21 - ????? ??????

rebuilding with lando isn’t easy, but you hadn’t expected it to be. it’s messy and awkward and sometimes way too vulnerable. he’ll say something thoughtless, and you’ll snap. you’ll start to close off, and he’ll pull you back in with quiet apologies or soft smiles that make your heart falter. it’s a delicate dance, rebuilding the trust piece by piece. but for every misstep, there’s a little progress—moments that feel so much like you and him that it scares you and comforts you all at once.

breaking up with johnathon is as gentle as it can be. there are no slammed doors or raised voices, only the quiet resignation of two people who know this isn’t working. you sit across from him at your kitchen table, hands wrapped around a mug of tea you haven’t touched, and try to explain the feelings you can’t quite put into words.

“i’m sorry,” you say softly, unable to meet his eyes. “you’re... you’re amazing. but my heart—it’s not here, johnathon. it’s not fair to you.”

he nods, his jaw tightening, but when he speaks, his voice is calm. “i knew,” he admits. “maybe not at first, but recently? yeah. i knew.”

“i didn’t mean to—”

“don’t,” he interrupts gently, a sad smile pulling at his lips. “you don’t have to explain. i get it. and honestly? i hope he’s worth it.”

you think about lando, about the way his voice wavered the last time he apologized. about how he looks at you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he blinks. “he is,” you say quietly.

johnathon just nods again, and when he leaves, you feel like you’ve done the right thing, even if it hurts.

---

a few weeks later, lando picks you up for a “no plans” kind of night, the sort of thing that used to be second nature between you. there’s no hesitation when you climb into the passenger seat, no second-guessing.

“where are we going?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as he pulls onto the highway.

“you’ll see,” he says with a grin, one hand drumming on the steering wheel to some faint song on the radio.

he takes you to a secluded spot on the edge of town, a quiet clearing where the stars shine brighter than you’ve seen in years. when he parks the car, he hops out, motioning for you to follow. without a word, you both climb onto the hood, settling in like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“fries?” he asks, holding up a bag he apparently picked up on the way.

you laugh, shaking your head. “you’re so predictable.”

“you love it,” he teases, offering you the bag.

the two of you sit there, sharing fries and looking up at the sky. the soft strains of “21” float out from the car, and this time, it doesn’t hurt. it feels like a chapter in your story instead of the whole book.

lando glances over at you, his face shadowed in the dim light. “can i tell you something?”

“what?” you ask, the word coming out softer than you meant it to.

he shifts, leaning back on his palms. “i used to replay our last fight in my head. over and over. like... some kind of highlight reel. every time, i thought, ‘if i just said this differently, or didn’t say that at all, maybe she’d still be here.’”

your heart tightens, but you don’t interrupt.

“but it’s not just that,” he continues, his voice dipping lower. “it’s everything. the fries. the stupid playlists. the way you’d steal my hoodies even when you had your own. i’ve missed you, millie. all of you.”

the words hang between you, heavy and fragile. you’re afraid to touch them, afraid they might break.

“lando,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“no, it’s okay. i just—i needed to say it. even if you don’t feel the same way. i just needed you to know.”

you turn to him then, your heart pounding so loud you’re sure he can hear it. you don’t think, you just lean in, closing the gap between you.

when your lips meet, it’s soft at first—tentative, like both of you are afraid to press too hard. but then his hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you feel him smile against your mouth, and something inside you cracks open.

when you finally pull back, his forehead rests against yours, and he exhales a shaky laugh. “well, that was unexpected.”

“shut up,” you whisper, grinning despite yourself.

you sit there, the stars above you and the quiet hum of “21” in the background. it doesn’t feel like an ending. it feels like the start of something new, something worth holding onto this time.

and for once, you’re not afraid to try.