It still smelled like him. The hoodie. Like pine body spray and spearmint gum and bad decisions in locker rooms.
He shouldn’t have worn it to school. But Ryan had pressed it into his hands the night before — no words, just that stupid soft look he got when Riker was spiralling.
Now they were back in the hallway, pretending they weren’t staring. Pretending last night didn’t happen. Pretending Ryan wasn’t already reaching for him again.
And maybe Riker let him. Maybe he always would.









