Always You || Simon Minter (miniminter)

Chapter 2

Two hours on the train pass slowly, the scenery shifting from empty fields to clusters of buildings, then finally to the glow of the London skyline. When the train eases into the station, it's already close to 11 p.m. Night has swallowed the city whole — thick, cold, and glittering with lights that look sharper than usual against the darkness.

Jide texted earlier to warn me that all the boys were at the house tonight and that they were, in his words, "drinking their brains out." I wasn't surprised. That's their natural state of being in half of the YouTube videos.

I sling my bag over my shoulder and step out of the train. The blast of cold London air is a shock compared to the stale warmth of the carriage. I stand there for a moment, breathing it in, grounding myself.

Then I see him.

Even from a distance, Jide's grin is unmistakable — wide, bright, bursting with energy. He spots me instantly and jogs toward me, nearly bowling over a businessman who looks thoroughly unimpressed.

Before I can speak, his arms wrap around me in a massive, bone-crushing hug that lifts me slightly off the ground.

"Millie!" he mutters into my hair. "I've missed you so much."

Hearing him say it, actually feeling him here, makes something inside me loosen — something I didn't realise had been clenched tight for weeks.

"Don't get too sappy, Jide. I can't breathe," I mumble against his shoulder.

He laughs and lets go, but the smile that lit up his face falters when he takes a proper look at me. His brows pinch together, and he lifts a hand to gently brush his thumb along my cheek as if confirming what he's seeing.

"You look different," he murmurs. "You look... sad."

The honesty hits harder than I expect. Before I can form a reply, he pulls me into another hug, softer this time, more protective than excited.

We stand like that longer than two best friends probably should in the middle of a train station, but neither of us moves or questions it.

"Come on," he finally says, clearing his throat. "I'm excited for you to meet my friends. I know you've seen them in videos, but trust me — they're worse in person."

I laugh, letting him take my suitcase. His arm slides around my shoulders as he guides me through the station and out to the car park.

And then I see his car.

"Jide... what the hell."

He smirks as I stare. I am 99% sure I'm looking at a car worth more than my entire apartment building.

"You like it?" he asks casually, starting the engine. It roars to life so aggressively that I physically jump. Jide tries (and fails) not to laugh at me.

"Right," he says as he pulls out of the car park, "just a heads up — the boys are great. But right now? They're absolutely fucked. So be patient with them tonight."

I nod, sinking into the leather seat as we speed onto the motorway. I've seen Jide's friends online, but I remind myself people off-camera are never exactly the same.

By the time we turn into his neighbourhood, nerves start tightening in my stomach. Every house looks expensive, modern, a little intimidating. But then we pull into his driveway, and my mouth falls open.