northern attitude

by redwinesupernova567

Summary:

University of Maine, 2013.

(The Long Walk College AU)

Notes:

Chapter Title: 400 Lux - Lorde

Chapter 1: we come around here all the time, got a lot to not do

*September 1, 2013*

Rank has to shove the door twice before it budges. Something’s blocking it from the inside. Gary doesn’t look up when Rank enters. He just mutters, “Piece of shit,” and yanks so hard the drawer pops free and skids across the room, slamming into the opposite wall. Rank jumps. His suitcase thumps to the floor. Gary finally glances over. “…Freshman?” Gary says. Rank clears his throat. “Um. Yeah. I’m Rank.” “Figures.” Rank waits for him to say more. He doesn’t. “So you’re—uh—Gary?” “Unfortunately,” Then, pointing at Rank’s suitcase: “Is that everything?” “Yeah."

“You gonna cry?” Gary asks. Rank’s head jerks up. “What? No.” “You look like the type,” Gary says, already turning back to the dresser. Rank blinks hard. “I don’t—no, I’m not—” “If you do,” Gary continues, “keep it quiet. I sleep light.” Rank stares at him, completely lost. “I’m not going to cry.” “Good,” Gary says. “I hate noise.” Rank waits a beat. “Do you… make noise?” Gary yanks another drawer. “Mind your business.” Rank exhales slowly. This is going great.

Rank goes back to folding. He doesn’t look at Gary. Gary throws the last drawer into place with a violent shove. “There,” he mutters. “Good enough.” Rank nods even though Gary isn’t talking to him. For a moment, they’re both quiet. Gary paces the width of the room like it’s too small to contain him. Rank focuses on breathing normally, or at least looking like someone who does. Gary stops pacing and stares at him again. “You’re nervous.” “A little,” Rank admits because lying feels pointless. “Don’t be.” Gary shrugs. “I don’t hit people who don’t deserve it.” Rank stiffens. “…Okay.”

Gary smirks like he enjoys that reaction. “Relax. I’m kidding.” Rank can’t tell if he is.
Gary grabs his jacket and heads for the door. “I’m going outside. If you steal anything, I’ll know.” “I’m not going to steal—” But Gary’s already gone, the door banging shut behind him. He stares at the door for a long moment, wondering if he made the worst possible choice in housing. He sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, palms over his face. Welcome to college.

Ray’s propping the door open with his hip when Pete shoulders in behind him, carrying two overstuffed bags like it’s nothing. The hallway is loud, slamming doors, rolling carts, someone already blasting music. Ray’s room hasn’t changed, but the way Pete moves through it has: confident, comfortable, like he belongs there as much as Ray does. Pete drops the bags, stretches, and immediately ruffles Ray’s hair just to watch him pretend to be annoyed. “Told you we should’ve left earlier,” he says. “Now the whole damn building’s awake.” Ray elbows him, grinning despite himself.

They spent the whole summer tangled into each other’s routines, breakfast with Ginny, Curley’s teasing, long drives with the windows down, and it shows in the way they keep brushing shoulders without noticing. Ray stands in the middle of the room, taking it all in: familiar walls, new semester, Pete humming under his breath as he pulls open the blinds. It hits him, warm and solid. Pete glances back over his shoulder at Ray’s soft expression, smirks, and says, “Don’t get sappy on me yet. We haven’t even unpacked.”

Collie nudged the door open with his shoulder just as Art was lining up a neat stack of books on his desk. Art looked up immediately, grin breaking across his face. “Collie! Man, get in here.” Collie set his box down carefully, straightening up with a small huff. “Long day already.” Art gave him a knowing look. “Summer treat you alright?” Collie shrugged. “Mostly worked. You?” Art lifted one hand in a half-hearted wave. “Same crap, different weather.”

As Collie glanced around the room, Art leaned back in his chair. “So Gary’s got a new roommate, huh?” he asked, the tone already amused. Collie snorted, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Some freshman. Poor kid has no idea what he just signed up for.”

Richard was halfway through arranging his shelves when Billy’s voice drifted across the room, low, tight, that careful politeness he only used with one person. He stood near the window, phone pressed to his ear. “No, sir,” Billy said after a pause. “I didn’t ask you to pay for anything. I just— I just thought you’d want to know I’m back on campus.” Another silence. Billy’s fingers curled in the hem of his shirt, knuckles white. “Yes, I’m aware. I didn’t say you were obligated. I— Yes. I understand.”

Richard didn’t mean to overhear, but the tone made his stomach twist. Billy’s voice was soft. “I’m not asking for help,” he whispered, eyes fixed on the floor. “I’m just trying to tell you I’m okay.” Whatever reply came through the phone made him flinch. Richard set down the book he was holding,and pretended very hard not to be listening, while every line in Billy’s face made him want to tear the phone out of his hand and hang up for him.

Billy kept nodding even though his father couldn’t see him, the gesture instinctive, resigned. “Yes, sir. I know.” His voice was barely holding steady now. “I’m… I’m not trying to cause trouble.” Another pause. A sharper one. Billy swallowed hard. “…No. I didn’t think you’d come visit.” Richard turned his back to give him space, but the words still drifted over, thin, shaky things Billy kept trying to force into shape. When the call finally ended, Billy lowered the phone slowly. He didn’t move for a second.

Richard cleared his throat softly. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” he said, not turning around yet. “But… you good?” Billy blinked fast once, twice, and wiped under one eye. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah. I’m fine.” It wasn’t true, but he didn’t press. He just shifted over on his bed to make a little space beside him, silent invitation, no questions. Billy saw it, hesitated, then came over and sat down, hands still trembling faintly in his lap.

“…Your dad?” he asked quietly. Billy’s jaw tightened the second the words hit the air. He didn’t look at Richard, just stared at his own hands, fingers twisting together like they needed something to hold onto. “Yeah,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Just—he was checking in.” It’s a lie. Richard can hear it. Billy knows he can hear it. But Richard only nods once and doesn't press further. "Okay."

Hank had barely finished unlocking the apartment door before Clementine slipped past him, flicking on the lights. The place smelled like dust and old carpet, exactly how they’d left it in May. She set her backpack down on the counter, humming under her breath while Hank hauled in the last of their groceries. “Feels weird being back,” he said, pushing the door shut with his hip. She looked over at him, soft smile settling in. “Weird good or weird bad?” Hank stepped closer, brushing a loose curl behind her ear. “Weird good,” he admitted.

That summer back in Boston had been a lot calmer than the previous, neither of their parents had taken it well when they told them they ran off and eloped on a random Friday afternoon. In fact, Clementine's parents barely spoke to her until move in day. This year, though, the anger had cooled into something colder, brittle around the edges. Her parents kept conversations short, clipped, polite in the way people are when they’re still holding a grudge. Clementine learned to live in the silence, keeping busy, keeping out of the house as much as she could. "Just glad to finally be out of my parents house." She sighed. "Come on, let's finish setting up."

Chapter 2: i dial drunk, i'll die a drunk, i'll die for you

Notes:

Chapter Title: Dial Drunk - Noah Kahan

Sorry if this is lowk nothing burger I promise bigger stuff is coming

*September 5, 2013*

The first week of classes had finished. Collie was sitting at his desk trying to catch up on homework, when Gary knocked on the door. "You coming with us to the dining hall or not?”

Gary asked, leaning halfway inside without waiting for an answer. He looked wired, restless energy rolling off him the way it always did after a long week of pretending classes weren’t already stressing him out. Collie closed the book with his finger still marking the page.

“I gotta finish this,” he said, nodding toward the assignment. “I’m behind already.” Gary snorted. “You’re always behind.”

“And whose fault is that?” Collie shot back, giving him a pointed look that landed somewhere between teasing and warning. Gary rolled his eyes, kicked the door lightly with the side of his shoe. “Come on. Art says if we go now, we beat the dinner rush. Rank’s probably already there acting like a scared baby bird.”

Collie finally lifted his head, softening despite himself. Gary pretending he didn’t like the freshman was one thing. Gary checking if the freshman had eaten all week was another.
Collie sighed, shoved a bookmark into the textbook, and pushed back from the desk. “Fine. Five minutes.”

Gary’s smirk flickered into something warmer, quick, almost invisible, before he covered it up with a shrug. “Yeah, whatever. Don’t make me wait.” He grabbed his jacket and stepped out into the hallway where Gary was waiting for him, leaning against the wall like he hadn’t been pacing a minute earlier. The second Collie pulled the door shut, Gary hooked an arm around his waist and pulled him in, pressing a fast kiss to his cheek before anyone else on the floor could catch them.

“You’re slow,” Gary muttered, but his thumb brushed Collie’s hip like he’d missed him during the ten seconds they’d been apart.
Collie huffed a laugh and nudged him back. “You’re impatient.”

Gary bumped their shoulders together, softer than his usual roughness. “Yeah, well… hurry up anyway.” Then he tugged him down the hallway, like he needed him close, like the whole first week had been noise and this part right here, was his only quiet.

Gary didn’t let go of him right away. He kept Collie tucked close as they walked, fingers brushing the inside of Collie’s wrist like he was making sure he didn’t disappear. Most people wouldn’t have noticed, Gary was good at pretending everything he did was rough or careless, but Collie felt every small softness he tried to hide.

Halfway down the hall, Gary slowed. “Art already texted,” he said, tone casual but eyes flicking toward Collie’s face. “Said he saved us a spot. With the freshman.” A beat. “So you don’t gotta sit next to Rank if you don’t want to.”

Collie raised an eyebrow. “Why would I mind sitting next to Rank?” Gary rolled his eyes, irritated for reasons he couldn’t articulate. “Because he’s weird. And nervous. And he keeps looking at me like he thinks I’m gonna murder him.”

Collie fought back a smile. “He’s eighteen, Gary.” “So? I was eighteen once.” Collie bumped him lightly with his hip. “Yeah. And we were all terrified of you then, too.” Gary laughed but didn’t argue. He just laced their fingers together, hidden between them, subtle, before they reached the stairwell, as they headed down toward the dining hall noise.

When they got to the dining hall, the group was already at a table. Ray, Pete, Art, Rank, Billy, Richard, Hank, Clementine, and a few girls from their floor. Cordelia, another engineering major who was in several of classes, Jandelyn, Richard's girlfriend, and her roommate Tatianna, a senior biology major.

The dining hall was buzzing, plates clattering and voices bouncing off the high ceilings, but the group had already claimed a long table near the windows. Ray and Pete sat shoulder-to-shoulder, Pete talking animatedly while Ray tried, and failed, not to smile at every word. Art was between Rank and Hank, waving his fork as he explained something that clearly confused Rank and deeply amused Hank. Clementine had her head leaned gently against Hank’s shoulder.

Across from them, Billy sat tucked close to Richard, quiet but not withdrawn, tracing a line on the condensation of his water cup while Richard murmured something that drew a small smile from him. Cordelia was mid-rant about a professor already assigning seventy pages of reading; Tatianna nodded along while calmly eating her salad like she’d survived much worse. Jandelyn, perched beside Richard, perked up the moment she saw Collie and Gary approach. “There you are!"

They slid into the last two open seats, Rank stiffening a little when Gary sat beside him, Art hiding a grin, Pete giving Collie a tiny thumbs-up across the table. The noise of the hall seemed to fade for a moment as everyone shifted, conversations blending, the familiar chaos of their group settling into place around them like the semester finally clicked into gear.

“So,” Ray said, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, trying to cut through the scattered conversations, “everyone surviving week one?”

A few groans rose immediately. Cordelia dropped her head onto her notebook. “No. My circuits professor hates joy.” Tatianna snorted. “Sweetheart, if you think that’s bad, try bio capstone.” Art pointed his fork dramatically. “I refuse. I fully refuse. Drop out, change majors, those are the correct responses.”

Pete elbowed Ray lightly. “Ignore them. We’re doing great.” Ray rolled his eyes, but the tiny smile at the corner of his mouth gave him away. Across the table, Collie hid a laugh while Gary muttered, “I’m surviving,” which made Rank straighten and mumble, “Me too,” Billy stayed quiet, picking at his food.

Before Ray could steer the conversation anywhere else, Jandelyn lifted her chin from Richard’s shoulder, eyeing the table like she was taking attendance. “Okay, real question,” she said. “Who actually did their readings this week?”

Art snorted loud enough for heads to turn. “Absolutely not." Cordelia raised a hand halfway. “Half.” Tatianna stabbed a piece of broccoli. “I assigned the readings. That count?”

Gary shrugged. “I did mine. "“Liar,” Collie said instantly, bumping his shoulder as he sat.
“Okay—skimmed.” Gary corrected, which made Hank laugh and mutter, “Thought so.”

Clementine tucked her legs under her chair, warm and soft beside Hank, and chimed in, “I did mine… mostly because he”—she nudged Hank—“wouldn’t let me procrastinate.” Hank tipped his head. “Someone’s gotta keep you from rewriting the syllabus.” The girls at the far end giggled; Rank looked confused but smiled anyway.

It was a little while later that they'd finished eating, and everyone headed off. "Come on, you wanna go back to my dorm? Art's going over to Hank's so we've got the place to ourselves." Collie asked Gary. “Yeah, alright,” he said, tossing his bag over his shoulder with forced nonchalance. “Sure. Whatever. Not like I had plans.” “Uh-huh.”

“You good?” Collie asked once they were a little ahead of the others. Gary snorted. “I’m always good.” “You’re always loud,” Collie corrected, laughing. “That’s different.”

They crossed the lawn toward their dorm, the September sky fading pink behind them. Gary shoved his hands in his pockets, kicking a pebble as they walked. “So what are we doing? Video games? Movie? Shit-talking Rank?” He smirked. “I’m great at the last one.”

Collie shook his head, soft in a way that wasn’t teasing at all. “Nah. Just… hanging out. Haven’t really gotten time with you since we got back.”

Gary looked down at that, just for a second, before following him inside. “Yeah,” he muttered, quieter than usual. “Okay. That… yeah. That sounds good.”

Collie unlocked the door and pushed it open with his shoulder, flicking on the light. The room was dim and warm the way evenings on campus always felt, books stacked on Art’s desk, an unmade bed on the other side, the faint smell of laundry detergent and someone’s leftover microwave popcorn.

Gary wandered in behind him, pausing like he wasn’t sure where to stand. Collie tossed his keys onto his desk, then turned and leaned back against it, arms crossed loosely. “You can sit, you know,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Gary dropped onto Collie’s bed, legs stretched out, hands behind his head, his eyes kept flicking up at Collie like he was checking if he was allowed to be here. Collie watched him for a beat. He finally pushed off the desk and sat beside him, close enough their knees brushed.

“You’ve been weird this week,” Collie said softly. Gary’s jaw tightened. “I’m always weird.” “Not like that.” Collie nudged his shoulder gently. “You okay? Really?” For a second, Gary looked like he might lie. But then something in his expression loosened, just barely, and he shook his head, staring at the floor.

Gary swallowed hard, then scrubbed a hand over his face like he could erase whatever had just slipped through. “It’s nothing,” he muttered. “Just… adjustment stuff. New year, new roommate, new people who don’t know I’m an asshole yet.”

Collie huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re not an asshole.” Gary shot him a sideways look. “I’m literally known for being an asshole.” "Yeah,” Collie said, nudging him again, “but I love you."

Gary laughed, not meeting Collie's eyes. "Shut up..." Collie smiled, leaning back on his hands. “I’m serious.” Gary shook his head, still smiling but refusing to look up. He kicked lightly at Collie’s foot instead. “Yeah, well… you say that now.” “I’m gonna keep saying it,” Collie replied, nudging him again.

Gary finally glanced at him, quick, almost shy, before looking away just as fast. “You’re annoying,” he muttered, but the edge in his voice was gone. Softened. Warmed. Collie let himself drift closer, their shoulders touching now. “You love me too.”

Gary scoffed, but he didn’t pull away. “Yeah,” he said under his breath, barely audible. “I do. That’s the problem.” Collie smiled. “It’s not a problem.” “It is if you ask Rank,” Gary said, and Collie laughed. Gary looked down again, but this time, he was smiling.

When he’d met Gary last year, he was an abrasive asshole freshman who lived in their hall, all sharp edges and loud opinions and picking fights with anyone who looked at him too long. Collie had written him off almost instantly. Everyone had. Gary came in swinging, figuratively and almost literally,
like he needed people to hate him before they got the chance to decide anything else.

That changed at some point last October, when Gary got himself arrested after starting a drunken bar fight downtown and, for a reason Collie still can’t quite figure out, called him. Not Ray. Not Pete. Not anyone from the hall who actually tolerated him. Him.

He remembered answering the phone half-asleep, hearing Gary’s slurred, shaky voice say his name like it was the only lifeline he had, showing up and signing papers at the tiny campus police outpost while Gary sat there bruised and furious at himself, refusing to look up. He’d expected Gary to snap at him, to shove him away, to tell him to mind his own business.

Instead, when they stepped outside into the freezing night air, Gary just… folded. All the fight drained out of him. He muttered something like, “Didn’t know who else to call." That was the night they stopped pretending they hated each other.

That had turned into him inviting Gary home for Thanksgiving break when he'd learned he didn't have anywhere to go. He hadn't planned on it, just asked him to come home with him. They'd made things official after coming back to school, much to everyone's surprise.

Gary stretched, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I guess I should go, it’s getting late.”
Collie nodded, standing up and grabbing his jacket from the chair. “Yeah, I get it.”

There was a pause. Gary hesitated, then glanced back with a half-smile. “Thanks for… you know. Hanging out.” Collie smirked. “Anytime, asshole.” Gary laughed, shaking his head as he headed for the door. “Don’t get used to it.” Collie called after him, voice low but teasing, “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

Chapter 3: i'm waiting for it, that green light, i want it

Summary:

Chapter Title - Green Light - Lorde

*September 21, 2013*

It was a Saturday night, and they were going downtown to celebrate Ray’s birthday, a plan that had started as a casual “we should do something” and somehow turned into half the friend group squeezing into two cabs and arguing about which bars wouldn’t card too aggressively. Ray wasn’t thrilled about turning nineteen, but Pete had insisted, dragging him along with the promise of a few drinks.

Collie and Gary showed up last, Gary in a dark jacket and already buzzing with restless energy, Collie trying to keep him grounded with a hand at the small of his back. “Birthday boy!” Art shouted as Ray walked up to the cluster of them waiting outside the first bar. “You ready to do something stupid?” “No,” Ray said firmly. “Yes,” Pete corrected, hooking an arm around his waist and kissing his temple. “He absolutely is.”

“Okay,” Hank said, raising his voice over the noise of traffic and laughter. “Plan is one bar. One. Nobody ditches the group, nobody gets arrested." "Wow, low expectations,” Art said. “Proud of you.”

Clementine rolled her eyes and linked her arm through Hank’s. “Ignore him. He’ll behave.” Pete tilted his head toward the neon glow of the door. “Come on,” he said to Ray, smiling. “Before someone changes their mind.”

Ray sighed, but there was no real fight in him. The group started toward the bar, a knot of noise and laughter spilling into the light, the kind of night that felt harmless, at least at the start. “Well, come on, let’s get to the bar,” Pete said, tugging Ray’s hand before the group could start bickering again.

Ray groaned, but let himself be pulled along. “Why did I agree to this?” “Because you love me,” Pete said matter-of-factly, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

Clementine glanced back at the group, making a quick headcount. “Alright, it’s just us tonight, Art, Hank, me, Richard, Billy, Collie, Gary, Pete, and Ray. That’s manageable, right?” “No,” Gary answered immediately.

Collie elbowed him lightly. “Be nice.” “I am nice,” Gary muttered. Art barked a laugh. “Sure, man. Nicest guy I know.” Gary flipped him off. “Okay, okay,” Collie said, laughing. “Let’s just get inside."

They arrived at the bar a little after nine, the kind of hour where the place was full but not yet chaotic. Warm light spilled over the worn wooden floors, the music loud enough to feel in their ribs but still low enough to talk over.

“Birthday boy gets the first round,” Art announced, already cutting a path toward the bar like he owned the place. Hank and Clementine found a spot at a table, waving the rest over. The group clustered together, warm, loud, familiar, like this was the most natural way to start a weekend.

“Art Baker! Where the hell have you been?” a voice shouted from across the bar. “Octavia!” He grinned wide as Octavia Quigley pushed through the crowd toward them, light curls bouncing, expression halfway between delighted and ready to fight him.

She threw her arms around him without hesitation. “You ghosted Baton Rouge all summer! Not a text, not a call, my mama thought you died.”

Art laughed into her shoulder. “Your mama thought I died because you told her I probably did.” Octavia pulled back, smacking his arm. “I told her you were irresponsible, not dead.” “Same thing,” Art said.

Octavia finally seemed to realize the rest of them existed. She pointed at Ray first. “Birthday boy, right? Art told me, like fifteen minutes ago, while yelling across the street.” "Yeah." Ray laughed.

"Art come on, there's someone I want you to meet." Octavia said. She took him over to the table, where another girl was sitting. "Art, this is my roommate, Paloma Prescott, Paloma, Art Baker, the guy I told you about." Art smiled. "Nice to meet you." "Told you I'd find you a date to Tatiana's wedding." Octavia smirked. Paloma rolled her eyes, but laughed. "Come on, let's go talk outside." Paloma said, standing up.

They wandered out onto the back patio, where he lit up a cigarette. Paloma raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t take you for a smoker.” Art exhaled a thin ribbon of smoke and shrugged. “Picked it up senior year. Bad habit, I know.”

She stepped beside him, elbows resting lightly on the railing, her expression somewhere between amused and studying him. “I’m not judging. Just… adding it to the profile Octavia’s already given me.” “Oh god,” he groaned. “What exactly did she tell you?”

Paloma’s smile turned sly. “That you’re smart, impulsive, terrible at texting back, religiously loyal to your friends, and, her words, not mine, 'emotionally stupid but in a charming way.’”

Art snorted, bringing the cigarette back to his lips. “Sounds like her.” Paloma looked at him, really looked, eyes softening a little. “She wasn’t wrong about the charming part.”

Art froze just a second too long, the cigarette halfway to his mouth before he recovered and took another drag to cover it. “You saying that to be nice,” he said lightly, “or because Octavia bribed you?”

Paloma shook her head. “Octavia can’t bribe me. She can annoy me into submission, but that’s different.” He huffed a laugh, exhaling smoke into the cool night air. “Fair enough.”

Paloma turned so she was facing him a little more fully, her hip against the railing, eyes steady on his. “I meant it. You’re… easier to talk to than I expected.”

Art tapped ash into the tray beside them, giving her a crooked smile. “You’ve known me five minutes.” “And I can already tell you’re not what she made you sound like,” she said. “Which is a compliment. She talks a lot.” “Yeah, she does that.”

They shared a small, warm stretch of silence. The noise from inside faded to a low thrum. Paloma watched him, thoughtful. “You’re nervous,” she said softly. Art blinked. “No, I’m—” “You talk with your hands more when you’re nervous,” she said. “And you’re trying really hard not to.”

He stared at her, caught off guard. “You really are a physics major, huh? Observant.”
She smiled. “I try.” Their eyes held for a moment too long to be casual.

Art swallowed, suddenly aware of how close they were. “So,” he said, “are you gonna let me take you to that wedding?” Paloma’s smile widened. “Yeah,” she said. “I think I will.”

Back in the bar, the noise had thickened into that perfect Saturday-night hum, music loud enough to vibrate in their chests, people shouting over each other, glasses clinking.

Ray was laughing at something Pete whispered in his ear, cheeks flushed a little from his second drink. Clementine had stolen Hank’s jacket and was wearing it like she owned it. Hank leaned across the table toward Ray and Pete, shouting over the music, “Next round’s on me!" “Absolutely not,” Pete shouted back. “You’re cut off from being generous until payday.” Clementine tugged on his sleeve. “No, let him.”

Ray groaned, burying his face in Pete’s shoulder. “Why do I have friends.” Gary raised his glass. “Bad judgment.” “Terrible judgment,” Collie added, grinning.

They looked outside to see Art and Paloma on the back patio, half-lit by the yellow bar lights. Art was leaning against the railing, cigarette dangling between two fingers, posture loose in a way that meant he was comfortable. Paloma stood close, closer than casual, laughing at something he’d just said, her hand brushing his arm as she steadied herself against the railing.

“Damn,” Clementine murmured, nudging Hank. “Octavia works fast.” Hank squinted through the glass. “That’s… wow. That’s flirting flirting.” Richard followed their gaze and snorted. “Good for him. He needs someone who can keep up.”

Gary leaned in to look. “A physics major? Yeah, she’ll outsmart him instantly.” Collie elbowed him. “Be nice.” “I am being nice,” Gary muttered, watching them with mild surprise. “Didn’t think Art had game like that.”

Ray smiled into his drink, watching his friend tilt his head toward Paloma, words low, eyes soft in that way he got when he actually cared. Pete nudged Ray’s knee under the table. “He’s doing good.” “Yeah." Ray said.

Outside, Paloma flicked a strand of hair over her shoulder and said something that made Art freeze for half a second before he laughed. They walked back in a few minutes later, Paloma followed beside Art, composed but unmistakably pleased, her arm brushing his as they threaded through the crowd.

Gary spotted them first. “Well, well, well,” he called over the music, smirking. “Look who decided to rejoin us.” Art flipped him off without breaking stride. “Missed you too, sweetheart.”

Ray lifted his glass in greeting. “Have fun out there?” Art slid into the booth, grabbing the drink Clementine pushed his way. “Relax. We were just talking.” “Mm-hm,” Pete said, unimpressed. “That’s what it looked like.”

The night folded back around them-music, laughter, the clatter of glasses, and the booth felt fuller, brighter, like something new had just quietly shifted into place.