𝙞𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 | 𝚓𝚜𝚌𝚑𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚝

𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 | 𝟷/𝟷

[photo: from the lunch club cooking video when charlie tries to make schlatt eat their creation | wc: 2,114 (I know, I know, I popped off on this one lol) | note: I started writing this a long time ago, way before I even thought of making this book, as a way to experiment with my writing style. I'm still figuring things out, but I thought I'd give a little warning that this is going to be pretty different from my usual style (unless I'm just over analyzing it because of how many times I've had to reread it and fix things haha) There are also probably more mistakes here even though I proofread a lot because there are so many things about English that I just don't know, so feel free to let me know if anything is off!]

He spent his days in New York City masquerading his distaste for stereotypical intellectuals as the inability to sustain large group socializing and live with unreliable heating and air conditioning. Moving upstate was in no way a magical all encompassing solution, and, much to his dismay, it did little to ease his soul. He was determined to always do more and do better, but he felt just as lost as he did in the big city.

He had spent nearly every day with you since your first meeting in elementary school when you both gravitated to the sidelines in the large Brooklyn facility. Neither of you would have ever predicted that you would become lifelong friends or that you would help each other lose your general hesitation to socialize in large crowds. There was something about your relationship that made it welcoming to reveal your crazy sides. You were meant for each other and had made a pact at that school that you wouldn't let anything come between you.

When he made the decision to move upstate for college, you knew it was inevitable for you to go as well. However, because your college majors and final decisions didn't quite line up, you ended up a painful twenty minute drive away. It was alright, though, nothing extremely unbearable, and it gave you both a little bit more of the independence you yearned for. At least, in the beginning.

He glanced at the paper that lay crumpled on the floor in the corner of his room, hastily tearing his eyes away from it as he threw on a sleek black windbreaker over his Desert Storm sweatshirt and pulled his Yankees cap over his messy hair. The soft lining of the winter gloves he grabbed on his way out had already began to warm his fingers as he shut the door with his foot.

Days had flown passed since he last left his cramped third floor apartment. He didn't exactly have a plan for where he wanted to go, but, as he moved down the metal spiral staircase, he couldn't shake the need to move his feet and go somewhere—anywhere.

Left. Right. Left. The concrete of the sidewalk seemed to sink against his steps, making each step harder to take, like the world was dragging him down. He felt like he was endlessly walking, like he couldn't escape. But he knew it was not the world dragging him down but rather himself—he had been dreading making this decision since he received the invitation.

His heart seemed to beat in his throat and his hands shakily moved to pull out his phone and dial a number. He hadn't been this nervous in years, but he tried to ground himself in the solace that everything would be alright.

"Hey! It's so great to hear from you!" Your voice cut off the second ring and spurred his anxiety to roar back to life. While he wasn't looking forward to hearing your heartbreaking cries, he knew what he had to do. There was a part of him that still couldn't help but revel in your innocent and simple greeting.

No answer. He couldn't form the words to tell you—whether it was uprooting you from your home or leaving you behind, he couldn't rationalize or justify either. At least not to you. How could he allow himself to become the thing to pull you apart?

"Jonathan?" The worry your voice laced in one word shattered his heart further than he thought possible, "Is everything okay?"

"I'm going to accept the offer, y/n."