On the train ride home, the clock stops ticking.

Something about traveling back home from University makes time seem like a faraway concept inside my head, like it's afraid to exist in the same realm as the blend of sounds around me — the low rumble of the enclosed space, the click-clack on the rail, the wind howling outside, and the occasional train horn that swallows all the other noises upon its arrival and spits them back out when it leaves.

On the train ride home, the detachment always returns.

It's easier to look over when I'm talking about the difference between spiral and elliptical galaxies, and it's easier to look over when Meera is sitting opposite me and pretending like she doesn't know who I am when I start making fish puns to get a rise out of her. It is, though, not easy to look over when I'm staring out the window with my head lolled back in my seat and Taylor Swift crooning in my earplug about how this is her trying.

The train comes to a screeching halt, and people whose clocks are still ticking make their way out. The next station is mine, and my world will yet again paint itself in pointed silence the same second my shoes touch the platform.

Being in familiar people's company, I think, is like floating alongside debris. Because the second I'm on my own, I crash back to Earth like I'm meant to.

Outside, the sky is a mesmeric medley of uncountable shades of orange and pink, but only after a split second of awe, my eyes fall back on the pavement.

I refuse to pull the earplug out on my way back to the apartment, and if I indiscreetly pretend that it's because leaving a song mid-listen keeps it stuck inside my head for the rest of the day and not because I'm too big of a coward to be alone with my thoughts just yet, it's not like there's anyone around to question me.

The walk back to a cold, empty apartment is every bit dreadful today as it is every day, but having a place so close to the train station has always been convenient. Because spending money on cab fare is... one of my least favorite things to do. To put it mildly.

By the time I've made it to the building and am waiting by the elevator, I've almost, almost managed to convince myself that this is fine. This is actually not that bad... is it? Because once I get inside, I'd be able to shed not only my coat but also the weight of the world off my shoulders even if it's just for a little while. Even if my subconscious is screaming at me about how I'll wake up tomorrow morning and move around the house with these rocks stacked upon my chest all over again while wondering if this is how it's always going to be.

If this is how I'm going to be living for the rest of my life.

The thought leaves a new kind of dread pooling in my stomach, and it slowly starts making its way up to my throat at the same pace that the elevator does to my floor.

Before the thoughts can reach their final destination, though, the elevator does and I hurriedly unlock the door and make my way inside. My fingers fumble for the switches not just because it's dark, but because there's a hint of desperation in my actions now; the fear that I'd freefall into that mindset again and not be able to snap myself out of it.

As soon as the living room lights up, though, I forget all about my fears and let out a terrified shriek for completely different reasons.

There's a man sitting on one of the stools, hunched over the kitchen counter.

It takes me half a second to realize who it is, and my back touches the closed door in defeat, eyes squeezing close for a second and knees going a little weak when my body sags in relief. "River," I groan miserably, feeling my heart pounding against my ribs when I press a hand to my chest. "What the hell?"

He raises his head slowly, like he didn't just almost scare my entire skeleton straight out of my flesh, and stares blankly into space. Then even slower, he says "Sky." A deep breath. Then he promptly buries his face in his hands, curly hair flopping forward in a way that would have made me snort if he didn't look so out of it. His words are muffled when he finally says, "I don't think I can do this."

All the jokes and jabs that had made their way to my brain in retaliation for the panic he caused me dissipate into thin air at the sheer helplessness dripping from his voice.

"What the hell," I repeat, prying myself off the door and making my way over to where he's sitting "is going on?" When he just shakes his head without letting me see the expression on his face, my eyebrows furrow in concern, hand involuntarily reaching out to splay on his back so I can rub comforting circles between his shoulder blades like he has done for me a million times. "Riv. Hey. Look at me."

He does tip his head back but it's with a heavy sigh, like the action took a great deal of effort to accomplish and I almost, almost roll my eyes at his antics then. I hold back, though, because I don't know what he's so immensely stressed about that it brought him back here after a week of silence.

Our last interaction before this had been his: Yes. Love you text to my: If there's any way I can help, please let me know. We haven't talked to each other since, but it's okay. We've always been okay that way. We've always been okay in every way.

"What if this is a mistake, Sky?" he asks, and for a second I'm so startled by how small his voice sounds that I just blink down at him owlishly.

"What?"

"Just... this. Everything." When he ducks his head and presses it to my belly like a child in dire need of comfort, I step closer and shift my arm from his back so it's wrapped around his shoulders instead. Then in a voice so low that I wouldn't have heard him if I wasn't standing so close, he adds, "Y'know. Marriage."

My body goes rigid with alarm. "Hey now —"

"I'm just..." he starts again and pulls away to look up at me with his eyes barely visible behind his messy hair. My other hand instinctively reaches out to brush the curly locks back, and the naked insecurity on his face looks so cold and unfamiliar that my eyebrows furrow in some more concern. "What if it doesn't work out?" The protest makes its way to the tip of my tongue in a millisecond, but I bite it back because I know he has more to say. If I don't let him get this all out, I think, trying to school my expression into one of patience even though my insides are a whirlwind of emotions, He might freak out about it later.

Who knows if there'd be anyone with him when he does?

"I feel like I'm just gonna mess everything up and it's... it's scary, you know? The wedding. The moving. It's like everything is changing at once and I didn't notice before? Well, not exactly but like, I'm noticing now. And it's scaring the shit out of me. And I don't know what to do about that. I don't know what to do with myself." He presses his head back against my stomach, somehow seeming more defeated than before, like saying it all out loud made it more real. So I wrap my other arm around him in an embrace and lean down to rest my chin on the top of his head.

He hugs me back when I squeeze his shoulder.

"If I mess up, she's going to be the one that takes all the heat. You know? You know what I mean, right? I don't know anything, Sky," he mumbles, and there's a new, watery undertone to his voice that makes my chest swarm with pins and needles. "What am I gonna do?"

I don't speak right away, just rubbing the back of his neck with my thumb in a soothing gesture in case he has more to say. When he doesn't for half a minute or so, just breathing quietly, a little shakily, I rock us side to side a few times before speaking.

"First of all," I start, clearing my throat when my voice comes out croaky with emotion. "I don't, in fact, know, because I've never married a celebrity."

The words do their job, making him breathe out a shaky laugh. "God, the celebrity part is about to kick my ass for real, right?

I pull back to pinch his cheeks between my thumb and index finger, and tilt his head up so he meets my eyes. I narrow mine in warning. "Don't act like you forgot. You've been reading all that shit on the internet again, right?"

His lips had already jutted out because of the way I'm holding his face but his pout gets more prominent at the accusation, eyes falling away from mine in abashment.

My brows furrow in concern. "River."

"... No."

"Oh, you filthy, filthy liar. Look at me."

"Not if you're gonna continue being mean to me." The words come out funny, but I'm in no mood to laugh.

"Dude, seriously? You promised Layla you wouldn't do that."

He screws his eyes shut and scrunches his nose. "Ugh. Let go." I step back and fold my arms across my chest, letting his arms fall dejectedly by his sides. He puts them in his lap and stares at me petulantly. "I just meant my face."

"Do you want to talk about it or not?" I ask plainly, and when he ducks his head again, I realize how irritable I sound. Backtracking with a sigh, I step closer and try again with better words. "Listen. You obviously came here because it's bothering you." I place both my hands on his shoulders and shake him a little. "If you want to talk, we can, but if you just want to... I don't know, eat dinner together and get some rest and pretend everything's fine until you're ready to talk about it, we can do that, too." He exhales shakily and nods after, as if steeling himself. I let him be for a few seconds before asking, "Are these pre-wedding jitters or something else, hm?"

"I mean. Yeah." He chuckles, but the sound comes out wrong. Breathless. Choked. "But there's... it's a lot, you know?"

I pull him into a hug again, and his arms wrap around me so tightly, it makes me wonder if I'm not the only one floating among debris and terrified of what comes next, after all.

"Did something happen?" I ask quietly. "Do you think you're marrying the wrong person?"

"No," he answers immediately, and a part of me that I didn't even know was wound up so tightly eases itself into nothing. "God, no." But then he adds, voice barely audible, "I think she is," and the radius of the sting that spreads across my chest is so large, I feel it all the way to the tips of my fingers.

Saying that River Thompson is my everything has never been enough.

He's my best friend. My family. My savior. My anchor. River had been there when no one else was, and River is here still. And because he was there then, I am here now.

"Don't say that." My voice comes out just above a whisper. I pull back and take his face between my hands, and hope with all my heart that he can tell how sincere my words are when I tell him, "Don't belittle yourself like that, Riv." His eyes shine big and vulnerable, and the surge of protectiveness that rushes through me goes far, far beyond any human emotion I've ever felt in my life. "I know you always talk about how lucky you are that you get to be with someone like Layla, but don't you think she feels the same way about you? Don't you think it's unfair that you haven't even taken that into consideration?"

When he blinks up at me; one, two, three times, his eyes begin to gloss over. "Sky —"

"No, you listen to me and get these words through your thick skull." I tap at his temple with the tip of my index finger, raise my eyebrows in warning, and he closes his mouth. "This might sound like it has nothing to do with the conversation we're having right now, but I'll get to the point after you've heard this loud and clear, okay? You're the most important person in my life."

He looks like he has a whole lot to say in response to that, but I'm thankful when he swallows his words back and lets me continue.

"I'm here because of you," I say, because it's true and it's the only thing in my life that I'm a hundred percent certain about. He begins shaking his head and tries to break out of my hold, but I don't let him. "No, listen to me, River."

Maybe he hears something in my voice, the desperation or maybe the determination, but he stops yet again.

"You're a blessing, okay? No, scratch that, actually, you're a goddamn miracle."

This might be the first time I've said it to him, but the words have lived inside my head for a decade now. Every time I look at him — his warm smile that's been the source of my comfort for longer than I can remember, the kindness that's set atop his head like a permanent crown, the heart that he wears on his sleeve — I remember everything that I didn't have before I met him. I remember everything he has given to me without ever asking for anything in return. I remember the neverending tenderness with which he built me back together when I couldn't even find the missing pieces.

I was just another person who grew up in the wrong house and the wrong body, brought to my knees because the Universe seemed to have a penchant for always targeting the miserable.

The person I used to be before I met River and the person I am today wouldn't even sit in the same room. Hell, they don't even live in the same galaxy. Because in a world full of people who have only thrown me out, he took me in with his arms open wide.

"And a bunch of boneheads behind a screen making you think otherwise makes me want to kill someone." He exhales another shaky breath at the words, eyes once again falling away from mine. I slowly let go of his face and step back, wrapping my arms across my middle because I haven't let myself be this exposed in front of him for years. But he needs to know how important he is to not just me, but so many people who appreciate having someone like him in their lives. He has to know. "You don't realize how lucky people are to have you, Riv, and that hurts."

His face pinches in a way that makes it a little too obvious that he's trying not to cry, so I can't help the short, watery laugh that makes its way past my lips. I cover my mouth with my hand and shake my head when he picks up the kitchen rag to chuck it in my face.

"Sorry! Sorry." That makes him put the dusty piece of cloth back down, so I add, "You can cry, you know? It's okay if you cry. They're just tears." I shrug, watching him try to compose himself to no avail. He still looks a bit overwhelmed, and it makes me wonder just what he saw people on the internet say about his relationship with Layla to get him like this. "It's just me. How many times have I cried in front of you?"

He sniffles and then scoffs halfheartedly. "Like... three. In the past ten years."

"Yeah, three times too many."

"You can pretend to be an emotionally stunted bitch all you want, but that won't change the fact that you just gave me a life-changing speech about my importance to make me feel better."

I suck in a sharp breath, promptly realizing that he's going to hold this over my head forever. Even at his worst. Especially at his worst. "Okay. Okay." I hold my index finger up. "So glad you're feeling better. Let's never talk about that again. Ever."

"You love me."

Definitely sure that he's feeling better now, I roll my eyes so hard, that it's a wonder I don't see stars at the back of my skull as I slide out of my coat, hang it behind the door, and make my way into the kitchen. "You know what? I'm hungry, so I'm just gonna make dinner. Stay if you want. Leave if you want. Whatever."

"You love me, Sky."

"If you aren't going to help, get out of my kitchen."

"Hey, this used to be our kitchen once. Don't be —"

"Yeah, and then you left me all alone here to live with your little fianceè," I pick up a knife, and point its tip in his direction, "so it's mine now."

He keeps a hand on his chest and looks at me with wide, faux wounded eyes. I recognize it as his official Little Shit expression. "That doesn't change anything. You really think I would leave you behind like that?"

"A girl can hope."

"Stone cold, Ren. Remember when you called me a miracle? Oh, wait. It was goddamn —"

I pick up the rag and throw it in his face.

a/n

i was supposed to update this hours ago but i started raging over how awful the writing in s4 vol2 of stranger things was and got sidetracked. my bad. anyways.

river is here!!! river is the best. for people who know about my other book 'missed by a mile', he isn't a new character but you'll see so much more of him in this story. layla (river's fiancée) as well, but she's around more on mbam! river plays a very, very important role in sky's life, and god, i can't wait to show you guys more of him. 

p.s. if anyone has been eagerly waiting for hoseok's album, please feel free to scream, wail, throw up all over my DMs. 'more' has got a chokehold on me that isn't gonna loosen anytime soon, and my love for bangtan simply grows stronger every day. 

thank you so, so much for reading! i'll see you again on sunday x