Ellis’s lungs burned. Not a good, productive burn, but a sharp, acidic sting that tasted faintly of spring pollen and failure. He hadn't meant to push this hard, hadn't meant to push at all really, but the track had been empty when he started. The soft thud of his worn running shoes against the recycled rubber had been the only sound for twenty minutes, a rhythmic, self-pitying cadence. Now, another figure, tall and strangely composed, was closing the distance with infuriating ease. The shadow stretched, then shortened, then aligned itself with Ellis’s own, a silently accelerating presence.
“You’re really going for it,” a voice said, low and a little amused, just beside his ear. The sound was so unexpected, so close, that Ellis nearly tripped over his own feet, a genuine, clumsy lurch that sent a fresh jolt of pain up his shins. He coughed, trying to catch his breath, and risked a glance. Tobias. Of course. The guy who seemed to materialize out of thin air, every single Tuesday, exactly when Ellis was hitting his personal wall of exhaustion, usually around lap six or seven. The spring air, newly warm and sweet with cherry blossoms, suddenly felt too thick, too personal.
“Going for… what?” Ellis managed, his voice a wheeze. The absurd question, the forced nonchalance, made his ears burn. He sounded like a rusty bicycle pump. He adjusted his stride, trying to look less like a beached fish gasping for oxygen and more like a person who, you know, ran regularly. He pulled at the hem of his too-large t-shirt, a nervous habit. The fabric was damp, clinging.
Tobias, barely breathing hard, just smirked. A small, subtle lift of one corner of his mouth that somehow still managed to convey an entire thesis on Ellis’s current state of athletic ineptitude. “That finish line, presumably. Or just... oblivion.” He settled into a pace precisely matching Ellis’s, his long legs moving with an almost lazy power. He had a slight, uneven tan on his arms, the kind that spoke of outdoor work, not just tanning beds. A faint smell of fresh cut grass and something else, something clean and a little metallic, clung to him.
Ellis snorted, a laugh-cough that ended in another wheeze. “Oblivion sounds nice.” He focused on the crack in the track, the one that looked like a lightning bolt, just ahead of his left shoe. Anything but Tobias’s profile, the calm line of his jaw, the way his dark hair was just long enough to curl at the nape of his neck when he turned his head, like he was doing now, looking at Ellis. The heat of that gaze was a physical thing, prickling the sweat on Ellis’s temples.
“Doesn’t it?” Tobias said, his tone still light, but with an undercurrent Ellis couldn’t quite place. Understanding, maybe. Or perhaps just the kind of benign pity one offered to a stray cat. Ellis hated pity. Especially from someone who looked like he’d just stepped out of a highly paid photoshoot for 'Outdoor Lifestyles Monthly'. Tobias's running shorts were exactly the right shade of deep blue, his tech-fabric shirt just fitted enough to hint at strong shoulders.
Another lap completed. The park was filling up now. A dog barked distantly. A couple pushed a stroller, their hushed conversation carried on the breeze. Ellis focused on the stitch forming in his side. He wanted to tell Tobias to go away. To run his own, effortlessly perfect laps somewhere else. But the words were stuck, trapped behind the burning in his chest. And, honestly, part of him didn't want him to leave. The contradiction made his stomach clench.
“You’ve been here every Tuesday for… what, two months?” Ellis blurted, surprising himself. The question was meant to be accusatory, a declaration that he’d noticed, that Tobias was infringing on his designated zone of misery. It came out sounding more like a query, a tentative reach. He squinted at the horizon, where the newly green leaves of the oak trees shimmered against the pale blue sky. He was acutely aware of the rhythmic swing of Tobias's arm, just inches from his own.
Tobias turned his head fully then, his eyes, a startling clear hazel, meeting Ellis’s for a beat too long. A flicker of something in them. Amusement, yes, but also a quiet curiosity. “Something like that.” He didn't elaborate. He didn’t need to. Ellis felt the blood rush to his face, a sudden, embarrassing flush that had nothing to do with physical exertion. His heart, already hammering from the run, gave an extra, frantic thump against his ribs.
“Right.” Ellis mumbled, breaking eye contact, focusing again on the track ahead. The track had always been his escape, a place where he could ignore the dull ache in his chest, the phantom weight of a hand that no longer held his. Now, even that was being invaded. It was absurd. It was like his heartbreak had developed its own gravitational pull, attracting random, overly attractive men to witness its slow, public decay. He shook his head, a small, internal laugh escaping him at the sheer melodrama of it all.
They ran in silence for a while, the only sounds their breathing, now synchronized, and the soft padding of their shoes. Ellis found himself subconsciously adjusting his pace, trying to match Tobias’s steady rhythm. It felt… easier. Less like he was dragging himself through thick mud. He stole another glance at Tobias. His expression was serene, almost meditative. How could someone look so unbothered while running? It was a superpower Ellis desperately needed. He thought of his ex, how easily he’d moved on, how Ellis was still stuck in this loop, running the same laps, feeling the same dull ache.
A small rock, dislodged from the edge of the track, skittered under Ellis’s foot. He stumbled, his ankle twisting awkwardly. A sharp gasp escaped him. He braced for impact, a clumsy fall into the rubberized track, but a hand, strong and warm, closed around his forearm, steadying him. The contact was instantaneous, electric, sending a jolt straight up his arm and through his chest. It lingered, a firm, reassuring pressure.
“Careful,” Tobias’s voice was softer now, devoid of its earlier amusement. His grip tightened for a moment, then slowly, reluctantly, released. Ellis felt the sudden absence of heat, the loss of that anchor. He swayed slightly, not from the near-fall, but from the unexpected intensity of the touch. His arm felt strangely cold where Tobias had held it. A faint red mark, like a brand, was already starting to appear on his skin. He wondered if Tobias felt it too, this… current.
“Yeah. Thanks.” Ellis mumbled, his voice thick, his gaze still fixed on his scuffed shoe. He didn't dare look up. The air between them, already charged, felt heavy, almost breathable. He could smell Tobias’s subtle scent, closer now, a mix of clean sweat and something green, like crushed leaves. It was distracting, disorienting. He needed to re-establish distance. Needed to re-establish the narrative that he was a lone wolf, scarred and self-sufficient, not some damsel in distress on a public running track.
Tobias slowed his pace slightly, matching Ellis’s hesitant steps. “You okay?” His voice was genuinely concerned now, the last trace of satire gone. He sounded… nice. Too nice. Ellis distrusted nice. Nice usually meant 'about to leave you for someone else'. He kicked at the small rock that had caused his stumble, sending it skittering off the track and into a patch of dandelions. Their bright yellow heads bobbed innocently in the gentle breeze.
“Fine,” Ellis replied, perhaps a little too quickly. He forced a smile, a brittle, unconvincing thing. “Just… clumsy. Always have been.” He started running again, trying to reclaim some semblance of normalcy, of control. Tobias resumed his pace beside him, not pushing, just there. The silent, unwavering presence was almost worse than the teasing. It chipped away at Ellis’s carefully constructed walls, the ones he’d built brick by brick since the breakup, ensuring no one could get close enough to hurt him again.
Another lap. The sun was higher now, warm on his neck. A group of kids played soccer in the distant field, their shouts muffled by the chirping of birds. Ellis found his thoughts drifting, not to the sting of his past, but to the peculiar comfort of Tobias’s steady rhythm beside him. It was a strange kind of intimacy, this shared, silent exertion. He found himself subtly adjusting his breathing again, trying to synchronize it with Tobias’s. When it clicked, a strange sense of ease settled over him, fleeting, but real.
“You’re getting faster,” Tobias said, startling Ellis out of his reverie. His voice was quiet, almost a murmur, meant only for Ellis’s ears. It made a shiver run down Ellis’s spine, despite the warmth of the day. “And your form… it’s better. Less… flailing.”
Ellis laughed, a genuine, if still slightly breathless, sound this time. The satirical self-awareness had a softer edge to it. “Flailing. Yeah, that’s accurate. My default mode, really.” He risked a quick glance. Tobias was smiling now, a full, open smile that transformed his face, chasing away the composed mask. It reached his eyes, crinkling the corners. It was a good smile. Too good. It made Ellis’s stomach do a weird, fluttering thing.
“Everyone flails sometimes,” Tobias said, his gaze steady. “It’s how you get back up.” He bumped Ellis’s shoulder lightly, a quick, almost imperceptible contact that still felt like a punch to Ellis’s solar plexus. The shock of it, the lingering warmth, made Ellis’s cheeks flush again. He found himself wishing Tobias hadn't pulled his hand away earlier. He wanted to feel that steadying warmth again, just for a second.
Ellis focused on his feet, on the ground, on anything but the dizzying implications of Tobias’s words, his touch. The words were simple, almost cliché, but Tobias said them with a sincerity that cut through Ellis’s usual cynicism. It made him feel… seen. And Ellis hadn’t felt truly seen in a long, long time. Not since the implosion. He felt a sudden, unwelcome tightness in his throat. He pushed it down. He couldn’t afford to feel seen. Being seen meant being vulnerable. Being vulnerable meant being broken again.
“I should… I should probably cool down,” Ellis mumbled, though he knew he had at least two more laps in him. His legs felt lighter now, surprisingly. It was a retreat, a clumsy, transparent attempt to escape the growing intensity between them. He veered slightly off the track, slowing to a walk, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He wanted to blame it on the running, but it was Tobias. It was always Tobias.
Tobias stopped with him, not questioning, just mirroring his actions. He took a sip from his water bottle, then offered it to Ellis. The plastic was cool, faintly damp. Ellis hesitated, then took it, his fingers brushing against Tobias’s for a moment. Another spark, another jolt. He could feel the residual warmth of Tobias's hand on the bottle. He brought it to his lips, the water cool and sweet. He drank deeply, desperate to quench the sudden, inexplicable thirst that had nothing to do with dehydration.
“Good run,” Tobias said, when Ellis handed the bottle back. His eyes held Ellis’s for a moment, a quiet, lingering connection that spoke volumes. The spring breeze ruffled Ellis’s hair, and he found himself just… staring back. Unable to look away. He saw something in Tobias’s eyes, something warm and patient, and a tiny, treacherous part of him wanted to lean into it. Wanted to confess everything, about the heartbreak, about the running, about the fear.
But then the fear clamped down, a cold, familiar hand around his heart. He felt a phantom ache, a memory of a trust shattered. It was too soon. It was always too soon. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t know if he ever would be. He broke eye contact, his gaze sweeping over the burgeoning greenery of the park, the bright, indifferent yellow of the dandelions.
“Yeah,” Ellis said, his voice quiet, almost lost in the sudden, overwhelming silence. He cleared his throat. “See you… around.” It was a dismissal, a fragile attempt at maintaining boundaries. He turned to walk towards the exit, his legs feeling heavy again, his lungs tightening. The path felt strangely lonely, despite the people around him. He didn’t look back, but he could feel Tobias’s gaze on his back, a persistent, warm weight that refused to be shaken off. It promised a future Ellis wasn’t sure he was brave enough to face, yet. A future that might involve more than just running.
He walked out of the park, the smell of damp earth and new growth clinging to him. The sky was a brilliant, impossible blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds. It felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for him to decide. Waiting for him to run, or to finally stop running away.