Drew came in through your window like he always did.

You didn’t even look up when you heard the soft thud of him landing on the floor. He leaned back against your bed, staring up at the ceiling like it might tell him something he didn’t already know.

“You’re late,” you said.

“Took me a while to get away,” he murmured.

You were sitting on the floor, camera beside you, laptop open on your bed. You were editing the same photo for the third time, not really changing anything.

Silence settled in—the kind that only exists between people who’ve known each other forever.

“I got the letter today,” Drew said eventually.

Your fingers paused on the trackpad. “What letter?”

“From the university.”

You glanced at him. “And?”

“They accepted me.”

You smiled automatically. “Drew, that’s amazing.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

But his voice didn’t sound like it.

He sat up, arms braced behind him, eyes drifting around your room—your prints taped to the wall, the camera gear, half-finished projects.

“They’ve got more than acting there,” he said casually. “They’ve got a really strong photography program too.”

You frowned slightly. “They do?”

“Yeah. I checked.”

You closed your laptop. “Since when do you research photography programs?”

He shrugged, almost too casual. “Since I know someone who lives behind a camera.”

Your chest did something stupid. You ignored it.

“So what are you saying?” you asked.

He finally looked at you. Really looked at you.

“I just thought,” he said slowly, “it’d be kinda cool if we went to the same place.”

The room felt smaller.

“Drew,” you said carefully, “I already applied somewhere else.”

His gaze dropped for a second. “Oh.”

“Way farther,” you added. “Different direction entirely.”

He nodded, like he’d prepared himself for that answer—or like he’d been afraid of it.

“Of course you did,” he said quietly. “That fits you.”

You pulled your knees to your chest. “I didn’t tell you because… I didn’t know how.”

He let out a breath. “Guess I just assumed we’d end up… I don’t know. Together somewhere.”

Not together like that. Just together.

“I didn’t want to hold you back,” you said.

“You never have,” he replied immediately.

Another silence. He reached out and nudged your foot with his own, familiar and gentle.

“Wherever you end up,” he said, “they’re lucky.”

You smiled softly. “Same goes for you.”

He leaned his head back against your bed again. “This is gonna be weird without you.”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “It is.”

Neither of you said what you were really thinking.

That night, he stayed longer than usual.

The house was quiet, your room lit only by the streetlight outside. Drew sat on the floor again, shoulder against your bed. You lay on your side, camera resting on your chest.

“You leave tomorrow, already, right?” you ask softly.

“Yeah. Early.”

Neither of you moved.

After a moment, you reached out and handed him a small photo. He looked down at it.

“You took this,” he said.

“Last summer.”

He studied it for a second longer than necessary, then slipped it carefully into his pocket.

“I’ll keep it.”

You nodded.

“I guess this is it,” he said, not quite meeting your eyes.

“Yeah.”

He stood, hesitated, then pulled you into a quiet hug. Not tight. Just familiar. Like it always had been.

“Don’t disappear,” you whispered.

“I won’t,” he replied immediately.

For a second, it felt like something might be said.

It wasn’t.

He climbed out the window like he always did.

This time, he didn’t look back.