Marty has homework he could be doing. It's late, so he could be sleeping. Instead, he's at his desk, toying with an apple mahogany scented candle — scooping up hot wax and molding it between his fingers until it's too cool to be malleable, then dropping it back in again.

When his phone buzzes, he snatches it up. It only takes him a second to place the location, and a moment more to pull on a shirt, coat, and shoes and go dashing out of his room without a second thought to curfew.

Once he reaches the tire swing, of course Liam is already there waiting — he had a head start and has longer legs besides. "You win," he concedes." Still, he grins, panting in visible puffs of air in the cold night.