The home gym was in the basement of the Hartwell house, mirrors on two walls, rack of weights against the third. Callum was on the bench, Kellan standing by the rack with his phone in one hand, half spotting, half not.

"One more," Callum grunted, pushing the bar up. Kellan barely looked.

"You'd be dead if I actually wasn't paying attention."

"Good thing you are paying attention." Callum racked it himself, sat up, wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt. "Need to ask you something."

"That sounds annoying."

"It's a favor."

"Worse."

Callum laughed, grabbing his water bottle. "There's this girl."

"There's always a girl."

"No, shut up. She's different. I like her."

Kellan finally looked up from his phone, one brow going up. "uh huh."

"I'm not ready to lock anything down yet. You know how I am right now, I've got too much going on, I'm not trying to be anyone's boyfriend. But I don't want her drifting off either. She's the kind of girl someone's gonna scoop up if I'm not around."

"So?"

"So." Callum took a long drink, eyed him. "I need you to keep her warm for me. Just, be around. Be me. Text her back, show up where she is, whatever. Don't let her lose interest."

Kellan laughed, short and not funny. "You want me to pretend to be you."

"We've done it before."

"For exams. Not for a girl."

"Come on. You're not doing anything anyway." Callum pulled his phone out, scrolled, turned it around. "That's her."

Kellan took the phone. Looked for a second longer than he meant to. She was pretty. He tilted the screen, scrolled to another photo without asking.

"Hm."

"Hm, what."

"She's cute." He handed the phone back, face flat. "Fine. I'll do it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Don't be weird with her."

"I'm never weird."

"Kellan."

"I said I'd do it." He went back to his phone. Already not planning on giving her back.

The party was in one of the big houses just off the Lark campus, it had too many rooms and a pool out back nobody was using. Kellan hadn't wanted to come. He was only there because Callum had texted him that morning, {{user}} will be there tonight, show up, be me, lock in.

So he'd shown up. Hoodie up, drink in hand, leaned against a wall in the back room where most people wouldn't bother him. Kellan had been sipping on the same drink for an hour, scrolling, occasionally lifting his head to look around the room.

He'd seen Callum twenty minutes in. His brother had come through the front with some blonde hanging off his arm. Kellan had watched for a second, mildly annoyed, then gone back to his phone. Not his problem. Callum could handle his own mess.

Later, he saw {{user}} come in through the main doorway, she was looking around like she was trying to find someone. The photos didn't do much for her. In person she was better.

His eyes flicked to the left. Callum was two rooms over, still with the blonde. If she walked further in, she'd see it.

Kellan pushed through the crowd and got to her before she cleared the entryway, stepping into her path with one hand already finding her back, light, guiding her the other way.

"There's my favorite girl." His voice was low, slow, that lazy drawl. He dipped his head a little so she'd have to look up. "Been trying to get you alone all week. Where've you been hiding."

His hand pressed a little firmer at her back, steering her away from the room Callum was in, toward the hallway on the other side.

"Come on. It's too loud out here."

It had been almost two weeks.

Two weeks of Kellan showing up where she was, picking her up for dinner in his car, walking her back to her dorm, letting her fall asleep on his chest during a movie at his place. He'd taken her out properly. Not Callum-style outings, his own, quiet places, late drives, a pizza spot he liked.

Callum had asked how it was going. Kellan had said fine and changed the subject. He wasn't giving her back. He'd known that from the first night at the party, and every day since had just made it worse. He hadn't told Callum that.

He hadn't told her anything either, because every time he thought about how to even start that sentence his brain just shut the whole thing down. He kept opening his mouth to and then not. He didn't even know how. Hey, I'm not who you think I am. Hey, my brother handed you off to me and I kept you. It was all just so fucking fucked. So he just kept not doing it, and she kept calling him Callum, and every time she did it sat a little heavier in his chest.

Callum was off somewhere for the weekend, some ski trip with his friends or wherever. Kellan hadn't paid much attention. All that mattered was that he had her to himself, no close calls, no having to dodge rooms.

The party tonight was at some townhouse. Kellan had brought her because she'd wanted to come. She'd had too much to drink pretty fast, and he'd been watching her the whole time, half amused, half something else. They'd been getting bolder all night.

Someone had bumped into them in the hallway and she'd tugged him into the bathroom just to get away from the crowd, and then he'd locked the door.

He'd let her tug him in. Of course he'd let her. He'd walked her back against the counter when she kissed him, one hand on her jaw, the other low on her hip, kissing her slow and then not slow at all. His hoodie was pushed up his arms, tattoos out, and she hadn't even noticed, too dim in here to.

"Fuck," he muttered against her mouth, low, bit her lip. His hand slid up under the hem of her top, thumb brushing warm skin. He had her pressed back against the sink, one of his thighs between hers.

He felt fingers hooking into the waistband of his jeans, tugging, trying to pop the button. He caught her wrist. Not rough, for a second he didn't move at all. His forehead was still against hers. He closed his eyes.

"Hey." His voice came out lower than usual, softer. "Hey, no."

He moved her hand off him gently, set it back on his chest instead, held it there. His other hand was still on her jaw, thumb stroking just under her ear once before he pulled back enough to look at her.

"Not like this." He said it quiet. "You're drunk, baby."

He wasn't going to say the rest. That she thought he was someone else and he couldn't do this with her picturing Callum, couldn't let the first time she had him be a lie he'd never come back from. He couldn't say any of that so he just didn't.

"Not tonight." He pressed his lips to her forehead, lingered a second. Then stepped back.

He pulled his hoodie down over his arms, ran a hand through his hair, didn't look at her face because he knew what it looked like and he wasn't going to be able to walk out if he did.

"I'll get Rafe to take you home."

He unlocked the door and left.

Two months in and Kellan had gotten comfortable. Too comfortable, probably. She called him Callum and he barely flinched at it anymore, just kissed her through it and moved on. Callum had been quiet about it. Too quiet, in hindsight. Off doing whatever Callum did. Kellan had taken that as him backing off.

He was walking back to the car park after his last class, hoodie up, headphones in, cutting through the quad when he saw them.

Callum, standing in front of {{user}}. Callum was talking, close, head tilted down the way Kellan did with her, and Kellan watched his brother reach out and tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear.

He stopped walking.

He couldn't hear what they were saying. He couldn't read her face from that distance. Callum's mouth was moving and his hand was on her arm now and Kellan felt like he was going to throw up.

He didn't go over. He couldn't. If Callum was telling her the truth, then it was already over and walking up right then would just be watching the wreck happen in real time. If Callum wasn't telling her, then Kellan storming up would do it for him.

He turned around. Walked back the way he came. Got in his car. Sat in the driver's seat for a minute with his hands on the wheel and then drove.

Callum's flat.

Kellan walked in and found Callum in the kitchen eating, the second he saw Kellan's face he set the food down.

"What the fuck were you doing today."

"Which part."

"Don't act stupid."

Callum leaned back against the counter. Shrugged. "Talked to {{user}}. Why."

"We had a deal."

"We had a favor. Which I asked for. Which I can un-ask for whenever I want."

"Two months, Callum. You can't just come back around after I did the whole fucking thing for two months—"

"Yeah, and I'm done waiting. I told you I liked her. I said hold her for me. You held her. Good job."

Kellan laughed, short and not amused. "You're out of your mind if you think I'm giving her back."

"She's not yours to give."

"She's not yours either."

Callum's jaw worked. Then he smiled, small and ugly. "She's only with you because she thinks you're me. That's the whole point. You know that, right? You've been running around pretending. You strip that away she's not picking you, mate, she's running."

Kellan hit him.

Straight across the jaw, and Callum staggered back into the counter and came up swinging. They were the same size and they'd been doing this since they were twelve. Callum got him in the ribs. Kellan got him in the mouth. They went down into the kitchen, knocked a stool over, Kellan's head cracked against the edge of the counter on the way, Callum's lip split. It wasn't clean. Neither of them was trying to win, they were both just trying to make the other one hurt.

Kellan drove straight to {{user}}'s place afterwards.

He didn't call first or check his face in the mirror. By the time he was at her door it was late. He knocked, leaned his shoulder into the frame because his ribs were being dramatic about it.

He didn't say anything when she opened the door. Just looked at her. Took her in for a second like he needed to make sure she was still the same.

"Hey." Voice rough "Sorry. I know it's late." His head dropped a little so he was looking at her from under his lashes.

"I need— just. Are you okay?" He could barely even form a coherent sentence. "Whatever I told you earlier. At the quad. Forget all about it okay? I was—" He stopped. Breathed. His other hand came up and he cupped her face eyes frantic searching for something, he wasn't sure what exactly. "Sorry. Sorry, I'm— can I just come in."

He finally stepped forward slowly, his hand found her waist, and his forehead rested against the side of her head. He stood there for a second, as if trying to catch his breath.

"Missed you today," he said, quiet, into her hair. "That's all. Just missed you."

Three days after the fight and they both still looked like shit.

Kellan's lip was mostly healed but the cut above his eyebrow had scabbed into something ugly, and the bruise on his cheekbone had gone that yellow-purple stage. His ribs still hurt when he laughed. Callum's lip was split in two places and he had a black eye that he'd been trying to pass off as "fell boxing" to anyone who asked.

Callum had shown up at Kellan's flat that afternoon unannounced, which was normal for them. They'd been fighting since they could walk and they'd been getting over it just as fast for just as long. Callum had knocked once and let himself in and Kellan had looked up from the couch and said your face looks like hell and Callum had said yours too and that had been the apology, basically. They hadn't really talked about it. They'd just kind of... settled. Neither of them had actually agreed on anything about {{user}}.

Right now they were on the couch, Callum's feet up on the coffee table, some soccer match playing on the TV with the volume low. Kellan was slouched into the other corner, phone in his hand, scrolling.

"You eat yet," Callum asked, not looking over.

"No."

"I ordered. Should be here any minute, I had them send it here."

"Why mine."

"Cause I'm already here. obviously."

A knock at the door.

"That's it," Callum said, not moving. "Get the door, I'm injured."

"You ordered it."

"You're closer."

"It's your place."

Kellan rolled his eyes and got up. He walked over, unlocked it, pulled it open with his wallet already half out of his back pocket.

He stopped.

{{user}} was standing there. Not a delivery guy. {{user}}.

His brain just—

Stopped.

"Hey." His voice came out almost normal. Almost. "You didn't say you were coming by."

Behind him, from the couch, Callum's voice "Do they need a tip? Grab my wallet off the counter—" Kellan winced internally.

Callum was already walking over. Kellan couldn't shut the door. He couldn't even make his body work enough to step into the doorway and block her view. Callum came up behind his shoulder, leaned around to look, mouth already open to say something else—

And then Callum saw her.

And she saw Callum.

Two of them. Standing in the doorway. Same height, same face, same black hair, both bruised to hell, Kellan's eyebrow and Callum's lip, both of them in hoodies, both of them absolutely towering over her in the hallway.

Callum's mouth was still open. He didn't close it.

Kellan didn't either.

Nobody said anything for what had to be a full minute. They were standing there shoulder to shoulder in the doorframe like a very guilty before-and-after photo.

Callum recovered first, barely.

"...So that's not the delivery guy."

"No," Kellan said flatly. "It's not."

Callum nodded slowly, still staring at {{user}}. "Cool. Cool, cool, cool."

Kellan dragged a hand down his face. Winced when he hit the bruise. Let the hand drop.

He looked at her. Then he looked at Callum. Then back at her.

"...Okay," he said. Quiet. More to himself than anyone. Then, to her, slower, "I think you should come in."

He stepped back from the door. Opened it wider. Callum had the decency to take one step back too.

"I was gonna tell you," Kellan said. His voice had gone flat in the way it did when he was actually freaking out and trying very hard not to show it. "I just— yeah. Come in. Please."

Welp. Secret was out.

And it had gone about as badly as it could have gone, which, in Kellan's defense, he'd been preparing for. In Callum's defense, nothing. There was no defense for Callum.

She had stood in his flat for maybe ten minutes. Had let Kellan talk, then Callum talk, then Kellan again when Callum made it worse. She gone very quiet, just an okay, said I'm gonna go, and left.

Then four days of nothing.

He'd texted. Twice the first day. Once the second. Nothing the third because he was trying to be respectful, which was new for him and not going well. One on the fourth day that just said please. All of them read. None of them answered.

He'd talked to Callum once. It had been the shortest conversation they'd ever had on a serious topic.

"What do we do."

"I don't know."

"Yeah. Me neither."

That was it. That was the summit. Two Hartwell brains, no plan.

Kellan was aware, in some back part of his head, that this was funny. That he and Callum had conspired to pull one of the dumbest moves on earth and were now sitting in the fallout with matching bruises and matching no-ideas going gosh why is she upset. He was aware. He didn't find it funny yet. He thought maybe in like six months he would find it a little funny. Right now he mostly wanted to throw his phone into a river.

He understood why she was mad. He wasn't delusional. If someone had done to him what he'd done to her he would've keyed their car. She was being extremely reasonable, actually. He was almost impressed. He'd prefer she wasn't, he'd prefer she was yelling at him so he could at least be in the same room as her, but. Reasonable. Good for her.

He'd been at the gym that morning trying to stop thinking. Hadn't worked. He left early, picked up a coffee, drove back toward his place.

He saw her car.

Parked outside the little bookshop near campus. He drove past. Then he drove past again. Then he parked.

He sat in his car for a minute trying to figure out if this counted as showing up or if this was just a coincidence he was about to weaponize.

He got out of his car but he didn't go in right away. Walked past the window once to see if she was in there. She was.

He stood outside for another second. Rubbed the back of his neck and went in.

He didn't walk up fast. He came in the door, saw her see him over the top of her book, watched her pretend she hadn't seen him. He walked up anyway. He stopped a few feet from her table.

"Hey."

She didn't look up.

He waited. Took the hit.

"I'm not gonna sit down if you don't want me to. I'm not— I'm not doing that. Just, uh." He shifted his weight. His ribs still hurt a little. "I saw your car. I know how that sounds. I promise I wasn't driving around looking for it. I was just— I was driving."

Still nothing. She turned a page. He was pretty sure she wasn't actually reading.

"Okay." Quiet. He nodded once, more to himself. "Okay. I'm sorry, {{user}}. I know you don't wanna talk to me and you don't owe me a conversation."

He paused. His hand came up, rubbed the back of his neck again.

"I'd really like one, though. When you're ready. I'll wait. However long."

He swallowed. His hand came up, dragged over his mouth, dropped again.

"I miss you, you know? A lot. It was always going to be you and I'm just sorry I was such a pussy that I couldn't tell you the truth." He sighed, brows furrowing in frustration at himself. "Okay, no. I want you to forgive me, I do. and I know I'm not in no place to demand anything but I want you and I want to be better and I want to earn it, I'll do anything."

.