The first thing Chris felt when he woke up was the ghost of Ash’s voice.

It clung to him, soft and low, like the warmth that lingers after a dream you don’t want to leave. For a moment he stayed frozen in bed, covers tangled at his waist, replaying it over and over — the chuckle, the teasing, the way Ash had said “sooner than you think” like a promise. His chest tightened at the memory, both comforting and unbearable at once.

He rolled onto his side and reached for his phone. No new notifications. Just Ash’s name glowing at the top of his recent calls, as if taunting him. His thumb hovered over it, itching to press, but he didn’t. Last night had stretched past midnight. Ash was probably still asleep. Still, that didn’t stop the ache that pressed against his ribs, the kind that made him wish time could bend, fast-forward, anything, just so he could see him again.

Dragging himself upright, Chris rubbed at his face and glanced at the desk by his window. College brochures lay scattered across it, bright covers advertising futures he wasn’t sure he wanted. His mom had highlighted dates on the calendar pinned above: application deadlines, move-in schedules, scholarship meetings. It all felt unreal — like life was sprinting ahead and daring him to keep up.

“Chris! Breakfast!” his mom’s voice floated up the stairs.

“I’m coming!” he called back, though he wasn’t ready to leave the cocoon of his room.

Downstairs, the house was alive with the sounds of morning. His dad was in the kitchen, half-humming and half-reading the newspaper. His mom plated scrambled eggs, moving with practiced ease. And Lila sat at the table, legs swinging as she buttered her toast with way too much focus for someone who’d already smeared more on her fingers than the bread.

“Morning,” Chris muttered as he slid into a chair.

Lila looked up at him with wide eyes. “You were smiling in your sleep.”

Chris blinked. “What?”

She shrugged, mouth full of toast. “I went to the bathroom and your door was open. You were all”—she scrunched her face into an exaggerated grin, eyes squeezed shut—“like this.”

His mom chuckled softly but didn’t comment, just set a plate in front of him. His dad’s newspaper rustled. Lila giggled at her own impression and went back to battling her toast.

Chris shoved eggs around with his fork, his face warm. “I don’t smile in my sleep.”

“You did last night,” Lila said matter-of-factly, crumbs on her chin.

“Eat up,” their dad said mildly, though Chris caught the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth — the closest thing to a laugh he’d allow before coffee.

Breakfast passed in the familiar rhythm of clinking forks and easy conversation. His mom reminded him about scholarship essays. His dad asked if he’d given any more thought to majors. Chris gave the safest answers he could, but his mind wasn’t on deadlines or majors. It was upstairs, glowing on his phone screen, tied to the one person who made all the uncertainty feel bearable.

When he finally slipped back into his room, he shut the door and let out a long breath. He leaned against it, eyes falling to his desk where the brochures waited like an accusation. His phone buzzed, and his heart leapt before he even saw the screen.

One new message.

Ash: Morning, sleepyhead.

Chris sank onto his bed, smile tugging at his lips before he could stop it. His fingers moved fast, almost too fast.

Chris: Took you long enough. Thought you forgot about me.

The typing bubble appeared immediately, then disappeared, then appeared again. Chris’s pulse quickened with every flicker of it.

When Ash’s reply finally came through, it was simple.

Ash: Forget you? Not possible.

Chris fell back against the mattress, clutching the phone to his chest like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground.

For a little while, everything else — deadlines, applications, even the uncertainty of tomorrow — faded. There was only this moment, and the promise of someone who made it all feel less terrifying.

Chris stared at the screen for a moment longer, Ash’s words settling into him like warmth spreading through cold water.

He typed quickly.

Chris: What’re you doing up this early anyway?

Ash: Couldn’t sleep. Plus I had to make sure you didn’t forget me overnight.

Chris rolled his eyes, though the smile on his face betrayed him.

Chris: I literally talked to you for three hours yesterday.

Ash: And yet it still wasn’t enough.

Chris paused, the heat crawling up the back of his neck. He set the phone down for a second, pressing his palms over his face. Why did Ash have to say things like that so easily? It was unfair.

When he picked the phone back up, he decided to steer things safer.

Chris: Mom’s already on me about applications again. She’s acting like if I don’t fill them out this second the whole world will end. 

Ash replied almost immediately.

Ash: She’s just excited. Which ones are you looking at?

Chris sighed, staring at the brochures scattered across his desk. He began typing, fingers moving slower this time.

Chris: I know my parents want me to apply to Northridge and Hillcrest. Solid schools, good programs, close enough to home. I was thinking about Dalton too… maybe Brookewood. I don’t know.

There was a pause. Three dots blinked, vanished, then blinked again.

Ash: Don’t wanna come to mine?

Chris froze. His heart jumped into his throat, eyes glued to the message like he’d misread it. He read it again. And again.

His fingers fumbled as he typed back.

Chris: Wait… you’d actually want me to?

A second later:

Ash: Chris. Of course I want you to. Why wouldn’t I?

Chris’s chest tightened, and he sat back, staring at the words until his vision blurred. He’d never let himself imagine it seriously — being in the same place, at the same school, not just stealing weekends or breaks but whole days, weeks, months together. The thought was dizzying.

Chris: I just didn’t think…

Ash: You didn’t think I’d want you there? C’mon. You’re kinda the only person I want around.

Chris bit his lip, overwhelmed, unable to come up with a clever reply. His mind scrambled for words, but all he could do was type what was pounding loudest in his chest.

Chris: You mean that?

Ash: Every word. Picture this — you and me, same campus, late-night walks, sneaking food from the dining hall, me stealing your hoodies every day…

Chris laughed under his breath, the sound shaky but real. He could see it so clearly it almost hurt.

Chris: You’d get sick of me in a week.

Ash: Never happening.

Chris’s smile lingered even as his eyes stung. It was terrifying — the future pressing in, deadlines looming, the unknown stretching wide ahead of him. But for the first time, it didn’t feel impossible. Not if Ash was in it.

He set the phone down beside him and leaned back against his pillows, staring at the ceiling with a heart that wouldn’t calm down.

Maybe this was the first time he realized just how much he wanted that future too.

Chris’s thumbs hovered over his screen, rereading Ash’s words. Of course I want you to come. His chest buzzed warm, a little too full, like the sentence itself wrapped around him. He typed back slowly.

Chris: you’re serious?? like actually?? 

Ash’s reply came almost instantly.

Ash: dead serious. i mean… it’d be crazy having you around.

Ash: not just for me, but i think you’d love it here too.

Chris sank deeper into his pillow, biting down on a smile. Not just for me. His heart flipped.

Chris: …you just made things harder for me. my mom is already pushing for schools closer to home.

Chris: and nick keeps saying dalton’s a no-brainer.

Ash: yeah but your heart’s gotta pick too, not just everyone else.

Chris exhaled, staring at the ceiling, his phone lighting his face in the dimness of his room. That was exactly what he needed to hear, and somehow Ash always knew how to cut right to the truth.

Chris: …i’ll think about it.

Ash: good. that’s all i’m asking.

A pause. Then another bubble popped up.

Ash: btw, i should tell you something.

Chris: ?

Ash: i’ll be home in two weeks.

Chris blinked hard, his phone nearly slipping from his hand.

Chris: wait—WHAT

Ash: lol don’t freak out

Ash: yeah, i figured i’d tell you before i just show up at your door.

Chris’s stomach tumbled, half panic, half joy. Two weeks. That wasn’t long at all. Suddenly the SATs, the applications, the late-night doubts—they all blurred behind the fact that Ash would actually be here.

Chris: …you could’ve led with that 😭

Ash: nah, this way’s more fun.

Chris pressed his face into his pillow, muffling the grin stretching across his cheeks. Sleep wouldn’t come easy tonight—not with Ash’s words replaying over and over.