#i say if ur wondering but this is specifically towards spec

[astrumocs]

If you're wondering why Jules is so different now, that would be the untreated mental illness,

[today-only-happens-once]

Tight Spaces and Brave Faces

Title: Tight Spaces and Brave Faces

Word Count: 5141

Summary: For as long as they’ve all known him, Patton Foster has had crippling claustrophobia. One night at a cast party brings that all bubbling back to the surface, and Virgil can’t get the door open. College AU. Platonic Moxiety, platonic LAMP/CALM.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, some angst, claustrophobia, being trapped in a small space, descriptions of crowds and tight spaces (specifically closets), alcohol mention, panic attack (mostly off-screen), cursing, spoilers for Heathers the Musical, feelings of guilt, a bit of fluff towards the end, please let me know if I forgot anything.

A/N: Been a while, yeah? Thank you to everyone who was so kind and patient with me during my writing hiatus. The hiatus was… needed and helpful, although I only hope this fic makes up for the lack of writing content the past few weeks. I’ve never written a focus on the Moxiety dynamic for a one-shot before. The rough draft was extra rough and this had to go through some major revisions… I hope this turned out okay. Nervous to post, but when am I not? <3

…

The lobby of the performing arts center is packed as the theater spills out into the tiled space. Excited voices bounce off the marble pillars with words of congratulations and greetings. Virgil Shea stands at the far outskirts of the thickening crowd, pressing against the wall to create as much space from the sea of bodies as he can. His roommate, Patton Foster, is already pressed flat against the wall.

His smile is a bit stiff as his gaze scans the crowd for their roommate, Roman Prince. Their fourth roommate, Logan Sanders, stands with his arms crossed on the other side of Patton. Virgil frowns at the way Patton seems to be trying to melt into the wall, even though he understands. For as long as Virgil has known him, Patton has struggled with debilitating claustrophobia. It was worse when it was small, cramped spaces, but crowds could sometimes be hard for him to handle too.

Virgil spots the spiral staircase, noting that the swarm of people that had been working their way down it after the curtain had mostly thinned out by now. He nudges Patton beside him. “I’m gonna head over there. See if I can’t spot Roman from further up.”

Patton follows his gaze, and a note of relief floods his eyes at the lack of a crowd in that part of the room. “I’ll come too!”

At Logan’s quizzical look, Virgil jerks his head towards the stairs, and the three of them skirt the outside of the crowd and make their way through the lobby. The red carpeting does little to absorb the sound of cast members chatting excitedly with their friends and family that had attended the opening night production of Heathers The Musical!

As the three of them head up the steps—stopping about half-way to lean over the railing and scan the crowd for their roommate—Virgil hears Patton take in a deep breath.

“I may not entirely understand theatre,” Logan says suddenly, “but seeing Roman perform a role so unlike his usual demeanor was certainly interesting.”

Virgil watches the people milling around below them. Some of the girls in the cast are handed flower bouquets. People are exchanging hugs, cast members laugh loudly with eyes bright from the flood of post-show adrenaline. Virgil may have stopped getting involved in theater after high school, but he’s glad that Roman didn’t. Though he’d never tell his roommate, Virgil knows that Roman is talented and works hard at it.

“He was so good!” Patton adds, nodding in agreement. “His whole performance was just… J-D-lightful.” He laughs as Logan groans.

Virgil smirks at the pun. “Always knew Princey had a dark side.”

“Don’t worry,” chimes a new, familiar voice coming up the stairs behind them. “You’re still the Emo Nightmare of the group.”

All three of them turn as Roman jogs up the stairs towards them. The dark clothes and slicked back hair looks suddenly odd on the young actor, if only because the brightness of his smile and revitalized energy in his eyes has turned him back into Roman, not J.D anymore. His stage make-up that had looked edgy and dangerous on him while on stage looks thick and dramatic up close. He’s got a fake blood streak down his temple starting somewhere up in his hairline.

“Roman!” Patton gushes, giving is roommate a hug. “You were amazing! I was actually a little scared of you when you killed Kurt. It felt so real.”

Roman grabs hold of the railing on the stairs to keep his balance as he hugs his roommate back. When they separate, Roman gives a dramatic bow. “You’re too kind, Patton.”

“I don’t know about that, Patton,” Virgil quips. “Roman Prince being straight? Unrealistic.”

Roman holds a hand to his chest. “I’ll admit, ‘Dead Girl Walking’ is always an exercise of my greatest acting ability…” Roman trails off, then smiles with a note of uncertainty. “But really. Did you guys like it?”

Logan inclines his head. “The performance was adequate.” Roman rolls his eyes with a sense of affection.

“Not that you need the ego boost,” Virgil says when Roman looks at him, “but yeah. It was really good, Roman.”

Roman beams.

“Actually,” Logan says, adjusting the frame of his glasses, “I was hoping to ask you about the technical design of—“

“Roman?”

Roman turns at the sound of his name being accompanied by someone ascending the staircase. The girl that Virgil recognizes as having played opposite Roman as Veronica stops a few steps below the four of them. She’s got a soft, warm smile that—not unlike Roman’s transformation—seems somehow to be such a stark contrast to her character they’d just seen on stage. Her dark hair is mussed, her own stage blood streaking her left cheek. She smiles brightly.

She offers Roman a hug, and the young actor accepts it warmly. “Nicole, you were exquisite as always.”

She smiles. “You kidding? You brought the house to its feet when you came out at the end!”

“Funny,” Roman says, “I got a very different reaction when I came out in high school.” Virgil snorts.

Nicole rolls her eyes before her gaze falls on the three of them standing on the stairs behind Roman. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo,” Patton jumps in. “You were amazing!” Nicole seems briefly startled at the enthusiasm, but her smile is sincere and Virgil swears he sees a faint blush underneath her thick layer of makeup.

Roman laughs and sweeps an arm up the staircase in a grand gesture. “Nicole, these are my roommates. Patton, Logan, and Virgil.”

Virgil nods a greeting as Logan chimes, “Salutations.”

“It’s great to meet you guys,” Nicole replies. A second later, her face lights up with an idea. “You all should come to the cast party tonight! Alex is hosting it at the music frat house. It’s supposed to be a ton of fun. I don’t know everyone who will be there, but the more the merrier, right?”

“We’ll be there,” Roman answers immediately for the four of them. Virgil shoots an exasperated look at the back of his head. Did Romano really just sign us up for a party?

“Great! I’ll see you guys there, then!” Nicole waves and hurries back down the spiral staircase.

When Roman turns back around and sees the dry look Virgil is giving him, he waves a hand. “Don’t give me that, Sweeney Toddler. It’ll be fun!”

…

The music frat house is jammed with people.

Virgil shoulders his way through the bodies pressing against one another in the living room as a rap song blares from the big speakers in the corner. Colored lights are projected in changing patterns on the walls and ceiling of the room. The air is hot and thick with the scent of sweat and beer. When the song hits the bass drop, Virgil feels the floor beneath his feet vibrate.

The whole thing sets his nerves on edge. It doesn’t help that he has this weird feeling in his stomach that something is distinctly wrong. A part of him wants to leave, and given how crowded the house is, he wonders if maybe Patton would want to come with him. Their apartment building was only a few blocks away anyway.

Virgil makes his way to the far end of the room, doing his best to avoid the drinks sloshing over the rim of the solo cups as they jumped and danced to the music. He sees Roman sitting on the sofa, chatting with a member of the tech crew. Virgil recognizes them as someone he’d had freshman year history with; Elliot, Virgil thinks the name is. Roman’s face brightens when Virgil breaks through the crowd in front of him.

“Hey, Virge!” he shouts, either still running off the post-show high or simply to be heard over all the noise. The graphic design major isn’t sure which.

“Have you seen Patton?” Virgil asks, unable to ignore the squirming in his gut.

Roman seems to see it in his face, too, because his brows pull together in concern. He straightens up slightly, his gaze scanning the crowd of people. He shakes his head as he looks back at Virgil. “I just saw him like, ten minutes ago. He said something about finding the bathroom.” He looks back at Elliot. “Hang on,” he says to them. “I’ll be right back.”

Roman gracefully jumps up from his perch on the arm of the sofa and starts making his way through the house. He ducks into the small dining room that had—intentionally or not—been turned into an overflow space of dancers. Couples lined the walls, heads ducked towards one another in flirty conversation. Two girls giggle as one kisses the other’s nose. Another couple is kissing sloppily in the corner and Virgil quickly averts his gaze.

He follows Roman through the entryway at the far end of the room, down the tight hallway, to the staircase that led up to the second floor of the house. Logan stands at the foot of it by the railing, chatting idly with some people that Virgil distantly recognized as being part of the pit orchestra and production team.

“Hey. Specs.” Roman claps a hand on Logan’s shoulder as he comes up from behind him. Logan’s cool brown gaze flashes up in annoyance before turning to confusion at seeing Roman and Virgil.

The sense of urgency is ballooning slowly in Virgil’s chest, getting harder for him to ignore even though he can’t exactly pinpoint why. “Have you seen Patton?” he asks before Logan can respond.

Logan meets Virgil’s gaze. “I did see him go upstairs, although that was several minutes ago. A few other students are up there as well.”

Something doesn’t feel right. It’s a vague weight over his head that Virgil can’t shake for the life of him. He brushes past Logan and takes the stairs two at a time. He hears Roman say his name before two sets of footsteps following up the stairs behind him.

The hallway at the top of the stairs is tight and dark and the floor creaks beneath him. All of the doors are closed except for the one just slightly to the right of the staircase. The door is open, the light is on; it’s the bathroom. Patton is nowhere to be found.

There are a few guys further down the hall crowded around a door on the left. It’s a slightly smaller door, probably to a closet of some sort. One of them jiggles the handle before snorting in laughter. He slaps his friend’s shoulder. “Dude, dude, dude,” he says between laughter, “I think he jammed it. Guess he’s not getting out now.”

Roman reaches the top of the stairs as Virgil’s mind starts racing. “Hey, man,” Roman calls out to them, oblivious to their conversation or the way Virgil pales beside him. “You didn’t see my roommate come up here, did you?”

“Who’s your roommate?” one of them asks. “Wait, the weird guy in the blue polo?”

Virgil’s hands twitch into fists at his sides. “Tell me you didn’t…”

The one closest to Virgil rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Learn to take a joke, man—“

“Is he in there?” Virgil demands, his sharp gaze startling the other three into silence. When the one in the middle glances at the door and says nothing, Virgil sees red.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Roman demands, crossing the short length of hallway to stand almost nose-to-nose with the one in the middle. Virgil pushes past all of them to get at the door, trying the handle.

It won’t turn. It’s locked, or jammed or… Virgil knocks softly on the door. “Patton?” He doesn’t hear anything on the other side and he feels his stomach drop. He tries the handle again, but he can’t turn it. Blindly, Virgil shoves his shoulder into the door with a small thud. “Patton? Can you open the door?”

There’s still no answer. It’s hard to tell whether the heavy beat vibrating the floor from the music below or Virgil’s heart is faster. He jiggles the handle again and shakes the door slightly, trying to force it open. It doesn’t budge.

“Maybe he’s enjoying the seven minutes in heaven by himself,” one of them jokes. Virgil doesn’t turn around, but he’s pretty sure he can hear the smirk in his voice.

“I suggest,” Roman says in a low, dangerous voice, “that you either find a way to get that door open or you don’t let the front one hit you on the way out.” His voice reminds Virgil suddenly of when he’d been J.D from earlier that night.

“Whoa, calm down, man,” one of them says. “Look, we didn’t mean to actually jam the door. That was your guy. He like, totally freaked out when we closed the door on him. We were just messing with him.”

“Evidence suggests that you did more than simply close the door on him,” Logan cuts in. His voice is a lethal, savage calm. “If the door is jammed because our roommate pulled on it, then you likely where holding the door closed on him. Otherwise, opening it would have been no problem. Now, there’s a chance I may be mistaken, but I’ve found that I am rarely incorrect.”

Virgil knocks on the door again. He can feel his heart in his throat. “Patton, can you please try to open the door?” He doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation behind him as he grabs the handle and jiggles the door again. He presses his ear against it, listening for a moment. “Pat, we’re trying to get you out, okay?” The music and crowd noise from downstairs make it hard to tell, but Virgil swears he hears a quiet whimper come from the other side of the door.

He hears rapid footsteps behind him that recede down the stairs. When he glances over his shoulder, only Logan and Roman are left in the hallway.

“I can’t get it open,” he says in a tight voice. He backs up from the door, then throws his weight into it with his shoulder. The impact is jarring, but the door doesn’t budge. “Come on,” he growls under his breath. Can he kick in the door? No, he doesn’t know how to do that. And even if he did, it could easily end up hurting Patton.

“Virgil.”

He pulls back from the door and is about to throw his weight into it again—he has to get through that door—but feels a firm hand grab his shoulder.

“Stop,” Logan says softly but firmly from behind him. “You are more likely to dislocate your shoulder doing that than you are to open the door.”

Virgil roughly shrugs out of Logan’s grip. “Then what do you suggest, Logan?” he snaps. “Patton is in there and I can’t get the door open—“

“Keep him calm,” Logan tells him. “I will find a way to get the door open, but right now you and Roman focus on helping Patton stay calm.”

Virgil looks up into Logan’s steady gaze and takes a breath before nodding. “Okay.” The corner of Logan’s mouth quirks slightly before he nods back and hurries down the stairs.

The graphic design major turns back towards the door and leans his head against it softly. “Patton, if you can hear me, I need you to breathe.” The party downstairs is still too loud for him to really hear if he gets a response. He just hopes that Patton can hear him and is listening. “We’re gonna breathe in for four seconds, okay? Here we go. In…” Virgil counts out loud to four. “Hold for seven seconds.” He counts again. “Now let it out for eight seconds.” When he counts to eight, Virgil swallows and pauses. “Good. We’re gonna do it a few more times, okay? Breathe in for four seconds…”

The dark, cramped hallway creaks as Roman takes a step closer. Virgil walks through the exercise once or twice more. He doesn’t know if it’s actually helping, if Patton can actually hear him, and it kills him a little that he doesn’t know. He feels Roman place a hand on his arm as he steps closer.

“Hey, Patton,” Roman says in an unusually soft voice. “Did I ever tell you about the field behind my house back home?”

Virgil’s glances at Roman, confused. What? He mouths. Roman holds up a hand and mouths back, Trust me. He hesitates a moment, then takes a step back to let Roman get closer to the door.

“It was this huge grass field. In the far distance, you could just barely make out the trees silhouetted on the horizon line. Wildflowers in the spring and summer would coat the field in yellows, reds, and blues that matched the sky above. And the sky out there…” Roman has his eyes closed, looking lost in his own world. “It goes on for miles on a clear day. The brightest sky you’ve ever seen. Don’t even get me started on the sunsets out there. The reds and golds and violets would bleed into one another and reflect off the clouds, endless colors filling the vast sky above you. And since we kind of lived in the middle of nowhere, the night sky was just full of stars. I used to think you could see the farthest corners of the universe out there.”

Roman’s voice is smooth and effortless. Virgil can feel the tension in his shoulders easing just a little bit, and he realizes what Roman is doing. He’s painting a picture of wide, open, colorful spaces as a way to combat the tight, dark one Patton is trapped in. There’s a flicker of uncertainty in the actor’s eyes as he opens them and looks at Virgil. He isn’t sure if it’s working. Virgil doesn’t know either.

Roman opens his mouth and takes a breath to continue when the rapid but methodical sound of footsteps coming up the stairs signals Logan’s reappearance. Virgil straightens up and looks at him expectantly.

Logan holds up a butter knife. “It was the best I could do.” He squeezes past Roman to kneel on the thin carpeting and wedge the knife by the lock in the door. It takes him a couple of seconds before they hear a quiet click, nearly drowned out by the thumping bass from below. Logan tosses the knife to the floor and twists the handle, the door swinging open effortlessly. Virgil squeezes past Roman and through the door into the closet as soon as there’s enough of a crack for his body to slip through.

The walls of the closet are lined with shelves full of cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, and toiletries, and on the floor in the middle of it all is Patton. His knees pulled up to his chest, his face buried in his arms. Trembling.

Virgil unzips his hoodie and shrugs out of it as he kneels in front of him. “Patton,” he says in a soft voice. “Hey.” He knows the trembling isn’t really because Patton is cold but he drapes his sweatshirt around Patton’s shoulders anyway.

Patton’s breath hiccups as he pulls his head out of his arms. Virgil feels his heart constrict at the tear tracks that mark his cheeks. He hears movement behind him and when he glances over his shoulder, he sees that Logan has a hand on Roman’s shoulder as if keeping him from coming into the closet too. He whispers something in the actor’s ear. Roman nods and takes a small step back.

Virgil looks back at Patton. “You’re safe now,” he says. “What do you say we get out of here?”

He offers a hand, but he sees the way Patton’s shoulders tense and he pulls back. He doesn’t take it personally. Patton needs as much space as he can get right now. The vacuum in the corner is tipped over and shoved into a pile of toilet paper under the bottom shelf. Virgil wonders in the back of his mind if that might have been Patton’s doing.

“Patton,” Logan says from the hallway, his voice softer than Virgil can ever remember it being, “Can you stand up?”

There’s a moment of hesitation. Then, so quietly that Virgil almost misses it: “Y-yeah.”

Patton uncurls himself, scrubs a hand against his tear-stained cheeks, and stands on shaky legs. Virgil stands with him, slipping his hands into the back pocket of his jeans and moving out of the way of the door. Instinct is telling Virgil to grab his arm, to steady him, protect him like you failed to do in the first place, but he doesn’t want to overwhelm or overstimulate him. So Virgil hovers in the corner, follows Patton out the door, and pulls the door shut behind him.

Logan offers Patton his hand with a gentle, reassuring look. Patton swallows and glances up at him before slipping his arms through the sleeves of Virgil’s hoodie and quietly placing his hand in Logan’s outstretched one.

“Let’s go home,” Logan says softly.

…

The moment they are out of the house and the door has closed behind them, the world becomes immediately quieter. The brisk autumn air tugs at the strands of hair falling into Virgil’s eyes. Roman rushes down the steps of the porch towards the sidewalk with his arms spread out.

“You wanna know what song I feel like singing tonight, Logan?” Roman announces as he grabs hold of the nearby streetlamp and spins around it.

The chemical engineering student adjusts the frame of his glasses as he follows Roman down the sidewalk, his other hand still entwined with Patton’s. “What would that be, Roman?”

“All we see is sky for forever!” Roman belts out, a show tune that Virgil immediately recognizes from Dear Evan Hansen. The young actor isn’t exactly being subtle. The out-stretched arms, spinning around, walking ahead of them, singing a song not from the beginning of the tune but from that particular line… he’s emphasizing all of the open space around them as much as possible.

The corner of Virgil’s mouth quirks upwards in an almost-smile. He glances at Patton out of the corner of his eye and notices that he seems steadier now as he smiles warmly at Roman’s antics. He seems to be breathing normally.

It’s something, at least.

Virgil can’t quite shake the feeling of guilt gnawing at his stomach even as he crosses his arms over his chest to brace against the cold air, keeping stride a few steps behind the other three. He doesn’t know what to do. Not really, anyway. He’d been useless to get Patton out of the closet. Useless to prevent him getting trapped in it in the first place. He’d always been the one who focused on keeping the others’ safe, but he’d failed. Where did that leave him?

Patton is safe now. That should be all that matters. But the weight sits heavy and uncomfortable in his chest anyway. He wants to ask Patton if he’s okay—just to make sure, to actually hear him confirm it so maybe his gut will stop twisting—but Patton smiles and laughs at something Roman says and the words die in Virgil’s throat. Maybe bringing it up is a mistake. Patton probably just needs a distraction right now.

Virgil could do that.

Patton glances over his shoulder at him, his brow pulling together in sudden concern. “Holy smokes, kiddo,” he says and starts shrugging out of the hoodie, “I wasn’t even thinking. You must be freezing.”

Virgil’s eyes widen and he grabs Patton’s arms to stop him before he twists out of the sweatshirt. No, Patton,” he insists. “Really. It’s fine. Keep it until we get back to the apartment.”

Patton stops, but looks at him doubtfully. “I don’t want you getting sick.”

Virgil dismissively rolls his eyes. “I won’t, dad. Leave the hoodie on, will you?”

Patton purses his lips. “If you’re sure…” He shrugs it back over his shoulders and slips his hands into the pockets. Virgil gives him a small smile. He feels some of the tension loosen in his chest at the warm look in his friend’s eyes. “Thank you,” Patton adds, a weight to his words that Virgil pretends he doesn’t notice.

Instead, he shakes his head teasingly and bumps his shoulder into his roommate’s. “Don’t mention it.”

…

When they get back to the apartment ten minutes later, Roman dramatically stretches and announces that he needs his “beauty rest” before the matinee tomorrow. Virgil doesn’t miss the soft, uncertain look he gives Patton—the brief crack in Roman’s normality checking that Patton is okay—and Patton gives him a sincere smile and tells him to not let the bed bugs bite. Roman says something about “vanquishing such vile creatures in my sleep!” before he heads into his and Patton’s shared room and closes the door.

Logan stifles a yawn. “Patton, if you’re certain that you don’t require assistance or companionship, I think I may retire for the night as well.”

“You’re sweet for offering, Logan, but you don’t need to worry about me!” Patton flashes him a bright smile but there’s something just a little off about it to Virgil.

The exhausted chemical engineering student glances at Virgil as if to assure himself that someone would be staying up with Patton a little while longer. Virgil nods subtly, and Logan inclines his head to Patton, bids them goodnight, and heads into his and Virgil’s shared room.

There’s a quiet moment after the door clicks shut behind him when neither of them says anything. The quiet living room separated from the kitchen by a wall and short hallway feels small and noticeably silent given the party they had just come from. The heating unit kicks on with a quiet rumble. The thin carpet and mismatching furniture feels like home.

He hears Patton take in a deep, slow breath. He’s still wearing Virgil’s hoodie, but Virgil doesn’t mind. He looks like he feels safe, even as the warm light of the lamp in the corner shows just how much the sweatshirt engulfs his frame. It’s a comforting sight that helps the lingering tightness in Virgil’s stomach, the one that twists a little more each time he thinks about Patton crying on the floor of the storage closet…

“You don’t have to stay up,” Patton says softly, breaking the quiet air around them. “It’s pretty late, kiddo.”

“I’d probably just be scrolling through Tumblr for an hour anyway,” Virgil replies with a tone that is lighter than the weight in his gaze. He looks at his friend a moment longer; Patton looks almost normal, really, if it isn’t for the way he won’t meet Virgil’s eyes. “D’ya want some tea, Patton?”

Patton blinks in surprise. “Oh. Uh, sure. That’d be great.”

“Cool. One sec.”

Virgil takes his time in the kitchen, grabbing a mug with a cat pun for Patton and a black and purple one for himself as he heats the water. He doesn’t rush the process. He has a feeling that Patton could use a moment by himself, to be alone and recognize that he is safe. To not feel like he has to put up a front for anyone else.

Patton had been getting better about not hiding his negative emotions—he really had—but old habits die hard. And Virgil knows all too intimately what it is like to feel exposed and need those tried and true defense mechanisms.

After he drops the tea bags into the mugs of steaming water a few minutes later, Virgil heads back to the living room around the corner. Patton is already sitting on the couch, his shoes discarded by the leg of the coffee table in front of him and his feet tucked up underneath him. Virgil hands him the cat mug and sits beside him, setting his own cup on one of the coasters Logan had bought for the apartment.

Patton gives him a faint, appreciative smile and curls his hands around the cup. He inhales the steam and scent of lavender and cinnamon. He relaxes back into the cushions of the couch a bit.

“Thanks, Virge.”

“Any time, Patton.”

Patton shakes his head and looks down at the floating tea bag in his mug. “No,” he insists quietly. “I don’t just mean the tea. I mean… for tonight. For coming to find me and… helping me get out.”

Virgil nudges the lid of his laptop—which had been sitting on the corner of the coffee table from before they’d left for Roman’s performance—up as he glances at Patton over his shoulder. “I know,” he says. “But we’re here for you as much as you’re here for us.”

Patton swallows and nods. His eyes flicker up to meet Virgil’s before averting them again. Virgil busies himself by quickly logging into his laptop. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, his tone light and casual. He doesn’t want Patton to feel like he has to. Virgil figures he’s felt trapped enough tonight; he doesn’t want to add to that.

“Not… not tonight,” Patton admits quietly.

Virgil nods, and pulls up the Netflix tab on his browser. He can’t say the answer surprises him. That’s okay. Patton knows that they’re there for him, and when he wants to talk about it? Virgil and the others will be there.

“Do you want to watch some Parks and Rec instead?”

He doesn’t miss the relieved smile that pulls across his friend’s face. “Sounds perfect, kiddo.”

 ...

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