Hand in hand—out of the water
Pointing my pollution, electro-execution.
Can you kill me?
-- Allie X, Prime
Up in the apartment, Laith bolted straight for the bathroom. His shoulders rolled the jacket down, arm tossing it over the couch as he passed it. The sound of his footsteps was very loud, but Theodore didn’t have the guts to tell him to be quiet—the girls were asleep. Instead, he closed the front door and followed.
His body moved on autopilot, taking his clothes off too, following Laith into the shower. It was only when mild—and very muted—surprise passed over Laith’s face that Theodore stopped and finally wondered if he should’ve done that. He hadn’t been invited. This entire time, his mind had been stuck on his promise to get Laith off, so hopping into the shower together had seemed like the natural progress of things, but maybe Laith just wanted to wash off the wine. His hand slowly closed the glass door, breath hitching. Suddenly, he felt like he wasn’t supposed to be here.
Laith didn’t seem to mind it, though; that one glance was his only reaction to company. He wasted no time getting started with the soap. Should Theodore wait? His feet shuffled a bit. Would this even happen? Part of him wanted to ask, but he knew he shouldn’t; it’d make things super weird. He should probably just go for it. On the off-chance that Laith wasn’t interested, he’d be notified. If Laith wanted it, then it’d be fine. It’d be like any other time, except now, he actually knew how to do this and he really wanted to show it. He closed the distance between them with a couple of steps, hands touching Laith on the waist. When green eyes found his face, his heart skipped a beat. This close, Laith couldn’t move around without elbowing him out of the way.
“Can you just give me a minute?” The annoyance in Laith’s tone practically teleported Theodore out of the room. Yes, of course. Jesus, what was he thinking? The man was covered in wine; of course he wanted just a normal shower. Theodore immediately backed away from him, hand shooting for the handle.
“Yeah, of course. I’ll be—I’ll be in the living room,” he spoke very quickly, sliding the glass door open.
With his heart in his throat, he stepped out and slid the door shut. Another fucking mistake. His hand squeezed the handle to keep from trembling. He could salvage this. What did Laith need? A new shirt, of course; he couldn’t possibly wear his old one like this. It had to dry first. A swift motion snatched it from the counter as he left the bathroom, feet moving in a hurry—he didn’t have much time. If Laith was just going to rinse and get out, then he had to be fast. He grabbed Laith’s jacket on the way too.
The laundry room was very cold. The drop in temperature hit him right as he opened the door, marching in there butt naked, straight out of a warm shower. He didn’t let it bother him, though. Shaking, he hung Laith’s shirt and jacket, then glanced around for a replacement. All of his clothes were far too small for Laith, so he’d have to look for something else. None of the girls were big enough that their clothes would fit him either, but maybe Hannah had something big and flowy that he could wear. Theodore went through the pile on top of the washing machine anyway, hands working fast. If he kept moving, he wouldn’t freeze. One of them caught his attention, a workout tank top that Hannah usually wore over her sports bra. It was bright yellow, but maybe Laith wouldn’t mind. He’d still need something else, one of Theodore’s jackets.
On the way back to the bathroom, he wondered if he had anything that would actually fit Laith without popping any buttons. A sweater, maybe. He had some old ones he hadn’t worn since the Christmas his mother had bought them for, so maybe those. He remembered a couple of them being a little too big at the time. He’d been small then—would they fit him just right now? Hopefully not. He stopped by the bathroom, dropped Hannah’s shirt on the counter and quickly left for his room.
The stuff he didn’t wear was kept in the very bottom drawer; all the ugly things his mother had bought him over the years that he’d never actually liked. He pulled a couple of sweaters out and stretched them over the ground, on top of each other for comparison. They weren’t nearly as big as they used to be, but maybe Laith could make it work. He put the smaller one back into the drawer and took the other one with him.
Back in the bathroom, he found Laith out of the shower, holding up Hannah’s shirt. He had a scowl on his forehead, head tilted with confusion. As soon as Theodore showed up, their eyes met. “What the fuck is this?”
Laith’s tone almost put tears in his eyes. It wasn’t even sharp; after everything that had happened, his voice should’ve been much more cutting than this. Still, it was the vexation that got to Theodore. He’d fucked up again. Why did he think Laith would want to wear a girl’s shirt? He was a goddamn idiot.
“It’s Hannah’s.”
“Why would you give me her stuff?”
“Because—I mean, it’s pretty cold; I thought…” He swallowed the rest of his words, embarrassed. It didn’t matter. He awkwardly offered Laith his sweater. “Here; this might be better.”
Laith glanced at it with the same look on his face, perplexed. He took it, held it up and inspected it the exact same way. His conclusions seemed to be the same, because he put both items on the counter and started getting dressed. So he wouldn’t wear them, okay. He’d need a blanket, at least. Without another word, Theodore bolted out of the bathroom. His name was called, but it didn’t stop him; he’d be back in a minute. He grabbed the blanket off his bed, ran to the living room and dropped it on the couch. His thought process was that, if they could watch a movie and cuddle under the blanket, then Laith would be warm. He couldn’t possibly pass up on that. Well, he could, but the thought alone was too heartbreaking, so Theodore didn’t think about it.
This time, when Laith called for him, Theodore went back to the bathroom. He found Laith buttoning his pants, still shirtless. “Can you stop running around for a minute?”
“Sorry.”
Laith grabbed the first item that belonged to Theodore—his shirt, on the corner of the counter—and offered it back to him. Obediently, Theodore put it on. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing,” Theodore lied.
“No, seriously. First, you gave that weird fucking speech. Then, you attacked me in the alley. Now, you’re running all over the place, avoiding me. What’s going on?”
As soon as Laith said that, he glanced up, wide-eyed. “I’m not avoiding you,” he defended. “I thought you’d be cold, so I went looking for something you could wear. I’m not avoiding you, I promise. I got you a blanket; it’s on the couch. Maybe we could watch something together.”
Green eyes studied him for a minute, curious under a slight scowl. Even though he knew Laith was trying to figure him out, the attention still brought air to his lungs. “What’s this really about? I can’t read your mind—I need you to tell me what’s going on in there. Why did you jump me?”
“I wasn’t—” Goddammit. “I wasn’t trying to do that.” His voice was small, eyes dropping to the space between them. His hands found the bottom of his shirt and clung to it. “I just… want you to be with me.”
“I am with you.”
“No, I want you to want to be with me. I’m afraid—I’m afraid you’ll break up with me as soon as you realize I’m not what you want. I…” His shoulders raised into a shrug that never fell. “I feel like I bullied you into a relationship you never wanted.”
A hand touched his hair, palm lying flat over his head, heavy and comforting. “I wouldn’t be here with you if I didn’t want this.”
“You’re lying to yourself.”
“You think I am. Looks like you’ve made up your mind about that.”
“No, you…” He glanced off to the side, eyebrows furrowed with concern. Laith brushed his hair, messy between his fingers. “You don’t date because of what happened last time. Why would you think I’d be any different than the Serpent? You’re only here because I left you no choice. You hate Hwan more than you care about me.”
“You are literally insane right now; Tae-hwan has nothing to do with this. Why would I start a relationship only to put an expiration date on it? And for the record, Ben has nothing in common with you.”
Was that the Serpent’s name? How underwhelming.
Laith’s hand left his head. “Did Emily tell you about him?”
His lips pursed, on the verge of trembling. “Yeah.”
“She shouldn’t have. You’re already so crazy; that just filled your head with even more wild shit. You’re not Ben. You will never be Ben. He wanted to hurt me.”
“What if I do too?”
Laith looked down his nose at him, chin tilted up. “Do you?”
They held the stare. He noticed the scorn on Laith’s face, in his tone, as if inadvertently saying that this was all bullshit. If Theodore already felt embarrassed discussing it, then that only served to triple the intensity of that feeling. He wanted to hide under the covers for three weeks straight. “No,” he mumbled.
“Then stop thinking you have anything to do with each other. Actually, stop thinking about him—period. I’m with you because I want to be with you. Why are you spending your time thinking of ways to end this? It’s literally just begun.”
“I don’t want it to end.” Those words practically flew out of his mouth, eyes wide with fear. “I’m terrified that it will!”
“Is this your first relationship?”
Suddenly, his lips sealed shut, face growing warm. He could physically feel the heat that emanated from his cheeks. Even though nothing came out, that reaction alone was enough to answer Laith’s question.
“You really need to calm down. The only people who can end this are me and you and I don’t have any intention to do it. You’re fine.” Laith took a step closer. His hand found Theodore’s hair again, but in a different way this time; it tilted his head upwards, so they could maintain eye contact. “Please stop being weird.” Laith’s voice was stern despite the contents of that sentence. It shook Theodore’s entire body, cheeks pumping with shame.
“I’m sorry.”
The hand on his head softened, touching his hair. “What movie do you wanna watch?” Laith asked. His tone was back to normal, with no trace of everything they’d just talked about. It allowed a breath to leave Theodore’s lungs, body relaxing again. He shrugged in reply.
“How about this,” Laith started. “I’ll make you something to eat, ‘cause I know you’re starving, and you’ll fix the living room all nice for us, with candles and stuff. What do you think?”
“That sounds nice.” His voice was small and meek, pathetic. He felt pathetic.
“What should I make for you?”
“Um.” His mind strained to remember any of the contents of the fridge. He hadn’t eaten here in so long. “I think we have weenies in the fridge.”
“Hot dog it is. I’ll see you in a minute.” With that, Laith left the bathroom.
Standing alone in only his t-shirt, Theodore felt even worse. Why was he like this? It really seemed like he was trying to sabotage his relationship with all this crazy talk. Of course Laith liked him; they would’ve never even gone out if he didn’t. That was kind of the problem though, that word—like. It gnawed on him. Laith had alluded to the fact that he loved him back, but without actually hearing those words, Theodore couldn’t bring himself to believe that. In his mind, Laith liked him very, very much and that was it. He could like anyone very, very much, but love was a different story. Love had very limited seats. If he asked Laith what he thought of Emily, would he say it? Would he use that word? Part of him didn’t even want to know.
He got dressed in silence. His eyes threatened to water, heart falling heavy against his ribs, but he didn’t let it happen. He’d already done this too many times today; it was getting old. It didn’t solve anything; he was just looking for an excuse to feel bad. One deep, ragged breath filled his lungs before he left the bathroom. His relationship was fine. Laith had said it was fine, that everything was good—he was the problem. He was the one trying to find something there, a reason for concern, a crack in the dam. He had to chill. Really, he did; Laith hadn’t agreed to date a ball of nerves in the shape of a guy. Another breath puffed his chest out, leaving him slowly. Maybe he’d feel better after this first day. Everything got easier with time, right?
My god, if his first day as Laith’s boyfriend was already this tough, then how would he make it in the long run? His mind reeled left to right, bouncing from one extreme to the next. He was weak, unable to even handle day one; he’d never make it far. Then again, he was inexperienced and just needed a little time to get the hang of things. Laith would get fed up with him in the blink of an eye; their relationship wouldn’t last a week. Then again, Laith could be patient and help him navigate a world he’d never seen before. He turned to the conversation they’d just had for analysis—how patient had Laith been? Considering Theodore had been acting like a freak all week, he’d say Laith was far more patient than most. His intentions were clear the entire time, that he wanted to work with Theodore, not against him. He wanted this to last. Even though he’d already said that, Theodore’s own propensity to lie at every turn put a lot more weight on his actions—anyone’s actions than their words.
If he didn’t care for promises, then why did he so desperately want to hear the three forbidden words? By his own logic, wouldn’t Laith’s actions speak louder? Laith had been nothing if not understanding, patient and accommodating ever since they’d met, going so far as to put up with Theodore’s bitchy attitude and every one of his demands. Laith had stuck to his side even after he’d exposed their relationship to Ryan and made Laith spiral. Scaling things down a bit, the fact Laith hadn’t attacked him in that alley spoke volumes. It practically spelled the words he longed to hear, so why did he need them? Laith didn’t need to prove anything, because he already wore his true colors on a daily basis.
Theodore stood in the living room, staring blankly at the couch. When had he come here? It didn’t matter; his brain was too fried to care about that right now. All he could think of, as usual, was himself. He really needed to stop being pathetic before Laith caught wind of it, or… did he already know? Laith was smart and could see right through him; there was no way he didn’t know. In that case, he was either putting up with it while he could, or that was, for some reason, an attribute of Theodore’s that he enjoyed. Obviously, that last one wasn’t the case; he’d fallen for a confident guy, not a loser. Theodore only had until the last of his patience to pull himself together. Jesus Christ, do something!
Laith wanted candles, right? He’d find the guy some candles. He searched the bookshelf behind the couch, each little cubicle that the girls had decorated with different little things. A couple of them had candles inside—one big one and two smaller ones. That’d have to do. He hopped onto the couch and brought the candles down, since lighting them in the bookshelf struck him as a fire hazard. He placed them by the TV instead.
A quick trip back to his room allowed him to take the lighter from his desk drawer. It was stored on top of the baggie Justin had given him, and as he took it, his eyes lingered on the baggie. Should he? Smoking did help him relax… His hand lowered back into the drawer, hesitating. Fingertips traced the edges—the joint Laith had given him was still in there. It was a different shape than the one Justin had rolled for him, closer to a cone than a tube, more packed that way. Maybe Laith could roll him one? There was just enough weed left for one. Even if they ended up not smoking, he should probably ask, take the opportunity while he could still get it. A swift movement took the baggie and hid it in a pocket, hip closing the drawer.
He lit all the candles in the living room, took a couple of steps back and glanced around—was this nice enough? The light that shone from the kitchen kind of ruined it, crawling across the hallway, way too bright. Turning it off would make the room way too dark though, so he went around trying some of the lights to see how it’d look—behind the couch, by the front door, into the hallway. Some of them put a glare over the TV, while the hallway one just looked weird. Who left the hallway light on? He needed something softer, behind the couch, in the corner. Maybe a lamp. As soon as that word crossed his mind, he thought of the floor lamp in his room, which he used a lot more than any of the other lights there. He walked back and forth to move the floor lamp to a spot in the hallway, just behind the couch. If anyone had to leave the apartment, they’d have to push the lamp out of the way, but no one was awake, and anyway, he didn’t think Laith would want to leave yet. They had hot dogs to eat.
As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, he found Laith staring back at him, probably watching him run around the place turning the lights on and off. He must’ve looked so weird. Theodore approached him with both hands in his pockets, fingers fiddling with the edges of the baggie.
“It looks nice,” Laith reassured him.
He kept his silence, eyes downcast—should he ask? His cheeks flushed, suddenly embarrassed. He hadn’t gotten a single win tonight; it was a total disaster, no matter how hard he’d tried to salvage it. Asking something as stupid as this, opening himself up for ridicule—again—initially struck him as a sure way to drive the rest of the night into the ground, but then again, hadn’t that already happened? The alleyway seemed like the point of no return. The reason he couldn’t salvage this was because there was nothing left to salvage, so another stupid move wouldn’t make a difference. Meekly, he took the baggie out and offered it to Laith, keeping his eyes down. “Can you roll this for me?”
A hand took his offer. “Sure. Man the stove.” Laith took a couple of steps away, close to the counters. Different from Justin, he didn’t put the paper on a surface, but held it up instead, bent in half like a taco. The herb was poured into it. “Could I have some paper?” he asked.
“More?”
“I need something different than this. Thicker.”
Justin hadn’t added anything to the other joint. A little confused as to what that was about, Theodore turned and left the kitchen—asking would only make him feel worse. He’d already endured enough humiliation for tonight.
The only other kind of paper he had were the pages in his school notebooks. Would that be okay? Risking further ridicule, he opened up one of the new notebooks, tore a page out and brought it to Laith. He handed it over with his heart in his mouth, damn near shaking.
A brief thanks left Laith’s lips as he took it, turning around shortly after. Theodore couldn’t see what he was doing exactly, but he heard the distinct sound of paper ripping, followed by silence. Next to him, the pot boiled. He threw the weenies a quick glance, disinterested.
It took Laith only a moment to turn back around. He didn’t have anything else with him, only the taco-shaped rolling paper, which he kept moving between his fingers. What was the other paper for? Theodore watched him curiously. Laith noticed his attention, but decided to feed the mystery instead. “The weenies should be good now.” That comment came accompanied by a nod toward the stove.
Still bamboozled, Theodore moved to turn the heat off and dump the water out. It poured into the sink, steam rising up—a fork kept the weenies from falling in. Carefully, he poured out as much as he could and brought the pot back to the stove. A furtive glance kept tabs on what Laith was doing, fork stabbing weenies into hot dog buns—where was the extra paper? This would haunt him forever. His lips parted multiple times, on the verge of asking, words hanging off the tip of his tongue. In agonizing silence, he squirted some ketchup and mustard into the hot dogs. “What do you wanna watch?” he asked in lieu of what was really going through his mind.
“Anything but that movie with the couple on the beach again.”
“From the other night?”
“Yeah. It’s the worst movie I’ve ever seen. It was the middle of summer in Hawaii and no one was sweating their balls off, I mean.” A hand flipped up with Laith’s argument, shoulder raising. “It’s unrealistic. Have you ever been to Hawaii? I haven’t, but if summer already sucks here, I imagine it’s a hundred times worse on a Pacific island. I didn’t see anyone complain about the heat at all. They didn’t even look sweaty!”
“Okay, you didn’t say any of this when we watched it. Actually, you looked like you enjoyed it.”
“I was trying to be nice, but I can’t stomach that bullshit again. Sorry.”
“What, people falling in love?”
“No.” Laith turned around a bit, arm reaching out of sight to pick something up from the counter and put it into the joint. Even though Theodore craned his neck to catch a glimpse of it, he still failed. It must be really small. “I mean childhood friends who haven’t seen each other since kindergarten running into each other on an island, and as it turns out, oh my god—they’re both in love and have always been? No fucking way! It’s fairytale.”
“Of course it’s fairytale.” His rebuttal slipped out without a thought. All of his attention was focused on Laith’s hands and the mysterious piece hidden in the joint. “Why would you watch a summer romcom otherwise? You want to see the childhood friends run into each other and you want to see them reciprocate the feelings they’ve always had. It’s the same reason people watch fantasy movies, you know? They like to believe in magic for an hour and a half.”
“I didn’t take you for a fantasy nerd,” Laith murmured, bringing the joint up for sealing.
Theodore had watched him this entire time, but still couldn’t say he’d learned anything. Instead of a sponge, his brain was a huge vacuum. He’d watched two people roll joints by now, yet next time he’d have to do it for himself, he knew he’d continue to suck just as he always had. His mind had absorbed absolutely nothing from this. Cool. Life was hell. “I’m not. I don’t even like movies.” His hand came up to point at the joint. “What did you put in there?”
“Bullshit; you’re always watching stuff! Every single time we hang out, you offer to put on a fucking movie.”
He parted his lips just as quickly as he pressed them back together—no. Bad idea. While it was true that the only reason he always suggested that was because he didn’t know what else to do on a date, he didn’t need Laith to know that. He bit his lip, face growing warm. “I don’t have anything better to do,” he confessed. “Everyone’s always asleep when I’m awake; watching movies is the only thing I can do.”
“What about your music? Aren’t you a singer-songwriter?”
“Sure, I guess—yeah, I guess I care about music more than cinema. It just takes so much energy, you know, writing music. Analyzing music. Sometimes, I just want to sit down and turn my brain off.”
“Is that why you picked up smoking?”
His lips parted absently. His shoulder bounced into a half-shrug, hands fidgeting. “I guess.”
He hadn’t really thought about it that way. It made sense, though; everything was much simpler, much more bearable when he was absolutely baked. College had almost even seemed fun. It was just really difficult to live with his brain’s constant barrage of excruciating—and sometimes deeply worrying—thoughts. It felt like he could never catch a break; everything was always happening all the time. He just needed a moment to breathe.
Laith offered the blunt to him. When Theodore reached for it, however, Laith’s hand quickly moved away. Their eyes met. He could feel how wide his eyes were, eyebrows up with surprise.
“Are we okay?” Laith’s tone was completely different now, low and serious. The scowl on his face, despite how slight, still turned his expression very grave. It seemed like he’d sobered up all of a sudden.
Theodore hesitated. Usually, he’d just lie and say yes—what he assumed Laith wanted to hear—but the weight Laith had put on that question made him reconsider. Would it be lying if he said yes, not to appease Laith, but because it was what he really thought? Things weren’t okay-okay, but he didn’t think that, whatever it was, could be fixed. It seemed more… fundamental. He couldn’t explain it. An expiration date had been set on this the moment he’d decided to insert himself into a narrative that didn’t belong to him. That had never belonged to him and didn’t want him there in the first place. It wasn’t so much that they weren’t okay but that they were never supposed to be.
What did it mean, then, that they were? They were never supposed to be, yet they were. Well, first of, it meant a million things. Yes, they were on thin ice, but they were together. He’d already won—right? He’d already won.
“Yeah,” he answered. “We’re okay.”
They weren’t not okay, after all.
There was suspicion on Laith’s face, but his hand lowered anyway—slowly, as he came to terms with that answer and reluctantly accepted it. When the joint was directly in front of Theodore, he plucked it from Laith’s fingers.
“Don’t lie to me,” Laith added.
“I’m not lying.”
There was no reason why his answer should’ve sounded as cheeky as his tone had made it. He had no power over that. Sticking the blunt between his lips, he pulled out his lighter and lit it.
“Let’s watch another damn movie, then,” Laith spoke while taking the plates from the counter.
“You’re doing it to yourself.” His words were muffled around the joint, eyes down at the burning cherry. He puffed to make it catch.
“I’m doing it to myself.”
“Yeah.” A hand pulled the joint away, smoke leaving his lungs. “You’re here with me watching another damn movie because you want to be here with me watching another damn movie.”
“Scratch that last part and you’re correct.” Laith took both plates from the counter and stepped around him, going for the kitchen arch.
So if you don’t hang out on a date, then what do you do? As soon as that question crossed his mind, he realized he’d be asking the wrong person. Hwan should be the one pondering this. “Okay,” he said instead. “What’s a better date idea, then? I’m up for anything.”
“How about we smoke that and eat this while listening to music, huh? We don’t need to be watching a fucking movie all the time. We could just hang out.”
“Is that what hanging out means to you? Because—okay, I’m not being sarcastic; I really just had no idea. I’ve been trying to figure this out for ages. You like listening to music and getting fucked up?”
“Yeah. We literally met while I was doing that. The others and I; we go to parties for that reason. What did you think I wanted to do with you? I like talking to you; it’s all I wanna do, but you just…” Laith’s shoulders bounced, hands moving the plates up in the air. “I don’t know. You don’t wanna do that. We barely fucking talk.”
“I—” He almost choked. “I didn’t—I didn’t realize; I thought, well… I don’t know. I didn’t think you wanted that.”
Laith placed the plates by the TV and turned around. The glow from the floor lamp fell over his skin, softening the edges of his body, half lit, half in the dark. The look on his face was utterly unreadable, stern yet soft; Theodore had no idea what to make of it. Was he angry? Yes, obviously, but how angry? Smoke left his lungs, blunt hanging between two fingers. They stood all the way across the living room from each other.
“What’s going on with you?” Laith’s tone was small, almost upset. “Why do you think I don’t give a shit about you? You’re talking like you’re worthless, like I want to be away from you—what happened?”
His mouth was a black hole, devoid of an answer. He had no idea how to even begin to explain this.
“What did I do to make you think that?” Laith asked. “You were confident last week, you thought we deserved each other, so what changed? Did I say something?”
“No.” That word was so small he practically swallowed it.
“Then what is it? Who’s making you feel like you don’t deserve me?”
His lips parted, speechless. It wasn’t so much someone’s fault as it was his own mind connecting the dots as they’d happened; his mistakes and Laith’s disappointment. He’d brought himself to this conclusion, something he’d probably always known. He could only ignore the truth for so long.
“No one,” he replied.
He absently brought the joint back up. The warmth of the smoke in his lungs brought him peace even before the numbing effects had taken place. If he’d known tonight would be such a shit-show, he would’ve started smoking much earlier in the evening. He breathed out, eyes dropping to the colossal space between them. “I’m not doing well,” he confessed. “I want this to work more than anything, but I don’t know that I can do it. I don’t have what you want.”
“What’s that?”
He hesitated, lips parting—what was that? He didn’t actually know what Laith wanted. “Maybe the fact I can’t answer that is part of the problem. I don’t know what you want from me, but you’ve made it clear it’s not this. I—I guess I’m just running out of ideas for the kind of person you want me to be and it’s freaking me out a little. It’s—it’s getting to me. I know I can be what you want,” he quickly added, continuing before Laith got a chance to speak, “I’m just having a hard time figuring out what that is. I… didn’t wanna have to ask you.”
His face burned. Well, there it was.
“What… the fuck… are you talking about?”
Instead of answering that, he took a long drag from the joint.
“Is that why you’ve been acting so weird, ‘cause you’ve literally been acting like other people? Why… would you do that? What makes you think I don’t want you? Jesus Christ, what did I do to you?”
Theodore moved the joint away from his face. “Remember when I took you to the MOMA the first time?” he asked. “You didn’t wanna go, the same way you never wanted to go back to my place or sleep with me.”
“I did wanna go. The reason you twisted my fucking arm was because I knew I shouldn’t, but I wanted to. If I didn’t, I would’ve never done it.” Heavy footsteps marched toward him, muffled by the carpet. He walked straight into Theodore’s personal space, bringing the smoke of a forest fire with him. All Theodore could see was the width of his body, poorly lit in the partial dark. Unable to meet Laith’s eyes, he was forced to stare down at his chest. “You wanna know when I first wanted you?” Laith whispered, a little too close to his hair, a short lean away from brushing his ear.
“On Justin’s farm,” Theodore guessed.
“No. At the MOMA, when you shut Ryan down and said I’d be spending the night with you. I came over because I wanted you.”
“You just wanted to sleep with me. I’m easy.”
“Shut the fuck up; I was always your friend first. I’ve always liked you. Don’t you realize all I wanna do is spend time with you? You, not whoever the fuck you think I want you to be.” A hand touched his chin, bringing his head up. His eyes naturally found Laith’s, warm under the lamp’s yellow glow. “I chose you for you.”
His lips trembled, throat closing up. “Promise?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated, hands moving aimlessly. There was nothing to say to that; no rebuttal, no counterargument, because Laith had never given him reason to doubt his word. He was the liar, not Laith, and everything Laith had ever done fell perfectly in line with everything he’d just said. He was clear-cut and see-through; if something pissed him off, he pointed it out. He wasn’t the kind of person who swallowed down his own opinions in favor of something else, something greater—who did that was Theodore. Laith had always been honest with him; he’d just failed to see that. His own propensity for lying had kept him from trusting Laith’s earnestness.
Bested and at a loss for words, he simply closed the small distance between them with a hug.
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