PROLOGUE

"If you have to hurt me, hurt me once. If you have to end it, get it done. You have all these choices, I have none. You're all that I have to lose. Couldn't hurt you if I wanted to. I decided on you."
~Ben Platt, 'Hurt Me Once'

~~~

Rainwater rolls down porcelain skin, mixing in with salty tears that drip from emerald eyes. His blonde hair, completely drenched, sticks every which way to his forehead. August Parker knows he looks like a mess, but he can't find the strength within himself to care.

The tapping of water against the hard studio floor fills the nearly deafening silence. After all, is there a silence worse than when a boy pleads with the one he loves, and has to wait in agony for a response?

As he waits for Griffin Ortiz to respond to his confession, August's mind races to things that shouldn't matter right now. Like how they're both missing their joint graduation party with all of their friends. Or how the rainwater pooling from August's soaked clothes might ruin the hardwood floors of the music studio.

The performing arts university they just graduated from will probably heavily fine August for any damages the water might cause to the floor, but yet again, that is one of those things that shouldn't matter right now. Because what truly matters is Griffin, standing ten feet away from him, clutching a rolled-up aux chord tight enough to turn his knuckles white, and the painful silence that continues to stretch out.

"Griffin, please," August chokes out, his voice shaky and lacking its usual confidence. "Say something, huh? Anything."

Lifting his head, Griffin looks at the person who was supposed to be his best-friend-slash-fuck-buddy, and nothing more. When the two started hooking up several months ago, they very clearly agreed to not expect more than friendship. Griffin had kept up his end of the deal, and is left with a flurry of complicated emotions over hearing that his best friend hasn't done the same.

"What do you expect me to say to that?" Griffin questions so lowly that August nearly misses it over the sound of dripping rainwater. "Honestly, August. What the hell is going through your mind right now?"

The back pocket of August's faded jeans vibrates, an indication that someone is trying to call him. August ignores it, swallowing thickly to keep another rush of tears from pouring down.

"I just..." August stammers.

"You just what?" Griffin cuts him off. "Dammit, August! Why now? Why did you have to pick today to do this, when you know I'm leaving for grad school soon?"

"But that's why!" August says hurriedly, flinching when he feels his phone vibrating again. "I didn't want you to leave without knowing how I feel! I wanted to give this a shot before it was too late. I wanted—"

"What about what I want?" Griffin interrupts him once again.

When August falls silent, Griffin mutters under his breath — something in Spanish that August can't understand. Frustrated, he runs a hand through his dark, disheveled hair. August's own hand twitches as he recalls running his fingers through his best friend's silky locks during their many late-night dorm visits.

"What I want," Griffin continues lowly, "is to wrap up things here and focus on getting my master's degree in Music Production. You know, exactly what I've planned on doing since we both started school here four years ago."

"Am I on the list of things you need to wrap up?" August questions with an edge of bitterness in his tone. "The last thing you need to toss out before moving onto grad school?"

The look Griffin gives him makes August suddenly feel very unbalanced. Dark eyes filled with hurt and disbelief, as if August's accusation is the most offensive thing he's ever heard.

"If you think for a second," Griffin spits out harshly, "that you are anything less than the most important person in my life, then you're a lot fucking dumber than you look."

August's heart thuds painfully in his chest. "Then...?"

"August, there's a big difference between loving someone, and being in love with someone. And I... I'm just not in love with you."

And there it is. An answer so crystal-clear that August almost wants to laugh. Of course, Griffin isn't in love with him. After these thrilling months of sneaking around when the rest of their friends weren't looking, gentle caresses that left August weak in the knees, and soft words whispered against his ears during the dead of night after everyone else had gone to sleep... Yeah, why on earth would any of that lead August to believe Griffin might actually return his feelings?

"Could've fooled me," August says with an empty laugh. He sniffles, wiping his wet eyes with the back of his hand. "Sorry that I misinterpreted things, I guess."

Seeing his childhood best friend cry, Griffin's chest feels heavy as he drops the aux chord on the studio floor, taking a step towards the blonde. He stops short when he hears the sound of something vibrating, and looks expectantly at August.

"Aren't you going to get that?" Griffin asks, knowing that's the third time August's phone has gone off in the past few minutes.

Without bothering to check the caller ID, August shakes his head. It's probably just Myles Kalili, another one of his close friends, wondering why he's not at the graduation party being hosted at Myles's apartment located across from the university.

"So, is that it?" August questions. "I pour my heart out to you, and you're not even willing to give this a chance?"

"We had an agreement, Aug! We weren't supposed to give this a chance! Fuck buddies don't usually become anything more than fuck buddies."

"Fuck buddies don't usually start out as best friends, but we've proved that wrong, didn't we? Besides, having you seen a single romcom movie? Friends- with-benefits always fall in love in the movies."

"This isn't a fucking movie," Griffin snaps. "I'm sorry if you were expecting me to sweep you off your feet and live happily ever after, or whatever the hell happens in those fairytales you watch. I'm moving across the country for grad school. You're staying here because I know how excited you were to get offered a spot in the ballet chorus of.. that opera place I can never remember the name of. This isn't the time for either of us to be pursuing anything more than what we currently have."

The rejection feels so final that August's chest becomes heavy with the suffocating weight of it. His best friend, who August has been in love with for years before they even started hooking up, has made it abundantly clear that he is not in love with August, and never will be.

"I see," August whispers, his voice so small and fragile. The tears push forward without permission, making Griffin's heart crack at the sight. He wants to comfort the blonde, but what can he possibly say? He refuses to make empty promises designed to temporarily ease his friend's pain. That would be more cruel than just killing this little crush now.

Without another word, August forces himself turn away, stumbling out of the music studio. Griffin watches him leave, crouching down with a heavy sigh to pick up the discarded aux chord. His own phone chimes with a text from his older brother, Holden.

H: where are u? ur missing the party!

Holden Ortiz graduated two years ago with his Music Business degree. The only reason he's even at the party tonight is because his partner, Elliot Choi, just graduated with his Vocal Performance degree. Griffin nearly dismisses the text, but changes his mind when he decides alcohol sounds really appealing right now.

G: omw. dibs on the whiskey

***

August stumbles from the third floor of the university's rehearsal building to the second floor. The third floor is where the recording studios are, since it's the top floor and they wouldn't have to worry about the sounds of feet stomping over their heads while recording music. It's one of the many places Griffin and August used to sneak into after drinking a bit too much, and weren't willing to wait to get back to the dorms before ripping each other's clothes off.

As he stomps down the hallway of the second floor, August shivers and wraps his arms around himself. The AC in the building is blowing cool air, making him hyper-aware that his clothes are still damp from the rain. After being rejected, August feels unbelievably stupid that he ran through the rain just to have his heart broken.

His steps slow when he passes by his favorite room on campus; the dance studio where he would practice for hours on end, uninterrupted. August has never taken anyone here, leaving this room the one place on campus not tainted with memories of Griffin; memories of August being so stupid as to fall in love with his best friend.

Grabbing the silver door handle, August is pleasantly surprised to find the room unlocked. He slips in, quietly closing the door behind him. The darkness in the room is oddly comforting, with only the light from the moon shining in through the window. Leaving the lights off, August crosses the studio to where the sound equipment is set up. He grabs the first CD he finds and selects a random track. Music fills the empty space of the studio, making August's shoulders relax.

Slipping off his wet shoes, August brings himself to the center of the room, facing the large mirror covering the entire front wall. He closes his eyes, feeling the beat from the stereo vibrate through the floor, pulsing into the bare soles of his feet. Then, he lets the music carry his body, pouring everything he's feeling into the dance.

It's difficult to move freely in wet jeans, but August makes it work while he twirls and contorts his body, as if he's merely an extension of the music. Through dancing, August allows himself to just feel. To feel the love he's carried for Griffin since they first started college, when Griffin beat up a sophomore who harassed August for being transgender. To feel the painful embarrassment of saying 'I love you' to a boy who made it very clear that he does not love August back. To feel the regret for ruining his friendship with Griffin, because there's no way they'll be able to resume a normal friendship after tonight. August closes his eyes, and dances, and feels.

By the end of the song, August's heart is pounding as he returns back to earth. Dancing has always been therapeutic for him. He took it up when he first learned how to walk, and has been twirling every since. August's mom is an operatic soprano and ballet dancer, and August has strived to be just like her one day. Well, except for the singing part, because August can't carry a tune to save his life. Dancing has brought the two closer together; it's when August feels the most connected to his mom.

With the music dying out, August can hear his phone vibrating again. Rolling his eyes, August prepares to tell Myles that he's not coming to the party, but freezes when the caller ID flashes the name of his younger brother instead.

"October?" August says into the receiver. His brother shouts over the line, spouting off too much information, much too rapidly. August feels his blood run cold. He tightly grips his phone, using his free hand to cover his mouth when he feels the bile threatening to rise up.

Dropping his phone on the ground, August rushes out of the studio. Barefoot and dizzy, the dancer runs through the pouring rain to the first person his heart automatically carries him to.

***

Griffin downs another shot, grunting as the whiskey burns his throat. His cheeks are flushed from drinking, and his mouth way too loose.

"I'm just saying," Griffin says loudly, and with a slight slur, "what's the point in even saying that shit to me, ya know? We both knew going into this that we weren't, like, gonna get married or anything. So why would he go and fuck up a good thing? Ya know?"

Sitting across from Griffin in the living room, with loud music thumping through the apartment, Holden exchanges a glance with his partner, Elliot. Neither of them had heard about Griffin's fling with August until now.

"Ya know?" Griffin repeats, louder this time. Elliot squirms in his spot under Griffin's drunken stare, realizing his boyfriend's brother is actually waiting for an answer.

"Griff, maybe we should talk about this later," Elliot suggests, glancing at their many peers who have been eyeing them since Griffin first started on his drunken rant.

Griffin waves him off. "Nah, I wanna talk about this now. And why not? August got to talk about his feelings when I didn't want to hear that shit, so now it's my turn to talk!"

"Griffin," Holden says firmly. "Let's leave. You can crash at my place tonight. Come on."

He tugs on Griffin's arm, but the latter pushes his brother away. After briefly stumbling from the intoxication, Griffin stands up tall and shouts over the music.

"I said it's my turn!" Griffin yells drunkenly. The other party goers in the room stop their conversations, standing in awkward silence as Griffin causes a scene.

"Hey... what's going on here?" Myles, the one throwing this train-wreck of a party, lets out a strained chuckle. "Griff, man, I think you've had too much to drink."

"Did he tell you?" Griffin shouts at Myles. "I bet he told you everything. In fact, I bet you knew all along."

Furrowing his brows, Myles crosses his tattooed arms over his broad chest. "What are you talking about? You're drunk."

Griffin laughs humorlessly. "August! I'm talking about August. About how he's in love with me or some shit. Can you believe that? August thought we could date or something. Stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard."

He lifts his nearly-gone whiskey to his lips, but a hand materializes over the glass to stop him. Myles's heterochromic blue and green eyes stare down Griffin in a silent warning. Blinking twice, Griffin's lips stretch into a grin.

"Oh... oh, I see," Griffin says, amused. "Now that I'm out of the picture, you get to be his best friend, huh? What, you gonna fuck him, too?"

A resounding slap silences all conversation. Only the music dares to make a peep as Griffin touches his stinging cheek in shock. August, drenched and barefoot, glares at Griffin with tears angrily streaming down his cheeks.

"Bastard," August growls. "Fucking bastard."

Myles, Elliot, and Holden watch the scene unfold between the pair, completely frozen and at a loss of what to do. Griffin stares blankly at August, stunned and speechless.

"I trusted you," August says, his voice shaking with anger. "I said what I did earlier because I fucking trusted you. And what? You not only tell our entire fucking class," he shouts, waving his arms to gesture around the room, "but you mock how I feel? Fuck you, Griffin."

"August," Griffin manages to choke out, but the rest gets caught in his throat from the look of pure hatred in his former best friend's eyes.

August takes a step back, averting his gaze to a random wall as he clenches his fists. It takes everything he has not to punch Griffin in the face, right here, right now.

"I only came here," August starts slowly, "because my mom was in an accident and... and you were the only person I wanted to see."

Griffin sucks in a sharp breath. June was in an accident?

"But, now..." August shakes his head. "Now, looking at you makes me feel like I'm going to puke, so... Myles? Can you drive me to the hospital so I can see my family?"

Nodding his head, Myles wraps an arm around the trembling boy's shoulders and starts to lead him out of the apartment. Myles announces loudly that the party is over, as if every single person there didn't just witness that entire, painfully awkward conversation. As the two head for the door, Griffin hurries over on wobbly legs.

"Wait, Aug, let me come with you. Your mom, she's like family to me," Griffin says before adding, "And so are you."

"No," August responds immediately, his tone cold and foreign. "She's my family. You? You're dead to me."

~~~