Despair

He Doesn't Say It Out Loud.

Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys

Everything's the same.

Not really, but... I thought I wouldn't recognize it and I do.

Ian's family has the same powder blue couches. And that's the same, expensive-ass lamp that we almost broke beyond repair. His mom's glass figurines are still on display, but those are at least three times the amount that I remember. And that's... us, on the beaten up frame on the wall. We're next to his dad on that one fishing trip we took, which I had totally forgotten about.

Why did nobody take that down?

"Do you want anything to drink?" Ian asks, closing the door behind me. "I have some grape soda if it's still your favorite."

"Sure." I guess he remembers too, huh?

How did your date go?

The f**k? Did I say it out loud? No, I didn't— right? No. Wouldn't that have been creepy as hell and also made zero sense?

"Here you go!" he says, handing me a can and popping his own, orange soda as we head for the stairs. "How much time do we have?"

"Like... two hours," I reply, taking off my backpack when we reach his room. Okay, this part of the house changed a lot. I don't remember any... strings of tiny lights above his bed. Or the turquoise walls, and definitely no ukelele. "Do you play that?"

"Um... I'm trying," Ian says, closing his bedroom's door, too. "I really like how it sounds and I know it's supposed to be really easy... But it makes my fingers hurt, and I'm such a baby about it."

I chuckle. "Right."

"Do you still play the guitar?"

No. "A little."

How did your date go? Stop. What the f**k.

"Okay, so... I think we should start with the project first. And then we can be free to play for however long we have left?"

"Sounds good." I put my backpack down, yanking from the zipper. "I'm gonna crush you, though."

He giggles. "We'll see." Yeah, he will.

"Oh! And you should definitely do the visuals," he adds. "I can't draw."

"Yeah, sure." I did bring all my stuff.

"Perfect! And don't laugh, but last night I did the DNA with... Legos," he says, moving over to his closet and carefully taking out a model that looks like something out of freaking Legoland itself. Wow.

"What do you think?" He slowly spins it around.

Wow. "It's... It's good."

"Really?" He frowns at it. "It looks too..." His hand tries to illustrate the word. "Like... thick for me, or something. I don't know, shouldn't it be skinnier? But I didn't have flatter blocks, so I—"

"It's awesome."

Damn it, now he's gonna— there you go, way too f*****g smiley. Why does he care so much? Why do I care that he cares?

"Let's just get to it, I can't f**k around today."

"Okay, sure!"

We're halfway done.

"Did you... just do that?"

I look over my shoulder at Ian coming back into the room, his hands busy with a tray of sandwiches and some more soda.

"What?"

He puts it all down on his desk, next to my drawing.

"This." He takes a closer look at it— don't. "Did you do it just now or did you bring it from home?" he asks, grabbing his turkey sandwich and shoving it into his mouth.

"Just now."

He force-swallows and his eyes widen. "Jesus."

Actually, the top side is all f****d and it makes the rest of it totally suck. I was just about to rip it in half and start over but now I can't.

"Yeah, I'm pretty awesome."

"You are."

Before he can spew some more bullshit, his phone buzzes. And when he goes to check, he stares at the screen for a bit.

Who's that? Is that the guy? How did your date g— Okay, someone crush my skull, please. What is wrong with me today aside from the usual?

And he's still staring at it, scrolling.

"Dude, I told you I can't f**k around," I hiss because it's true. "Stop."

He finally breaks eye contact with the thing and looks at me as if he had just come back to planet Earth. "I'm sorry, you're right. You are. But..." He's worried. "I have to take this, okay? I'll be right back."

And he f*****g leaves the room.

It's only when I look back down that I realize... yeah. It happened.

I broke my good pencil.

Line Without A Hook by Ricky Montgomery.

What the f**k is taking him so long?

Is he kidding me right now?

Why the hell did I even come.

We could have done this separately. There's no way we'll get to finish the game like this, and there's no way I'm coming over again just to be brushed aside by a f*****g text message and f**k this.

I get up, starting to gather my things. I can finish my side on my own, we can get together at school, before class, there's no need for me to—

"Oh... Are you leaving?"

Look who finally decided to honor us with his presence. Too f*****g late. "Yeah," I snarl, standing up. "I told you twice that I—"

Shit.

He's... He's crying.

Not anymore, but he cried. And now I'm even angrier, but it's not at him.

"Maybe we can—" He sniffles.

"Who was that?"

"No one important," he tries to brush it off by forcing a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"You can't lie to me— I can tell."

His glassy eyes widen again. "Um..." He frowns to himself. "Okay... But it's not like you care, right?" he thinks he's pointing out, raising his gaze to mine.

I stare back, but then I can't anymore. "...then why am I asking you?"

He says nothing this time, and I won't ask again.

"It's... a guy," comes his voice, tentative. "I saw him yesterday, it didn't go well," he adds as he sits next to me. "It's my fault, anyway."

I go back to coloring the thymines. "Why?"

"Because... he wants to keep things secret," he murmurs and I can feel my eyebrow raising and my fist clenching. "And I knew that already, so I should be okay with it by now, right?"

"No."

"No? But... it's not as easy for everybody as it is for me," he tries to justify it. "I know that, but I still get mad sometimes, and those times I'm totally sure I'm right—"

Because you are.

"—but then he gets mad. And I go back to... Yes, maybe... Maybe I should be a little more understanding, you know?"

Or— "Or maybe he should go f**k himself."

"What?"

Shit, I did say that out loud. "I don't know."

"Please," Ian murmurs. And... uh, has he been this close to me this entire time? Why is this desk this... tiny and— no, s**t. Am I using the wrong color for this?

"What." Yeah, I am. Okay, starting over after all.

"I really want to know what you think."

Why... How... are his eyes such an arctic blue but not cold?

Why am I noticing.

"I'm just saying," I give in, lowering my head and running my hand through my hair to get it off my face. "Maybe instead of blaming yourself for wanting to have a normal relationship, you should consider he's clearly a f*****g pussy."

His dark eyebrows twitch. "Why? Because he can't come out?" he asks and he actually sounds curious.

"No. That's... whatever, that's your choice. But don't go around making other people feel like s**t because they've got the balls you don't."

I can feel his eyes on me. Stop it. Don't. What?

"That's when you're a p***y," I finish.

He nods in the corner of my eye. "I... never thought of it that way."

"Yeah, you're pretty dumb," I blurt and it's like a reflex. f**k— I shouldn't have said that now, though. But, he's... laughing. And it's not fake this time.

"I guess I am when it comes to these things, huh? I never get it right..." he scolds himself.

Never? "Yeah."

"Thanks, I think I needed to hear that," he tells me, taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Okay."

"And I know I've pissed you off, but can you just... stay? We're almost done and I was really looking forward to, you know, destroying you."

He says it just as I'm bringing the can of soda to my lips so I almost choke. He's really laughing now. And I swear that I'm not.

"Oh, shut up."

"I'm sorry! Sometimes you're just really..."

I stare right back at him, daring him to tell me I'm funny when I've told him a million times I'm not. "Come on. Say it."

He swallows. Has his skin always been this...

"—sweet."

That can't be right. I'm a lot of things, but 'sweet' sure as hell isn't one of them. I don't know what to say, though. My cheeks feel hot and that isn't helping and I hate it.

"And you're nuts."

"But are you staying?" No.

Please? He doesn't say it out loud this time, it's just all over his face.

Ugh. Why does that do anythin—

"Fine." It makes more sense to finish today, anyway. But— "Turn off your phone, though."

He thinks I didn't catch him doing it, biting his lip for... some reason. He's all smiles right after that. "Yup! Whatever you say."

And he does turn it off. And shows it to me, wiggling from side to side, almost proud. I look down at the black screen and back at him. He's still smiling.

"What's next, Ollie?" Until today, I thought it was just people in mangas that blushed this obviously. "Sorry, that... came out."

"Whatever, it's still my name." The drawing is done and it's a good thing, because my fingers aren't as steady as they were seconds ago. "Finish the board... Miller."