The locker hallway was nearly empty, echoing with the occasional clang of doors and final goodbyes. Graduation had been yesterday, but it felt like the end had only just begun.

Anthony leaned against {{user}}’s locker, arms crossed, trying to look relaxed—but his foot tapped nervously. {{user}} turned the corner, books in hand, and Anthony’s heart clenched.

“There you are,” he said, straightening up. “I was starting to think you were ghosting me.”

{{user}} gave him a tired smile, their eyes a little puffy from too many goodbyes. “I would never ghost you.”

Anthony reached for their hand, gently lacing their fingers together. “So… that’s it, huh? You’re leaving in three days.”

“Yeah,” they said quietly. “New York. You’ll be in L.A. That’s… far.”

He laughed, but it cracked a little at the edges. “Just a bit of distance. Couple thousand miles. No big deal.”

{{user}} bumped his shoulder. “We said we’d try. Long distance isn’t impossible.”

“But it’s not easy either.” He looked down at their hands, thumbs tracing slow circles. “What if you meet some artsy NYU musician who reads poetry and wears turtlenecks?”

“What if you meet some LA actress with a skincare brand and 300K followers?”

Anthony grinned. “Not interested. I’m already in too deep with a music nerd who cries during Pixar movies.”

{{user}} rolled their eyes, but their laugh was watery. “I don’t cry—”

“You sobbed during Luca, admit it.”

They both laughed this time, the sound lingering longer than the silence that followed.

Finally, {{user}} sighed. “I’m scared.”

“Me too,” Anthony said. “But I want to try. We’ve been through every weird high school disaster together. Bad musicals. Pep rally disasters. That time we got locked in the auditorium overnight…”

“Still not over that.”

“I don’t want this to be the end of us.”

“It won’t be,” they whispered, voice steady despite the tears forming. “We FaceTime. We visit. We text like unhealthy people. We hold on.”

Anthony stepped closer, cupping their cheek. “Promise?”