym and then a short journey to Sigma Alpha. Milo would be at Sigma during that time, battling it out with Roland during a frat dinner party.

It would be the first time Lee visited the gym on his own accord, with no expectation of Milo being there, waiting for him. Lee was both thrilled and terrified. He wasn't one to get anxiety over public situations—if the hammock incident was anything to go by—but something about the gym was different. He didn't feel like he "owned the place" like he did any other corner of campus. He was comfortable in the library, in the labs, the lecture halls—but the gym felt almost... predatory. Like Lee was going there to defeat some great evil dubbed Being In Shape.

Lee and Rushil walked to the lecture hall. Lee had his duffle tossed over one shoulder, feeling bright, chaotic energy from pre-exam anxiety. Their exam time was that Saturday at four in the evening, which meant that they would be done by six in time for Rushil's bus to SoCal. It was the very last exam day of the semester, and, likely, the very last exam scheduled on campus.

They studied in the empty lecture hall together as students gradually began to filter in. Lee could hear Rushil mumbling equations under his breath, tapping his pen to the edge of the desk. Lee glanced over at him, once again distracted by Rushil. Best friend and future roommate.

I don't deserve him, Lee thought. He smiled a little as Rushil put his highlighter to his bottom lip and pulled down on it, making a face at his notebook.

The exam went as expected: It was pure torture. The instant he got his booklet and was allowed to flip it over, he took one look at the first question and swore under his breath. He took the entire two hours to finish it and even then it was a stretch. He definitely BSed one question and left the lecture hall thinking, There better be an epic curve or else I'm fucked, but at least it's over with.

He waited for Rushil to come out. Rushil looked no better, but he smiled nonetheless when he saw Lee waiting across the lecture hall corridor with his duffle. Rushil walked straight up to him and held his arms out for a hug.

"I need love and support in these trying times, my friend," Rushil fake-sobbed against Lee's shoulder.

"You're a seventeen-year-old genius. You did fine," Lee said. Unlike Lee and most of the freshmen year class, Rushil had come to USFC as a sixteen-year-old going on seventeen. He had skipped a grade in middle school and wound up as one of the youngest kids in Alex's lab.

Rushil fake-sobbed again, dissolving into a whine as he slumped towards the ground. Lee held him up and put his arm around Rushil's shoulders. They walked to the exit together where Rushil put himself back together.

"Well, this is where I leave you, buddy, old friend, ol' pal o' mine," Rushil said, patting Lee on the head.

Lee snickered as he pulled away and gave Rushil a pat on the cheek. "I'll miss you dearly, Rushi Roll."

"God, you sound like Milo," Rushil laughed.

Lee rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and every other frat guy who calls you that. But seriously, text me and shit. Send me pics of the beach so I can drool over it from afar."

"Will do," he promised with a salute. He hurried down the steps then in the direction of the bus that would take him to the Greyhound heading south.

Lee went in the opposite direction along the river walk. With a deep, slow exhale, he expelled the tension and the stress from that week. He was almost relieved enough to cry. OChem is over, he told himself. He and Rushil had done well on every single lab and, even if their individual homework suffered, their exam scores brought them up to the top half of the class. They would certainly pass.

At the gym, he set to work on abs.

It was harder to keep motivation when Milo wasn't going all-out next to him, stoking his competitive fire. It took approximately five minutes for Lee to decided that he hated the gym all over again and wound up just lying on his back and staring at the fans overhead until a familiar shadow leant over him. He thought God was looking down at him—that would make more sense—but instead he saw the Resident Dad.

"Dad?" Lee said.

Ezra put his hands on his hips as Lee sat up. "I saw you sprawled out like a starfish and figured I'd check on you. Did you finish finals?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty beat."

"Explains the starfish then," he hummed. Lee nodded, hooking his arms around his knees. Ezra crossed his legs at the ankles and hunkered down in front of him on the rubber mat. He was wearing workout gear and his usual pair of rectangular glasses.

He nudged them up and looked out over the gym equipment before turning back to say, "Did you figure something out for Break?"

"Yeah, I did. It worked out," Lee said, nodded quickly. "When do you leave for the resort?"

"Monday. You?"

"Tonight," he said. Ezra said nothing—a silent invitation for Lee to expand upon it. "I'm... staying at a friend's place." Boyfriend, more like.

"That'll be fun, huh? Glad it worked out," he said. He pushed himself up then with a sigh. "Well, then, I'll let you go. Keep up the good work. Your starfish is looking top."

"Thanks, Dad," Lee said with a meager wave. Ezra saluted him before heading off to the stairs. Lee figured he was in view of the stairs—Ezra likely saw him lying on the ground when he emerged from the basement locker rooms.

It doesn't make sense to stay here without Milo, he decided, so he got up and went back to the locker rooms.

He took a shower, got his shit together, and left for Frat Row. Milo's date plans were weaseling their way back to the forefront of his mind. His curiosity got the better of him—what would they do? Perhaps Milo bought tickets to see a movie—but the Sigma crew already had a movie marathon lined up, so that didn't make sense. Perhaps they would go out to eat—Lee did enjoy eating out, even if his wallet hated it. However, Milo had dietary restrictions due to football, so perhaps they would adventure to the biomes. Neither of them were major environmental enthusiasts even if Milo owned an entire pack of reusable straws. Lee was certain he did it for the aesthetic, and also to impress people on dates.

Lee laughed. As if reusable straws would impress dates. He couldn't stop smiling after that thought, though, and his smile followed him all the way to the front door of Sigma Alpha.

He rang the doorbell and a moment later, Hayden answered. "Oh, hey Lee. Milo's upstairs—you know where Roland's room is?"

"Yeah, thanks," Lee said as he passed Hayden in the foyer and went for the stairs.

He jogged up to the second floor where he crossed the hall and ascended to the third. The place was relatively quiet—the frat dinner was happening at a diner in San Francisco, so Lee wouldn't have been surprised if those old enough were now barhopping (unbeknownst to Coach Mackernasey). Lee snickered, thinking to himself, Good, that means the neighboring rooms will be vacant. No one to hear us.

Lee mounted the last step and strolled across the carpet, his duffle slung over one shoulder over his backpack strap. He slowed near Roland's open bedroom door and stopped at the silhouette of a visitor preparing to exit.

"—believe you—"

"I didn't realize," Milo was saying. Lee stilled, out of view. He spent enough years eavesdropping on his parents to know how to do it properly. He held his breath, minimizing motion, erasing all sound of his existence from the hallway. He flattened himself against the wall that shared Roland's bedroom door. "I'm serious. I thought—you helped me out so much in—"

"Just goes to show I shouldn't have tried at all."

"Don't say that—"

"So are you saying you like me, too?" A beat of silence. Lee sucked in a deep breath and shuffled through his mental profile of every guy who knew who had that voice. That light, preppy voice that was borderline posh. The kind of voice Lee hated hearing in the back of the class asking a dozen questions in one lecture.

But bless his brilliant memory. He pinned it to the blonde guy with the round glasses, the one Park brought to his work on more than one occasion.

What the Hell is he doing here? Lee thought.

Milo cleared his throat. "You know I like you, but I told you—Felix, wait. Let me finish."

Lee's mind slowed to an alarming degree. He almost didn't recognize the sound he was hearing—obvious kissing—that churned his stomach inside out and threatened to buck his lunch out through his mouth. He clenched his teeth tight and turned away before he could bother straining to hear what Milo had to say next. Besides, one of them had closed Roland's bedroom door.

Lee padded down the steps and hesitated near the foyer stairs. He could see from the balcony that Hayden was still in the living room, and he didn't want to deal with questions. He snuck to the kitchen stairs then and slipped to the basement where he recalled there being a backyard door. He took it out to the back packing lot and walked until he realized that he had no clue where he was planning to go.

He checked his watch. He had a backup—a back backup—that he never even inquired about. Rushil. By now, Rushil was on his bus to SoCal, so with shaking hands, Lee put him on the phone. They had had each others' phone numbers since the first week of classes when lab partners were assigned. Like most people on his contacts, though, Lee mainly contacted Rushil via Snapchats and memes.

Therefore, he wasn't surprised when Rushil didn't pick up on the first try. He called again, and on the second ring, Rushil answered.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Rushil said.

Lee managed a small but strained smile. "Hey, big favor to ask of you." He heard his voice shaking but hoped the bus and the reception would cover it up.

He ran a hand over his forehead as Rushil took more than a few seconds to answer. "Uh... sure? What's up?"

"If you gave me your parents' address, would you be entirely pissed if I showed up at some ungodly hour of the night?" he asked, forcing a laugh. He looked down the street from where he now stood at the cusp of the basketball stadium. The road was empty and campus was quiet now that finals were over and done with. Well, all except a party going on far down Frat Row several blocks over.

"Dude, no, I wouldn't be mad. Not at all," Rushil said, quickly. Lee let out a relieved sigh and thought he might cry. "I just—Can you tell me why? Did something happen?"

"I, uh... I can't go back to my parents place. Long story. I'll tell you when I get there," Lee said.

Rushil agreed. Lee thanked him and hung up shortly after in order to figure out his own impromptu bus ticket south. He took a seat on a campus bench, knees pulled up, duffle at his feet, and sifted through prices with an aching, gut-wrenching feeling twisting knots in the back of his throat.

You know I like you.

Lee ground his teeth together, brow furrowed, as his thumb hovered over the pay button on the Greyhound website. When he hesitated, he wanted to punch himself. He couldn't be a wuss, not over this, so under his breath he seethed, "Fuck you," and purchased the ticket for an overnight bus to San Diego.