-𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙮𝙤𝙧𝙠
pairings: Moose x Tala (OC)
summary: “i still love her”
genre: angst (only if you squint)
series; wc: 1.8k
main masterlist series masterlist
𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗜𝗧𝗬 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗧𝗢𝗢 𝗟𝗢𝗨𝗗
Even in the early mornings, when the rest of New York should’ve been asleep, trucks still roared past and impatient honks echoed up the sides of buildings like sound ricocheting off steel canyon walls. Tala learned quickly that peace here didn’t mean quiet — 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘦.
She pulled her hoodie tighter around her head as she jogged across 65th Street toward the Juilliard School entrance. It wasn’t cold, but the oversized gray hood gave her a kind of shield, like armor against the eyes of strangers. The summer intensive program had started just a week ago, and she could already feel the weight of it pressing down like scaffolding being built inside her chest.
She hadn’t spoken more than a few words to anyone in the program, not really. There were the necessary exchanges, of course — “𝘕𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘶𝘦” or “𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 307 𝘪𝘴?” — but nothing beyond that.
Her classmates seemed eager to form little clusters and sit close on breaks, trading stories about past performances and gossiping about the instructors. Tala kept her earbuds in, even when they weren’t playing music. It was enough to discourage conversation without being openly hostile.
She didn’t want friends.
That’s what she told herself, anyway.
𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚.
At night, in the slim sliver of time between rehearsals and exhaustion, Tala curled up in her dorm bed and answered texts from home. Andie had sent her a video of their old cat pouncing on a plastic bag.
𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗜𝗘: 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘭𝘮𝘢𝘰, 𝘩𝘰𝘸’𝘴 𝘕𝘠𝘊?
𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗔: 𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘺. 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥.
𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗜𝗘: 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦…𝘺𝘰𝘶?
Tala smirked but didn’t respond. She knew what Andie meant — Tala was trying hard, in her way. Just not in the way others expected. She wasn’t out here networking or making connections. She wasn’t wearing dramatic thrifted outfits or angling for compliments. She was doing the work. Letting the acting take up all the space that used to be filled by other things.
Like 𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙨𝙚.
She hadn’t texted him since the breakup. He hadn’t texted her either. That silence was different than the one she lived in here — it was sharper. There was history behind it, like glass behind a curtain.
She flipped through her messages. Group chats with Chase and Smiles were still alive and chaotic.
𝗦𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗦: 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘋𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘣 𝘤𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴?
𝗖𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗘: 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘦𝘯𝘥
𝗞𝗜𝗗𝗢: 𝘪’𝘥 𝘨𝘰 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵
𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗦𝗘: 𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘛, 𝘩𝘰𝘸’𝘴 𝘉𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭？
𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗔: 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭．
𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗦𝗘: 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘰
Tala laughed softly into her pillow, enough to startle the girl in the bed next to hers. The dorm was shared, though Tala never bothered to remember the other girl’s name. She didn’t 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 to.
Hair sent her a playlist — “moody as hell,” he titled it — and Monster posted a meme in their group DM that made Tala snort. Fly texted her random photos of clouds and fire escapes, things she thought Tala might like.
𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙈𝙤𝙤𝙨𝙚.
And that was fair. She’d ended it. She’d said she didn’t want to do long distance, that she couldn’t handle the separation. That she was scared things would change too much between them, become toxic.
But she hadn’t realized until now that part of her still wanted him to chase her. Or at least — 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗿.
Sometimes, on her way to the black box theater tucked behind Juilliard’s main hall, she would scroll all the way up their old thread. Pictures from the winter — 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦, 𝘴𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳; 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘧𝘦́ 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. Voice notes, jokes, the dumb stuff they used to say when neither of them could sleep.
The silence between them now felt 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹, not 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗹.
Still, she couldn’t let herself reach out. Not after she’d made it so clear. She told him she needed space. And Moose, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘺, had given her exactly that．
In acting class, the instructor was a woman with short silver hair and sharp, actorly cheekbones. She gave notes like daggers. “More breath,” she told Tala during a scene. “Less control. I don’t want to see your thinking — I want to feel it.”
Tala nodded, took the notes, did it again. That was the rhythm of her days: 𝙖𝙘𝙩, 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙖𝙩, 𝙩𝙧𝙮, 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚.
Sometimes, she lingered in the city after rehearsal. Not with people. Alone. She would walk down Columbus Avenue with no destination, just wandering past bookstores and bodegas and jazz bars. New York was beautiful in a raw, dirty way. The way you could be completely invisible in the crowd — unseen, untouched. A kind of relief, after the closeness of home.
The difference between Maryland and New York wasn’t just the buildings or the noise. It was the way Maryland 𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙬 her. People there had expectations—of what she would say, how she would laugh, who she loved.
Here, she could be new. Not better, not worse. Just something else.
And maybe that’s what she wanted.
Still, that night, she opened her texts again. The group chats buzzed with nonsense. Someone sent a pic of a broken skateboard. Someone else was planning a movie night.
She found Moose’s name buried beneath notifications.
She stared at the empty chat box for a long time. Then she typed a single word.
—𝙝𝙚𝙮
Then deleted it.
Typed again.
—𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙠𝙖𝙮
Deleted.
Then, finally, she just closed the app.
She wasn’t ready. Not yet. And maybe she never would be. For now, she’d sit with the loneliness, learn how to mold it into something useful. Use it in her scenes. Breathe into it.
The city didn’t care either way. It roared on, indifferent and alive.
And Tala, hoodie pulled tight and heart sealed shut, walked into the noise like she belonged there.
𓆩❀𓆪
The days in Maryland were warmer now. Sticky and loud with cicadas, just like every summer before, but somehow 𝗲𝗺𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗲𝗿 this year. Moose sat on the roof of Camille’s garage, his feet dangling over the edge as he sipped lukewarm soda and squinted into the sun.
“She hasn’t texted you either?” Camille asked. She was lying flat on her back, her arms flung out dramatically like she was trying to soak in every ounce of sky.
“Nope,” Moose said. He tried not to sound bitter. “Not once.”
Camille didn’t say anything at first. She just let the fizz from her soda can crackle into the silence.
“She’s in New York,” Moose said finally, like it explained something. “Juilliard. Acting thing.”
“I know,” Camille said. “I follow her 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘱𝘤𝘢𝘦.”
Moose blinked. “You follow her 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦?”
“Everyone does, Moose. She’s not hiding. She just doesn’t post anything with… people. It’s just like, theatres and dance studios. Very theatre kid.”
That sounded about right.
He hadn’t followed Tala’s account since the breakup. Not out of pettiness—he just didn’t think he could handle seeing her move on in real time. Even if it wasn’t a new guy. Even if it was just a picture of her boots next to an empty coffee cup, it would hit like a punch.
They hadn’t said much the last night they talked. She hadn’t cried, and neither had he, but it still felt like mourning. Like something being buried, slow and gentle and permanent.
He told her he’d give her space.
He didn’t expect it to stretch this long.
Camille sat up, brushing her hair off her forehead. Her curls had started to frizz in the humidity.
“You still thinking about NYU?” she asked, almost casually.
“Yeah,” Moose said. “Engineering’s solid. Good program. I like the city.”
“You like 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺,” she repeated, teasing. “𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮”
Moose gave her a dry look. “That’s not why.”
Camille raised a brow.
“It’s not 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 why,” Moose admitted.
She laughed. “I mean, it wouldn’t be a bad reason. Tala always did make things feel bigger. She made you want to keep up.”
He nodded. That was the thing about Tala — she lived like she was trying to outrun something invisible. And somehow, it made you want to chase her, even if you knew you’d never catch up.
Camille sipped from her can and stared out toward the trees. “I’m still going to NYU too,” she said. “Different program, though. Digital media. I want to do documentary work eventually.”
“I thought you were aiming for film school in California?”
“Changed my mind,” she said, shrugging. “Maybe I got tired of the idea of reinventing myself somewhere that far. Maybe I like the idea of familiar faces.”
He glanced at her. “Is that your way of saying you want me there?”
“Maybe,” she said, grinning. “Or maybe I just want someone to suffer the L train with.”
They sat in silence again, a softer one this time. The kind that didn’t itch at the edges.
Moose let his thoughts wander — past the roof, past the trees, all the way to New York. He imagined Tala walking down some crowded street, earbuds in, face unreadable. Probably not thinking about him. Or maybe she was, just a little.
Enough to feel that same strange ache he felt every time her name popped up in conversation and then disappeared again.
He hadn’t blocked her. He hadn’t deleted anything. But he also hadn’t looked at their messages in weeks. It felt like turning the pages of a book he used to love and realizing he didn’t recognize the words anymore.
“You think she’s lonely?” he asked suddenly.
Camille didn’t answer right away. “Maybe,” she said. “But Tala always liked being lonely a little bit. She turned it into something. Poetry. Acting. Whatever. You remember how she used to talk about characters like they were people she knew?”
“Yeah,” Moose said, smiling faintly. “She said they were 𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗲𝗿 than real people.”
“Exactly. Maybe she just needs to figure herself out before she figures anyone else out.”
Moose leaned back on his elbows and stared at the blue sky fading into dusk.
“𝙄 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧,” he said.
“I know,” Camille said, gently.
“𝙞 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧“
“You always will.”
Neither of them said it, but both of them wondered what would happen when fall came and the three of them ended up in the same city again. 𝙒𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙏𝙖𝙡𝙖 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚? 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙏𝙚𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙢𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩?
Maybe not.
But Moose would be there anyway. Not just for her. For himself.
Because whatever happened next — whoever Tala became — 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙞𝙩.
author:
sorry for the small update, as you noticed updates are slower but its finals give me like 2 weeks and i’ll be more active, but i will be posting still in these two weeks, just not as often.
This chapter is an introduction chapter for step up 3D, next update will start the movie storyline.
