They were driving, fingers intertwined, resting on the center console. Tristan was squeezing a bit too hard on Miles's hand, and Miles basically had to pretend that Tristan was not crushing each and every bone. He finally sighed at the traffic light just beyond the theater, looking over to his now-brunette lover, with hope in his eyes that he'd loosen his grip when he glanced back.

"You're going to get that part, regardless." Tristan finally looked over. He loosened his grip, sensing that his boyfriend knew of the distress lingering. Not that it was any secret, it wouldn't take a genius or a Miles to figure that out, he'd been gripping on Miles's hand relentlessly until his knuckles turned white, was completely glistening-oh, sorry, glowing-with sweat, his hands clammy, walking stiffly, and it was all he would talk about since last month when the dates were put up.

Tristan scoffed, appreciating his boyfriend's confidence in him, but knowing it was nowhere near the truth. "You haven't seen the competition."

"And neither have you," Miles replied, before the light turned green once again. Tristan's breath hitched as he gave another bone-crushing squeeze to his boyfriend's hand. It hurt, but Miles let him, knowing that he was usually so gentle and composed. As Miles pulled up to the drop-off, he pulled Tristan in by the hand he was holding.

Tristan blushed intensely, trying to pull away, but Miles wouldn't let him. "You never know..."

"I know you can do this because you're you. You're no match for them, whoever they might be. I don't care if it's Leonardo DiCaprio in there, that you're going against." He pressed a soft kiss to Tristan's lips. Tristan smiled into it, pulling his other hand into Miles's hair.

"Thanks, but now you've just made me all the more nervous." Miles rolled his eyes.

"Stop being such a drama queen and get your ass in there." Tristan licked his lip before biting it to hide the smallest of smiles. It was one of Miles's favorite little things about him.

"Break a leg! You're gonna do great!" Miles called after him, causing Tristan to spin around and watch him as he walked backwards into the open door.

After driving for what seemed like hours, he finally found his way home. That'd be a bitch to do every weekend for the next couple of months, but he'd do it a million times for Tristan. He groaned tiredly as he entered the house, walking into the kitchen only to find his mother studying pamphlets, more than he would've anticipated, of some odd topic, he had no clue what. Her hair was tied up in a lazy bun, the bangs fallen out and tousled through. By the looks of it, she's been looking through for a while, with one to the side.

"Mom... what are all these?" Miles asked suspiciously, making her jump. She hadn't noticed when he walked in, or even, entered the house.

She reached out to hide them, but Miles was too fast in grabbing one from the table. It was his old boarding school on the cover, and the only thought that could coarse through his mind was utter hatred and disgust. She was looking back to sign him up for boarding school again. Hell, she probably already had applications in. He ran a palm over his face before staring back at her defeated expression.

"Why...?" He asked in a weak voice, weaker than intended. His mother sighed, throwing the pile that she was currently holding onto the table.

"You're reckless again, Miles. Your grades dropped from solid A's to C's to F's within a matter of weeks with the cause of absence to get high and drunk in the back pool. You and your father-"

Miles's expression became cold, dangerous. "Don't you dare, that is not my fault and you know it."

"I can place some of the blame on your recklessness, can't I?!" That caused Miles to quiet near instantly, like a small boy being scolded.

"I really, really tried to stay out of it, but this seems like the best option for you right now."

"Oh, god," Miles threw his head back in exasperation. "When have you ever done what's best for me?!"

She gave him a look of pure shock, as if she couldn't believe what her son was saying even if it was the solid truth.

"Miles!" She said, holding a hand to her chest.

"You probably already sent in an application, didn't you?" His voice broke. He couldn't leave this behind, and the thought that at some point he wanted to scared the absolute crap out of him now. He was doing better here than anywhere else, slowly raising his grades back up and going back to school.

"I was-I was going to wait for you, but-"

Miles held his hands up in defeat. "I can't believe you'd make that decision without me!"

"Well you certainly wouldn't have agreed."

"Exactly!"

"At least it's just in the states this time." As if that'd make him any happier. He'd still be thousands of miles from home, his home, away from everything, the progress... He ran a hand through his hair, ready to break down right then and there.

"So you're just going to keep me there until I'm 18 and actually, legally allowed to make decisions for myself, like you planned to do with Sweden?! So I don't have to be your fucking problem?!"

Before his mother could even answer, he'd stormed upstairs, burying his face in his pillow. Within a matter of minutes, it was soaked with tears, just as it had been when he was younger. Fuck, he felt pathetic. And fuck, there's nothing he could do except go. He wasn't sure how long he had, all he was sure of was the fact that it was nowhere near enough time.

He'd been unintentionally dodging Tristan since that night, every attempt to talk to him shot down in each and every way. Miles tried to play it off as "a family thing" but a family thing with him could be being grounded for breaking curfew for a couple or days or bruises in places he could hide. Tristan finally caught him at lunch and cornered him in an empty classroom when he tried to run. Miles absolutely hated being cornered, but he knew how unreasonable he'd been. When Miles moved to leave out the other door, Tristan snapped his head to him, shuffling towards him.

"Don't you even think about leaving when I haven't heard a word out of you for a week," Miles pursed his lips, gripping the desk behind him. Tristan's expression softened with a sharp roll of his eyes.

"I'm not going to interrogate you or anything. I just need to know you're alright. Your silence is one of the most terrifying things in the world."

Miles let his muscles relax just a bit. He wasn't ready just yet for a game of 20 questions. "Tris, I'm f-"

"If you were fine, you wouldn't be avoiding me at literally all costs." His tone shifted from annoyance to concern. He shuffled closer, making Miles nearly certain he was at his breaking point. Miles swallowed, ready to jerk his hand away when Tristan grabbed it.

"Tell me, what's wrong, Miles?" He was cut off by the bell. Tristan sighed, defeated. He was never going to actually figure out what was wrong at this rate.

"Just, we can talk after school, yeah?" Tristan nodded as they both rushed out of the empty classroom. It was just enough to make him content, but also to weigh on his mind in each and every one of his classes. Even while Zoe was gossiping, Tristan could barely hear. He was too busy worrying a little too much about his troublesome boyfriend.

"Oh, yeah! I got that part I wanted. Just letting you know." That weighed on Miles's heart. He knew how much this meant to him, yet he only had a week. His first performance started in two, and despite his attempts to postpone the date, he couldn't. A flight was already scheduled, a couple of bags hiding underneath his bed.

"That's great! I'm happy for you, Tris." And he really is, he's genuinely happy for his boyfriend, he knew he had more than what it took to get it, but his tone sounded exhausted, and he looked like he was about to cry. His eyes always turned a dark, deep shade of green, and glossier than usual, and his face would completely fall. Which it was in the process of doing, and Tristan caught it right away.

"Are you gonna tell me what's been weighing you down for the last week or are you gonna leave me in the dark? I really am worried, Miles. Please talk to me." Miles rolled over in the boy's lap, pressing his face into his thigh to keep from crying. Tristan tapped his chin, causing him to look up.

"Look, don't freak out or anything. I've already done a great enough job of that. I have to leave for a while."

Tristan gave him a concerned look, and then the pained, long anticipated question. "How long?" Miles cringed, his entire body curling up just slightly.

"Two years?" He said in a small voice.

Tristan's expression instantly iced over. Miles swallowed, moving off his lap. He knows he should've told him sooner, it would've been a lot easier. Now he only has a week left.

"Why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"I only knew since Sunday!" Miles tried defending himself, but that just pissed Tristan off more.

"You should've still told me!"

Miles sighed, bringing his voice down. He really didn't want to spend his last days for two years here fighting with him. "What could you have done? It'd just be a reminder that I'm leaving soon anyway."

Tristan hung his head. "Where?"

"Some boarding school in New York. It's called Sun State."

"They're sending you back to boarding school?!"

"I don't have a choice."

He brought his arm around Miles's shoulder.

"Sun State sounds fucking gloomy."

Tristan managed to crack a smile out of him. "Yeah, it really does."

Miles leaned his head on Tristan's shoulder, causing Tristan to hold him tighter.

"What are we gonna do?" The short-haired brunette asked quickly.

Miles hummed in response, looking up at him. "We could try long distance."

"Are you kidding? That never works out. There's always some kind of complication."

Miles tilted his head. "We haven't tried. We'll never know."

"You sure that's what you want?"

"If you want it too, then yeah, I'm pretty damn sure." Miles gave a faint, hopeful smile. Tristan sighed, before kissing his forehead. He couldn't let this go, the distance can't be the worst, right?

He'd really miss this, though. Both of them would.

Every day, for the rest of the week, they did something different, some things resulting in stupid situations, missed curfews, and fake IDs. They figured why the hell not, it was fun to make the most of the time while they had it. On Friday, they were lying on the couch, just cuddling and watching movies, enjoying each other's company. Feeling each other's warmth, bringing the other comfort, Tristan actually gave him one of his over-worn leather jackets which Miles refused to take off for two days (and is still wearing, as he's sitting at the airport gate, alone.)

(He promised to text Tristan, to tell him he had a safe flight.)

(He was in complete shock when he saw his familiar figure bounding towards him.)

He never exactly pegged Tristan as the run-in-your-arms-and-jump person, but that's exactly what he just did. Tristan's firm grip around Miles's neck wasn't moving, and it nearly knocked him over, but he didn't care, because once he had him, he had him in a basic death grip until seconds before the plane took off.

"I thought you weren't gonna come." Miles muttered.

"The director gave me hell for missing dress rehearsal, but I didn't care. I had to see you."

Miles sighed into his shoulder. It was going to be a hell of a lot harder to leave now.

"I'm gonna miss you. I'm really, really gonna fucking miss you." He breathed in Tristan's scent, burying his face in Tristan's neck.

"Hey, hey." He pulled away from Miles to cup his cheek. "You're coming back for Christmas. We'll have 10 days. It's not two years straight. You're not going forever."

Oh, but they'd have no idea. They'll be counting down the days soon enough, marking calendars, doing the cheesiest of things just to remember. Christmas wouldn't be coming soon enough.

"I know-" He was cut off by the intercom announcing that flight A14 was boarding, and surely enough, that's where they were standing. Miles pressed a longing kiss to Tristan's lips.

"Be safe. Text me when you're off the flight."

"I'd be scared to know what would happen if I didn't." Tristan nudged the other boy to join the line descending into the plane. He couldn't look back, though, for if he did, he'd do something stupid, like convince Tristan to run away to some remote location so they could stay together, or say something that'd linger, like 'I love you' Because that'd fucking linger, and what if it was an empty promise? He's already convinced he's going to screw up.

Once he'd gotten into his row, he sat down at the window. Thank god he was alone.

(Tristan watched him out the giant glass windows until the flight lifted off.)

(Miles looked for him. After they lifted off, he buried his face in his jacket until he fell asleep, feeling slightly warmer than he originally would've.)

(He wasn't taking this jacket off.)

(Immediately after they landed, Miles whipped out his phone and left just about 10 texts. Just to be extra safe.)