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achilles-rage · 2 months ago

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Through the Window: Chapter One

summary: you grew up next door to the buckley’s, and despite being the same age as evan, you didn’t meet him until you were both 16 and you invited him into your house when he got locked out of his own late one night. it becomes a regular thing; him sneaking into your bedroom every night, because to him, anywhere is better than that house.

word count: 3.7k

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a/n: i am finally posting yay!! this could possibly be a new series, i’m not really sure yet. i don’t have any of it mapped out or anything, but this is an idea that i thought i’d post and see what y’all think. i kept it platonic because the characters are teenagers in this part, but it would be friends to lovers, with the next part picking up around the time of season one. anyway, please let me know if it’s something you’d be interested in!!<3

warnings: none, teenage!reader + teenage!buck (platonic), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

You think you see him everywhere. The face of the boy that you used to spend so many nights with. It’s never him, though, you know that for sure, because you haven’t seen him in almost ten years. And you’re sure that he still doesn’t have that same baby face that used to have girls swooning. Yourself included, although you’d never tell anyone that.

You fell out of touch when you both left Pennsylvania. As much as you didn’t want to leave him, you couldn’t turn down your dream of studying in your dream field, especially when the opportunity was at UCLA.

You wanted to keep in touch, but as the weeks went by, it felt more and more weird to reach out. You thought that he had probably forgotten all about you now that you weren’t right next door.

You were around five or six when you saw him for the first time; you knew there was a boy around your age living next door, but you never spoke to him. Your parents weren’t friends, so you never really had any reason to interact with each other.

You’d heard of him, of course, he was your next-door neighbour, and you weren’t a stranger to seeing him outside on his bike, or his skateboard, or climbing trees and getting hurt. You also weren’t a stranger to hearing the yelling coming from his house when his parents were home; it always seemed to be aimed at him, and although it never seemed to really bother him, you’re sure that it did.

It wasn’t until you were sixteen that you had actually met him.

It was late at night when you saw him trying to sneak back into his house through his bedroom window, but evidently, when he left through the front door earlier that night, he had forgotten to make sure he unlocked his bedroom window.

He could see the dull flicker of light coming from the living room and knew that his father was on the couch watching tv, as he quite often does when he can’t sleep, and knew that there was no way he could come back in through the front door.

He stood at the side of his house with his hands on his hips, mentally going over every single one of his, most likely dangerous, options; not that he cared if it meant not getting caught, when you opened your own bedroom window. He seemed harmless enough, and you didn’t want him to have to sleep outside, or be on the receiving end of another yelled lecture by his father.

It was probably a stupid idea if you were to think about it today; inviting a teenage boy into your room that you hardly knew while your parents slept in the next room, but you didn’t care. You didn’t want him to be uncomfortable, or get into further trouble with his parents, not when you could help it.

“Hey!” you whisper-yelled, your voice cutting through the quiet spring air and reaching Evan’s ears. He turned quickly, squinting and looking around until he saw you, illuminated by the lamp from your bedside table, and he raised a hand in an awkward wave.

You beckoned him over with a hand, and he crossed the lawn and was at your window in a second, his head tilted curiously to the side while his eyes studied your face. He knew who you were; your name, who your family was, but you had different friend groups, so your paths never crossed enough for him to learn any more. You had the upper hand in that regard; you knew his family, and who his friends were, and the fact that he was the football star at your school, but you were relatively invisible every day at school. Most of all to people like him.

“Locked out?” you ask with a soft smile as he leaned against the side of your house. He took a split second to let his eyes trail down your body, and then his eyes were back on your face. He’d never really looked at you, but right now, he found you pretty. You had a soft figure, and the warm light of your lamp made your plump cheeks and your kind eyes even more beautiful to him. At that moment, he wondered why he had never noticed you at school.

“The one part of my plan that I didn’t think through,” he said with a shrug. He was smiling at his own stupidity, but you could tell that he was slightly embarrassed, too.

Without another word, you stood back up straight and took a few steps back, allowing him enough room to get in through your window.

“You can sleep here tonight; go back early when he’s gone back to bed,” you told him, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to both shield yourself from the cool breeze coming in through the window, and to somehow make yourself look smaller. He’s on the football team, for god’s sake, you’re half sure that he’ll make up some excuse because you’re not one of the girls that anyone in his friend group seems to go for. Not that you were offering him anything more than the floor of your room and a pillow. But, still.

He looked at you like you’ve just said the most outlandish thing for a moment, his eyes still working to learn as much about you as he can as you stand there expectantly. Your crossed arms make it look like you’re angry with him, but there was also a gentleness in your eyes; it looks like you want to help him, so, finally, he climbed in through your window.

He almost toppled over on the way, his back foot catching on the window sill, but then he steadied himself, rose up to his full height and looked down at you.

He was taller than he looked from afar, and for a second, your eyes widened in surprise, but then you took a step back and turned to grab a pillow and blanket from your bed. Despite his brow raised in confusion, he took the pillow and blanket from your outstretched hands, his feet glued to the floor as he waited for your lead.

“What, are you gonna take the bed and make me sleep on the floor?” you asked sarcastically, a smile making its way onto your face as it finally dawned on him. Of course he wasn’t going to sleep in your bed with you. That would be weird.

You settled back into your bed while he took his shoes and hoodie off and then set up his pillow and blanket. When you saw how uncomfortable he looked, you sighed and threw the rest of your blankets at him, telling him to layer them under him so he’s not just sleeping on your carpet.

He did so without a word, and when you’re both finally settled, you turned off your lamp and let darkness surround you.

It helped to lessen the tension, at least, not that you were tired anymore. But all you could hear is your own breathing as you try not to focus on the boy laying on your floor. You’re not sure what came over you when you invited him in, but when you think about the yelling you’d no doubt hear if his parents found him trying to sneak in, and the reckless thing he’d decide to do that was sure to follow, you’re glad that you did. At least now you know that he’s safe, although you’re not sure why you care so much.

“Where do you go?” you asked softly after a few minutes of silence, Evan’s breathing being an indicator that he also wasn’t asleep yet.

“What?” he replied in a whisper, just barely able to hear your voice through the volume of his own thoughts. His eyes were travelling around your room, taking in all of your knick knacks and photos using the shred of light shining in from the street lamps lining the road outside your window.

“You sneak out a lot. Where do you go?” you clarified. He shrugged as he let out a long sigh, and then when he remembered that you can’t see him, he answered.

“Anywhere else. Sometimes I go to my friend's house. Sometimes I just walk around.” Your heart clenches in your chest at the idea of him walking around town in the middle of the night because his home, the place he’s supposed to be the most at ease, is so terrible.

“Why?” you heard yourself ask before you could stop the word from slipping out. You knew that it technically wasn’t your business, but you couldn’t help but be curious. You’d met his parents briefly, and nothing obvious stuck out to you that would make them so bad. They were teachers.

“Anything is better than that house,” he replied simply, his eyes frozen on the ceiling and his face lacking any emotion.

Your frown deepened, and you sat up on one of your elbows, then leaned over just enough so that you could see the outline of Evan’s face on your floor.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, and you could make out the movement of his eyes with what little light filters in from the street lights. His gaze met yours, and he shrugged again, although he felt his chest warm with the idea that you cared about him, even a little bit.

“It’s not your fault.”

You tilted your head to the side, your eyes softening further while your mouth hung open slightly as you tried to find the right words.

“I know, but-” you began, then sighed, shaking your head, “I’m sorry.” No other words felt right for the situation. It’s not like you could push any further; he didn’t seem to want to explain anything to you, so you left it at that. Because you were sorry. From what you’ve seen, he seemed like a good guy, and your chest felt tight as you thought about him having troubles at home so bad that they led to him having to sleep on a stranger's floor.

“Thanks,” he whispered after a moment, giving you a soft smile. He liked how you made him feel, and he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel safe in there with you, even if he was on the floor. He wondered if that was what it felt like to have people who actually care for you all the time, not just when you hurt yourself.

“Good night,” you whispered, returning the smile before laying back down.

“Good night.”

“Evan, you can’t keep breaking bones. Pretty soon you won’t be able to sneak out of your house and climb through my window,” you said with a quiet laugh when you saw the cast on his arm.

He’d been sneaking into your house for months, and while you weren’t actually mad at him, you wished that he would take better care of himself. You found a friend in him, as infuriating as he was sometimes, and you didn’t want to not hang out with him for a few weeks just because he did something stupid and got himself hurt.

You rolled your eyes when the somewhat defeated expression crossed his face and he gave you a shrug, and all you could do was shake your head.

“Why can’t you just let me in through the front door?” he asked, his lips turning into a playful pout.

“Because, my dad would kill you if he knew you were here,” you began with a raised brow, giving him a knowing look, “and I know you. You couldn’t be quiet even if your life depended on it.”

He laughed at your words, and raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck, then shrugged again, looking past you and into your room.

“Yeah, okay. Whatever. Let me in.”

You stepped to the side and let him climb through your window, his actions a little awkward with one unusable arm, but once he was in, he instantly felt better. And you did, too. He always felt so calm in your room, your four pale blue walls allowing him to feel a type of safety and love that he’d never felt under his parent’s roof before. Especially with his sister gone to Boston. Your presence helped, too, but he wasn’t ready to think about that. For all he knew, you were just being nice to him because you felt bad for him.

You both slept in your bed that night; you didn’t want to make him sleep on the floor with his broken arm, and you weren’t about to sleep on the floor, either.

You both laid on your sides facing each other, talking and laughing until sunrise, and although you regretted it a little bit when you had to go to school the next day without sleeping at all that night, you and Evan seemed closer after that.

He slept in your bed almost every night, which caused some fights when he rolled onto your side in the middle of the night and stole all of your blankets, but they were quickly forgotten in the morning when he snuck back out of your window and went back to his house. You enjoyed having him at your house so often, even if you barely interacted at school.

You had different friend groups, and it seemed weird to see each other outside of your bedroom, so neither of you ever bothered to try to interact at school. It made your friendship seem more special, anyway; it was something that was only for you two. Your conversations and the secrets you shared would never be heard by anyone else because you two were the only ones awake at two in the morning to hear them.

“I’m going to UCLA,” you whispered late one night, the only sound in your room being the soft sound of crickets coming in through your cracked window and you and Evan’s breathing as you lay facing each other in your bed.

“You’re what? Why?” he replied, sitting up on his elbow and looking down at you with furrowed brows. You furrowed your brows as well, sitting up and looking at him with a confused expression.

“Because we’re graduating in a couple months. I got into the program I told you about. It’s at UCLA,” you explained as if it was obvious, because for you, it was. That was always the plan, and he knew that.

“Oh, right. Congrats.” It was as if he deflated when he processed your words, sitting up beside you. Of course you were going to college. He just spent so long hoping that, for some reason, things would stay the same forever, that he had actually started to believe it.

“Thanks,” you replied, sitting up beside him and studying him as he looked down at his hands and fidgeted with them in his lap, “have you been to California?”

“Me? No- no, I haven’t,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes down. He couldn’t look at you. He was afraid that if he saw the sadness in his eyes, he’d have to talk about it, or worse, that you wouldn’t care. And he couldn’t handle the thought of you not caring about him as much as he thought you did.

“I’ve heard it gets, like, really hot in the summer there, way hotter than here. But I guess it’ll be okay if they don’t get snow in the winter,” you said, trying to lighten the mood as Evan lays back down beside you, now staring at the ceiling with his hands behind his head.

“Yeah. Yeah. That’s good,” he replied, although you could immediately see that he hadn’t registered a single thing that you had said.

“Evan?” you urged, leaning your head forward slightly in hopes of getting him to actually look at you.

“What?” He blinked quickly, taking any emotion out of his face. He tried not to think about not being able to see you. Not being able to spend time with you like this. It hurt.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly, your eyes full of guilt, and he hated it. It dawned on him then that he didn’t want to hold you back, as much as it sucked for him. He knew how important this was to you, and he didn’t want to make it all about him.

“I’m fine. All good,” he reassured you, clearing his throat as he shrugged your concern away. He tried to smile, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he kept his voice void of any emotion.

“You don’t seem fine. What’s going on?” you pressed as you noticed the way his brows furrowed just slightly. The good thing about being so close to him most nights is that you grew good at reading every little expression. That, and you learned that he’s never been that good at hiding his emotions, either way.

“It’ll just be weird not having you here,” he said simply, shrugging again.

Your heart clenched in your chest as he tried to brush the conversation off. You didn’t think he’d be this upset about it, and a small part of you wanted to tell him that you’d stay. For him. One of the only things holding you back here was him, and even though you knew it wouldn’t necessarily make a difference in your decision to leave other than making it harder, you wanted him to beg you to stay. To show you how much he cared.

“Well, aren’t you going to college, too?” you asked. Maybe if you talked about his plans, he’ll get excited too.

“Yeah, community college. 20 minutes away,” he said with a huff, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I just thought that with your parents, you’d-” you began, your lips turning down into a frown.

“Don’t apologize. I’m happy for you. I know how much you wanted to get into that program,” he tried to backtrack, shaking his head and looking back over at you, still sitting up beside him. He was happy for you, he really was, and he didn’t want to ruin things for you just because he’s an idiot.

“I did,” you said after a moment, looking deeply into his eyes, trying to show that you were upset about leaving him, too.

“I knew you would,” he said, finally giving you a small smile. You smiled back, nodding once before laying down and getting comfortable in your bed again.

Just like that, things were good between you two again. If you were leaving at the end of summer, you might as well enjoy the rest of these nights without fighting or thinking about it too hard.

“I’m leaving tomorrow morning,” you whispered late one night. Evan was right beside you, like always when it’s so late, but there was a heavy feeling in the air that neither of you had addressed yet.

“I know,” he whispered back, turning onto his side to face you. It had been on his mind all night, and for most of the week, but he didn’t want to talk about it.

“You can always come visit me. There’s lots of schools in California,” you said, trying to keep your voice light, but you knew that he could hear the sadness behind your words.

“I’m already enrolled here. I can’t just leave,” he told you, and you sighed, nodding once.

“I know,” you replied, unsure of what else to say.

“Will you ever come back here?” he asked after a moment of silence, his eyes big and hopeful as he took in your features in the near-darkness of your room.

“For holidays and stuff,” you said with a shrug. You could feel the lump in your throat growing as you looked into his sad eyes, and the way his lips turned down into a slight frown despite him trying to fight it.

“No, like, live here again,” he clarified, and all you could do was shrug again. You hadn’t even thought about it. All you could think about was the next four years of your life in UCLA, and all the hours you’d no doubt have to put in at the library, studying.

“I don’t know. I’ve never lived anywhere else,” you said after a moment. You were about to speak again when he cut you off, catching you off guard.

“I hope you don’t come back,” you furrowed your brows, confused by his sudden switch up, “You’re finally out. You shouldn’t ever come back. I wish I could get out.”

Your eyes softened, and finally, a tear fell down your cheek, but you quickly wiped it away before he could see it. You felt guilt eating at you, and for a split second, you thought about skipping out on UCLA. Staying here with him. He had slowly told you more about his home life; how his parents were there but not really there, how they yelled at him for any little thing, how the only thing holding him together was his sister, until she left. You didn’t want to leave him, too, but you weren’t sure what else to do.

“You can. What’s holding you here?” you finally asked, trying to keep your voice steady as the pit in your stomach grew.

“Nothing.” Not anymore, he thought. He didn’t know what he was going to do when you left, but he still had you there tonight, so he didn’t want to spend another minute talking about tomorrow.

So, you both let the silence envelope you until you finally fell asleep, finding what little comfort you could in the fact that for the night, you were both still under the same roof.

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achilles-rage · 2 months ago

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Through the Window: Chapter Two

summary: after years of no contact between you and evan, you both find yourselves in los angeles.

word count: 2.3k

previous chapter

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a/n: yay part two finally!! sorry it took so long!! there isn’t much interaction between buck and reader in this part, but it’s most definitely coming in the next one. if you remember that it was berkeley and not UCLA in the last chapter, then simply forget about it because berkeley is way further away from LA than i thought. anyway, enjoy<333

warnings: none, reader and buck’s ages range from 17/18-26ish in this chapter so they’re not minors, but it’s still platonic (for now lol), slow burn, eventual friends to lovers, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

You knew university would be hard, but you weren’t expecting it to be so difficult right from the first day of classes. The day you moved into your dorm room was spent unpacking and trying to make the room feel a little more like home; somewhere that was now so far away. Then, the next day, classes started. After spending an absurd amount of money on textbooks, you had to get to work immediately, and for the first few weeks you were so overwhelmed that all you did was go to class, study, and sleep.

You very rarely had free time, and when you did, you spent it trying to get to know your roommate better. If you had to live with her for the rest of the year, you might as well be friends with her.

You still thought about Evan; of course you did. There were often times, especially late at night when you were lying in bed, that you thought about him sneaking into your bedroom and staying up into the early hours of the morning talking about anything that crosses either of your minds, but you were often so exhausted that as soon as the thought came to your mind, you would drift off to sleep.

Slowly, you began to get more used to your busy schedule, and things became easier. That’s when you realized that Evan hadn’t called you once since you had left. It had been almost two months and he hadn’t reached out at all, despite both of you having each other’s number. Obviously, you didn’t reach out either because you were so busy, but for some reason, the fact that he hadn’t called filled you with sadness. It seemed like a sign; he didn’t care about you as much as you thought he did, as much as you cared about him. Suddenly, rather than thinking about picking up the phone and calling him yourself, you thought about the possibility that he didn’t want you to reach out either.

So, you didn’t call. You tried to busy yourself with your new friends in your program, and your roommate, but it didn’t feel the same. None of the friendships felt as deep as your friendship with Evan. You still waited for your phone to ring, and to see his name on the screen, but it didn’t happen, and eventually you had to force yourself to stop waiting.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to reach out; he desperately wanted to hear your voice, but when you left, he was filled with such a profound amount of sadness that he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

In his mind, he was stuck in his hometown and going to community college while you were out in the real world making new friends and following your dreams at a good school that he wouldn’t even be able to get into. The more he thought about it, the more worried he was about holding you back. And the longer he held off on calling you, the more he felt this feeling weighing on his chest. He hoped you would call first, just to show him that you didn’t actually think what his brain was telling him that you thought, but after weeks he still hadn’t heard from you, and he feared that his brain was right

So, rather than calling, he distracted himself with house parties, and by buying a motorcycle; which proved to cause more harm than good, but it helped numb the pain that he felt for a while; the loneliness that was eating him alive. For the months that you were gone, the adrenaline he felt was better than actually having to sit with his feelings.

When you finally came home for Christmas, you didn’t even see Evan. Most of your break consisted of visiting your hometown friends, and when you’d come and go from your house, the only proof that he still even lived in the house next door was that you would see his bedroom light shining through the cracks of his curtains when it got dark.

By this point, you were sure that you’d never talk to him again. But, despite this, you left your window unlocked every night that you were home, just in case. You would catch yourself waiting for him at night; lying in bed quietly and waiting for him to knock on your window, but nothing.

Evan made sure to stay in his house when he found out you were coming home for Christmas. He still felt that sadness and guilt eating at him, threatening to boil over when he thought about seeing you again. He wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly about the situation; it wasn’t like you were dating. You were just a friend, and by the way it ended so abruptly, it was clear that the friendship was never that strong to begin with, despite his best efforts.

Every night, he’d peek through the cracks in his curtains and look down at your dark window, fighting the growing urge to sneak out and go see you, but he always held back. You weren’t kids now, he thought, sneaking into your room and sleeping in your bed with you would be weird. Even though it had only been a matter of months since he’d last done it, it had suddenly become something that felt odd, and foreign, and so when you left in the new year, he had to work harder to cover up the aching pit in his stomach, the one in which he wasn’t sure the true source of.

Somehow, months turned into years, and you hadn’t talked to Evan since the day you left for university. You hadn’t even seen him in person, either. You planned on going home for the summer after your first year of university, but without Evan, it seemed less and less appealing, so you decided to stay in Los Angeles and start networking with people in your field, hoping that it would help with finding a job once you were finished school.

Maybe it was just a matter of circumstances, you thought, maybe you were only friends with him because you were neighbours, and now he doesn’t need you.

For the next few years, the only way you kept up with what he was doing was through his social media. Evidently, he had dropped out of college and begun to travel the world, and you were happy for him. You remember his words from the night before you left; “I wish I could get out.” You were proud of him for really doing it. Not many people from your small town ever left, and you were glad that Evan was spending his twenties doing something that you wished you could do.

You were happy for him when he got all the way down to Florida, and laughed when he moved away from the beach; which he clearly seemed to love, and went to Montana to be a ranch hand. You were jealous when he found his way to Peru, but most of all, your heart felt heavy being so far from him. You missed Evan, and seeing these pictures of him meeting people and finding out who he was without his parents to worry about filled you with a weird sense of pride knowing how far he’s come.

Evan kept tabs on you just as much as you did him, too. He saw how hard you were working on your dream; he was extremely proud of you when you saw how well you were doing in your program, and how many friends you were making, although, for some reason every time there was a man in a picture you posted, he felt a pit in his stomach that he couldn’t explain.

He found out that you had earned your Bachelors and Masters degrees and began your PhD program, sticking with UCLA. He saw how much you loved Los Angeles, and throughout his travels, his mind always went back to that city and what was in it. He couldn’t bring himself to go there for years; too scared of what could happen if he were to run into you, but it was always in the back of his head.

What could happen if his travels brought him there? Would he ever get you back?

Finally, he did move to LA, and the decision wasn’t because of you, at least not entirely. He’s always felt a strong desire to help people, and having people to call his family was something he’d been searching for his entire life, so when he decided to become a firefighter, LA just felt right. It is the best department in the country, right?

He had seen through social media that there was one coffee shop close to your campus that seemed to be your place of choice, and he also saw that one of your favourite places to spend your less busy weekends was the Santa Monica Pier, but still, he was too nervous to ever go to those places.

He had these scenarios made up in his head; multiple ways that it could go when he sees you for the first time in almost eight years, but he was afraid that it wouldn’t go like he hoped it would.

Maybe you’d make awkward small talk, and his heart would break when he finally realizes, for real this time, that he never meant that much to you, that you merely took pity on him rather than actually wanting to be his friend.

When his station got assigned to assist with fire drills at UCLA, he thought of you immediately, and the entire drive to the campus, he could hardly speak to anyone on his team. He felt like he was going to throw up.

What would happen if he saw you?

As soon as the engine pulled up to the campus and his feet hit the ground, he shut all of his thoughts about you out. He had a job to do, and he wasn’t going to let himself be distracted, even if it was just a drill and no one was in serious danger.

Him and his team made their way to their assigned building, and Bobby told him to take the third floor and make sure that there were no fire code violations while others checked the other floors.

He made his way up to the third floor, taking the steps two at a time in a desperate attempt to get the job done faster and get the hell out of there before he saw you, and when he got to the third floor, he made his way around the halls and classrooms, making sure the fire extinguishers were correctly placed and the fire exit signs were properly illuminated.

With his mind focused on the job at hand, he hardly even looked at the various students and faculty he passed, rather taking in his surroundings and making sure he didn’t miss anything.

Finally, he was on the last hallway of the third floor, which was filled with various labs. There were still students working in a few of the ones he passed, and rather than disturbing them, he merely looked through the glass windows looking in on each lab; taking a quick assessment of the space before moving on.

His heart clenched in his chest when he looked in on the second to last lab, and his body tensed while his feet felt suddenly glued to the floor.

You looked different; eight years will do that to a person, but you still looked like you. You still looked like the girl that he had spent so many nights with, shared so many secrets with.

He could hardly breathe as he took you in, letting his eyes travel up and down your body as you worked on whatever it was you were working on; Buck couldn’t even begin to guess what you were doing. He was glad that you were yet to notice him, but he was sure that he looked like he was going to throw up. Or pass out. Or both, probably.

You looked just like you did on your social media posts, but he caught himself thinking about how much prettier you looked in person. You had changed your hair since high school, and your style, and he loved it. He could see your curves under your jeans and your cropped knit sweater, and his mouth went dry as he studied you.

Finally, finally, you turned your head and your eyes met his. His own eyes snapped up to yours, and he saw the moment you realized who you were looking at. Your eyes widened ever so slightly, and your lips parted as you took him in. Your breath caught in your throat, he could tell even through the window that your chest had stopped moving briefly, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do.

What finally snapped him out of it was when he saw the smile he’d thought about so many times in the last eight years make its way onto your face, and he saw the distinct movement of your mouth, saying “Evan?” although he couldn’t hear you.

Finally, he smiled too, and he fought hard to ground himself while he watched you make your way towards him, your hand reaching out to open the door to the lab.

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