On the porch
If you asked me what you taste like,
I'd say that moment after the blade makes contact
but before blood simmers to the surface.
-- Adriana Cloud, Bento Body
He felt Laith before seeing him, the resonance of his footfalls heavy on the wooden floors, coming up behind him with quick steps. For a brief moment, he wondered if it was really Laith, because he didn’t walk like that; his strides were lazy and long, especially while drunk, one push away from falling over. The agitation in these was out of character for him, but how could Sherry be wrong?
The footsteps circled Theodore and halted at his left. Then, Laith’s forearms landed on the counter, fingers laced. Theodore placed the shot glass between them, eyes down on the ink etched into Laith’s skin, knowledge that he had by heart. Without a word, Laith took the shot and downed it.
There was something on his face, a seriousness that hadn’t been there before. Considering he’d left with a very pissed off Emily earlier, then their time together must not have been pleasant. He stared at the empty glass for a moment, eyebrows drawn lightly. This kind of introspective behavior wasn’t at all unusual for him, so Theodore didn’t think much of it. For a self-proclaimed idiot, Laith sure ruminated a lot.
“Where’s Ryan?” Sherry asked, placing her empty cocktail glass down on the bar.
“In Justin’s room.” His answer prompted her to make a swift exit. Much like before, when she walked into the crowd, it very elegantly parted for her, so she didn’t have to touch any of the sweaty bodies that danced and swayed. Even her departure was otherworldly.
“We were talking about you.” Theodore’s tone was nice and friendly, an attempt to lighten the mood. “She called you a sweetheart. I didn’t say anything about it, but she’s definitely the first person I’ve ever heard pay you such a compliment.”
Dark eyebrows bounced in acknowledgement to that, Laith’s eyes still cast down at the empty glass. “Yeah, that’s not a very popular opinion of me. Not even Emily would call me that.”
“I’d call you that.”
Their eyes met in the partial dark, Laith’s face turned only the slightest bit in his direction.
“That’s because you don’t know me.”
“So Sherry doesn’t know you either?”
Tutting, Laith turned back around. “She doesn’t, actually.”
“Can you just take the compliment?” He bumped Laith on the shoulder, his body swaying side to side. “I’m trying to be nice.”
“You are nice,” Laith mumbled. “Always.”
Resting an arm on the higher counter, he turned to face Laith properly. “Not always. What about earlier? I got you in trouble.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
It absolutely was, but watching Laith shake his head, Theodore decided not to argue. That wouldn’t do him any favors.
“You said what you had to and I’m glad you did. I had to hear it.” The grave tone in Laith’s voice was starting to worry him. This conversation was supposed to be light and uncomplicated, but Laith was definitely not taking it that way, drawn into himself, his own personal mirror.
In an act of solidarity, Theodore reached across the small gap between them and touched Laith’s arm. Unsure what to say, or if he should even speak right now, he simply squeezed it a bit, hoping that was the right thing to do.
Laith observed him in silence, eyes down where they touched, engulfed in seriousness. Grief? He wasn’t sure what exactly, but it wasn’t good. When Laith glanced up again, a wide variety of emotions flashed over the green of his eyes, from tender to sad, but nothing Theodore could pinpoint with certainty.
It pained him to see Laith this way—Emily must’ve torn him to shreds. For as much as he wanted to ask about it, he didn’t want to upset Laith any further and simply offered a smile instead.
Laith carefully touched Theodore’s face with the back of his fingers, brushing them down his cheek. The way Laith looked at him—the depth of his eyes, the tenderness of his features—made Theodore’s heart race. There was something really heavy in the air between them, unspoken yet painfully present, that he had no idea what to call. It brought Sherry’s suspicions to mind, that Laith might feel something for him, that their friendship wasn’t completely empty, but the thought alone—the mere possibility that Laith might feel something for him—was far too overwhelming to bear. He couldn’t take it. He idolized Laith so much; the one who’d plagued his dreams from day one, that even humoring the remotest conception of his literal dreams coming true just paralyzed him. Contempt and hatred were easy to deal with; he’d had years of experience handling both, but genuine love and affection were complete strangers to him—terrifying ones.
When Laith parted his lips to speak, the world stopped. Frozen in time, Theodore couldn’t breathe, eyes wider than saucers, heart lodged halfway up his throat. Fortunately, nothing came out, so he could exhale along with Laith, allowing the world to resume spinning. The fingers on his face left it and the hand on Laith’s arm pulled back, unaware of how tightly he’d been gripping it.
Oh my god, what was Laith going to say? No, it didn’t matter; it was good that he hadn’t said it. Now Theodore could go back to thinking of himself as completely irrelevant in everybody’s lives—the only way to experience real freedom.
“Another round, please.” With a delicate push, the glass moved in Theodore’s direction.
“Are you sure you haven’t had enough?” The question came from genuine concern, though he still complied with Laith’s request.
“Oh, I definitely have.” One hand took the glass and brought it up. Laith’s neck flashed for just a moment, fern leaf shifting as he swallowed.
“I noticed that.” He spoke while Laith brought the glass back down, steadying himself for a moment. The mindfulness with which the glass was set on the counter put his inebriation into perspective, if he had to focus so hard to do it. “Makes me wonder just how bad you’ll be in bed and if each glass makes it worse.”
“Depends what you mean by bad.” Laith glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, eyebrows raising. “If you mean it like I want you to, then yeah, you’re right—I only get worse.” Laith’s smirk quickened his pulse. Handsome. Very handsome.
“So you suck.”
A shrug, loose and careless. “If you want me to, but you already know that.” Laith leaned both forearms on the counter, head turned just enough to hold the stare, hair falling stylishly to the side. In the low light, the green of his eyes shone three shades brighter. “I’ll do anything you want.”
That comment pulled the corners of Theodore’s lips into a small, mindful smile. “You’re right, I do know that.”
The overwhelming weight from before was completely gone now, replaced by surface-level attraction that burned deep in Laith’s eyes and traveled all the way down Theodore’s body. This he could handle, the flirting, the teasing; it was easy. When Laith started acting like this, he knew what to expect from him, knew how to read him—knowledge learned from past experiences. Calling the shots gave him confidence as much as familiarity brought him comfort. If they could always be like this, a constant shift from friends to benefits and back, life would be perfect. It’d be simple. Sherry had said it was wise of him not to think much of their time together, so he wouldn’t, too afraid to fall into the rabbit hole that her thoughts had created.
“You said you’d show me around,” he remarked innocently, forcing himself to sound that way. “You know, upstairs.”
“Yeah, I did.”
They held the stare. Despite his blatant invitation, Laith still didn’t move a muscle.
“Well?” he pressed.
“Well?” Laith echoed back, words spoken around a smirk, his tone low and teasing. Was he doing this on purpose?
“You wouldn’t break a promise, would you?”
Laith’s smirk widened. “Do you think they took the master bedroom?”
That question raised Theodore’s eyebrows. While this could very well be a comment on the ambiguity of Justin and Emily’s very close friendship, it was probably just a nod to their ruined plans from a moment ago.
“If they didn’t, then we might as well.”
“We might as well,” Laith echoed again, this time with a hint of thoughtfulness in his voice, but he still didn’t move. Instead, he watched Theodore from the corner of his eyes, eyebrows perfectly set, unreadable. All that Theodore could get out of it was the fire that burned in emerald green, the one he’d grown so fond of over the last few weeks, while everything else eluded him. This was a different seriousness from before, less intense, almost passive. Knowing Laith, he’d go so far as to call it intellectual, even if he had no idea what went through his mind at any point in time.
Compelled to make the first move—the first proper move that wasn’t just an insinuation of what he wanted to do—Theodore took a step closer. It was always this way, wasn’t it? Laith pushing him to make the first move, but never the other way around. His first instinct was to pin it on Laith and call him lazy, when in truth, he only had himself to blame. The lengths he’d gone to in their first encounter had set a precedent for future ones, labeling him as the one in charge, so he really shouldn’t expect anything else.
He touched Laith on the hip, fingers soft over his shirt. He felt the waistband of his pants underneath it, the belt loops that he didn’t use, cotton over jeans. They were close enough that his chin brushed Laith on the shoulder, over his shirt sleeve, the air around him heavy and rich. The way Laith leaned on the bar put Theodore an inch above him, taller for once.
What next? He wasn’t sure. His hand played around aimlessly, slipping under the hem, Laith’s skin warm to the touch. He didn’t go too far though, a fan of discretion, his fingers a secret that ran along the edge of Laith’s underwear. Green eyes dropped down in response, curious, unable to see his hand from here, but intently focused on what it did. Did Laith have any tattoos on the low of his back? Theodore couldn’t remember. The skeleton was much further up, across his shoulder blades, the only one he could remember around here. Then again, he hadn’t looked at Laith’s back in a while. Even in the shower that one time, he hadn’t paid attention. Briefly, he wondered if there was one and if Ryan knew about it.
He leaned closer, just a little bit, enough to show what he wanted. Having never failed to pick up on these things, Laith turned around to accommodate him, one arm slipping off the counter. While Laith could very well straighten up and tower over him, he didn’t, choosing to stand at Theodore’s height instead. It was different—he wasn’t sure if he liked it, but it did allow for a much easier time kissing Laith. He leaned in for it but froze halfway, eyes catching sight of familiar faces off to the left, bursting through the crowd. They both saw Emily and Justin at the same time and promptly moved away from each other; Theodore’s hand cut all contact between them just as Laith straightened back up to stand properly.
The look on Emily’s face told Theodore she’d noticed it. With frustration burning deep in his veins, he wished she’d caught them fucking instead, just to end it all. Maybe that way she’d stop giving a shit about what they did together. Correction, that way she’d stop giving a shit about him, since she already didn’t care much for Laith. Bliss.
“Sherry and Ryan are taking Justin’s room,” she spoke while walking, clearly disinterested in joining them at the bar, “so we’re sleeping upstairs.”
“Cool.”
“Great.”
Their apathy caused her to halt all movement, rooted between the bar and the stairs. Her eyes were set straight on Laith’s face, eyebrows drawn together. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
In response to that, Laith passed Theodore a brief glance. It didn’t help that he couldn’t keep a straight face during the stare, so any doubts she’d seen that were quelled. The fact Laith had turned her warning into a joke prompted her to walk over and shove him on the arm.
“I’m serious!” she damn near shouted, speaking through gritted teeth.
“Okay! I know.” His hands raised up in mock surrender, more annoyed than anything else.
Staring furiously at him, she breathed out.
“Goodnight, Emily.” Theodore smiled. It was very clear that he’d pissed her off with that, but since she wasn’t mad at him, she didn’t grant him a response, verbal or otherwise.
Her gaze bounced between the two of them, shoulders tense. She clearly wasn’t done here, but ultimately decided against antagonizing them any further and took a step back. “You should call your mom, Theo. She’ll pick you up.”
He stared at her with his winner smile rounding out his cheeks. Next to him, Laith aligned his shoulders and leaned his head back, watching Emily down his nose, scornful. She rivaled that with razor blades for pupils.
The tension between them was so thick that a knife alone wouldn’t cut it, one wrong move away from catastrophe, gunslingers with each other at the end of the barrel. It was very clear to Theodore that he was the reason for this falling-out, and for a brief moment, he regretted his attendance tonight.
“Hey, um, Laith.” As soon as Justin called, now at the foot of the stairs, Laith’s posture changed back to loose and casual, how it usually was. “Can you turn everything off before going to bed?”
That question prompted Theodore to glance around the room and see the crowd begin to thin out; varying sobriety levels hadn’t kept it from noticing the host turn in for the night. A few unfortunate souls were knocked out cold on the couch, too inebriated to make it home, which Justin didn’t seem to mind. At least they were safe here.
“Yeah, sure. I got it.”
“Thanks, man.”
Laith nodded. Considering he was always the last one to fall asleep, it was safe to assume he’d see everybody out, so that was a good call on Justin’s part. Green eyes fell on Emily next, but disinclined to resume their standoff, she simply turned on her heel and followed Justin up.
The moment she was gone, Theodore breathed out, unaware he’d been holding a breath at all. “Fuck,” he muttered, body relaxing like he’d just escaped death roll. “She’s really fucking pissed.”
“No shit.” Laith’s tone was indecipherable, unemotional and distant. Turned towards the stairway, he stared at it long after his friends had disappeared, the ghost of their afterimage left behind.
Suddenly, a wave of shame washed over Theodore. It’d been made extensively clear that his presence here was problematic, yet the ramifications of what that meant only hit him now, with his face shoved into everything he’d caused. He’d never seen Emily like that before, eyes burning with hatred, extremely upset with her very best friend. She valued Laith’s friendship so much that she called him her brother—how could Theodore have created such friction between them?
Immediately, his mind went back to Ryan, the perpetrator of lies and hate towards him, who couldn’t stomach the mere idea of sharing a few friends. It all came back to this, Ryan doing the most to make his life hell, when he didn’t even know what he’d done to deserve it. Why was it so bad that he hung out with Ryan’s friends sometimes? Why couldn’t they all hang out together? Ryan had said Theodore wasn’t one of them and didn’t belong, echoes of what Laith had told him last night, and his heart squeezed. Scott wasn’t a rat either, but could still party with Dylan and the others—why couldn’t he do the same? Was he the problem? A noose wrapped around his throat and choked it.
“Don’t do that.” Laith’s voice pulled him from his thoughts, eyes glancing up to meet with the ones that watched him.
“What?”
“Blame yourself. It’s not your fault.”
Damn, was his face showing it that much? His cheeks burned at how easily Laith could see through him.
“I just don’t understand,” he started, words spilling out of his mouth like water through the crack in a dam. “I don’t understand why everyone hates me so much. I know I don’t belong with you guys, and you’ll never be my friends, and I shouldn’t have accepted Justin’s invitation tonight, but I didn’t think you’d hate me for it. It’s true that I’m trying to make friends with all of you and I know I shouldn’t, but I didn’t think that was such a bad thing. I thought it’d be annoying at most, not reason to break the group apart. I knew Emily was upset with you, just not this angry. I never wanted that to happen. I don’t want to be the one who makes your life hell, Laith. I want to see you happy.”
There was sympathy on Laith’s face, in the pain in his eyes and the seriousness in his brow, that was comforting in a clandestine way, since Theodore didn’t deserve it. He’d masterminded the war, intentionally or not; Laith should be spanking him senseless. Instead, he was met with compassion.
“Theo…” Laith’s voice was soft, hesitation wrapped around it. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be here.”
His eyes dropped to the space between them. That wasn’t news, but it still hurt to hear it, heart squeezed tight in his chest. A flood of memories reminded him of every single time he’d acted like an idiot with the others, thinking he’d be one of them, trying his damnedest to achieve the impossible while pissing everyone off in the process. He felt like a fool, eyes filling up with tears, face warm with shame.
A hand touched him on the arm, firm around the sleeve of his jacket. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not saying you don’t deserve to be here; I’m saying they don’t deserve your attendance. They don’t get it.”
Slowly, he glanced up, eyebrows pinched the tiniest bit together. “They don’t get what?”
“That you’re not a porcelain doll. They think I’m…” Laith motioned vaguely, trying to find his next words. “I don’t know, manipulating you. That I’m using you for a laugh, like some fucking monster. I don’t know. They don’t see you as a person.”
He couldn’t say he was very surprised by any of that.
“Honestly, it’s starting to really piss me off,” Laith continued, sterner than before. “They don’t listen to anything I say. When Emily pulled me aside, I couldn’t get a single word in. Then Ryan showed up and that was a total shit-show. I don’t know.” A shrug bounced Laith’s shoulders, eyes cast off at the guests that slept on the couch. At this point, the party was over. “They’re making me feel like shit.”
“I’m sorry.”
God, he wanted to kick himself. For the first time ever, he wished he were in Henry’s car, getting spanked senseless by the side of the road.
Laith just shook his head in response. Somehow, it made him feel worse.
“I’ll talk to them tomorrow; I’ll explain everything.” Words left him faster than a bullet, an impulse to try and fix it all. “I’ll tell them about the bar and how you didn’t want to go, that I made you come with me, and walk me home, and that I was the one who kissed you first. I’ll tell them—”
“Stop.” Loud and curt, Laith held up a palm. “Don’t do that; it won’t help. You should just stay away.”
Breath caught in his throat, eyes glossed over with tears. No. Laith said something else, but he couldn’t hear a single thing through the ringing in his ears, unable to make out the expression on Laith’s face. All he could tell was that Laith wasn’t looking at him, turned towards the rest of the living room.
As soon as Laith stepped away from the bar, Theodore grabbed his arm, fingers tight around it. That seized Laith’s attention, but still incapable of reading his face, he couldn’t tell what Laith thought of it. There was a lot that he wanted to say right now, beg and plea, but the noose around his throat choked him far too tightly to let anything through. It hurt; he couldn’t even swallow.
Laith cupped his jaw, fingers soft on his skin. The mere tenderness of it was enough to calm him down, Laith’s touch like a soothing coo. “You’ll be okay. I promise you they’re not as cool as you think they are.”
True, Laith was the cool one, but that wasn’t what worried him.
“You can’t push me away.” Each word scraped his throat raw, but he managed. He had to.
Laith stared at him. “I’m not doing that. I meant you should stay away from them.”
Suddenly, he could breathe again, lungs expanding as far as they could go. Holy shit, that got him. As shocking as it’d been to have the world swiped from under his feet, it was just as shocking to fall onto it again. Laith’s hand moved on his face, thumb swiping a tear from his cheek, one that he hadn’t even noticed had fallen.
“I’ll handle it,” Laith promised, sweeter than he had to. “Now help me lock up.”
That promise echoed around his head as they closed every window and turned off every light. He knew how Laith’s friends treated him and that there was no feasible way he’d ever succeed in handling the situation, because they’d never listened to him; that wasn’t a new development. The fact Laith had only noticed that now didn’t negate its presence in the past; it just made him blissfully unaware, and while it was heartbreaking to see him learn of his insignificance within his own friend group, Theodore knew it was for the best. He could’ve never opened Laith’s eyes to something so fundamentally fucked up as that.
By the front door was a coat hanger that he hadn’t seen before, hidden behind the door when it was open. Laith went through his jacket and took a cigarette pack from it, but didn’t actually put the jacket on, despite how chilly it’d gotten. Away from the stuffy air in the city, Justin’s farm was much colder than what they were used to, with chilly winds blowing every now and then. It made Theodore glad to have brought a jacket in the first place, even if he’d mostly done it in the name of fashion. Still, Laith didn’t seem cold and left his own behind—the leather one that belonged to his brother—as they stepped out for a smoke.
“You won’t handle it,” Theodore blurted out. “You can’t.”
Laith watched him with an orange glow deep in the green of his eyes, like a forest fire. “Can you?”
Hm. Smoke blew with the wind, Laith’s hair ruffling delicately.
“If I’m smart, maybe. I’ll have to try.”
They held the stare.
“You’re a bulldog, Theo. I admire that in you.”
Really? The compliment came so out of left field that he wasn’t even sure how to reply, cheeks blushing in the dark. Better keep to the subject.
“I don’t know how I’ll change Emily’s mind about you. Justin’s easy and Ryan’s impossible, which makes her the tiebreaker. It’s weird because isn’t she supposed to be your friend? You’ve known her for longer, but she still believes Ryan. She’s on his side about everything, like, she thinks you’re the problem. Not just about this, but in general, like you’re fucking deranged and Ryan’s the warden that keeps you in check. She acts like he’s god.”
Laith dropped his gaze to the space between them, unreadable again. “She has a reason to think that way. He saved me once.”
His blood ran cold. “What?”
A shrug raised Laith’s shoulders in an attempt to mask just how tense they were, feet shuffling nervously, floorboards creaking under their weight. The ceiling over the porch cast dark shadows over Laith’s face, lit up only when he toked on the cigarette, cherry burning bright. Smoke blew like fog.
“I’m okay now. I need you to know that. Tonight was a total shit-show and I’ll definitely internalize it for the rest of my life, but I’m fine. I’m in a much better place than I used to be.”
Theodore’s hands shook.
“Two years after meeting Ryan, I OD’d. It wasn’t intentional but it wasn’t not intentional either; I’d been doing harder and harder doses, knowing that would end up happening at one point. I just didn’t care. I didn’t have anything going for me at the time; it felt like whatever I did was pointless, like I didn’t matter. I didn’t have a career plan, I wasn’t good at anything, I could barely keep a job; I didn’t compare to anyone around me. Emily and Ryan were both going to college and Justin ran a successful business all by himself; what the fuck was I doing, you know?”
The cherry cast a soft orange glow over Laith’s face for just a moment, eyes fixed on the lawn over the hillside.
“He took me to the E.R. I remember waking up on a cot gasping for air, like they’d just brought me back to life. It was so fucked up. One of the nurses told me what they’d put in me, but I don’t remember what it was. After that, I just went home. Never did anything harder than pot ever since.”
Holy shit.
“Ryan was really shaken up about it. He said I needed something to do, so we started hitting up the gym together; I’d stopped for a pretty long time. It’s one of those things that sneak up on you. You skip a day because you’re tired, then you skip a meal, then you don’t shower, then you stop leaving your house, and before you know it, you’re in the thick of it. Before you know it, you’re dying. It’s tough.”
There was absolutely nothing in Theodore’s mouth, veins overrun by fear, paralyzed on the porch. The wind was chilling.
“Anyway.” Laith awkwardly cleared his throat, hand flicking ashes from the cigarette. “Like I said, I’m fine now; I have a job that keeps me focused and makes me feel important, so I don’t think I’ll fall back into that hole, or at least not so soon, but uh. Yeah, that’s why Emily values Ryan so much.”
He thought of the scars on Laith’s wrists, faded with time—he must’ve been dealing with that for years. Theodore’s lips parted to apologize, but stopped just short of doing it; there was no reason why he should. Faced with such vulnerability, Laith’s past laid out in the open, he felt embarrassed, like he shouldn’t be looking directly at it. Laith was either much drunker than he’d thought or he was being deliberately brave, in which case, it only served to make Theodore feel even more unbecoming of such knowledge. He’d been such a dickhead this whole evening, playing innocent, doing the most to make Ryan see them together, that this amount of trust in him, this openness felt undeserved. Actually, every bit of attention from Laith always felt undeserved.
Laith moved in the shadows, too dark to really see him, floorboards creaking as his weight shifted from one boot to the other. A moment later, light poured into the living room behind them, stretching long across the porch. Laith’s shadow prompted Theodore to turn around and see him in the door frame with an arm stretched toward the wall, hidden behind it. That must be where the light switch was.
One hand covered his chin as the cherry burned, ready to take the cigarette back as soon as the inhale was done. With his eyes down on it, Laith raised his arm and leaned against the frame, elbow pressed on it, like the love interest in a bad romance movie. Was he trying to be sexy? If so, it was such a blatant display that Theodore wasn’t sure how to feel about it. A hand plucked the cigarette away and smoke blew up into the air. In silence, Laith nodded to the right, as if motioning toward something. “I got this a few days ago.”
As soon as he said that, Theodore saw what he was referring to, the tattoo on the inside of his bicep, the size of Theodore’s palm. It depicted the decapitated head of a pony, bleeding and dead, floating beautifully in zero gravity. The Dead Ponies.
“You’re committed.”
Laith pulled away from the door frame, cigarette back on his lips. Okay, so he wasn’t trying to be sexy, only showing off the tattoo. The placement made it difficult to notice it at a glance, despite its size.
“Hwan has a Medusa head on his wrist.” His comment came with no thought behind it, mindless words that left his face only for him to realize he should’ve kept quiet. His pulse skipped.
In response to that, Laith scoffed. “Of course he does. If you ask, I’m sure he’ll tell you I’m at least partially responsible for it.”
Why would you be? he didn’t ask, because on the one hand, he didn’t want to rehash last night’s argument, while on the other, he had a pretty good guess. If Laith had betrayed the Gorgons, then Hwan had doubled down on them.
“How long have you been going down?” Laith’s question was sincere, without a hint of judgment or any of the vexation from last night. It compelled Theodore to answer truthfully.
“That was the first time. I tried to go on Wednesday, but I just couldn’t do it. Not by myself anyway, so when Hwan invited me, I went with him.”
“So you knew him beforehand.” Laith sounded pensive, eyebrows pinched together. “Did you meet at Streisand’s?”
“We actually met on prom night. He and the others were smoking outside, waiting for Scott to come out. We asked them if they could get us a drink from the gas station down the road, but since they were headed to Streisand’s, they invited us to come with.”
“Who’s they?”
“Uh.” Did Laith really not know who Hwan’s friends were? “You know, the people he hangs out with. The Poison Darts.”
Laith made a face at that. “Is the guy from last night one of them?”
“Yeah.” He shuffled a little bit, hands deep in his pockets. “That’s weird, isn’t it? That he hangs out with Poison Darts.”
“It’s not… unheard of, but yeah, it’s kinda weird, especially when he has a tattoo of his faction. He’s probably with one of them.”
“He is.”
Laith raised his head into a big, understanding nod. “Okay, there it is. If it’s anything serious, he’ll turn this guy into a Gorgon and ditch the others. That’s how it goes.”
Hm. He didn’t know Hwan well enough to dispute that, though he did remember them mentioning something about not caring to turn each other, or was it only Marquis who’d expressed that sentiment? Was it requited? He didn’t remember. In fact, there was a lot that he couldn’t remember about last night.
“Sorry about what happened, by the way.” The apology burst out of his chest whole-heartedly, long overdue. It was impossible to keep it in any longer. “I didn’t mean to run into you; I was just having fun. I mean, I knew there was a chance, but that place is so big that I didn’t think it’d actually happen.”
Laith nodded very briefly, cigarette butt flicked far into the porch, possibly even tossed over the railing. “I should be saying that.”
“No, I get it; it’s fine. It was in your right to say it.”
“It really wasn’t, but even if it was, the way I did it would’ve invalidated it anyway. Tae-hwan threw me way off; it fucked me up seeing you two together. It felt like… I don’t know, like he was seeing into a piece of my life. Like he was peeking through a peephole after getting shut out.”
“Because he was with me?”
“Yeah. I don’t know how much you told him about me, but I just kept thinking I didn’t want him to know any of it. He’s not in my life anymore; I don’t want him to know who I’ve become. I want him to live with the old me in his head, the kid I used to be when we still knew each other.”
“Why?”
Laith shrugged. Still in the door frame, he leaned his back against it. “If people know you, that’s an invitation into your life, and I don’t want him back in mine. I don’t want anything to do with him.”
His breath caught—why was Laith so adamant about keeping Hwan out? What had he done? As far as Theodore knew, it was Laith who had betrayed his old faction, but if he wanted Hwan out so bad, then there must be more to it. Hwan must’ve done something to deserve it. He remembered Qasim’s jacket and how Hwan had had it after he’d passed on—was that related? He wanted to ask about it so bad, but he knew it was a sure way to push this all downhill. It was a miracle that they were talking about it like two calm and collected adults rather than rehashing their foul behavior from last night and he really didn’t want this to go sour. He needed a win. He needed it more than anything.
“What is it?” Laith asked. “What do you wanna know?”
Theodore stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Every time I talk about myself, you get this look on your face, like I’m some A-list celebrity and you’ve seen all my movies, so what is it? What do you wanna know?”
His face burned like the pits of hell. “I—” Fuck, really? Was he that fucking pathetic? Laith was wasted; Theodore should at least be able to hide it tonight. “Can you blame me? You’re the most interesting person I know. You’re—yeah, you’re a celebrity to me. Your life is so cool it feels like a movie.”
That put a very serious look on Laith’s face, bordering on disbelief, carrying a hint of disdain that made him wish he’d never said a word to begin with. “That’s so fucking weird. You know that makes you sound like a freak, right? I mean, you’re the one with the outstanding accomplishments and the distinguished lifestyle. I’m a fucking tunnel rat.”
“I—what? Distinguished lifestyle? I’m going to business school.”
“Do you know what I’d give to switch places with you? I never wanted to be a rat—no one does, but for some reason you’re all up in it, dreaming about it.” Laith scoffed. “I know for a fact that if we could switch places, you’d do it in a heartbeat. I just don’t get it. Why do you want my life so bad?”
“No, that’s not it. I don’t want to live your life; I want to be you.”
“Why?”
His shoulders raised, awkward and genuine. “Because you’re not me.”
Disdain mellowed out into something much softer that dropped Laith’s shoulders and removed the scowl from his forehead. He pushed himself off the door frame and stepped closer to Theodore, his shadow long across the porch. “Okay, let’s do it; I’ll be you and you’ll be me. Go stand over there.” A nod of the head indicated the door frame.
That put a small smile on Theodore’s face, excitement buzzing in his chest. Earnestly, he bounced over to the door frame and leaned against it just how Laith had done a second ago. That earned him a smile.
“What now?” he asked, heart fluttering.
“Well, you’re me, so say something I would say.”
“Um, okay.” He could feel his pulse on the roof of his mouth. “Theo, you look just like the Hollywood boys. Are you sure you’re not one of them?”
“Is wearing Gucci shoes all it takes?”
He grinned. “When you look like that, yeah.” His right hand mimicked smoking an invisible cigarette. That earned him a grin. “You’re making me forget all about Ryan.”
“Is that what you want?”
He cocked his head aside. Was that addressed to him, or were they still playing? Still in character, he shrugged loosely, the way Laith always did. “I’m just saying the thing with Ryan was never serious. He’s not even good. Honestly, I don’t know why we still do it. I’m so fucking bored.”
Laith scoffed out a laugh. Okay, so they were still playing. Good. “If he’s so bad, then just drop him. I’m much better anyway.”
His cheeks flared up, grin wide on his face. “Are you?”
“Yeah.” Laith tilted his head aside, an attempt at innocence. It didn’t work, but it was the thought that counted. “You know that. You wouldn’t keep coming back if it wasn’t true.”
Damn. Self-burn?
“You don’t give me much choice, do you?” Theodore continued. “You’re a bully.”
“You like that about me.”
Oh.
Did he?
Theodore squinted. “So you think you know me,” he baited. “That’s cute, but I’m a complete mystery.”
“You’re just an idiot who likes me way more than you should. You love this. Actually…” Laith trailed off, eyes fixed on the side of the house, lost within his own thoughts.
Theodore’s heart raced. “You’re right, I like you more than Ryan.”
Green eyes fell back on him. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“It’s a simple fact.”
“The correct answer is that it was never a competition in the first place. I was always above Ryan.”
“Yeah, after you sucked me off the first time.”
“No.” Laith shook his head, poignant somehow. “That was just when I graduated from kid to adult in your head, but I was always much kinder than Ryan. You’ve always liked me best.”
They held the stare.
“Well, I’m still with him, so don’t get any ideas. I’ll never let him go.”
Laith cocked his head to the side, eyes off to accompany the uncertainty that fell over his face. “I don’t know about that.”
The seriousness of that comment indicated the end of their play, spoken much quieter than Laith’s impersonation of Theodore, far too sincere. The way he stood hid his face in the darkness, orange light pouring over his clothes and sharpening the shadows there, only high enough to reach his chest. It was crazy to think that Theodore was once just about that height.
“I’m starting to think you were right,” Laith continued. “You’ve known him for much longer anyway; I should’ve never doubted you.”
“Right about what?”
“How unredeemable he is. I thought you were exaggerating for the sake of it, like brothers do, but now I see that you weren’t. You’ve always been right about him—you know him best.”
How ironic that the one who knew Ryan best was the furthest person from his true self, but then again, his true self was probably just the asshole who bad-mouthed his little brother to the public and treated his friends like garbage. Sometimes, people were really just that see-through.
“What made you change your mind?”
A gust of wind swept the porch, ruffling Laith’s hair. Theodore shivered in the door frame, shoulders rising to his ears. How come Laith wasn’t cold?
“He choked me earlier.”
Those words knocked him breathless.
“What?” He could barely hear himself talk, pulse loud in his ears.
Perfectly composed, Laith raised an arm to point at the front lawn, where the stone path led down the hillside. “Right there. Emily brought me out here to talk, and on the way back, we ran into him. He burst out the door, pushed me down and choked me.” Laith’s voice was surprisingly steady for the horrific contents of his account. It must be the alcohol. “I’d never seen him like that. The rage in his eyes—he could’ve killed me. I think that’s what he wanted to do.”
Absently, Theodore gravitated towards Laith, feet taking him two steps closer, heart shattered in a million pieces. “Laith…” That name escaped his lips with no thought behind it, driven by the aching that seized him entirely, a thoughtless attempt at comfort.
“I don’t think he’s worth it anymore.”
“He’s not.”
It was second nature, at this point, to reassure others of Ryan’s worthlessness. He didn’t even have to think about it, speaking on autopilot, his body and soul consumed by grief.
“He’s never been.”
How could Ryan have put his hands on someone so harmless? He could picture it clearly, Ryan pushing Laith down the hillside, probably shouting at him too, before pouncing on him like an animal, ready to strike. Blinded by rage, Ryan strangled his friend to near death. If Theodore had to guess, it was Emily who’d saved Laith’s life this time around. That should make the two of them even.
Slowly, the emptiness within his chest began to fill up with bitter hatred. “Please stay away from him.” His tone was far too aggressive for a successful plea, too reminiscent of a veiled warning, but it was the best he could do at the moment. His words begged for action while his voice threatened to take matters into his own hands.
Still staring at the front lawn, Laith didn’t seem to have heard him, giving no indication of it. Theodore touched his arm, fingers light on his skin, feeling the raised hairs there. So he was cold. Why wouldn’t he put on a jacket? The coat hanger was right there.
The thought remained in Theodore’s head, eyes up at the side of Laith’s face, watching him turn to regard the hand on his arm. A second later, green eyes moved up to his face, refracting the orange glow that poured down their clothes. The softness of Laith’s features tied a knot around his throat, hand squeezing in response. If he could, he’d wrap Laith in the bed of his heart and keep him safe forever.
“You’re not who he says you are,” Laith commented, low and poignant. “You’re much more selfless than he thinks. Side-by-side, you make him look bad.”
Theodore’s lips quivered into a small, warm smile. “That explains why nobody likes me. I’m ripping their friend to shreds.”
“No, you’re exposing who he is inside. If anything, he’s the one tarnishing his own reputation; you’re just taking the blame for it. You’re not self-obsessed and heartless—he is. The projection here is insane. How did I never see that?”
“It doesn’t matter; I’m glad you’re seeing it now.”
There was so much emotion in Laith’s face, so much vehemence that Theodore’s inability to read any of it actually frustrated him now. This was the most open Laith had ever been with him; how come he still couldn’t see into his heart? It felt like Laith had been bearing himself raw all night, dying to be understood while Theodore failed to do it. He just couldn’t see what Laith had been trying so hard to show him.
“I should’ve chosen you from the start.” Laith sounded crushed. The intensity of his regret tightened the knot around Theodore’s throat.
“Don’t say it like that; you sound like you’re dying. There’s still time to make it right.” He tugged on Laith’s arm, coaxing him to cross the porch. “Either way, everything is fine.”
“Is it?” Laith asked.
The railing was thick enough that Theodore could comfortably lean on it, a couple of inches away from a proper seat. Standing directly in front of him, Laith engulfed his figure in shadow, hair backlit like a halo, skin glowing around the edges.
“Do you hear that?”
In silence, Laith listened. “The creatures?”
“They’re silent.”
A brief glance about themselves confirmed his statement. He knew that wasn’t an indication of Laith’s distrust in him, only his own observations. Double-checking.
“We’re alone.”
Laith looked at him. “I always thought that’d be terrifying,” he whispered. “It used to be.”
“We’re never really alone. Even right now, I’m with you.”
A hand touched him on the face, fingers holding up his jaw. There was nothing romantic about it, but still he couldn’t help the skip in his heart, eyes growing wide. He’d take a single touch from Laith over anything in the world. In silence, he studied the way Laith looked at him, pensive and tender, studying him right back.
“Sometimes, it feels like I’m imagining you, like I made you up in my head. I’m talking to myself.”
“Because I’m you?” Theodore asked.
“Because you’re who I think you are.”
“Or maybe you’re just convinced enough that you know who I am.”
“That’s something I’d say.”
“I know. You told me relationships fail because people don’t actually know each other, but you know me. You can see right through me; you always have.”
Despite the wind, the fingers that touched his face were warm.
“What does that say about us?” he asked.
“It says you’re much better at it than I am.”
“You don’t want to participate, so you’re not trying. I think it’s unfair to compare us.”
Laith’s lips parted, hesitating to speak. “I don’t… know… how to start.”
“Tell me what you think about Ryan.”
The hand on his face left it, green eyes glancing off over his shoulder. “I don’t wanna think about Ryan.”
“What are you gonna do with him?”
Laith shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t care. Can we just…” With a big exhale, Laith leaned onto the railing next to him. “Can you stay up with me tonight?”
His heart fluttered. “Yes.”
Under a soft orange glow, Laith smiled.
***
In the hours that followed, Laith made himself known without realizing it, in the form of topics that, at a quick glance, didn’t seem to mean much of anything. The creatures that watched them weren’t here tonight, but did Theodore know why? Was it true, after all, that they weren’t here, or was it that they just couldn’t be seen at the moment? Promptly, he thought of his mother who’d never seen them, the doctors who didn’t believe in them, and the large part of society that called people like him and Laith haunted. The term’s existence alone alluded to something more, regardless of if the ones who used it believed in it or not, unable to see anything themselves, but still thoroughly captivated by ghost stories and horrified of the haunted ones.
If the abyssal creatures were truly always there, then how come only some people could see them? Then again, if they weren’t there at all, who was to say that the creation of one’s mind wasn’t real? Subjective idealism claimed that the monsters only existed as long as they were perceived, while objective idealism defended the idea of a consciousness independent from human mind, in which case, the monsters had existed all along. Which one did Theodore believe in? Neither really gave him much peace of mind.
As Laith talked, his extensive knowledge of metaphysics became increasingly apparent. For someone as stupid and worthless as he considered himself to be, he was incredibly well-read and deeply thoughtful. He’d theorized this for years, trying to understand where these creatures had come from, why only certain people could see them, and why he was one of them. Could it be the result of mental illness? Could it be a glimpse into a different dimension? Was it harmful? If the two of them had kept on swimming deep into the lake, would they have been swallowed whole or simply drowned?
Philosophers and psychologists had entirely different views on the matter, each with their own books and research, which Laith had pored over for years, trying to choose a side. It just so happened that both were very well articulated, but neither had all the answers.
“I’ve done some experiments too,” Laith commented. “They were just… inconclusive, because I was always too afraid to go all the way. Like the lake.”
“The lake was a big commitment. Even if you’d gone through with it, you wouldn’t have lived to make sense of the answer.”
“How sure are you of that? We could’ve lived.”
“Well, let’s bring some diving equipment next time and go the extra mile then. We’ll ask it what it wants with us, what it thinks about us.”
“It’d still be inconclusive if it’s just you and me. We’d need someone who can’t see it.”
“I have a feeling it’ll be inconclusive no matter what we do.”
Laith hummed.
As they talked, the sky grew brighter, a deep blue that lessened the shadows under the porch and discerned the shape of Laith’s face in the dark. The living room light had stayed on all night, steadily dulled by the birth of dawn, even if the sun wasn’t out yet; they just couldn’t be bothered to turn it off. Under a blueish hue, Laith looked like a living picture, an old Polaroid in someone’s basement, a time capsule back to this very moment. Theodore could see it clearly, the square frames around Laith’s body, a candid so glamorous that observers wouldn’t believe he hadn’t posed for it, with a hand on the railing and his body turned around to glance at the sky, neck stretched, fern leaf in full view.
“We can go to bed now,” Laith stated, green eyes lighter than Theodore had ever seen them, flooded by the very first sunrays that peeked over the horizon.
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