A/N: So, I did it again. I got obsessed with a new fandom and got the inspiration to write this. To those reading my Dasey fic (Best Imitation of You), don't fret! I'm just stuck in a little rut right now. I'm not giving it up. But I just had to write this. No, I don't own the boys or the song (Semisonic's "Closing Time").

Some Other Beginning's End

Pairing: Drake/Josh

Summary: SongFic Drake is not looking forward to loosing Josh to college.

--

Closing time - time for you to go out, go out into the world.
Closing time - turn the lights up over every boy and every girl.

It wasn't as big a moment as the time where he performed live on TRL, nor as huge as the day when he first heard his song played on the Daka shoe commercial, and not nearly as memorable as his first real kiss (twelve years old, blonde, Amanda, back of the school bus, thirty three seconds) – but he still felt pretty damn good as he tossed his cap into the air along with the rest of his graduating class.

Drake Parker had made it through high school. No more tests, no more homework, no more bells, no more codes of conduct, and most certainly no more Mrs. Hayfer.

Drake Parker was free. Drake Parker was done. Drake Parker was on his way to bigger and better things. Drake Parker was going to be famous. Drake Parker was going to become a household name.

Drake Parker was going to have to leave behind the most important person. Or, honestly, that person was going to be leaving him behind. Maybe not so much behind as alone, though. Opposite directions. Dissimilar settings.

Wedged in the middle of the crowd of his class, living through the curse of being the letter "P" (always stuck in between – never first and never last), Drake had watched with pride as his stepbrother was the second person to receive his high school diploma (as if nobody could foresee Mindy Crenshaw being the first in the class). And although it had taken a lot of pushing through overexcited just-graduated-from-high-school-man! teenagers, Drake made sure that he was the first person that Josh Nichols could latch onto for a euphoric hug.

It was one of those moments where Drake wasn't at all concerned that people were watching as he and Josh hugged tightly. It didn't matter anymore – he'd never see these people again (except at the next reunion, where he'll be able to walk in and hear the whisperings and the praises of his peers, all star shocked with the fact that their Drake Parker was famous).

As Drake pulled away from Josh, he looked up at his stepbrother, his best friend, and smiled widely.

"We're done, dude. This is the end."

There were too many endings, though, and Drake chose not to worry about all of them at that exact moment. Better to just bask in the glory of his post-graduation afterglow.

--

Drake's not stupid. Or, well, he's not too stupid. Not stupid enough to realize that Josh was no longer the chubbly, cross-dressing dork who invaded his room four years ago. Josh had become the constant, the brains, the center of Drake's life. Everything came back to Josh.

So what in the hell was Drake going to do when Josh left? It wouldn't be so bad if Josh were going to college in the state, but instead Josh had enrolled in some hoity toity "prestigiously intellectual and socially advantageous" (as described on the pamphlet Drake had read, finding it laying on the kitchen counter a few months back) east cost school. There were going to be states between them. Lots and lots of states.

States that Drake could not, could not, deal with.

State of bitterness (Nevada), state of frustration (Utah), state of anger (Colorado), state of confusion (Kansas), state of denial (Missouri), state of loneliness (Kentucky), state of misery (West Virginia).

During his classes, Drake would often find himself staring at the US map in the back of his history book (completely at a loss as to where they put the old Jersey and utterly surprised to find that Canada was, in fact, not its own continent) for hours, counting the states and tracing the distance that would soon divide him and Josh.

This was to be their last summer. Their last Drake and Josh summer. Josh and Drake. Drake and Josh. Soon to be just Drake. And Josh, somewhere else. Far, far away.

Closing time - one last call for alcohol, so finish your whiskey or beer.
Closing time - you don't have to go home but you can't stay here.

What with all the friends Josh had, all the people Drake knew, and all their shared acquaintances, there were enough Graduation party invites to fill almost all of Drake and Josh's evenings for the entire summer. It was to be assumed that most of these parties would consist of lots of food, lots of picture taking, and lots of alcohol (which obviously, combined, would lead to some amusing and possibly incriminating photos on ).

"Just promise me you won't join a beer-filled hot tub orgy or anything, okay?"

As expected, Josh was a bit reluctant to attend some of the more obvious parties – the ones where even the kids' parents knew there would be potential for alcohol poisoning incidents in their basement.

Drake pondered the thought of a beer-filled hot tub as he sat on his bed, strumming his guitar. "I don't know, Josh. The thought of hot beer? Not so appealing."

Josh was rummaging through drawers with a notepad in hand. He was "taking inventory," or some sort of nonsense, jotting down a list of items he was planning on shipping out to his new room. With his new roommate. In his new state – heartbreak (Virginia).

"Well, you be sure to remember that when you get completely drunk and are offered the opportunity."

"Or maybe you can remind me, since you're so set on keeping me away from doorway situations."

Drake could practically hear Josh rolling his eyes as he flipped through a binder of DVDs while lounging on the couch. "Gateway, Drake. Gateway situations."

"Whatever." He played a small combination of chords, humming along with the sound. Without looking up from his notepad, Josh commented, "That sounds nice."

It took so much inner control to keep Drake from hurling something, anything (well, not his guitar), against the wall. How could Josh do this to him? How could he leave Drake all alone? Who would Drake waste all his time with, doing dumb shit and having the best time doing it all? Who would tell Drake when a song was heading the right way? Who would Drake use as his post to lean on, whenever he needed support?

Josh was always there when it mattered most. Always. No matter what. Josh was like Drake's personal, well damn, personal everything. Tutor, cook, maid, guide, therapist, manager, brother, friend.

Always was ending. Forever was over.

And then, as rare as these moments are, Drake had an idea. One that would help him selfishly cling to Josh as much as he could for all the time he had left.

Drake put down his guitar and sat up straight. "Josh?" Sensing the seriousness in Drake's tone, Josh stopped his scribbling and glanced up at the other.

"Promise me something?"

Josh raised an eyebrow and frowned. "What kind of promise? One where I sell my soul or my body so you can obtain some kind of rare guitar pick signed by John Lennon?"

"How about one where you help me stay out of trouble this summer?"

Josh thought for a second before he sighed, "What kind of trouble do you intend on getting yourself into?"

Casually waving a hand above his head, Drake slid off his bed and walked over to the couch. "Oh, you know, the regular. Getting totally wasted, finding some smoking hot chick and having sweaty, hot sex in a room full of watching people."

Grimacing, Josh set down his notebook and picked up the DVD case so that Drake could sit down next to him. "And you think this is a possibility because?"

"Because," Drake continued, throwing himself onto the plush cushion and lifting his feet to rest on top of the coffee table. "This is the last summer and anything's possible. You never know what girls have been hiding their yearning for my body all these years, and with a little bit of partying and alcohol they may start tearing off my clothes and take me right in the middle of a filled room."

"Yearning?"

Drake blushed a little. "Megan left one of her books in the bathroom again."

Josh shook his head and smiled. "Pervert."

Shrugging his shoulders and fighting the red rushing to his cheeks (oh, how just thinking about that one scene where the stable boy-disguised magician and the rebel princess got caught in the barn during a sudden rain storm and, damn Megan and her stupid romance novels), Drake cleared his throat.

"As I was saying, I'm asking you to just keep me from doing something stupid."

Josh opened his mouth, ready to give a smart aleck retort, when Drake held up a finger.

"Something stupid that I will regret when I'm sober."

A year ago, maybe Josh would have presented five arguments why Drake should just abstain from drinking all together, and why don't they just avoid going to the completely outrageous parties and stay home to watch reruns of Drew and Jerry instead? But both him and Drake knew that it would have been futile (in Drake's case, pointless).

So instead, Josh agreed. As he turned back to his DVD case, he missed the wide smile and the twinkle in Drake's eyes.

I know who I want to take me home.
I know who I want to take me home.
I know who I want to take me home.
Take me home…

It was Trevor's party where Drake first got the chance to test out his brilliant idea. He knew Trevor had managed to score two kegs and was inviting every hot girl from their graduating class and the class from the year before.

The first thing Drake did as soon as him and Josh walked through the door and into the growing mass of people was make a bee line for the alcohol counter. Making sure that Josh watched him chug a whole red cup's worth of beer, Drake immediately flipped on his charm switch and latched himself onto the first girl who approached him.

Although Drake made a scene out of getting refill after refill, the only cup he actually drank was his first. The rest he would carefully slip into other random red cups. His arm candy, though, was consuming enough alcohol for the two of them.

"And then I, like, totally told her that I totally didn't care if she totally didn't get in. I mean, wait listed, what's the wrong about that?"

Drake stifled the groan that sorely wanted to be released. This chick (what the hell was her name again?) was lucky she was wearing such a short skirt with such a thin top. And her rack wasn't too bad. Nor her shapely legs.

It was just her voice, high pitched and bitchy. But Drake could fix that, quick.

Too bad the inside of her mouth tasted like the stale backwash remains of crappy beer at the bottom of a pitcher. But by the time Drake's tongue had made this analysis, the girl had managed to straddle Drake, causing a few people to get up off the couch.

Maybe this isn't so bad, Drake thought as his groin began to respond to the warm body grinding against him.

"Oh, Drake. I've wanted you for so long. Years. I love you, so much."

Drake almost choked on his own spit. Fucking hell, where was Josh? How long would he have to put on this act? He knew it would only be a matter of time before he pitched the drunken fangirl to the floor. Where (damn, she was grabby!) the fuck was Josh?

After a few minutes of sexually wrestling with the near tears nameless girl ("So long, Drake! So long. Wanted you for years."), Drake felt a tap on his shoulder.

Prying his lips away from a lip-gloss smeared pair, Drake tried his best to look as drunk as he could. He was pretty sure he just came off desperate and hysterical.

But, somehow, Josh bought it.

"C'mon Drake, I think you've had enough."

Putting at least a little bit of slurred effort into staying attached to the now crying girl, Drake stumbled and teetered as Josh pulled him by his arm towards the front door.

"Time to go home, Drake."

It wasn't until they were outside and covered in the dark of the night that Drake let a smile break.

Closing time - time for you to go back to the places you will be from.
Closing time - this room won't be open 'til your brothers or your sisters come.

By the third drunken party, Drake had figured out a routine of sorts.

After he had "consumed" enough alcohol, he would manage to find himself partially clothed with a girl (usually, also partially clothed) flush against him in a setting where there is a crowd of people watching and catcalling. Josh, upon hearing the noise, would then come find Drake and, with some exasperation and pulling, extract him from whatever hapless female that had managed to score a half hour make out session with Drake Parker.

Drake would then make a show of stumbling about and sputtering nonsense, in which Josh would hold Drake upright and placate him by playing along with the conversation as he guided him to the car. After pulling up to their house, Drake would pretend to be trashed enough to not be able to get out of the car, leaving Josh with the job of half carrying and half dragging Drake through the garage door and up the stairs to their room.

"You have to be quiet, Drake. We're in the house now."

"But I'm planning my impromptu dance party! You gotta help me. It'll be so fun. Fun, fun, fun!"

Josh shushed the foot-dragging Drake as they approached the first stair. Instead of following Josh's shush, Drake laughed and spoke a little louder.

"But, Josh! Dance party! Fun! We should plan an impromptu dance party together!"

Groaning as he hoisted Drake's upper body over his shoulder, letting his skinny legs dangle in front of him, Josh tried to keep his brother's volume down.

"Whisper, Drake. And, yes, we'll plan a dance party. Although it can't be an impromptu, because then, well, that just doesn't make any sense."

Drake sighed and resisted the temptation to reach down and lightly grab that plush, round mound of Josh tush. What the hell was he doing? He was being carried to his room by Josh, who was under the impression that he was pissed out of his mind, all so Drake could have moments like this?

Damn, though, it was so worth it.

Josh kicked open their bedroom door with his right foot, huffing as he rushed to plop Drake down onto the couch. Letting himself sprawl out, Drake watched as Josh stooped and tried to regain his breath. Once the taller boy had groaned and twisted his arms around to stretch his sore muscles, he walked over to the dressers and rummaged about. Finding two pairs of pajamas, he then came back to Drake and told him to sit up.

"Let's get you dressed for bed, Drake. C'mon, up. It can't be healthy to sleep in such tight pants."

Drake complied, allowing Josh to tenderly strip him of his tee shirt and slim fit jeans, lifting his arms and wiggling his hips a bit to help.

Jesus. Josh was so good to him.

As Josh pulled off his own shirt and began to walk away to his bed, Drake laughed up at him and made a grab for Josh's left hand.

"Joo-oosh," he whispered as he slowly pulled Josh down to him. "Where you going?" With not so much as a protest, Josh let himself fall down and sit next to a chuckling Drake.

"I'm trying to go to bed, Drake. Maybe you should sleep on the couch again. I'd rather not try getting up that ladder, just in case we end up falling down like last time."

Yes, Drake was not too stupid after all.

Mustering his most charming and alluring smile, Drake shoved his head into Josh's lap and batted his lashes. "Stay, Josh? Stay with me? Please?"

Josh rolled his eyes, but he also couldn't hide that amused grin that spread from ear to ear. "Sure. Just let me get out of these jeans."

Pushing those dirty thoughts out of his head (so dirty, but so hot and so damn tempting), Drake lifted his head so Josh could maneuver himself out of his jeans and into his thin pajama pants. Grabbing Josh down before he could reach for his shirt, Drake placed his head on the other boy's naked chest and wedged himself between the couch and Josh.

"Nights, Josh."

"Goodnight, Drake."

Drake wanted this to never end. Wanted to stay like this with Josh forever and always.

So gather up your jackets, and move it to the exits - I hope you have found a friend.
Closing time - every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.

As the weeks went by and the parties kept coming, the boys kept up their routine. The couch had become their joint sleeping spot whenever Drake's drunken act was up. The end of August was quickly approaching, Josh's list of items kept getting longer and longer, and Drake's performances kept getting more desperate and risqué.

"Drake." It was the morning after another really big party, one where Drake had found himself sandwiched between two bikini clad girls. They were both relatively attractive; it was a shame Drake didn't have the time or the heart to truly pursue them.

Swirling a slice of pancake through a blob of syrup, Drake looked up at Josh. "Yeah?"

Josh had already finished his breakfast, choosing to push his plate aside and set a serious gaze upon Drake.

"Don't you think you should, I don't know, maybe idle back a bit?"

With a scrunched up brow, Drake chose to shove his pancake-loaded fork into his mouth and chew. Josh sighed and tried again.

"What I'm trying to say is, maybe you should start weaning off all the drinking and all the girls. I mean, Drake, come on! You can't keep up this lifestyle. I can't always be there for you. What are you going to do when I leave and – "

Drake's fork clattered when it fell onto the plate. Swiftly pushing his chair back, Drake stood up and glowered down at his stepbrother.

"I guess I'll be what I always am without you, Josh. One giant fuck up."

Josh didn't go after Drake as he stormed out of the kitchen and out the front door.

--

Drake knew Josh was right – although not in the way that Josh thought he was. Drake was addicted to this lifestyle he was living. But his substance of choice was so much more dangerous than alcohol or drugs or even promiscuous sex with random girls.

Drake was addicted to Josh. And he was going to wither away once Josh finally said his goodbyes.

So maybe it was time to sever the ties. Let go.

Fuck it all. Drake was going to do what he should have done months ago.

--

He had gotten her name this time. It was hard to miss, seeing as she had a personalized necklace on.

So why couldn't Drake remember what it was?

Maybe it was all that beer he had guzzled in the past three hours. Or maybe it was a subconscious rejection of any person who wasn't Josh.

No, it was totally the beer.

And, shit, whatever the girl's name was, she sure did have wicked fingers and such soft lips. Fingers that kept winding in his hair and pawing down his chest. Lips that kept opening and closing, sucking and kissing, moaning and whispering.

Drake was going to burst right there, with the girl on his lap, and with thirty-some people talking and dancing and drinking all around him. All he had to do was get her to shift her hips, just like that, maybe some more, shit –

"Drake?"

Ignoring the shoulder tapping and the appealing voice that was beckoning him, Drake groaned and buried his face into the mussed up hair of the whimpering girl on top of him.

"Come on Drake. Time to leave."

The next thing Drake could think was, How the hell did I get off that couch and where am I going and why is the room spinning and where the fuck's Josh and shit I need release and dammit I've gotta piss and I hope I don't throw up.

"I pried you from the clutches of death myself, and you're going to the car with me so we can go home, and the rooms spinning because you've gone and got yourself completely blitzed, and I'm right here and you can take care of that problem at home and if you need to pee or puke, let me know and I'll take you to a shrubbery."

Drake hadn't realized that he had said all that out loud.

"Well, you did. And if you'd please try to stay lucid enough to somewhat walk, maybe we can get to the car by dawn."

He'd gone and fucked up everything. Again.

"Not completely. Watch the door. Don't get your fingers caught."

That's all he was good at. Fucking and fucking up.

"Well, you're a pretty good song writer, and a decent friend, too. When you're sober that is."

Shit. He was going to puke.

"Not in the car, Drake. Please not in the car! Hold on."

Shit. He always knew he couldn't hold his liquor.

"That's disgusting. Keep your head bent. I'll get you some napkins. Just – don't pull your head back in the window yet, please. Here."

His head hurt and his stomach ached and his arms were cold and his heart was breaking.

"Alright, hold on. We're in the garage now. Just. Stay there. I'll come around. We'll get you some ibuprofen and a sweater."

Josh was too good for this. Too good for him. He didn't deserve a person like Josh in his life.

"C'mon Drake, keep it down. We're going up the stairs now."

It was good for Josh to leave. Josh didn't need someone like Drake around, always needing and always wanting more and more and more and –

"Drake, shhhh! Please! Mom and Dad are going to wake up. We're almost there. Please stop trying to grab the railing. I've got you."

But not for long. Josh was leaving. Forever. He was going to be without Josh. He was going to be all alone. And it was no wonder Josh was leaving him. Who would want to hang around such a failure like him?

"Sit down, right there. Let's get you cleaned off."

And maybe it wasn't the best plan ever. But did he regret lying to Josh about it all? Not at all. He'd hold onto those memories. Always. Because everything would be changing. It would never be the same.

"What are you talking about, Drake?"

He was talking about lying to Josh about the drunkenness and the helplessness. Although he really was helpless without Josh. And now he really was drunk. Oh, the ivory.

"What? Drake. You're completely wasted and out of it. Please, let go of my hand so I can go get you a change of clothes. And you mean irony, not ivory."

He didn't ever want to let go. He loved Josh.

"Drake. You know I love you, too."

Loved Josh so much. So much it hurt. Hurt in so many ways. He wanted Josh to be with him at all times. Day and night. And, possibly, in various states of dress. Just not in the state of heartbreak. Which was Virginia, by the way. The state of the devil. He needed Josh to be in the state of right. The state of California. He needed Josh like he needed air. More than air. He loved Josh.

"Drake. I… Drake, let's get you to bed, okay?"

He needed Josh. He needed Josh to stay with him. He needed to feel safe.

"I can stay right here for now, Drake. I promise."

He needed to always be in these arms. To always smell that scent of lavender breeze. To always know that Josh was never too far away.

"Shhh, go to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

It was the morning.

"Can we at least wait for the sun?"

He supposed so.

Closing time - time for you to go back to the places you will be from.

Drake woke up to the taste of bile and nasty beer. As soon as he tried to think, he stopped, because all he could feel was a throbbing pain in his head.

Hangovers. Always a bitch.

Moaning softly in pain, Drake managed to lift up his head a little and open his eyes.

There was a sleeping Josh nestled against him, and strong arms wrapped around him, and – as his eyes drifted downward – long legs overlapping his own.

What in the hell had happened last night?

Drake's movements caused Josh to stir. Panicking, Drake tried to untangle himself from Josh's embrace, fighting the disorientation that made him want to just burrow his face back into Josh's neck and sleep the day away.

"Drake?"

Finally he pulled lose, only to tumble from the couch and onto the floor.

"Ack!"

"Drake! You okay?"

No, he was not okay, not okay at all. His head hurt, his throat stung, his lower back was sore, there was a kink in his neck, his eyes were fighting tears, because his chest was thumping from the unstable increase in his heartbeats, and he was pretty sure he was about to piss himself.

Because something happened last night. What was it? What the fuck did he do now?

"Drake."

He jumped up and wobbled for a second before he started to make his way to the door. Josh was after him in an instant, grabbing Drake's left arm and pulling him to a halt.

"Drake, talk to me. Please."

With his head hung, Drake turned towards Josh and began blabbering.

"Josh, I – if I said anything or, shit, if I did anything – last night, I don't know what I was thinking, not thinking at all, and I – Josh, I'm so sorry for anything. Everything! Didn't mean it, any of it. Please, Josh."

Josh waited until Drake's words had drifted away. Nudging Drake's chin up with his fingers, Josh found Drake's eyes with his own and caught his gaze.

"You don't remember what you said last night, don't you?"

Drake shook his head softly, left then right, left then right.

"You told me how you really felt, Drake. That you hate the thought of me leaving. That you need me."

Drake recoiled a little at hearing his weaknesses spoken out loud.

Sighing, Josh pulled Drake in closer. "Hey, I need you, too, you know. This whole me-leaving-thing – it's not any easier on me. I'm just as scared as you. And, I, Drake – "

"I love you, Josh."

Josh's gasp was almost a whisper, like he wasn't too surprised to have heard such a wondrous statement. I rocked his mind just as hard as the first time, though – possibly even more.

"Drake – "

"And I don't just mean it like, 'I love you brother.' Although I do. But, Josh, I love you. I love you, love you. More than any other girl I've dated. More than I probably should. Josh Nichols, I am so completely in love with you."

"Drake – "

"And you can hate me. And you can go away to college and forget about me. And I won't blame you. 'Cause you deserve so much more than what I – "

It was Josh's turn to cut the other off, choosing to yank Drake over the five inches that divided him so their lips could meet.

The kiss was rough and desperate and bittersweet and new and frightening. But they clung to each other like it was the last thing they'd ever do on the planet.

Drake found himself pulled up to his toes as Josh clutched Drake's face in his hands. Josh pressed his lips harder against Drake's when he felt a pair of hands stroking his back before fingers snaked trails of encouragement through his hair.

After forty-seven seconds of the most heart racing kiss either boy had ever experienced, Josh relinquished his hold on Drake's lips with a gasp for air. Drake panted in response, his heels sinking back down to the floor. Eyes filled with fear and bliss and adoration met.

"I love you, too, Drake. Always have. Always will."

And, for the first time in months, Drake believed in always.

I know who I want to take me home.
I know who I want to take me home.
I know who I want to take me home.
Take me home...

It was the night of the last big graduation bash. The last chance for Belleview's graduating class to party on together under the guise of graduation celebration.

Drake was glad to be right where was: on his bedroom couch watching reruns of Drew and Jerry.

"I can't believe I actually thought you were drunk the whole time."

Chuckling, Drake turned to watch as Josh pulled out the bag of popcorn out of the microwave. "I can't believe you fell for it."

"Yeah, well, I guess I'm just a sucker for anything you do."

Josh pulled the bag open and trudged his way to the couch. As he sat down, he handed the bag to Drake and pulled out a few pieces for himself.

"Thanks, Josh."

"No problem."

The two boys smirked at one another.

Grabbing a handful for himself, Drake turned his attention back to the television. Drew and Jerry were getting into all sorts of shenanigans – but they always made it through in the end. They stuck together.

Drake finished chewing and frowned.

"Josh?"

"Mmm?"

"So. What are we going to do? You know. When you do leave."

Josh swiveled his head to face Drake, his forehead crinkling with thought.

"I'm not leaving you, Drake."

"But, college! And – "

"Drake." Josh pulled the bag of popcorn out of Drake's hands and set it onto the coffee table. "Drake." Grabbing Drake's arms with his hands, Josh gently dragged the slighter boy closer.

"Yes. I am leaving here to go to college. But I'm not leaving you. Physically, yes. But, mentally? Emotionally? Not going to happen."

It was hard for Drake not to feel reassured, especially with Josh smiling sweetly as his hands rubbed Drake's arms. But there was that thought, nagging him in the back of his mind.

"But. It won't – Josh, we won't be the same. We won't be Drake and Josh. Like we have been these past years. Like we are now. I don't want this to change. I don't want this to go away."

Josh thought for a moment before he responded, bringing one of his hand's to cup Drake's cheek.

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."

"Oprah?"

"Semisonic. Although I'm pretty sure I have an episode on TiVo where Oprah discusses this issue."

"That's okay. I'm good."

"Are you, though?"

Drake sighed. "Well, as good as I will ever be. I'm gonna miss you Josh. So much."

"I'm going to miss you, too, Drake."

They sat in silence for a short moment, staring into each other's eyes. At last, Drake put on a devious smirk and placed his hands onto Josh's shoulders.

"Since we're all about new beginnings, how about we begin a new Drake and Josh moment."

Josh's face switched from confusion to shock as Drake made the move to straddle Josh's lap. He quickly recovered, though, laughing as he pulled Drake's face down to meet his own.

They would make it work. They would make always last.

Closing time - every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.