Prelude

~ One Week After Graduation ~

"Remember the first time you brought me here?"

Tristan asked, collecting the large Chompy Chicken cup that Miles was trying to hand to him from the driver's' side. He took one long sip of the cold Coke before securing the cup between his knees, drying the condensation that had collected on his palms off on the leg of his sweatpants. Normally he wasn't a fan of soft drinks. But it was already nearing 24 hours since he'd last slept, and he desperately needed that caffeine boost to keep him alive.

Miles smiled at him with a slight laugh. His face was just barely visible in the darkness, illuminated mostly by the blue and white "Open 24-Hours" sign blinking above the closed drive-thru window. He began to dig through two paper bags in his lap, both sporting the same mildly disturbing image of a cartoon rooster eating a chicken sandwich on the front. That was typical Miles. He always had to check that everything in the bags was correct before he drove off. Because Heaven forbid he end up with Honey Barbecue sauce instead of the Original kind, or they forget his second side of onion rings. Tristan used to think it was obnoxious. But he knew that next time he found himself indulging in a fast-food run alone, he was going to miss it.

"Yeah, when I took you out for 'The Best Wings in Town' and you tried to order water and a salad?"

Miles recounted the memory with a shake of his head, remembering how shocked and nearly insulted he'd felt that day. The feelings must have shown on his face, for Tristan rolled his eyes with a laugh as he leaned back against the passenger seat headrest.

"Hey, if I had known that these so-called 'Best Wings in Town' were like, fifteen hundred calories, I never would have come." He argued, and although that was true then, his tone about it now was nothing but playful.

"Yeah, but aren't you glad you did?" Miles questioned curiously, pulling a large yellow carton out of the bag and popping open the lid. "If you hadn't you never would have experienced the pure joy of these Garlic Parmesan Wings."

Just like that he had one of the wings in between his fingers, and was dangling it tauntingly in front of Tristan's face. The other boy's blue eyes nearly glazed over at the sight, giving his answer for him before he leaned up and snatched the morsel from Miles' grip with his teeth. They laughed together as Miles handed over the rest of Tristan's order and took off, balancing his own between his legs as he drove. The late time made the roads almost empty, leaving them with the comfort of being able to sing along - poorly and loudly - to Tristan's Spotify playlist without the odd stares from passersby. They kept the windows down as they sped down the 401, letting the slightly-chilled air whip their hairs in every direction. Every so often Tristan would lean over to feed Miles an onion ring or give him a sip of the drink. They were having so much fun that Tristan had completely forgotten where they were headed until Siri interrupted the chorus of "My Neck, My Back" to instruct Miles to exit on Dixon Road towards the Toronto-Pearson Airport.

"I cannot believe you're choosing to fly commercial when your family owns a private jet."

Tristan commented, mostly because he felt he had to say something in acknowledgement of what was happening. Miles snorted, his dark eyebrows rising high atop his crinkled forehead.

"Yeah, well, when I made the arrangements I didn't think it would be Chewy accompanying me." Miles argued with a shake of his head, his voice clinging to what little laughter the situation could dig up. "And, uh...it would have been a little awkward trying to join the Mile High Club when the pilot's known me since I was in diapers."

"Oh."

That was all Tristan could say, for the embarrassment that swept over him seemed to swipe all other vocabulary from his repertoire. The reminder of what could have been turned his pale cheeks a bright shade of pink. He took another deliberate sip of their drink, hoping the ice-cold cola could return his body temperature back to normal, and let his gaze fall out the window. To think that this night could have been so different...that he could have been the one following Miles to Europe...reliving Paris as they'd always imagined… The headlights of other cars pulling into the lot became blurred through his misty eyes. And when Miles parked the car and reached over to brush his hand against Tristan's, as tender and loving as his touch had always been, it was still so normal that Tristan had to fight the natural response to intertwine their fingers and tell him he loved him. Because he still did. Even though they broke up and it was ultimately for the better, Tristan still loved him just as much as he ever had. At that moment, he wasn't sure he'd ever stop.

"Hey…" Miles' soft voice called for his attention. Tristan blinked back his few tears before turning to face him, smiling faintly as their eyes met. "I had a great time with you this week."

He had kept his word about wanting to spend whatever time he had left before he took off for Europe with Tristan. In the past seven days they made enough memories to last them both another lifetime.

"Ditto." Tristan agreed, smile widening to show his whitened teeth. And although the threat of tears were still burning at his eyes, it was the truth. "I still can't believe we finished four seasons of Friends in a week."

"Yeah, well, I still can't believe how badly you kicked my ass at wheelchair basketball."

"That was payback for ruining my popcorn!" Tristan announced confidently, sending them both into another round of laughter at the memory of Miles setting off the smoke alarm the weekend before and filling his house with the stench of burnt kernels and dill spice for hours.

"I call for a rematch." Miles decided, latching onto Tristan's confidence and holding out his hand for a confirming shake. "When I come back for Christmas. Just you and me, one-on-one."

"It's a deal." Tristan agreed, going in for a shake to seal-the-deal but pulling his hand away at the last second. "But! When I win, again, we are going shopping and completely eliminating the color blue from your wardrobe."

"Alright fine. But, when I win, you have to play Call of Duty with me for a full day. With no complaints."

So they shook on it, letting their hands clasp together one final time and linger just a little too long for comfort. They both looked away as they pulled apart, neither knowing what they should say or where they should go from there. It was Miles who finally broke the silence after several long, uncomfortable minutes. He unbuckled his seatbelt and cleared his throat, flipping over to his side to get a better look at the raven-haired boy beside him.

"You know, it's uh...it's not too late. Just say the word and we ditch Chewy, throw you over my shoulder, and run for it…"

He started, but Tristan shook his head. With a shaky sigh he turned back Miles, teeth digging into his bottom lip.

"I can't." He whispered, gaze glued to the leather seat underneath the brunette's twisted frame. "This is...what we've decided is for the best."

He paused then, swallowing deep as he forced his eyes to reconnect with Miles'. In that moment he chose to take everything in, for what would be their last moment alone together before their lives went in separate ways. When Miles returned in the winter he'd be a college student. He'd be a citizen of a whole other country. He'd have lived in hostels and a dorm and would have all new stories about the places he'd been and people he'd met. He could have a new haircut...or maybe even a new lover. Tristan never wanted to forget the familiarity of the eyes staring back at him - two orbs of chocolate brown glazed over with a jumble of opposing emotions. He never wanted to forget the way the little hairs stuck out around his hairline or the deep creases that formed around his mouth when he smiled, or the way his adam's apple visibly quivered in his throat as he simply nodded - not saying a word although he clearly wanted to.

"Have you ever heard that saying?" Tristan continued, sitting up a little straighter and losing his morose whisper. "I think it goes like…'if you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't, it was never meant to be'?..."

Tristan's voice trailed off, completing his thoughts with nothing more than a shrug. But the implication was clear enough for Miles to understand. There was still hope. Maybe not today or tomorrow. But maybe next year. Or after college. Or maybe even ten years from then. There was still hope.

They walked in silence from through the parking lot, the only sounds to be heard coming from Tristan's walker and Miles' suitcase against the pavement. Miles was taken back by the number of familiar faces staring back at him when the large, automatic doors to the entrance slid open. Of course, he had invited all his friends to see him off. But he hadn't actually expected any of them to show. Yet, there they were. All waiting beside his siblings, mother, and Chewy. All shooting him the same exhausted death-glare as he stepped inside.

"About time." Jonah sighed, to which Grace chimed in from beside him.

"Yeah, we thought you went awol."

"There you are!" His mother announced in her expected dramatic fashion, throwing her hands down as she hurried over to assist with his things. "Where the hell were you? I texted and called."

"Sorry. I, uh, couldn't leave the country without one last stop at my second home." He explained, lifting up the Chompy Chicken bag clutched in his free hand to be met with a series of groans and rolling eyes.

"Well, you better make the goodbyes quick. We've still gotta get through customs." Chewy scolded, clearly annoyed at his counterpart but knowing better than to expect anything less.

His mother was first. She breathed him in with thin arms wrapped tightly around his frame, crystal eyes already brimming with tears. With a rattled voice she reminded him of all the typical motherly duties: Avoid conversing with strangers. Remember to change his underwear every day - and not to just flip it inside out to tack an extra day on. Do drink lots of water. Don't drink the "punch" at frat parties. Metal never belongs in the microwave. Condoms are not as expensive as childcare. Call her as soon as he landed. And, of course, that she loved him.

Although Diana did cry she remained predictably composed. Though the same could not be said for her daughter, who nearly knocked her oldest brother down to the linoleum floor with her body weight against his. She could only sob and he held her as she did, one hand stroking through her slept-on brown locks while the other remained steady around her waist. Words weren't needed to make it clear she hadn't truly thought through the situation at hand until that very moment. Before then, the idea of her brother moving almost 6,000 km away was just talk. Mostly talk that consisted of how happy she was to be getting his (bigger) bedroom, and that there would be one less obnoxious boy to stink up the bathroom or hog the good TV with stupid video games. But now, it was reality. The reality that her brother's trip to London was not just for the summer, and didn't come with a return ticket home in two months like Winston's.

A shared look between Miles and Hunter lead to the youngest Hollingsworth boy peeling Frankie off their other brother's body and pulling her into his own. His free hand went out for a shake, but Miles used it to pull him in for his own slightly awkward yet completely necessary embrace. It didn't last nearly as long or consist of nearly as many emotions, just a reminder that he had to take care of himself, and to look after their mom and sister. Miles dug into his pocket before stepping away, pulling out the set of car keys he'd used to get himself there and handing them over to Hunter confidently.

Although he knew Zoë was there more for Tristan's moral support than for Miles or herself, he still couldn't let her get away without an obligatory hug and a promise that she'd get Tristan back to the rehab center safely that night. She squeezed him tightly before letting go, seeing him off with a reminder that she was always available in case he needed to write a biography on an ex-teen-star turned valedictorian. He gave one last thanks to those who helped him on the play - Grace, Jonah, Rasha, and Lola - insisting on a group hug before assuring his leading ladies and faithful techies that there hadn't been anyone else he'd rather have shared the experience with. He thanked them for everything, making sure to give Lola's shoulder a knowing squeeze when he said it. Maya told him not to do anything outrageous in London, and he assured her he made no promises before she threw her arms around his shoulders for a final hug.

His last goodbye was waiting for him with tired, blue eyes forced awake and teeth anxiously gnawing away at the straw to the empty Chompy Chicken cup. Miles began to fidget with his fingers, slipping something into his hand and using the other to pull Tristan's closer to him. He placed a small, cold object in Tristan's palm firmly before pushing the boy's fingers in to make a closed fist. Tristan re-opened as soon as Miles let go, revealing Miles' class ring. It was a stunning piece of jewelry - a pure gold band with a big, blue stone in the middle, the words "Degrassi Class of 2017" etched into the sides. It had to have cost a fortune, at least.

"Miles…" Tristan breathed, unsure of the appropriate response in the heat of the moment. "I...I can't take this…"

"Please." Miles ushered, shoving Tristan's hands away when the boy tried to return it back to Miles' palm. "Like you said. If it's meant to be then it'll come back to me."

Then they embraced. For how long, neither really knew for sure. All around them people made small talk and tried not to stare but they were clueless, letting themselves get wrapped up in each other one last time. They left each other without another word. No goodbye. No "I love you". But still the feeling that somehow, in some way, their story was far from over...