What do you do when you're given a second life?

A lot of things, apparently.

Take an exam you haven't studied for. Kiss the prettiest boy you know. Go home—because you can call it that now—and hug all your loved ones, who hug you back just as tight even though they don't remember you were ever gone. Help your foster dad cook dinner and watch a show with your little brother and try not to stare at him the entire time because how did he grow so much?

Kiss the prettiest boy you know. Hang posters on the walls and banish the duffel bag you've been keeping near the door to the back of the closet. Study. Go to the library. Find that you still work there and apologize for the days you've missed (you're instantly forgiven and even get your mug back).

Kiss the prettiest boy you know. Ride your motorcycle to the next big town to go shopping for prom. Duck into the bookstore and marvel at all the new-to-you releases. Lie very still in the middle of the night and feel your lungs expand and contract over and over as you breathe into the quiet, no ocean sounds at all.

Kiss the prettiest boy you know. Watch his last game, front row this time, and grin back at him when he waves with both hands. Go round to his best friends' house and find out you're shit at Fifa but not terrible at Just Dance. Laugh until your ribs hurt, and then some more.

Kiss the prettiest boy you know. Chop your hair to shoulder length on a whim and then have your foster mum fix it (you now have curtain bangs that get in the way more often than not. Your boyfriend takes to carrying hair clips in his backpack for when you inevitably get irritated with them. Your hair now feels seventy percent less dead, but he still chuckles every time he gets his hands in it, which, astonishingly, is often).

Stand in front of the mirror and study the silver in your nose, feeling something bittersweet. Look at university websites and calculate distances, then convert them into hours (Four hours is so far, Ollie.) (We've conquered death, you big baby. I think we can conquer a train ride.). Kiss the prettiest boy you know.

Look up, and find yourself in July.

Oliver doesn't know where June went; it seems to have stolen away, quick as a thief, and taken with it the last of his fears. In the beginning, he kept glancing suspiciously up at the sky, turning that one line from King Henry—Why, thou owest god a death—over in his head as he waited for some kind of celestial reckoning to reclaim him once and for all.

But the other shoe never dropped. Days turned into weeks turned into a month, and Oliver's existential dread slowly returned to its baseline level (which, given his disposition, is of course still high. These days, he tries to subscribe more to carpe diem and not exclusively to memento mori.)

Despite the shift in mindset, his style remains as it has always been. It's possible that it grows even more Victorian-vampire-haunting-an-abandoned-castle-esque, now that he has access to more than three articles of clothing and a few traded accessories.

Exhibit A: his prom outfit.

Finn's jaw drops when he first spots Oliver outside the crowded school gym. Oliver himself feels a little short of breath watching him approach. Whether that's because of the suit Finn is wearing (a deep midnight blue; Oliver helped him pick it out, for once making a strong case against classic black) or because of the corset restricting Oliver's airflow is uncertain.

He had Gabby help him lace it, which took up a good deal of their afternoon. It's worth it though, he thinks. He's wearing it over a black lace blouse with a high collar and a dark green skirt that cuts off a few inches above his platform boots. His hair, he's pinned up, letting only his curtain bangs frame his face.

"You look so beautiful," is the first thing Finn tells him, sounding faintly breathless.

Cheeks warm, Oliver informs him: "You look better in a suit when you're not wearing a moustache."

"Are you trying to tell me my Halloween costume looked stupid?" asks Finn.

"Maybe."

"You still kissed me."

"That, I did," Oliver confirms.

Finn looks like he isn't sure whether to be pleased or affronted. Before he can settle on either, a hand taps his arm and he turns to face his mother.

"We have to take a photo of you two!" is the first thing she says. Over Finn's shoulder, she catches Oliver's eyes and offers him that same warm smile that Finn always wears. "My, Oliver, don't you look stunning!"

"Thank you, Mrs. O'Connell," Oliver politely says. "You look lovely as well."

She blushes, much to Finn's horror, and ushers them into position in front of the gym. Finn wraps an arm around Oliver's waist and together they grin at his mum's phone camera for what has to be the blurriest, least flattering photo of the evening.

As they pose, Oliver can practically feel the happiness rolling off of Finn. Two months ago, seeing his mum here wouldn't have been imaginable. Now, a few therapy appointments and some (real, professional) exposure later, she's slowly venturing out into the world again. She's likely not going to stay long tonight, but that's okay. Progress is progress, and Finn is nothing if not understanding.

Sliding her phone into her purse, Mrs. O'Connell nods at the door to the gym. "Shall we go inside, then?"

Finn nods. While Oliver slips inside with Gabby, Daniel and Arthur O'Connell talk about whatever it is that dads talk about. Behind him, Oliver can hear Finn and his mum speaking in hushed, faintly accented voices. "If it's too much, just say the word. Really, even if it's just for a breather. I know how stressful these things are."

"Yes, Finnie. Quit fussing over me. This night is supposed to be about you!"

"I know." A pause. "I'm really glad you're here, Mum."

Arm interlaced with Gabby's, Oliver smiles softly at nothing in particular.

Inside, the gym is just as he expected it to be: hot, crowded, a vision in blue balloons and crepe. It is just like every cheesy prom scene in a teen movie. Oliver is secretly charmed but makes a valiant effort to hide it.

The rest of the event is similarly predictable. There are speeches, a buffet, an award ceremony where Oliver wins best dressed—a plot twist that Finn assures him is in no correlation with his bullying the entire football team into voting for Oliver—, and finally, dancing.

Gabby pulls him onto the dance floor as a slower song comes on. They've made a deal before this: she will keep the crying to a minimum (mostly so Oliver doesn't cry; he is wearing half a pound of make-up) if in turn Oliver dances with her for one song.

Oliver slips his hand into hers. "I thought we were going to do The Time Of My Life. Didn't you say you've always wanted to do the Dirty Dancing pose?"

Gabby laughs, mischief in her eyes as she glances around the crowd. Behind her, Finn and Kavi are engaged in a slow dance that seems to involve more foot stomping than actual waltzing. "If we were really brave, we would do the Dirty Dancing pose right now to—what's that, Ed Sheeran?"

"Sure is." Oliver snorts a laugh and gives her a small spin.

For a moment, they simply waltz, slightly off-beat and thoroughly content. They practiced this dance in the kitchen last night in preparation for the event while Daniel whirled Milo across the hardwood floor. Both are memories that Oliver knows he's going to cradle close to him in the coming months. Tiny sepia-tinted souvenirs to add to his growing collection.

As if reading his mind, Gabby says: "I can't believe you're moving out in a few weeks. It feels like just yesterday that I picked you up at the station. And look at you now." She blinks a few times, determined to adhere to their no-crying-policy. "I'm so proud of you, Oliver. And so thankful for every day I get to watch you grow up."

Now, Oliver is the one who's fighting back tears. "Gabby," he scolds, strangled. "You can't just say these things and expect me to be fine."

"Sorry, sorry." She laughs wetly. "Gosh, that scowl you've always had down."

"This is just my face," says Oliver, sobbing discreetly into her shoulder when she pulls him into a hug.

One song turns into three. Eventually, Finn pops up next to them, cheeks flushed and hair ruffled as he beams at them. Oliver will never understand how he managed to get this sunshine boy to fall for him, but he is not going to question the universe on this one. "Hey," Finn shouts over the music. "The boys want to go back to James's for the afterparty. Do you want to come with or are we staying a bit longer?"

We. Oliver smiles. "I'm ready to go if you are."

"Have fun, you two," Gabby says. She presses a kiss to Oliver's cheek and gives Finn a hug, and then they're off, winding their way to the exit.

The night air that hits them is warm, carrying with it the heady smell of summer. Oliver's fingers thread through Finn's with ease, leading him back to where he parked Lucretia.

"Tonight was really nice," he says.

"Is really nice," Finn corrects him. "'s not over yet. I still get to watch you go down in Fifa."

"I cannot believe that this is how I've ended up," Oliver mildly laments.

Finn's grin holds no small amount of pride. "I can."

"Next step is getting you to read a play in full, and then our merging into one entity is basically complete."

Reaching Lucretia, Oliver crouches to retrieve the two helmets he's hidden beneath a conveniently-placed bush. A few weeks ago, after Finn expressed tentative interest in riding on Oliver's bike for the first time, they picked one up for him—Oliver has learned not to take any chances, and it felt like a solid long-term investment.

Finn stands obediently still in anticipation of Oliver putting it on for him, but Oliver has other plans. With the two helmets dangling from one hand, he lifts the other to cradle Finn's chin as he kisses him gently on the mouth.

Bemused, Finn blinks his eyes open. "What was that for?"

"Nothing," Oliver lies, bumping their foreheads together.

He presses another kiss to Finn's cheek, leaving a dark purple lipstick stain that neither of them bothers to wipe off, before he lifts the helmet. Finn peers up at him the entire time as Oliver carefully puts it on for him and tightens the strap under his chin. He's more than capable of doing it himself, but Oliver likes the quiet intimacy of this part, the new routine they've fallen into together.

"All done," he says and watches with a small flutter in his stomach as Finn easily swings himself onto the seat of his bike.

Fastening his own helmet, Oliver rucks up his skirt and gets on in front of him, feeling Finn's warmth at his back. Months ago, the idea of parading around Blissby with Finn O'Connell on his bike seemed utterly unthinkable; now, he feels Finn's arms around him and all he can think is that this is the easiest thing in the world.

He gives a small squeeze to Finn's knee as he waits for the next part of their ritual.

"Contacts in?" Finn asks.

"Yessir."

Finn shifts a little behind him. For just a moment, his palm rests right over Oliver's heart. It kicks in response, ecstatic to prove that it can beat again, and keeps pounding merrily as Finn hooks his chin over Oliver's shoulder. "Off we go," he murmurs in a charming little sing-song.

Off they go.

Behind them, the muffled music fades in the distance as they leave their school behind for possibly the last time. Ahead of them, the sleepy streets of Blissby stretch like a maze. In Oliver's mind, a dozen bitter-sweet quotes befitting the moment are clamouring for attention, but he gently ushers them back into the part of his long-term memory from which they've escaped. He's had enough of tragedies for now. This time, he's not going to look for villains or for fatal flaws; he's had his fall and his catharsis and everything in between.

All the world may be a stage, but the play is still a work in progress, and Oliver Sallow finally knows better than to wait for someone else to pick up the quill.

What do you do when you're given a second life? his brain questions again.

With Finn folded against his spine and the summer air grazing his bare legs, the answer comes impossibly easy.

You do what you should've done the first time around. You live it.

***************************

the end :,)

this book means. a lot to me. starting out, i knew that it was going to be a challenge to write, 1) because of the dual timelines and 2) because the premise is, objectively, whack. i am so glad i still decided to give it a shot, and so grateful to all of you for embracing the chaos and my boys!

i want to hear everything: what was your favourite scene/chapter? do you have a favourite character?

while i was uploading this book, it gained even more significance for me. a friend i've known for almost 12 years died in a car crash six weeks ago, which honestly feels a bit like horrible irony. continuing to edit and post this book felt oddly cathartic; if i could've, i would've written a happy ending for her as well ❤️

thank you guys so much for being here and reading until the very end. like i mentioned before, i have decided to write a bonus chapter—except it turned into a mini-series consisting of several parts, which means that you will get at least 4 more updates lol. surprise! for a sneak peek and title reveal, make sure you subscribe to my newsletter (link in bio)-- i think it's such a cute concept and can't wait to share it with you starting next friday! <3