The Distance Between Shifts
Warnings: mild swearing, light angst, themes of anxiety
Word count: 2,050
Summary: While you secretly pack to transfer to San Jose State, your silence sends Will into a slow spiral. He turns to Macklin Celebrini and Tyler & Cat Toffoli for reassurance, only for you to show up at his apartment with the truth — and a future closer to him.
Notes: This is one of my first works ever so please bare with me. i 100% want constructive criticism so leave advise in the comments. I have my requests here so please request!!! and when you do be as detailed as you want! i just dont do smut. also heres my masterlist so check it out!!
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Day 1 — Boston
You don’t mean to disappear on him.
It starts with one email — Your transfer to San Jose State University has been approved — and suddenly your entire life becomes a countdown. A list of deadlines. A mountain of forms. A dorm room that looks like a tornado hit it.
Your academic advisor is talking a mile a minute on the phone, you’re scribbling notes, and your laptop is buried under a pile of transfer paperwork.
Your phone buzzes on the bed.
Will: hey babe, how was class?
You glance at it, heart squeezing, but your advisor is still talking, and you tell yourself you’ll answer in five minutes.
Five minutes becomes an hour.
Then it’s midnight, and you’re surrounded by half‑packed boxes, exhausted and overwhelmed. You fall asleep without texting him back.
Day 2 — Boston
You wake up to three messages.
Will: you okay? Will: long day? Will: call me when you can ❤️
Guilt hits you hard.
You type out a reply — Sorry, crazy day, I’ll call you later — but you don’t send it. You want to tell him in person. You want the surprise to be perfect.
You shove your phone in your pocket and keep packing.
By evening, you’re knee‑deep in bubble wrap and stress. You miss another call. Then another. You tell yourself you’ll call him after you finish packing your desk.
You don’t.
Day 3 — San Jose
Will notices.
He’s not dramatic at first. He just frowns at his phone between drills, checks it again in the locker room, then again in the car.
By the time he gets home, he’s pacing.
Macklin Celebrini watches him from the couch. “Dude. You’re wearing a hole in the floor.”
“She hasn’t answered in three days,” Will mutters. “Three.”
“Maybe she’s busy.”
“She’s always busy. She still texts.”
Mack pauses the movie. “Come here.”
Will reluctantly sits.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Mack says. “You’re overthinking.”
Will stares at the floor. “Feels like I did.”
Mack bumps his shoulder. “You’re allowed to miss her. You’re not allowed to assume she hates you.”
Will huffs out a humorless laugh. “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Will doesn’t sleep well that night.
Day 4 — San Jose
He tries to distract himself.
Practice. Video review. A workout. A nap that doesn’t happen.
By evening, he’s staring at his phone again.
Will: hey. just checking in. Will: i’m starting to worry. Will: please tell me you’re okay.
Nothing.
He caves.
He calls Tyler Toffoli.
Tyler answers immediately. “What’s up, kid?”
Will tries to sound casual. “Nothing. Just… wanted to ask something.”
Tyler snorts. “You sound like you’re about to confess to a crime.”
Will groans. “It’s not— okay, maybe it’s kind of like that.”
“Hang on,” Tyler says. “Cat’s better at this emotional stuff.”
There’s a shuffle, then Cat Toffoli’s warm voice comes through. “Hi sweetheart. What’s going on?”
Will exhales shakily. “She hasn’t answered me in four days.”
“Oh, Will.”
“I don’t know what I did wrong.”
Cat’s voice softens. “Long distance is brutal. Silence doesn’t always mean something’s wrong.”
“But what if it does?”
“If she was done with you,” Tyler calls from somewhere in the background, “she’d tell you. Trust me.”
Cat swats him (you can hear it). “Ignore him. Listen — you’re allowed to feel scared. But don’t jump to the worst conclusion.”
Will rubs his face. “I just… I miss her.”
“I know,” Cat says gently. “Give it a little more time.”
He hangs up feeling worse.
Day 5 — Morning — Boston → San Jose
You’re at the airport at 6 a.m., running on two hours of sleep and pure adrenaline.
Your phone buzzes again.
Will: i’m really worried now. please just tell me you’re okay.
You close your eyes, guilt twisting your stomach.
You’ll tell him soon. In person. It’ll be worth it.
You hope.
Day 5 — Afternoon — San Jose
Will is sitting on the couch, staring at the wall, phone in hand. He hasn’t eaten. He hasn’t moved. He hasn’t stopped checking his notifications.
Mack sits beside him. “You’re spiraling.”
“I know.”
“You need to breathe.”
“I can’t.”
Mack sighs. “She loves you. She’ll call.”
Will doesn’t answer.
He’s too busy imagining every worst-case scenario.
So when there’s a knock at the door, he barely reacts.
Mack gets up, opens it—
And freezes.
“Uh,” he says. “Will? You might want to get over here.”
Will looks up.
And his heart stops.
You’re standing in the doorway, suitcase behind you, backpack slung over your shoulder, eyes soft and nervous and hopeful.
“Hi,” you say.
Will is on his feet instantly.
“You’re— you’re here?” His voice cracks. “You’re actually—”
You nod, tears pricking your eyes. “Surprise.”
He crosses the room in three long strides and pulls you into his arms, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.
You melt into him, burying your face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head, pulling back just enough to cup your face. “Are you okay? Did something happen? Did I—”
“No,” you say quickly. “No, you didn’t do anything. I’ve been packing. I transferred. I’m going to San Jose State.”
Will blinks. “You— what?”
“I wanted to tell you in person,” you say, voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just… I wanted to be here. With you.”
For a moment, he can’t speak.
Then he kisses you — soft, slow, desperate — like he’s trying to make up for every day he didn’t get to.
Mack clears his throat loudly. “I’m still here.”
Will doesn’t look away from you. “Don’t care.”
Later — Couch
You’re curled up against him, his arm around you, your head on his chest.
“You really scared me,” he murmurs.
“I know,” you whisper. “I’m sorry.”
“I thought I messed up.”
“You didn’t. I was overwhelmed. And scared. And guilty. And… everything.”
He kisses your forehead. “Next time, just tell me. Even one text.”
You nod. “I promise.”
After a moment, you nudge him. “So… you called Tyler and Cat?”
He groans. “Don’t.”
“You were spiraling.”
“Stop.”
“You probably paced around the apartment like a sad golden retriever.”
“I hate you.”
You grin. “No, you don’t.”
He kisses you again, soft and warm. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I really don’t.”
You settle against him, fingers intertwined, his heartbeat steady under your ear.
For the first time in days, everything feels right.