Don't Stop.

Caught between lingering heartbreak and a mysterious, composed stranger on the running track, Ellis finds his carefully constructed walls crumbling under the weight of unexpected attention and undeniable physical sparks.

> "It was like his heartbreak had developed its own gravitational pull, attracting random, overly attractive men to witness its slow, public decay."

Introduction

The narrative presented in "Don't Stop" operates as a sophisticated meditation on the physicality of grief and the intrusive nature of unsolicited care. At its core, the central conflict is not merely between two men on a running track, but between Ellis’s desire for a solitary, self-flagellating penance and Tobias’s insistence on shared existence. The track itself serves as a potent metaphor for the circular, repetitive nature of trauma; Ellis is literally and metaphorically running in circles, exerting himself to the point of "acidic sting" to outrun a phantom history that refuses to dissipate. The tension here is a specific flavor of resistance—the friction of a wounded animal being approached by a gentle hand, where the primary instinct is to bite rather than accept the salve.

This chapter establishes a psychological landscape defined by the juxtaposition of decay and renewal. While the setting is aggressively vernal—replete with cherry blossoms, spring pollen, and new greenery—Ellis is internally situated in a stark, barren winter of the soul. The arrival of Tobias does not immediately signal romance, but rather a disruption of Ellis’s curated misery. The "Seme" figure here acts as a mirror that Ellis is desperate to avoid, reflecting not the competent runner he wishes to be, but the "flailing," gasping reality of his current state. The story, therefore, begins not with attraction, but with the humiliation of being perceived while vulnerable.

Furthermore, the text invites the reader to examine the "erotics of witnessing." Ellis feels the "heat" of Tobias’s gaze as a physical weight, transforming the act of running into a performance of inadequacy. The narrative thrust is driven by the question of whether Ellis can tolerate being seen without crumbling. It explores the terrifying intimacy of synchronization—breathing together, moving together—before a single word of genuine affection is spoken. This is a story about the dismantling of defenses, suggesting that the first step toward healing is not stopping the pain, but allowing someone else to pace it alongside you.

Thematic, Genre & Narrative Analysis

The narrative voice, anchored firmly in Ellis’s limited third-person perspective, is a masterclass in defensive self-deprecation. Ellis is an unreliable narrator of his own worth, filtering every interaction through a lens of cynicism and bruised ego. He interprets Tobias’s presence as "infuriating ease" and his concern as "benign pity," revealing a consciousness deeply deeply scarred by abandonment. The text exposes Ellis’s blind spots: he cannot conceive that Tobias’s attention might be born of genuine admiration or attraction because his internal narrative is one of being a "rusty bicycle pump." This perceptual limit creates a delicious dramatic irony where the reader understands the romantic overtures that the protagonist is too guarded to accept, highlighting the tragedy of a self-image so fractured it rejects the remedy it craves.

On a moral and existential level, the story grapples with the concept of "oblivion" versus "the finish line." Ellis explicitly states a preference for oblivion, signaling a passive suicidal ideation common in grief narratives—not a desire to die, but a desire to cease existing in pain. The act of running becomes a secular purgatory, a way to exhaust the body so the mind can rest. The narrative posits a humanistic intervention: Tobias represents the external force that pulls the existential sufferer back from the precipice of oblivion and anchors them in the "here and now." The moral suggestion is that isolation, while protective, is ultimately stagnant, and that the risk of connection is the only antidote to the loop of sorrow.

Genre-wise, this piece sits comfortably within the "Hurt/Comfort" tradition of Boys' Love literature but elevates it through a focus on somatic experience. It avoids the melodramatic excesses often found in the genre, opting instead for a grounded, slice-of-life realism. The "implied larger story" suggests a slow-burn trajectory where the healing process is nonlinear. By integrating the mundane elements of physical exercise—sweat, spit, muscle failure—the story grounds the lofty themes of love and loss in the undeniable reality of the body. It asserts that emotional recovery is a physical discipline, requiring the same repetition and endurance as training for a marathon.

The Grounded Partner (The Seme Archetype)

Tobias, functioning as the Grounded Partner or Seme archetype, is presented not merely as a figure of physical perfection, but as a psychological anchor whose stability is a deliberate, cultivated choice. His "Outdoor Lifestyles Monthly" appearance is a facade that masks a hyper-vigilant observational capacity. He is not running simply for fitness; he is running *with* Ellis. A deep psychological profile suggests that Tobias’s "Ghost" may be a past failure to protect someone, driving his current need to be the steadying hand. His composure is not lack of feeling, but a surplus of control. He matches Ellis’s pace, a submissive act of dominance that reveals his "Lie": the belief that if he is perfect and patient enough, he can prevent those around him from falling.

The "Gap Moe" in Tobias manifests in the microscopic fissures of his serenity. It appears when the "amusement" drains from his voice after Ellis stumbles, replaced by a raw, unmasked concern. This shift reveals that his casual banter is a performance designed to keep things light for Ellis’s sake. When the physical danger becomes real, the mask slips, and the desperate need to protect surfaces. He is not the aloof prince; he is the watchdog. His need for Ellis likely stems from a desire for authenticity; in his world of "clean and metallic" perfection, Ellis’s messy, gasping, "flailing" humanity offers a chaotic vitality that Tobias lacks.

Furthermore, Tobias’s mental health appears robust but reliant on his utility to others. He derives his sense of self from being the "Stronger" one. By offering the water bottle, by catching the arm, by offering platitudes about "getting back up," he is enacting a ritual of caretaking that stabilizes his own identity. He needs a "stray cat" to feed because without one, his capacity for nurturing has no outlet. His attraction to Ellis is the attraction of the lighthouse to the storm-tossed ship; he requires the turbulence of the Reactive Partner to give his steadfastness meaning and purpose.

The Reactive Partner (The Uke Archetype)

Ellis, the Reactive Partner or Uke, is defined by a profound interiority of loss. His "flailing" is not just physical; it is a manifestation of his psychological state—unmoored and drifting. His insecurity is rooted in the "phantom weight" of the hand that no longer holds his, indicating a fear of abandonment that has mutated into a fear of attachment. He lashes out with sarcasm and internal monologue not because he wants Tobias to leave, but because he is terrified that Tobias will leave *eventually*. By rejecting the "nice" overtures, he attempts to preempt the inevitable rejection he believes is his destiny. His vulnerability acts as a weapon; he uses his pathetic state to push people away, daring them to be disgusted so he can be proven right about his unworthiness.

However, Ellis’s vulnerability is also his greatest gift to the dynamic. His inability to hide his struggle—his wheezing, his stumbling, his blushing—forces an honesty onto the interaction that strips away social pretenses. He specifically *needs* the stability Tobias provides because his own internal world is a chaotic flux. He requires an external regulator, someone to set a pace that he can match, because he has lost the ability to self-regulate. Tobias’s rhythm becomes a metronome for Ellis’s chaotic heart, proving that Ellis is seeking containment. He wants to be held, physically and emotionally, to stop the sensation of falling apart.

Psychologically, Ellis is trapped in a "repetition compulsion," reenacting the pain of the breakup by running the same track every Tuesday. He is stuck in the loop of trauma. His reaction to Tobias—the "contradiction" of wanting him to leave and stay—is the classic ambivalence of the anxious-avoidant attachment style. He craves the intimacy he fears. The "dull ache" in his chest is comfortable because it is familiar; Tobias represents the terrifying unknown of a life without that specific pain. Ellis drives the narrative because his resistance creates the friction necessary for the spark; without his reluctance, there would be no conquest, only a meeting.

Archetypal Deconstruction & World-Building

The dynamic in "Don't Stop" presents a compelling **Inversion of Power**. While Tobias holds the physical superiority and the traditional Seme markers of composure and strength, it is Ellis’s emotional volatility that dictates the scene’s tempo. Tobias slows down to match Ellis; Tobias stops when Ellis stops. The "weakness" of the Uke becomes the governing force of the interaction. Ellis’s anxiety and physical limitations act as the gravitational center around which Tobias must orbit. This undermines the traditional hierarchy by showing that caretaking is a reactive state; the caregiver is beholden to the needs of the one receiving care. Ellis holds the power of refusal, the power to walk away, making Tobias the petitioner in this courtship.

Regarding the **'Why' of the Seme's Attraction**, Tobias is not drawn to Ellis despite his flaws, but *because* of his capacity for expressive pain. In a queer context, Ellis’s "flailing" represents a rejection of the stoic masculine ideal that Tobias seems to embody. Tobias valorizes Ellis’s transparency. He seeks to anchor Ellis not to silence him, but to preserve that rare, raw quality of feeling. Tobias likely sees in Ellis a "purity of struggle"—a man fighting his own demons with zero pretense. This validates Tobias’s own protective instincts and allows him to access an emotional depth through Ellis that he cannot access alone. He wants to possess the chaos because he is too disciplined to generate it himself.

The **Queer World-Building** functions as a partial "BL Bubble." The external world exists—kids playing soccer, couples with strollers—but it is rendered as benign background noise. There is no mention of homophobia or societal judgment regarding two men sharing an intimate moment. However, the presence of the "public" serves as a friction point for Ellis’s internal shame. He feels his heartbreak is a "public decay." The setting is not a shield, but a stage. The environment forces them into a private, shared world not because of bigotry, but because the intensity of their connection renders the rest of the world irrelevant. They create a pocket of intimacy through the "glance" and the "whisper," carving out a queer space within the normative park setting.

The Dynamic: Inevitability & Friction

The architecture of Ellis and Tobias’s relationship is built on the collision of kinetic energies. It is a study in "synchronization as seduction." The narrative tracks their alignment: first shadows, then footsteps, then breathing. Their neuroses fit together like a lock and key; Ellis’s chaotic dispersal of energy meets Tobias’s containment and direction. Tobias is the Emotional Anchor, providing the mass and gravity, while Ellis is the Emotional Catalyst, providing the heat and movement. The friction arises from Ellis’s reluctance to be anchored, creating a push-pull dynamic that generates the story’s erotic tension.

The power exchange is fluid. Tobias offers physical support (the catch, the water), but Ellis holds the emotional cards. The inevitability of their union feels fated because the text presents their physical rhythms as naturally compatible. When they run together, it feels "easier" for Ellis. This somatic compatibility bypasses the intellect; their bodies understand the partnership before their minds do. The narrative suggests that they are two halves of a single respiratory system—one inhaling, one exhaling.

This union feels fated rather than convenient because it addresses the specific deficits in each character. Tobias is too perfect to be real; Ellis is too real to be functional. Together, they create a complete human experience. The "lightning bolt" crack in the track symbolizes the fracture that brought them together; it is a destined intersection. The friction is not an obstacle but the fuel; the resistance Ellis puts up is the very thing that proves the solidity of Tobias’s resolve. It is a test, and Tobias passes it with every lap.

The Intimacy Index

The "Skinship" in this chapter is sparse but electrically charged, utilizing the trope of "micro-touch" to convey immense desperation. The pivotal moment—Tobias catching Ellis’s arm—is described with language of shock: "electric," "jolt," "brand." This touch is not merely supportive; it is possessive. The "firm, reassuring pressure" communicates a claim. The lingering "red mark" serves as a somatic memory of the encounter, a physical proof of contact that Ellis carries even after the hand is removed. The sharing of the water bottle acts as an indirect kiss, a fluid exchange that breaches the boundary between their bodies, signaling an internalization of the other.

The "BL Gaze" is deployed as a tangible force. Tobias’s gaze is "heat," a "physical thing," and possesses a "quiet curiosity." He looks at Ellis not just to see him, but to *read* him. Conversely, Ellis avoids looking, focusing on his shoes or the horizon. This avoidance is an admission of the gaze's power; he knows that to meet Tobias’s eyes fully is to surrender. When they finally do lock eyes, the "flicker" of understanding terrifies Ellis. The gaze reveals a subconscious desire for "oblivion" in the other—a mutual drowning. Tobias is looking at a future; Ellis is looking at a threat to his solitude.

Sensory language amplifies this index. The scent of "fresh cut grass" and "something metallic" on Tobias contrasts with the "acidic sting" of Ellis’s failure. Smell becomes a vector for intimacy, invading Ellis’s personal space more effectively than words. The "cool, faintly damp" plastic of the bottle acts as a bridge for their body heat. Every sensory detail—the sweat, the breath, the heat—is weaponized to dismantle the physical distance between them, creating a claustrophobic, erotic proximity that demands resolution.

Emotional Architecture

The emotional architecture of the chapter follows the physiological curve of a sprint: a painful ascent, a peak of intensity, and a cooling down that leaves the muscles trembling. It begins with the high-stress isolation of Ellis’s internal monologue—a frantic, jagged emotional baseline. The entry of Tobias introduces a spike in tension, transforming the solitary struggle into a performative anxiety. The narrative temperature rises with the physical exertion, mirroring the escalating emotional stakes. The "stumble" acts as the climax of this arc, a moment of total loss of control that necessitates an external intervention.

Following the catch, the pacing slows. The dialogue becomes sparse, the movements deliberate. The "cool down" phase is deceptive; while the physical heart rate drops, the emotional resonance deepens. The atmosphere shifts from the sharp, biting air of the run to a "heavy, almost breathable" charge during the walk. Empathy is constructed through the shared breath; the reader feels the relief of the water and the heaviness of the silence. The narrative sustains emotion by denying full release—Ellis walks away, leaving the tension unresolved, vibrating in the air like a plucked string.

The transfer of emotion to the reader is achieved through somatic empathy. We are made to feel the "burn" in the lungs and the "stitch" in the side. By rooting the emotional experience in physical sensation, the story bypasses intellectual analysis and hits the reader in the gut. We feel the "phantom ache" because we have felt the physical ache of running. The story constructs emotion by layering physical vulnerability over psychological wounding, making the desire for comfort a physiological imperative.

Spatial & Environmental Psychology

The setting of the running track is a masterstroke of spatial psychology. It is a closed loop, a "liminal space" where the destination is the starting point. This mirrors Ellis’s psychological state: he is going nowhere, merely repeating the cycle of his pain. The track is an "escape" that has become a prison. The environment is active; the "spring air" is "too thick, too personal," pressing in on Ellis. The "cherry blossoms" and "dandelions" represent a relentless, indifferent life force that mocks Ellis’s internal decay. The world is blooming while he is wilting, creating a contrast that heightens his sense of alienation.

The "patch of dandelions" becomes a metaphor for resilience. Ellis kicks a rock into them, an act of aggression against their cheerful survival. Yet, they "bobbed innocently," indifferent to his mood. Tobias is associated with this greenery ("scent of crushed leaves"), positioning him as part of the natural, healing order that Ellis is trying to resist. The "crack in the track" that looks like a lightning bolt serves as a fixation point for Ellis’s anxiety—a scar in the rubber that mirrors the scar in his psyche.

Furthermore, the transition from the track to the exit path marks a shift in psychological boundaries. The track is the "designated zone of misery," a contained space for acting out trauma. Walking toward the exit signifies a return to the real world, but Ellis carries the "smell of damp earth" with him. The physical space of the park acts as a crucible; it is a public arena where a private drama plays out, highlighting the fragility of the "lone wolf" persona when exposed to the open air.

Aesthetic, Stylistic, & Symbolic Mechanics

The prose rhythm mimics the act of running. The opening paragraph is filled with short, breathless clauses—"The shadow stretched, then shortened, then aligned itself"—creating a cadence of exertion. As the characters synchronize, the sentences lengthen and flow more smoothly, reflecting the "ease" Ellis feels in Tobias’s presence. The diction is visceral: "acidic," "wheeze," "lurch," "clench." These sharp, guttural words emphasize the unglamorous reality of the body in distress.

Symbolism is woven seamlessly into the narrative. The "rusty bicycle pump" is a potent metaphor for Ellis’s feeling of obsolescence and inefficiency. He feels mechanical, broken, and loud. Contrast this with the "clean and metallic" scent of Tobias—a machine that works perfectly. The "water bottle" serves as a chalice of communion; accepting it is the first act of letting Tobias in. The "red mark" on the arm is a stigma of care, a visible sign that he has been handled.

Repetition is used to reinforce the cyclical nature of the trauma. The phrase "every single Tuesday" establishes a ritual. The recurring mention of the "phantom weight" or "phantom hand" grounds the story in the absence of the ex-lover. The contrast between the "bright, indifferent yellow" of the flowers and Ellis’s dark internal world highlights the isolation of grief. The aesthetic goal is to find beauty in the breakdown, to paint the sweat and the stumbling as the precursors to grace.

Cultural & Intertextual Context

Culturally, the story taps into the modern archetype of the "Sad Runner"—the urbanite who processes existential dread through punishing physical regimens. It reflects a society where vulnerability is pathologized, and self-sufficiency is the ultimate virtue. Ellis’s shame at being "seen" is a symptom of a culture that views emotional dependency as weakness. The narrative challenges this by presenting interdependence as the higher state of being.

Intertextually, there are echoes of the Greek athletic ideal, specifically the bond between Achilles and Patroclus—companionship forged in the dust and sweat of the arena. The track becomes the modern palaestra. The story also draws on the "Red String of Fate" mythology common in East Asian media, reimagined here as the "shadows aligning." The inevitability of their meeting suggests a cosmic arrangement typical of the romance genre.

The story also dialogues with the "Hurt/Comfort" fanfiction tradition. It understands the specific beats required: the stoic sufferer, the observant caretaker, the physical failure that forces intimacy. By adhering to and elevating these tropes, the story validates the cultural practice of using romance narratives to explore trauma recovery. It situates itself in a lineage of stories that ask: "Who will catch you when you fall?"

Meta-Textual Analysis & The Fannish Gaze

This chapter is a feast for the **Fannish Gaze**, designed to trigger a specific dopamine response associated with the "care-taking" fantasy. The narrative employs an **Aesthetic of Consumption** where Ellis’s pain is rendered beautiful. We are meant to enjoy his "flush," his "gasp," and his "flailing" because we view them through Tobias’s appreciative eyes. The text frames Ellis as a "damsel in distress" (a term Ellis ironically uses himself) to allow the reader to vicariously experience the thrill of being rescued. The focus on physical beauty—Tobias’s "deep blue" shorts, the "tan on his arms"—prioritizes the visual spectacle, turning the characters into objects of desire even in their moments of distress.

The **Power Fantasy** provided here is deeply specific: it is the fantasy of being unlovable and yet being loved anyway. It addresses the social void of isolation by providing an "unwavering presence." The fantasy is not just about sex; it is about *witnessing*. For an audience likely accustomed to the transactional nature of modern dating, Tobias’s patient, non-transactional pursuit ("I’m just here running with you") fulfills a deep wish for unconditional loyalty. It validates the intense, all-consuming connection as superior to the "easy" moving on of the ex-lover.

Finally, the **Narrative Contract** of the BL genre provides a safety net. The reader knows that Ellis and Tobias are "endgame." This assurance allows the text to dive deep into Ellis’s psychological cruelty and rejection without alienating the audience. We can tolerate Ellis telling Tobias to "go away" because we know Tobias won't. The genre promise allows for the exploration of devastating themes—abandonment, self-hatred—because the landing gear is already deployed. The emotional stakes are raised to "unbearable" levels precisely because the *outcome* is secure, allowing for a safe simulation of heartbreak.

Reader Reflection: What Lingers

What lingers after the chapter concludes is not the image of the run, but the sensory memory of the *pause*. The taste of the water, the coolness of the plastic, and the ghostly sensation of a hand on a forearm. The story leaves the reader with a profound sense of *threshold*. Ellis has walked out of the park, but he has not escaped the gravitational pull. The unanswered question is not "will they?" but "when will Ellis surrender?" The story evokes the specific melancholy of knowing that healing is inevitable, and yet grieving the loss of the grief itself. It reshapes the perception of "moving on" not as a departure, but as an accumulation—learning to carry the new weight alongside the old.

Conclusion

In the end, "Don't Stop" is less a story about athletic endurance than it is about the terrifying stamina required to remain open to the world. It posits that the "finish line" Ellis seeks is a myth; there is only the continuous, rhythmic motion of putting one foot in front of the other, ideally with someone matching your stride. Tobias’s intrusion into Ellis’s solitude is a radical act of hope, a declaration that even in the midst of "slow, public decay," new roots can take hold. The narrative affirms that while we may run to escape our ghosts, it is only by stopping—and allowing ourselves to be caught—that we can finally catch our breath.

Don't Stop.

Two young men on a spring running track. One man looks down, blushing, while the other gently holds his arm, gazing at him with tender concern. - Boys Love (BL) romance, sports fiction, healing heartbreak, spring romance, college life, running track, new beginnings, queer fiction, emotional connection, slow burn, Short Stories, Stories to Read, Boys Love (BL), Boys Love, MM Romance, danmei, yaoi, shounen-ai, K-Boys Love (BL)
Ellis, a young man navigating the lingering sting of heartbreak, attempts to outrun his past on a local running track. His solitary ritual is interrupted by Tobias, a calm and observant stranger, whose persistent presence and quiet intensity challenge Ellis's carefully guarded composure amidst the vibrant bloom of spring. BL romance, sports fiction, healing heartbreak, spring romance, college life, running track, new beginnings, queer fiction, emotional connection, slow burn, Short Stories, Stories to Read, BL, Boys Love, MM Romance, danmei, yaoi, shounen-ai, K-BL
• Fluffy Romance Boys Love (BL)
Caught between lingering heartbreak and a mysterious, composed stranger on the running track, Ellis finds his carefully constructed walls crumbling under the weight of unexpected attention and undeniable physical sparks.

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.