It only takes a second for me to find out the answer to the question I didn’t even realize I’d been asking myself. His lips really are as soft as they look. Ben is frozen, and even though my eyes are closed, I can tell his are still open. It’s only when I reach up and sandwich his face between my hands, like I’m trying to draw him even closer, that he starts to respond. His hands settle on my waist, and his tongue comes out to meet mine tentatively. I shift one hand away from his face to push the hood of his sweatshirt back so I can knot my fingers in his hair, and he rocks forward onto the toes of his Converse to bring us closer to the same height. This is absolutely terrifying. He’s all wrong. He’s too short, not muscular enough, shaking too hard, too nervous, too unfamiliar.
But only if I’m comparing him to Garen. If I put Garen aside for a minute… if I make myself forget about him… Ben isn’t too anything. He’s short, yes, but he’s built just like I am; too scrawny for real muscles. He’s shaking like he should be, he’s as nervous as I am, and he’s new. Different. Not bad… just different.
He reaches up to catch my right hand, still caressing his cheek, and draws it forward so he can switch from kissing my lips to kissing the slash across my wrist. I duck my head to press my lips to his throat, and after a moment, he pulls my face back up to his. I let my hands drop down to the small of his back, then into his back pockets.
Suddenly, he jolts and takes a step back, holding me at arms’ length. His head is bowed so that I can’t see his face, but when he speaks, I can hear him clearly enough.
“Oh fuck.”
I swallow hard. “Ben.”
“Don’t,” he says quickly, shaking his head and taking another step back. “Don’t say my name like that.”
“Ben,” I repeat. He drags his fingers through his hair almost hard enough to make his scalp bleed, then looks at me, his eyes dead.
“I know where he is,” he says. I blink at him.
“Who?” I ask.
“Garen. He called me yesterday. I know where he is. Where he’s been staying,” he says. My heartbeat grinds to a halt.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demand.
“He’s in New York. He’s been crashing in his old dorm room at PMA, with his friend James. That’s where he went after he left my house. He called last night to ask me how you are. Because he says it hurts so bad to be away from you, he says he misses you so much he can hardly breathe without you. Because he’s still fucking in love with you. So, here—” He thrusts a hand into his jeans pocket for his wallet and yanks out all of the money inside. “—this should be enough for a one-way Metro North train ticket to New York, and cab fare to get from the station to his dorm room. Go find your fucking boyfriend and leave me alone.”
The bell rings.
“Ben!” I say for a third time, but he’s already heading for the stairs. I sigh and head to the library for my study hall, now pointlessly scheduled to be after lunch instead of first period. I collapse into a chair near the windows, and slowly, I look down at the money Ben stuffed into my hand. I count it carefully once, then a second time. Fifty-eight dollars.
Just like that, my obsessive, National Merit Scholar brain starts buzzing. I duck down one of the aisles of books and pull out my cell phone, bringing up the slow but working internet connection on it. It takes me less than a minute to find the address to Patton Military Academy, then two more minutes to figure out the train fare. Bridgeport doesn’t connect directly to the station that’s a mile away from PMA, but if I took a train from Bridgeport to Grand Central, and then Grand Central to the station near the school, that would still only be twenty-five. The rest of the money, in addition to whatever’s in my own wallet, would cover cab fare from LHS to the station. I could be standing in front of Garen by four o’clock.
And I don’t think I want to be.
The thought hits me like an eighteen-wheeler. After over a month, I finally have the ability to go find him, to pin him down and scream at him for leaving me, to make him take me back, and I don’t want it. I don’t want it at all, because it has been over a month, and he hasn’t tried to contact me once. He hasn’t had a second thought. Whatever he may say to the contrary, whatever lies he might call Ben with, he’s not here. He’s right where he wants to be, and if he’s fine with not seeing me, then I don’t want to see him. It hurts too much to hold onto him now. It hurts too much to cling to someone who walked away.
When the last bell of the day rings, I pack up my backpack and head up to the senior hallway to find Alex. He is still at his locker, frowning at the books on the top shelf. He seems to contemplate packing some of them, then seems to decide that homework’s not important, and shuts the locker without taking anything from it.
“Can you do me a favor?” I ask him softly. He cocks his head to the side, which I take as a go-ahead. “I need a ride someplace. Well, home, and then someplace.”
“Uh, sure, that sounds doable. You’re going to have to do something for me in return, though. Come on,” he says. I follow him outside to his car, a silver Honda that looks to be a few years old. He waits until we’re pulling out of the school parking lot to mention his condition.
“Tell me what happened today at lunch.”
I contemplate the pros and cons of jumping out of the car.
“Do I have to?” I ask.
“If you want me to drive you anywhere after I bring you home, yeah, you do,” he replies. He seems much more reserved than usual, which makes me nervous. This is the wary Alex I met in the cafeteria months ago, not the in-your-face joker I thought I was friends with.
“It’s a long story,” I hedge. Alex shrugs.
“That’s fine. I drive slow,” he says. After I few minutes, I realize there’s no way out of it, so I sigh and slump down in my seat a little more.
“I used to do some bad shit when things got to be too much for me. Ben realized this at lunch, so he tried to get in my face about it, but I figured out why he was freaking out so bad, so I did something I shouldn’t have. He told me something I guess he thought I wanted to hear, but I think I’m realizing now that I don’t wanna hear it.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Alex asks, exasperated. “I need some specifics, Travis. This isn’t Wheel of Fortune, you can’t expect me to guess all the letters in this explanation.”
“Christ. Fine,” I say, pulling my sweatshirt a little tighter around myself. “A couple years ago, back before I tried to, you know, kill myself, I used to cut myself when stuff got really bad. And by the way you’re staring at me now, I guess you know about Ben.”
“Of course I know about Ben. He’s been my best friend since we were twelve. We all know about it. Me, Mason, Jeremy, Garen back when he was still here. We keep trying to get him to stop, but every time he starts to get better about it, he always slips up again. I didn’t know you did it too,” he says. I shrug.
“I don’t really advertise it, for obvious reasons. Anyway, he saw at lunch—”
“I thought you said you used to do it. Past tense.”
I shrug again. “I thought it was past tense too. Surprise.”
Alex is silent for several minutes. We turn onto my street and he stops in front of my house. I jog up the lawn and unlock the front door, drop my backpack just inside the doorway, lock the door again, and return to the car. Alex seems almost back to normal by the time I’m buckling my seatbelt again.
“What’s the rest of the story?” he asks.
“He saw the cuts at lunch, so he dragged me out into the hall. I thought he was going to yell at me, but he gave me one of his wristbands instead, so I could cover up the marks. I kind of figured it out then, so I pulled up his sleeve and saw his wrist. And I kissed him.”
Alex twists sharply to face me, clenching both his hands into fists, and I flinch. He crosses his arms quickly and looks down at the gearshift. “Sorry. That was me almost punching you in the face.”
“I uh, I got that, yeah,” I say warily. He lets out an involuntary laugh and shakes his head.
“Sorry. Reflex. Go on, please,” he says. I don’t want to, but I get the impression that he’ll punch me if I don’t tell him more.
“He was sort of into it for a minute, but then he freaked out and told me that uh… Garen called him last night. So he told me where he – Garen – is, and he gave me a handful of bills and told me to go get him. And then he stormed off.”
“You’d get why if you really knew him,” Alex says immediately.
“I’m trying to know him,” I protest.
“I don’t mean in a biblical way,” he replies, and I start to get the impression he wants to punch me again. “Do you know who the first person he slept with was? ‘Cause here’s a hint: it wasn’t Garen.”
That’s completely out of left field. Part of me is a little relieved, glad to know Garen’s interest in me wasn’t just part of an affinity for virgins. The rest me, however, is surprised.
“I thought it was,” I say. Alex shakes his head.
“It was this guy he knows from church. Ethan. They were in youth group together when they were younger, and about a year ago, they hooked up. They only slept together like, twice, but now whenever Ethan sees him, he pretends like Ben doesn’t exist. It’s not like Ben was in love with him or whatever, but it still really fucked with his head when all of a sudden the guy wouldn’t even speak to him. He got really into that again for a while after it happened.” He nods at my wrist, which I cover instinctively, though it’s still hidden under wristband and sweatshirt. “Then Garen moved here in October, and for a little while, I thought they might end up going out. They seemed really into each other, but… I guess you know better than anybody that it wasn’t really like that. They hooked up, but it wasn’t what we all figured it would be, because turns out Garen only ever wanted you. That’s the thing, Travis. Ben is really fucking used to people hooking up with him even if they don’t want him. And you’re just more of the same.”
“I’m not,” I cut across him. “That’s where I want you to take me. Ben’s house. I’m not going to find Garen. I don’t want to find Garen. And I want Ben to know that.”
“But the thing that really matters is whether or not you just want Ben. End of sentence. Not what you want Ben to know, not what you want Ben to believe. But wanting Ben. Because if you’re going to his house for any other reason, then you might as well get out of the car now,” Alex says flatly. We stare at each other for several minutes in silence. I wonder if this is how Garen felt when Corey cornered him in the cafeteria and threatened to castrate him.
“Then I guess you should take me to his house now,” I say finally. Alex nods once and starts the car again. The ride to Ben’s house is completely silent until we actually pull into the driveway.
“Good luck,” Alex says. I snort.
“Thanks. I’m probably going to need it, since I think Ben likes me about as much as you do right now,” I say.
“Come on. I’m just looking out for my best friend,” he says. He glances around. The only other car in the driveway is Ben’s SUV. “Well, he’s home. That’s a start, at least.”
I nod and climb out of the car. I want to thank him, to express my gratitude for bringing me here and not kicking my ass while doing so, but my throat is too dry all of a sudden. I settle for a very small wave as he backs out of the driveway and speeds off. I sigh and walk around the back of the house to the sliding glass door. I pull my phone out of my pocket, dial Ben’s number, and wait.
“I thought we were agreed on the idea that you weren’t going to talk to me,” Ben says as a greeting.
“And yet you still answered your phone when you saw me on the caller ID,” I say. “And yet I’m still standing outside your house.”
There is a long pause. I see the blinds on his window shift only slightly. I slip my free hand into my sweatshirt pocket and cross my fingers. Finally, he sighs. “The door’s unlocked.”
I snap my cell phone shut and shove it in my pocket. I slide open the door and cross the rec room very slowly to his barely-open bedroom door. Ben is sitting on his bed, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. For once, he’s not wearing a hoodie or his wristbands, so the cuts on his wrists are plainly exposed. I try not to stare.
“I’m not going to New York,” I say. “You can have your money back.”
I fish it out of my pocket and place it carefully on his desk. He blinks at it, then at me.
“Why?” he asks.
“Because you told me to go find my boyfriend, and I don’t have a boyfriend. I haven’t had a boyfriend for weeks now. And… part of me was hoping that the next time someone told me to go find my boyfriend, I would have someone to find. And part of me was hoping that I’d be finding you,” I say. Ben crosses his arms and sinks back into his pillows.
“Fuck you,” he says. I raise my hand to my mouth so I can gnaw on my thumbnail.
“So that’s a ‘no,’ I take it?” I say.
“It’s a ‘fuck you.’ You don’t want me, and I’m not stupid enough to kid myself into believing that you do,” he snaps. I roll my eyes.
“Right, I forgot, you can read my mind. Jesus, Ben. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I kissed you today for a reason?” I say.
“Uh, no, actually, because you fucking didn’t kiss me for a reason,” he replies.
“I did. It just took me a little while to figure it out,” I say.
“Don’t play—”
“I kissed you because you’re the only person I know who doesn’t try to pretend that I’m normal. You tell me I’m fucked up when I’m fucked up, and you don’t try to act like you don’t see slashes on my wrists when they’re clearly there. I kissed you because, even though you still seem to not like me, you’ve looked out for me since Garen left. I kissed you because you’re one of the only people I know who doesn’t seem to always be putting on a fucking show, and I like that. I like that you make all your jokes in monotone, and I like that you wear eyeliner, and I like that you’re like, three feet tall, and I like that you’re not at all impressed by the fact that I’m a varsity runner with perfect grades. I like you, Ben. And that doesn’t negate the relationship I had with Garen, or in any way diminish what I felt for him. But I haven’t spoken to Garen in weeks. And I had the option to be on a train to see him right now. But instead, I am standing in your bedroom, asking you to give me a chance. And that has to count for something.”
By now, Ben’s arms are wrapped around his legs, hugging them to his chest. He rests his chin on his knees, staring at me with wide blue eyes, like he’s trying to see if the words inside my head match the words he just heard me say. After more than a full minute, he releases his legs and stands up, crossing the tiny room to stand in front of me. He goes up on his toes so we’re level and wraps his arms very carefully around my neck.
“It counts for a lot,” he says, and when I kiss him this time, he kisses me back.
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
But only if I’m comparing him to Garen. If I put Garen aside for a minute… if I make myself forget about him… Ben isn’t too anything. He’s short, yes, but he’s built just like I am; too scrawny for real muscles. He’s shaking like he should be, he’s as nervous as I am, and he’s new. Different. Not bad… just different.
He reaches up to catch my right hand, still caressing his cheek, and draws it forward so he can switch from kissing my lips to kissing the slash across my wrist. I duck my head to press my lips to his throat, and after a moment, he pulls my face back up to his. I let my hands drop down to the small of his back, then into his back pockets.
Suddenly, he jolts and takes a step back, holding me at arms’ length. His head is bowed so that I can’t see his face, but when he speaks, I can hear him clearly enough.
“Oh fuck.”
I swallow hard. “Ben.”
“Don’t,” he says quickly, shaking his head and taking another step back. “Don’t say my name like that.”
“Ben,” I repeat. He drags his fingers through his hair almost hard enough to make his scalp bleed, then looks at me, his eyes dead.
“I know where he is,” he says. I blink at him.
“Who?” I ask.
“Garen. He called me yesterday. I know where he is. Where he’s been staying,” he says. My heartbeat grinds to a halt.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I demand.
“He’s in New York. He’s been crashing in his old dorm room at PMA, with his friend James. That’s where he went after he left my house. He called last night to ask me how you are. Because he says it hurts so bad to be away from you, he says he misses you so much he can hardly breathe without you. Because he’s still fucking in love with you. So, here—” He thrusts a hand into his jeans pocket for his wallet and yanks out all of the money inside. “—this should be enough for a one-way Metro North train ticket to New York, and cab fare to get from the station to his dorm room. Go find your fucking boyfriend and leave me alone.”
The bell rings.
“Ben!” I say for a third time, but he’s already heading for the stairs. I sigh and head to the library for my study hall, now pointlessly scheduled to be after lunch instead of first period. I collapse into a chair near the windows, and slowly, I look down at the money Ben stuffed into my hand. I count it carefully once, then a second time. Fifty-eight dollars.
Just like that, my obsessive, National Merit Scholar brain starts buzzing. I duck down one of the aisles of books and pull out my cell phone, bringing up the slow but working internet connection on it. It takes me less than a minute to find the address to Patton Military Academy, then two more minutes to figure out the train fare. Bridgeport doesn’t connect directly to the station that’s a mile away from PMA, but if I took a train from Bridgeport to Grand Central, and then Grand Central to the station near the school, that would still only be twenty-five. The rest of the money, in addition to whatever’s in my own wallet, would cover cab fare from LHS to the station. I could be standing in front of Garen by four o’clock.
And I don’t think I want to be.
The thought hits me like an eighteen-wheeler. After over a month, I finally have the ability to go find him, to pin him down and scream at him for leaving me, to make him take me back, and I don’t want it. I don’t want it at all, because it has been over a month, and he hasn’t tried to contact me once. He hasn’t had a second thought. Whatever he may say to the contrary, whatever lies he might call Ben with, he’s not here. He’s right where he wants to be, and if he’s fine with not seeing me, then I don’t want to see him. It hurts too much to hold onto him now. It hurts too much to cling to someone who walked away.
When the last bell of the day rings, I pack up my backpack and head up to the senior hallway to find Alex. He is still at his locker, frowning at the books on the top shelf. He seems to contemplate packing some of them, then seems to decide that homework’s not important, and shuts the locker without taking anything from it.
“Can you do me a favor?” I ask him softly. He cocks his head to the side, which I take as a go-ahead. “I need a ride someplace. Well, home, and then someplace.”
“Uh, sure, that sounds doable. You’re going to have to do something for me in return, though. Come on,” he says. I follow him outside to his car, a silver Honda that looks to be a few years old. He waits until we’re pulling out of the school parking lot to mention his condition.
“Tell me what happened today at lunch.”
I contemplate the pros and cons of jumping out of the car.
“Do I have to?” I ask.
“If you want me to drive you anywhere after I bring you home, yeah, you do,” he replies. He seems much more reserved than usual, which makes me nervous. This is the wary Alex I met in the cafeteria months ago, not the in-your-face joker I thought I was friends with.
“It’s a long story,” I hedge. Alex shrugs.
“That’s fine. I drive slow,” he says. After I few minutes, I realize there’s no way out of it, so I sigh and slump down in my seat a little more.
“I used to do some bad shit when things got to be too much for me. Ben realized this at lunch, so he tried to get in my face about it, but I figured out why he was freaking out so bad, so I did something I shouldn’t have. He told me something I guess he thought I wanted to hear, but I think I’m realizing now that I don’t wanna hear it.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Alex asks, exasperated. “I need some specifics, Travis. This isn’t Wheel of Fortune, you can’t expect me to guess all the letters in this explanation.”
“Christ. Fine,” I say, pulling my sweatshirt a little tighter around myself. “A couple years ago, back before I tried to, you know, kill myself, I used to cut myself when stuff got really bad. And by the way you’re staring at me now, I guess you know about Ben.”
“Of course I know about Ben. He’s been my best friend since we were twelve. We all know about it. Me, Mason, Jeremy, Garen back when he was still here. We keep trying to get him to stop, but every time he starts to get better about it, he always slips up again. I didn’t know you did it too,” he says. I shrug.
“I don’t really advertise it, for obvious reasons. Anyway, he saw at lunch—”
“I thought you said you used to do it. Past tense.”
I shrug again. “I thought it was past tense too. Surprise.”
Alex is silent for several minutes. We turn onto my street and he stops in front of my house. I jog up the lawn and unlock the front door, drop my backpack just inside the doorway, lock the door again, and return to the car. Alex seems almost back to normal by the time I’m buckling my seatbelt again.
“What’s the rest of the story?” he asks.
“He saw the cuts at lunch, so he dragged me out into the hall. I thought he was going to yell at me, but he gave me one of his wristbands instead, so I could cover up the marks. I kind of figured it out then, so I pulled up his sleeve and saw his wrist. And I kissed him.”
Alex twists sharply to face me, clenching both his hands into fists, and I flinch. He crosses his arms quickly and looks down at the gearshift. “Sorry. That was me almost punching you in the face.”
“I uh, I got that, yeah,” I say warily. He lets out an involuntary laugh and shakes his head.
“Sorry. Reflex. Go on, please,” he says. I don’t want to, but I get the impression that he’ll punch me if I don’t tell him more.
“He was sort of into it for a minute, but then he freaked out and told me that uh… Garen called him last night. So he told me where he – Garen – is, and he gave me a handful of bills and told me to go get him. And then he stormed off.”
“You’d get why if you really knew him,” Alex says immediately.
“I’m trying to know him,” I protest.
“I don’t mean in a biblical way,” he replies, and I start to get the impression he wants to punch me again. “Do you know who the first person he slept with was? ‘Cause here’s a hint: it wasn’t Garen.”
That’s completely out of left field. Part of me is a little relieved, glad to know Garen’s interest in me wasn’t just part of an affinity for virgins. The rest me, however, is surprised.
“I thought it was,” I say. Alex shakes his head.
“It was this guy he knows from church. Ethan. They were in youth group together when they were younger, and about a year ago, they hooked up. They only slept together like, twice, but now whenever Ethan sees him, he pretends like Ben doesn’t exist. It’s not like Ben was in love with him or whatever, but it still really fucked with his head when all of a sudden the guy wouldn’t even speak to him. He got really into that again for a while after it happened.” He nods at my wrist, which I cover instinctively, though it’s still hidden under wristband and sweatshirt. “Then Garen moved here in October, and for a little while, I thought they might end up going out. They seemed really into each other, but… I guess you know better than anybody that it wasn’t really like that. They hooked up, but it wasn’t what we all figured it would be, because turns out Garen only ever wanted you. That’s the thing, Travis. Ben is really fucking used to people hooking up with him even if they don’t want him. And you’re just more of the same.”
“I’m not,” I cut across him. “That’s where I want you to take me. Ben’s house. I’m not going to find Garen. I don’t want to find Garen. And I want Ben to know that.”
“But the thing that really matters is whether or not you just want Ben. End of sentence. Not what you want Ben to know, not what you want Ben to believe. But wanting Ben. Because if you’re going to his house for any other reason, then you might as well get out of the car now,” Alex says flatly. We stare at each other for several minutes in silence. I wonder if this is how Garen felt when Corey cornered him in the cafeteria and threatened to castrate him.
“Then I guess you should take me to his house now,” I say finally. Alex nods once and starts the car again. The ride to Ben’s house is completely silent until we actually pull into the driveway.
“Good luck,” Alex says. I snort.
“Thanks. I’m probably going to need it, since I think Ben likes me about as much as you do right now,” I say.
“Come on. I’m just looking out for my best friend,” he says. He glances around. The only other car in the driveway is Ben’s SUV. “Well, he’s home. That’s a start, at least.”
I nod and climb out of the car. I want to thank him, to express my gratitude for bringing me here and not kicking my ass while doing so, but my throat is too dry all of a sudden. I settle for a very small wave as he backs out of the driveway and speeds off. I sigh and walk around the back of the house to the sliding glass door. I pull my phone out of my pocket, dial Ben’s number, and wait.
“I thought we were agreed on the idea that you weren’t going to talk to me,” Ben says as a greeting.
“And yet you still answered your phone when you saw me on the caller ID,” I say. “And yet I’m still standing outside your house.”
There is a long pause. I see the blinds on his window shift only slightly. I slip my free hand into my sweatshirt pocket and cross my fingers. Finally, he sighs. “The door’s unlocked.”
I snap my cell phone shut and shove it in my pocket. I slide open the door and cross the rec room very slowly to his barely-open bedroom door. Ben is sitting on his bed, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. For once, he’s not wearing a hoodie or his wristbands, so the cuts on his wrists are plainly exposed. I try not to stare.
“I’m not going to New York,” I say. “You can have your money back.”
I fish it out of my pocket and place it carefully on his desk. He blinks at it, then at me.
“Why?” he asks.
“Because you told me to go find my boyfriend, and I don’t have a boyfriend. I haven’t had a boyfriend for weeks now. And… part of me was hoping that the next time someone told me to go find my boyfriend, I would have someone to find. And part of me was hoping that I’d be finding you,” I say. Ben crosses his arms and sinks back into his pillows.
“Fuck you,” he says. I raise my hand to my mouth so I can gnaw on my thumbnail.
“So that’s a ‘no,’ I take it?” I say.
“It’s a ‘fuck you.’ You don’t want me, and I’m not stupid enough to kid myself into believing that you do,” he snaps. I roll my eyes.
“Right, I forgot, you can read my mind. Jesus, Ben. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I kissed you today for a reason?” I say.
“Uh, no, actually, because you fucking didn’t kiss me for a reason,” he replies.
“I did. It just took me a little while to figure it out,” I say.
“Don’t play—”
“I kissed you because you’re the only person I know who doesn’t try to pretend that I’m normal. You tell me I’m fucked up when I’m fucked up, and you don’t try to act like you don’t see slashes on my wrists when they’re clearly there. I kissed you because, even though you still seem to not like me, you’ve looked out for me since Garen left. I kissed you because you’re one of the only people I know who doesn’t seem to always be putting on a fucking show, and I like that. I like that you make all your jokes in monotone, and I like that you wear eyeliner, and I like that you’re like, three feet tall, and I like that you’re not at all impressed by the fact that I’m a varsity runner with perfect grades. I like you, Ben. And that doesn’t negate the relationship I had with Garen, or in any way diminish what I felt for him. But I haven’t spoken to Garen in weeks. And I had the option to be on a train to see him right now. But instead, I am standing in your bedroom, asking you to give me a chance. And that has to count for something.”
By now, Ben’s arms are wrapped around his legs, hugging them to his chest. He rests his chin on his knees, staring at me with wide blue eyes, like he’s trying to see if the words inside my head match the words he just heard me say. After more than a full minute, he releases his legs and stands up, crossing the tiny room to stand in front of me. He goes up on his toes so we’re level and wraps his arms very carefully around my neck.
“It counts for a lot,” he says, and when I kiss him this time, he kisses me back.
Previous Chapter Next Chapter