Neither Death Nor Distance

Alexis

The following Thursday, Professor Park ended the class by rubbing her palms together as if she had some massive treat for her students, even though it was really the opposite.

“Big news, everyone! It’s time for your first major assignment. And! You’ll be working in pairs. Each pair will write a paper comparing two opposing views in your chosen philosophical topic, and then you’ll turn that into a joint presentation due in two weeks.”

Groans rippled through the room. Park smiled like she not only expected it, but thrived off it. “Oh, come on. You’re all here to expand your minds, aren’t you? Let’s make it fun! You might even make a new friend.

“So here’s how it works: each of you will write a couple of paragraphs arguing one side of your topic. Like, say, if you decide to pick ethics, one of you might argue that morality is objective while the other argues that it’s relative. Then, together you’ll write a conclusion that shows you actually understood your partner’s argument and offer a suggestion for how your contrasting viewpoints might even strengthen each other.

“It doesn’t matter if you agree with the stance you pick to argue—sometimes it’s even better if you don’t, because that forces you to dive deeper into perspectives you otherwise wouldn’t consider. The point isn’t to win the argument, it’s to demonstrate that you understand how to defend an argument.”

Ew, Alexis thought. Not because of the assignment itself (he kind of liked the idea of it) but…group work. When had that ever worked out well for anyone? He glanced around the room, wondering how he was supposed to know who to pair up with. Damn, this would be so much easier if Erik were there. He was a safe choice, and they already disagreed about the big things in life, anyway. Or Rachel, she’d be a good partner, too—

“Hey.”

He turned to find goth hoodie guy looking at him.

“You wanna be partners?”

Wow. When he got to class, he’d handed the guy his hoodie back with nothing more than an awkward “Here’s your hoodie,” and the guy had just said, “Oh. Thanks,” like he’d forgotten about lending it to him. Now this? Not that he was complaining.

"Sure," he said, then hesitated. "But you don’t even know me. Aren’t you taking a risk? I could be a complete idiot."

The guy smiled. “Nah, I can tell you’re not. Besides, it doesn’t matter. I’ve done this project before. I can already tell you it’s an easy A for both of us.”

“…You’ve done this project before?” Alexis said. “But doesn’t that mean—”

“That I’m taking this class for the second time?” the guy finished for him, almost cheerfully. “Yeah, but don’t worry, I didn’t fail my first try or anything. I had to withdraw halfway through thanks to some, um…personal problems. But I finished this paper and got an A on it. I can help you get through it, too. We can just reuse my strategy from the first time. But, you know…” He made a zipping motion over his lips.

“Got it,” Alexis said. “I won’t tell on you.”

“I appreciate it. By the way, I’m Icky.”

“…Icky?”

“I mean that’s what people call me,” Icky said with small laugh. “It’s short for Ichabod. My real name isn’t Ichabod, that’s just a nickname.”

“Oh. Like Ichabod Crane?”

“Exactly.”

Icky grabbed his backpack and began packing up. While he was distracted, Alexis let himself sneak a better look at him. Tall, thin, pale, morose. The nickname fit. He exuded Sleepy Hollow vibes, just without the Headless Horseman problem. Well, hopefully.

“I’m Alexis,” he said.

“So, Alexis,” Icky said, standing up and shouldering his bag, “wanna meet up Saturday to get started? I’m free all day, so you pick the time and place.”

Hmm. He had piano lessons Saturday morning until ten, but his music school was downtown, not far from the campus library. “Would 10:30 at the library work?” he asked.

“Perfect. How can I reach you?”

Alexis hesitated. His phone number felt too personal, so he scribbled his college email on a sheet of notebook paper and tore it off. When Icky took it, their fingers brushed. He felt the spark all the way in his toes.

“Thanks,” Icky said, already moving to the door. “I’ll brainstorm some topics and message you tomorrow. You should try to come up with some too.”

“I will.”

Alexis followed Icky out of the room, suddenly feeling a lot happier to be in this class, though he couldn’t exactly say why.

.:.

The rain eased up over the week, and by Thursday evening the sky was clear. After dinner, Alexis stepped into the backyard to tend his plants, the sunset washing everything in pink and gold. He let Ash trot out beside him and laughed as she jumped after the last fireflies of the season.

Soon it would be September. He could already feel a hint of autumn in the air, even though the days were still warm and the thyme and rosemary were lush and fragrant, as if June had never left. Working in the garden was practically therapeutic. For a little while, he almost believed his worries about grades, being secretly gay, and being hopelessly in love with Erik were insignificant little things, light enough to float away in the soft breeze like dandelion fuzz.

Before long, Ash got bored with the fireflies and sauntered over to sniff around the herbs, nosing at them curiously before chomping down on a sprig of thyme.

“Get out of here!” Alexis laughed, nudging her away with his hand. “It took me all summer to get them looking this good, and one breath from you is going to wipe out the entire population.”

The back door opened and Michelle poked her head out. “Why are you being weird?”

He turned to squint at her silhouette in the deepening gloom. “Weird how?”

“You’re out here laughing by yourself.”

“Having a good time is being weird now?”

“Coming from you? Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, the next time my day goes well I’ll try to keep it to myself.”

He saw his mom’s shadow moving around in the kitchen behind Michelle, still putting away dishes in the cupboards. Her muffled voice floated out into the backyard:

“Michelle, quit bugging your brother! If he’s in a good mood, we should all be thankful.”

Finally, something they could all agree on for once.

.:.

Later, after the plants were tended to and he’d settled in at his desk with his philosophy textbook, his laptop chimed with a new email. He sat up straighter, a little startled. The email had been sent to his student inbox. The sender was from a ‘Grigorian, Christian.’ The subject line simply read: Paper topic.

He clicked on it and found the message inside was barely any longer.

Hi. Existentialism?

Alexis couldn’t help but smile at the brevity of Icky’s email. Straight to the point—what wasn’t to like?

He picked up his textbook and thumbed through the pages until he found the section on existentialism. They hadn’t covered that topic yet in class, but the brief overview at the beginning of the chapter summarized its main ideas:

Existentialism is a philosophical movement that examines the nature of existence, freedom, and individuality. A core focus in existentialism is the emphasis on the absence of inherent meaning in life and the need for humans to create their own purpose.

Below that was a list of some of the key philosophers associated with existentialism, each accompanied by a single sentence summary that tried to simplify their ideas:

• Søren Kierkegaard, who argued that true meaning comes from a leap of faith in the face of doubt and the absurd.
• Friedrich Nietzsche, who declared the death of God and emphasized the need for humans to create their own values.
• Jean-Paul Sartre, who proposed that existence precedes essence, leaving humans free to define their own nature through choices.
• Albert Camus, who wrestled with the absurdity of life and suggested that rebellion and personal meaning were the only responses to a meaningless universe.

Hmm. It wasn’t the metaphysics paper on mind–body dualism he’d been hoping for, but it sounded like it might actually get him even closer to the problems he wanted to figure out.

Alexis set the book aside and opened a reply window.

Sounds good. Any ideas for the thesis?

He hit send, then leaned back in his chair, thinking about Kierkegaard. He knew his dad had a lot of Kierkegaard on the bookshelves in his office. Should he try to learn more about his “leap of faith” argument for the paper, or pick someone with arguments that were less…comfortable for him? Professor Park had said to use this as an opportunity to explore ideas you were curious but ignorant about.

Just as he was getting into his thoughts, another ping startled him. Icky had responded already.

A few, but I’ll keep them to myself until we meet. I want to hear yours first. We can talk it over Saturday while we decide what positions to take. We won’t come up with a good thesis until we know each other’s arguments anyway.

The prospect of discussing thesis ideas face-to-face with Icky gave Alexis a burst of energy instead of the usual burst of dread.

He typed back quickly: Fair enough. See you Saturday.

Another response came almost immediately.

Yep. See you then.

Alexis let out a quiet sound of surprise at himself. “Huh!” The anticipation of meeting Icky in person to discuss their ideas made the typically boring Thursday evening feel unexpectedly lively. He eagerly returned to his textbook to try to pinpoint which philosopher’s ideas he’d want to defend, his mind already alive with potential thesis proposals.

.:.

 The next day at school, Alexis skipped lunch and slipped away to read more of his philosophy textbook in the peace and quiet of the library. His meeting with Icky was less than twenty-four hours away, and he needed to be prepared. Twenty minutes in, he left his table to browse the shelves, scanning for anything on Nietzsche or Camus. Kierkegaard he could borrow from his dad’s bookcase at home.

The pickings were slim. Eventually, he found The Myth of Sisyphus wedged in an especially dusty shelf in the Language Arts section and pried it out. It wasn’t much, but it would do. He started paging through it where he stood, and got so caught up in it that he didn’t notice anyone behind him until a sudden weight dropped onto his shoulder. He nearly flung the book into orbit.

Erik had draped himself over Alexis's back and now rested his chin on his shoulder. "What are you reading?" he asked. His breath brushed across Alexis’s ear. He smelled like peppery body wash and clean laundry, tinged with cinnamon candy.

Was Erik really so clueless that he had no idea what kind of torture he was inflicting on his dearest friend? Or maybe he did know. Maybe he was a sadist and enjoyed watching him suffer.

Honestly, in that moment, Alexis didn’t even care if that were true. He went slack, jaw half-open, eyes rolling back. Half a second was all it took to drag him from basic civility into pure caveman instinct. What a hopeless idiot.

“There you are!” Rachel’s voice cut in. She rounded the corner, hands on her hips like a schoolmarm when she found them standing together in the shadowy aisle. “You didn’t show up for lunch, so we freaked out and went looking for you. By the way, you look like someone caught on camera right before a sneeze.”

Alexis grabbed onto that as an out and pretended to be affected by the library dust. Faking a sneeze would’ve been too obvious, but he snapped the book shut and gave a convincing sniffle. “Well, these books are pretty dusty. Looks like no one’s been tempted by The Myth of Sisyphus since the Bush administration. And I mean the first one.”

Erik had taken a step away from him by then, but Alexis could still feel the ghost of his warmth on his shoulder. He had to grit his teeth and resist the intrusive thoughts telling him to throw his arms around Erik and bury his face in his neck to breathe in more of that scent.

“Why’d you ditch us without saying anything?” Erik asked.

“We thought you were at the nurse’s office again,” Rachel added.

Alexis made a noise of mild offense.

“But we checked,” Erik went on, “and when you weren’t there, I realized I knew exactly where to find you. The school’s dork zone.”

“You guys didn’t have to form a search party,” Alexis said. “I was just using the time to do some research for my philosophy class. I’ve got a partner project coming up. We’re meeting tomorrow morning to start working.”

“Ew,” Rachel said. “Teamwork.”

“I know!” Alexis said, though privately he didn’t mind as much anymore. Icky had gotten an A on this project once already, so how bad of a partner could he be?

And the thought of their meeting tomorrow made his heart skip a beat.

"So, still up for staying over tonight?" Erik asked.

Ah yes, one more thing to make his heart skip a beat. Two beats, even. “I’ll be over by six,” Alexis said.

"You guys are having a sleep over?" Rachel scoffed. "What are you, in fourth grade?" 

"Jim, don't be jealous just because nobody likes you,” Erik said. “Why shouldn't we still spend the night at each other’s houses?"

She crossed her arms and looked away. “Maybe I’m just jealous that you never ask me to have a sleepover.”

Erik huffed. “How many times must I tell you? You lost your chance with me, James. You can’t keep trying to lure me into your bed.”

“Get real,” Rachel said, faking a kick at his shin. Then she turned to Alexis. “You believe men and women can just be friends, right?”

“Oh, definitely,” he said without hesitation. And silently thought how much safer he’d be spending the night at Rachel’s house instead of Erik’s. But his parents would never dream of letting him sleep over at a girl’s house—not even if it was a longtime friend like Rachel. It was inappropriate. Wasn’t that one of life’s little jokes?

Rachel smiled like a proud teacher whose student had correctly answered a trick question. “I figured you would. You’re rational, unlike some other male members of this group. Not naming any names, of course.” She side-eyed Erik, who pulled a face at her. “Anyway, I was just joking. I get the feeling I’d be out of place at one of your sleepovers.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alexis asked as they trailed back toward the table where he’d left his book.

“Oh, nothing,” she said breezily. “It’s just…you’ve known each other for, what, ten, eleven years longer than you’ve known me? I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“You’re damn right about that,” Erik said. “We’re planning to tell scary stories tonight. Even Lexie isn’t gonna stand a chance. You’d better have something good this time,” he added, addressing Alexis. “One more shitty story and your days spending the night are over.”

Rachel started laughing and backed away to head to the door. “I rest my case. See you two dorkolas later.”

Alexis was left feeling like he had missed an inside joke that only Rachel seemed to understand.

.:.

Spending the night at Rachel’s house was obviously out of the question for Alexis’s parents, but even sleepovers at Erik’s were on increasingly thin ice. Their opinion of Erik seemed to decline in direct proportion to his age. At three years old, he’d been harmless and adorable—a mere playmate who stacked blocks with their son and chased him around the park. By elementary school, he was still acceptable, though getting to be “a bit much” once his rambunctious behavior and tendency to slack off on schoolwork began to take root. But by junior high he was already dating, and apparently, an eighth grader with a girlfriend was indisputable proof of the increasing satanification of western civilization. Add to that the fact that Erik was now a proud C plus student and intimately acquainted with the principal’s office, which meant he’d been downgraded from “harmless” to official “Bad Influence.”

So when Alexis announced he’d be spending Friday night at Erik’s, he felt like he was presenting his case to the parole board.

“Did you finish all your homework?” his mom asked.

“Of course.”

“Are you ready for your piano lessons tomorrow? Did you practice enough?”

“Yes. And I’m ready for my meeting with my classmate at the library to work on my philosophy project, too.” He put extra emphasis on philosophy project, hoping they’d notice he was sacrificing his Saturday to academics. If they wanted him sane, they had to let him take some time off sometimes.

His plan only achieved the opposite of his desired result. “Alexis,” his mother said, looking unconvinced, “we don’t want Erik distracting you. You’re taking on so much this semester—”

“I know,” Alexis quickly said. “That’s why I’m actually planning to help him with some of his assignments while I’m over there. If I can keep him from failing English, that’s good for both of us, right? It’ll help me practice for when I start peer tutoring.”

His dad exchanged a look with his mom. She still looked skeptical, but his dad shrugged, seeming satisfied.

 â€œHave fun,” his dad said. “Just don’t stay up too late. You’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

Alexis shoved a few things into his backpack and practically flew out the door.

Part of the reason he ran to Erik’s house was because he was worried his parents might change their mind. But the main reason was because the weather had taken another turn for the worse since last night. Lightning flashed in the distance as he passed the fifteen driveways between his house and Erik’s. The wind picked up, blowing mist from the impending storm into his face.

An impending storm. How fitting. A mix of apprehension and excitement fluttered in his chest as he walked up Erik's porch steps and rang the bell. Once upon a time they’d spent the night at each other’s houses practically every weekend. Now they hadn't had an evening alone together in weeks, maybe even months. Alexis was thrilled Erik still wanted to have these times together, but the thought of spending time shut up in his bedroom, half-dressed, in the same bed with the person who had become the object of his desire…

Oh God, what had he been thinking?

The door swung open to reveal Erik’s mom, dressed in a sleek, sleeveless black dress that hugged her figure. Her convenience store polo was draped over one arm, and a purse dangled from the other, along with a pair of chunky heels.

“Alexis! Sweetieeee,” she cooed, pulling him into a one-armed hug as he stepped inside. “Long time, no see. I heard you had a busy first week back at school. TGIF, right?”

“Right,” Alexis replied, setting his overnight bag by the stairs. “Even though I have to meet someone at the library tomorrow to work on a joint paper.”

Mrs. Palme made a polite gagging noise. “Working on assignments on a Saturday? Yech. But I respect the dedication. When I was in college, I could barely even keep up with my projects. Weekends were for keggers. What’s the class?”

As she spoke, she went to the hallway mirror and started adjusting her slightly loose and way-too-voluminous false lashes. Watching her made Alexis cringe. How could she do that with acrylic nails that long without poking her eye out?

“Intro to philosophy,” he answered, slightly distracted as he began to put the pieces together: black dress, false lashes, long nails, three-inch heels, the overwhelming cloud of Victoria’s Secret body spray. She was obviously getting dolled up, probably for a post-shift Tinder date. Which meant he and Erik would have the house to themselves for the entire night, not just through her late shift at the 7-11. For the second time in thirty seconds: Oh, God.

“Man, that would’ve gone right over my head at your age. Or, honestly, even now.” She laughed at herself, then gave a little sigh. “Don’t work yourself into the ground too soon. And don’t forget about your old friends, the Palmes, on your way to academic greatness. Okay?”

“I won’t,” Alexis assured her.

She turned toward the stairs, cupped her mouth, and bellowed, “ERIK! ALEXIS IS HERE!”

A moment later, Erik appeared at the top landing, wearing nothing but black cotton boxer briefs. His naked abs glistened with a sheen of sweat.

Alexis’s breath stopped and couldn’t start again. His eyes refused to pull away from the sharp lines of Erik’s abs, the deep cut of his obliques disappearing into his waistband, the faint vein trailing down his lower stomach. He was slim, strong, absolutely perfect. The fuck-me lines cut deep into his hips, creating an arrow pointing to somewhere Alexis absolutely should not be looking.

His brain betrayed him anyway by conjuring images he’d rather die than admit to out loud: pressing his lips to that vein, feeling Erik’s pulse race under his tongue, following those lines until—

He stopped the thoughts by digging his nails into his palms. He wasn’t going to survive the night. He fought the overwhelming urge to spin toward Mrs. Palme and grovel at her feet, begging: PLEASE DON’T LEAVE US ALONE TOGETHER.

But Mrs. Palme was busy balancing on one foot, pulling a high heel onto the other. “What’s got you all worked up in a sweat?” she asked her son.

“Push-ups. I’ll be down in a second.” Erik disappeared again, presumably to throw on some clothes.

By the time Erik reemerged, his mom had finished buckling her heels and was yet again checking her reflection in the mirror by the door. She turned to face them with a playful grin.

“Well, I’ve got a date after work, so I’ll probably be out all night, if I’m lucky,” she said, giving Erik a not-quite-gentle nudge in the ribs with her elbow.

“Ew,” Erik said. “God, Mom, just go already.”

Laughing, she grabbed her purse. “Alright, alright. You boys be good, be careful, and Alexis? Try to rub off some of that academic brilliance on Erik. Bye!”

And then she was gone, leaving Alexis alone with Erik.

Erik, who had put on a t-shirt, and only a t-shirt. Not pants.

Erik, who stood close by, leering at him as he clutched a piece of paper in his hand.

“Speaking of academics,” Alexis said, trying to distract himself from Erik’s legs by giving himself over to suspicion, “what’s that?”

Erik presented him with the notes for his English assignment due Monday. “Look, I’m not asking you to help me cheat. All I’m asking is for you to look this over, tell me where I’m going wrong, explain the entire plot of Macbeth to me, and tell me what I actually need to write to get a passing grade.”

“Well, as long as you’re not asking too much,” Alexis said with an eyeroll. “By the way, that’s literally what cheating is.”

“Nooo, it’s teamwork! You come up with the ideas, and I write them down. That’s totally different. It’s not like I’m reusing something you already turned in.”

“I’m pretty sure your teacher is still gonna notice.”

Undeterred, Erik stepped in so close that Alexis could smell his shampoo, layered over the faint, warm trace of sweat from earlier. Annoyingly, even Erik’s sweat smelled expensive, like a luxury cologne brand. Supposedly, human pheromones weren’t real, but Erik made Alexis question the science.

Erik gripped Alexis’s shoulders, looking directly into his eyes. “Do you want me to fail senior year? Do you want me to have to repeat this year while you’re off at college, possibly separating us forever? Do you want me to become some 23-year-old high school senior while you’re off getting your Master’s?”

Alexis sighed, gently prying Erik’s hands off his shoulders. “Fine, I’ll look it over, but only for basic feedback.”

Erik’s cheer returned in an instant. “Excellent!” He turned and headed toward the kitchen. “By the way, we’re having avocado toast for dinner. Avocados are basically the only nutritional food my mom keeps in the house anymore. Millennials, am I right? But I guess it’s still better than going straight for the shredded cheese all the time. That okay?”

“Sounds great,” Alexis replied, following him. Honestly, anything would be fine with him as long as it didn’t contain bell peppers and vegeta seasoning.

Erik grabbed a ripe avocado from the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter and a knife from the butcher block, then got to work. Alexis slid into a chair at the small kitchen table a few feet away and gave Erik’s outline a quick once-over while he waited. Secretly, he was happy to do it. He’d told his parents he was coming over to help Erik with his English assignments, and now he wasn’t totally lying to them. What were the chances?

Well…knowing Erik, maybe it wasn’t such an astronomical coincidence.

“Wow,” he said after reading through the page, “Macbeth is about a lot more than just three witches, you know. And where the hell is your thesis statement?”

“I don’t suppose I could bribe you into coming up with one for me?” Erik asked, not looking up from the cutting board.

“No, but I could give you a few hints and you could…I dunno…work on it more tomorrow?” Alexis suggested, his tone making it clear that weekends were kind of meant for catching up on responsibilities like this.

“My date with Christine is tomorrow.”

Alexis raised a brow. “Is it an all-day thing?”

“It’s in the evening, but it’ll take me all day to get ready.”

“Okay,” he said doubtfully. “Sunday still exists.”

“Nah, I’ve got a thing on Sunday too.”

“With Christine?” Alexis asked, even more skeptical.

“No.”

“You’re not—” He hesitated, narrowing his eyes. “You haven’t scheduled a date with another girl while you’re pursuing Christine, have you?”

Erik snorted. “God, Alexis, what do you take me for?”

Which was Erik’s classic way of evading the question without outright lying. But before Alexis could call him out on it, Erik sucked in a sharp breath.

“Goddamnit!” he hissed, hunching over and clutching his finger. He gave a sheepish glance over his shoulder to check if Alexis was watching before discreetly reaching out to tear off a few sheets of paper towel.

“Did you cut yourself?” Alexis asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“…No,” Erik replied, sounding like a child denying he’d stolen a cookie while crumbs littered his face.

Alexis got up from his chair and went to him. “Let me see.”

He gently pried the paper towels away, revealing a deeper cut than he’d expected. Blood flowed from it, bright red against Erik’s skin. The sight caught Alexis off guard, as though he hadn’t quite expected him to bleed like any other mortal.

What were you expecting? Liquid gold?

“Slippery fuckers,” Erik muttered, nodding toward the avocado now ruined by stray drops of blood.

“The slipperiest,” Alexis replied, then guided Erik toward the sink. “Wash it with soap and water. I’ll get the Band-Aids.”

While Erik complied, Alexis dashed off to the half-bath off the living room. He rummaged in the medicine cabinet and returned moments later with a box of Band-Aids, already pulling one from its wrapper. Erik had finished rinsing his injury and was back to  holding the bloodied paper towel gingerly against his finger. He reached out for the bandage, but Alexis held on to it.

“I’ll do it,” he said, already stepping into Erik’s space. “It’s not easy putting one on your own finger.”

Erik just held out his hand without a word. Alexis could have easily applied the bandage without touching him at all, but he took Erik’s hand in his own, just to keep his finger steady of course, and carefully wrapped the bandage around the cut.

For a moment, the only thing that existed in Alexis’s mind was how warm Erik’s hand was in his, and how close they were standing. He could feel Erik’s body heat radiating between them. He looked up, finding Erik’s face closer to his own than he was expecting. Erik’s eyes were focused on his cut, then suddenly he glanced up, meeting Alexis’s eyes.

Alexis looked away quickly and pressed the adhesive in place before stepping back. “Not too tight?”

“It’s good,” Erik said. He flexed his finger, then said, “Thanks, buddy.”

“No problem, buddy,” Alexis echoed, sounding stiff as hell. “Try not to cry from the pain. I’ll take over the cutting.” He slid into the spot by the counter in front of the cutting board before Erik could stop him. “You can handle the bread. Think you can operate a toaster without injuring yourself?”

“No promises. Don’t forget you’re dealing with a total airhead, here. But at least I know I can count on you to patch me up again if I do.”

“What in the world would you ever do without me?” Alexis joked.

“You jest, but really,” Erik said, his tone unexpectedly serious. “It gets lonely here by myself sometimes. I’m lucky you’re still willing to come over and hang out with me.”

Alexis risked a glance and found Erik looking down at the wholegrain bread he was supposed to be toasting. He suddenly looked up at him, their eyes meeting once again.

This was dangerous. He had to douse the fire rising in him before it burned him alive.

“You’re just trying to butter me up so I’ll do your English assignment for you, aren’t you?”

Erik smiled to himself. “You know me too well.”

He dropped two pieces of bread into the toaster then came to lean against the counter, leaving enough space for another person between them as he watched Alexis carefully slice the avocado.

“Did I hear you telling my mom you’re working on a paper tomorrow? On a Saturday?”

“Yep,” Alexis said, keeping his eyes on the knife. “But it shouldn’t be too hard. It’s just an intro-level course, and I already have a good base idea of the major philosophers.”

“Of course you do,” Erik said. “Is there anything you don’t know?”

“Lots of things. Like how to finesse girls.”

Whyyyy had he said that? Just to compliment Erik on the one area where he was an expert, maybe, but it came out sounding half sarcastic, half…flirty?

Erik’s eyebrows lifted slightly with interest. “That’s something you’d be great at too, if you’d only let me teach you.”

God, I’d love to let you teach me…just not in the way you mean.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for that,” Alexis said, keeping his tone light as he finished slicing the avocado. He slid the neat fan of green across the counter toward Erik, hoping the distraction would end the conversation. No such luck.

Erik tilted his head, studying him. “Why not? I’m an excellent teacher.”

“You’re an excellent show-off, maybe.” He forced a smirk, realizing it was up to him to steer the conversation elsewhere. “So…you’re not really going to make me spend my Friday night doing your English homework, are you? Because I thought we agreed on scary stories. Unless this is your excuse to back out, since you already know yours is going to suck.”

“You wish. We’re spending Friday night holed up in my room under a blanket fort like the old days. After the crapass week I’ve had, there’s nothing I need more than an evening reverting back to my childhood. Still sound good?”

Alexis smiled in spite of himself. “Sounds perfect.”

Except it wasn’t perfect, it was a disaster.

Well…maybe not a disaster, but it definitely didn’t help his inner turmoil.

The storm had fully broken by the time they climbed the stairs to Erik’s room and it was as dark as night outside.

“Think your mom might cancel her date because of the weather?” Alexis asked hopefully. He needed her there as a buffer. What he expected her to do for him, he wasn’t sure, but he still would have felt better with a chaperone in the house.

“No way,” Erik said. “A little rain doesn’t deter the Palmes when love is on the horizon. She’ll probably use it as an excuse to skip the date and head right to the cheap motel.”

“I’m sorry I asked.”

Thunder rolled as they worked together to drape quilts over Erik’s desk chair and the posts on the end of his bed. Erik was quick and efficient—he’d always been better at building blanket forts than Alexis, but Alexis’s skills had deteriorated even more after years of not making them. Apparently Erik had been telling the truth about still making them all the time, because in just a few minutes, he’d made them a spacious tent. He even topped it off by laying out a fluffy blanket on the inside to cushion the floor, then he crawled inside and stretched out with a sigh.

“Ah, just how I like it—soft, roomy, and a portal to when I was eight. Come on in,” he said, beckoning Alexis inside.

As soon as Alexis crawled in, thunder boomed and the power went out.

“Oh no,” he muttered.

“Hell yes!” Erik hissed. He scrambled back out of the fort in search of a flashlight. All he had was his phone, and he scooted back in a moment later, shining its light in Alexis’s face. “This is exactly what we needed. We always told scary stories in the dark with a flashlight. Perfect timing!”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Alexis deadpanned. It hadn’t occurred to him how close he’d be to Erik in the fort, and now the house was pitch black, which made it seem like nothing else existed beyond their tiny world. It also sharpened his senses, making Erik’s warmth, scent, breathing, existence seem so much closer than it already was. If he were stronger, he’d fake a stomach ache and go home. But he wasn’t strong. He wanted to torment himself by basking in Erik’s nearness. “So do you want to go first, or should I?” he asked.

He expected Erik to tell him to go first since one always saves the best for last, but he surprised him by saying, “Wanna do rock, paper, scissors to decide?”

Erik’s scissors beat Alexis’s paper, and he was glad for it. Hearing a scary story should keep his mind off of his rising…problems. And he wasn’t in the right headspace yet to tell one of his own.

Erik told a story about a demonic, haunted deli slicer that drew people in through hypnosis and sliced their heads into paper thin slices, like the shaved meat at the deli counter at the grocery store. Afterward, Alexis, as was custom, berated him for leaning too heavily on gore to do the scaring in his stories, which he argued was cheap and not scary so much as it was just gross. Erik, as was custom, took that to mean that Alexis was scared out of his mind and trying to play it off by acting like a critic.

Then it was Alexis’s turn. He wove a tale about a boy who was absolutely convinced he was the universe’s gift to humanity—so convinced that he refused to take even the slightest bit of constructive criticism. Naturally, this led to a tragic chain of events in which his own brilliance (meaning hubris) brought about his downfall. The boy’s name, Alexis emphasized, was Eric but with a C, which was a completely different name and therefore obviously not based on anyone present. (Erik concurred, and assured him he never thought the story was about him in the first place.)

The stories did nothing to distract him. If anything, telling them just drew attention to how weird it felt to be in that fort—like being ten again, but also very, very aware that they weren’t ten anymore. Even while listening to Erik’s story and telling his own, the thought never left his mind. It was comforting, familiar, nostalgic, and above all, agonizing.

What he wanted was to lunge forward and just bury his face in Erik’s chest and cling to him forever.

Instead, he lunged for the opening of the blanket fort and scrambled out. The bedroom air felt cool on his face after being trapped under heavy layers with another human for half an hour.

“I’m suffocating in there,” he said, pushing himself to his feet. “And I think I’ve hit my bedtime story limit for the evening.”

“You just want to quit while you’re ahead,” Erik said, crawling out after him.

“So you admit my story was better?”

“No, I meant you wanted to stop before I told a story that made you lose your cool.” He shined his phone’s light over Alexis, scanning him from top to toe. “Although, judging by the look on your face, maybe that ship already sailed.”

Alexis didn’t dignify that with an answer. Mainly because Erik wasn’t wrong, just not in the way he thought. He turned instead toward the window, where lightning still lit up the sky every couple of minutes.

“So…what now?” he asked.

“Well,” Erik said, “it’s a little early, but since the power’s still out…you wanna meet the Midnight Man? We could light some candles and summon hi—”

“No.”

“Coward.”

“Live coward, dead idiot.”

“Yeah, but is it worth being a live coward when you have to live with the shame for the rest of your pathetic life?”

Alexis reached into his shirt collar and pulled out his rosary, raising it up at Erik like he was warding off a vampire. In truth, he’d put it on to remind himself not to have any impure thoughts about Erik while he was here, kind of like the school dance rule about leaving room for Jesus while dancing with your date. Obviously it was working about as well as his other life plans.

“No summoning demons,” he said, “and that’s final.”

“Okay, okay…Father Birch.”

Alexis ignored that and lifted his own phone, sweeping the light around the room in search of a distraction that didn’t scream I’m trying not to think about how close we just were. Homework? No, they already did that performance. Then his light passed over the small bookcase against the wall.

Ah.

He walked over and let the glow pass over the spines. He knew this shelf like he knew his own, could list most of the titles without even looking, but it struck him how little that actually meant. Familiar wasn’t the same as understood, and that was the problem lately, wasn’t it? He wanted to understand everything about Erik, and that craving felt dangerous.

For instance, why did Erik have these specific books? Had he read them all, or were some merely aspirational? Which ones had left a mark and burrowed into his soul? Did he actually like reading the way Alexis did, despite saddling him with that disdainful little nickname, Book Boy, when they were kids?

Apparently, he liked horror. No surprise there. His eyes skimmed over a worn collection of H.P. Lovecraft short stories and paused. The Music of Erich Zann. He remembered Erik mentioning that one as his favorite, for exactly the reasons anyone would guess: the title character having a variation of his own name.

But Alexis had gone home and read that story himself after learning of Erik’s interest in it, and he wasn’t so sure. He had ended up liking the story too. The impossible yearning in it, the music that tried to hold back the dark…was that why Erik really liked it and he just didn’t know how to be open about it?

Alexis always thought he knew Erik inside and out, but how many layers were still left to uncover that he didn’t even know about?

Sometimes Alexis wondered if Erik would panic and run for the hills if he ever realized how much Alexis wanted to know him. Not just the obvious things, but everything: what he cherished, what he truly feared, the small snippets of memory he returned to when he was alone, what made him wistful. What made him him. Every fiber of his being. That was what Alexis wanted. All of it.

“Am I so boring that you’d rather pick out a book than hang out with me?” Erik said behind him, teasing but not entirely joking.

“Just checking if anything new materialized,” Alexis answered lightly. “Even though you only buy books when a hot cashier recommends them.”

“Well, how else am I supposed to flirt if I turn down their expert literary guidance?”

Another comment Alexis ignored. Instead he slid out a slim book tucked between paperbacks.

“Ah, The Little Prince,” Erik said, stepping closer to see. “Ever read it?”

“Shockingly, no.”

“You’d like it. If you ever wanna borrow it…” Erik left the invitation hanging in the air.

Alexis studied the cover. Technically, he was holding Le Petit Prince. “Pretty sure that would be pointless. This copy’s in French.”

“I could read it to you and translate.”

He said it so casually, not knowing how that suggestion was a punch to Alexis’s gut, how badly he would love that. Which made it impossible to accept.

“Maybe some other time,” Alexis said, tucking the book back onto the shelf. “I’m trying to find something to keep me from falling asleep.”

“Okay, okay. Then we could read something you like. Goosebumps?” Erik reached past him and pointed out a battered copy of Welcome to Dead House. “Or better yet, we could marathon the series on my laptop. You’re not supposed to read in the dark anyway. It’ll ruin your eyes.”

Alexis forced a smile, hoping it looked casual. “Deal.”

It wasn’t the perfect solution, but it was safe enough. The only problem was that Erik’s queen-sized bed and the desk chair were the only seating options, and sitting stiff-backed at the desk all night would be conspicuous as hell.

He went for it anyway.

Erik jumped onto the bed, stretched out, and patted the empty space beside him. “Why are you over there? You can’t even see the screen properly. First, being in the fort makes you feel ‘suffocated,’ and now you won’t sit next to me.” He threw a hand over his eyes in fake sorrow. “Don’t you love me anymore?”

“More like I hesitate to get on your bed knowing the kinds of things that happen on it.”

“Give me a break,” Erik said, dropping the woe-is-me act. “You can’t get chlamydia just from sitting on top of my comforter. Besides, I just washed my sheets.”

Alexis’s resolve melted like cotton candy in water. He stood, crossed the room, and climbed onto the bed.

Outside, the storm raged on, but the room felt cozy and deceptively safe. Alexis tried to focus on the episode of Goosebumps playing on the laptop screen sitting at the foot of the bed, but it was impossible to forget that Erik was right there beside him, warm, talking, breathing, close enough to touch. Which, of course, was its own kind of horror story.

Don’t look at him. Don’t. Do not.

Halfway through “Night of the Living Dummy”, he lost his internal battle and risked a glance. Over the course of a couple of episodes, Erik’s chatter had slowly tapered off and now he was asleep, hands resting over his stomach, lips parted slightly, as if he’d drifted off mid-thought.

He looked so different like this. As if the version everyone else saw at school had been set aside for a moment so the Erik Alexis used to know, before he’d become popular, could come back. The girls who wanted him, the boys who wanted to be him, the teachers who were perpetually sending him to the principal’s office, none of them would recognize this Erik. Only Alexis did, and the realization felt strangely reverent. He might not have known all of Erik, but at least he knew him better than anybody else did.

He watched Erik’s hands folded across his middle, rising and falling with his breath, then his gaze drifted lower, only a fraction, before he caught himself. Just below Erik’s hands lay the waistband of his underwear, and just below the thin cotton of his underwear, the vague outline of… well. The outline of something he had intentionally rubbed soap into his eyes earlier that week to stop from thinking about.

A sensible person would look away.

A sensible person would walk away.

Alexis remained perfectly still, eyes fixed forward past the laptop to where its light flickered on the wall, while every thought he had tried to banish returned with renewed enthusiasm.

It wasn’t that he wanted to stare. God forbid. It was more that his mind kept trying to unravel its most bothersome unsolved mystery. Everyone else seemed to know the answer already, and you didn’t even have to sleep with him to find it out. Erik was not exactly shy in locker rooms, and yet Alexis had perfected the art of facing the wall, pretending to be deeply interested in the grout. All he had to do was get over himself and turn around.

But at the same time, there was something about not knowing that felt important. As if the mystery was the last thing keeping him together, and uncovering it would ruin something sacred about Erik. Would giving in take that away?

Even when he was trying not to think about it, he was thinking about it in a roundabout way. Unwelcome and unmistakable heat began to rise in him. He gave in and turned to look at Erik’s face.

Well, that was definitely no help. Erik was beautiful in a way that didn’t feel entirely real. It hurt a little, looking at him. As if Alexis’s heart wasn’t quite strong enough to deal with the feeling. Or maybe the pain was in his soul. Did anyone else who looked at him ever leave feeling like they had an ache in their soul afterward?

Erik’s eyes alone were enough to bring it on. Slender, half-lidded cat eyes in such a clear, crystalline turquoise they made people forget what they were saying mid-sentence. And his mouth…

God. That mouth.

Alexis shifted onto his side and let his hand drift closer without meaning to, his fingers suspended for a moment above those soft, parted lips. He didn’t touch. He wouldn’t.

He shouldn’t.

But then he felt the warm puffs of breath ghost over his skin and with a small surge of adrenaline, he let the pad of his finger brush across them, feather-light.

Velvet.

His heart thudded in his chest as he brought that finger back to his own mouth and pressed it to his lips.

What the hell am I doing?

He tucked his arms beneath him where they couldn’t get him into anymore trouble, pressing his elbows into the mattress like the Sphinx, staring at Erik’s tranquil face. His touch hadn’t even earned so much as a twitch. He was dead to the world.

Instead of satisfaction, all he felt was shame.

God, what is wrong with me? He trusts me. And I—

He shifted onto his back again, scooting farther onto his side of the bed, trying to leave as much space between them as he could without falling off the edge. He could still feel the phantom tingle of Erik’s lips on the pad of his finger, and he hated how desperately he wanted to keep the memory, even though all it left him with was guilt and a deeper heat that wouldn’t go away. His heart throbbed, among other areas of his body.

He stared at the ceiling and tried very hard to think of anything else. He tried to concentrate on the demonic puppet terrorizing kids on the laptop. On the sound of rain on the windowpane. On the philosophy paper he would have to work on tomorrow. On the fact that he should never have come over tonight.

On the way Erik would have welcomed that kind of touch from someone else. Christine, probably.

A pang flared inside Alexis, made of envy and grief.

What would Erik be doing right now if he were Christine instead of himself? He imagined Erik worming his way closer to press his chest against the curve of his back, slipping his arms over his waist to let his fingers trail over his ribcage, roaming farther down, down, down to let his hand find the heat between his legs. His lips brushing over his neck as he whispered sweet nothings in French. Flipping him onto his back to ravage him all night long.

Shit.

Meanwhile, in reality there Erik lay beside him, longing for a girl who’d never understand him half as well as Alexis did, and Alexis had to lie here pretending he was fine.  

Tears prickled behind his eyes, not just from hopelessness, but from need. Why did his brain insist on thinking this way while they were in the same bed? He clenched his hands into fists until his nails pressed crescents into his palms. School, he told himself. Math. Volleyball. Terry and his pack of idiots. Erik flirting with girls, girls, always girls, because he was straight. And even if he weren’t, even if some universe existed where Erik looked at him that way…what then? Best friends didn’t cross that line. Not if they wanted to stay friends. And losing Erik would end him. If things went sour between them, what would he have left after that?

Nothing.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the heat in his body to fade. Nothing killed a stupid, hopeless crush faster than cold, hard reality.

Eventually, he rolled onto his side, his back to Erik, staring into the darkness. The ache remained, but the fire had gone out. Heartbreak had a way of doing that.

After a few minutes, he lifted his head again, trying to figure out his next move. Normally, he’d drag out the old spare blanket and make himself a makeshift bed on the floor, just like he’d done thousands of times before. But if this time he just…didn’t, if he let himself “accidentally” fall asleep during their Goosebumps marathon like Erik had, he could stay right here, beside him. Just for tonight.

Why not? Everything else in his life was a mess. Surely the universe could spare him one small indulgence.

But what about the laptop? He couldn't just leave it there at the foot of the bed, because if either of them made one wrong move, it could crash to the floor. But if he turned it off and moved it to the desk, Erik would know he had made a conscious decision to stay on the bed.

Fuck it, he decided. He would just be careful. And maybe, if he was astronomically lucky, Erik would roll over in his sleep and drape an arm around him. Alexis eased back down, settling into the pillow, and let his eyes fall shut.

He didn’t know how much time passed before a jolt of movement jerked him awake. The mattress dipped; he heard the laptop being lifted away. Alexis cracked an eye open. The room was still dark, but the power must have come back on because Erik’s digital clock emitted a subtle blue glow on his desk. It read 1:07 a.m.

He shut his eyes immediately, not wanting Erik to know he was awake. He felt Erik moving with care, setting the laptop somewhere safe on the desk, barely making a sound. For a moment, Alexis braced himself for a shake of the arm, a whispered hey, get up, I’ll help you make your bed on the floor. Instead, a blanket settled over him. Erik tucked it in around his shoulders, then adjusted the pillow beneath his head, fingers brushing the edge of his shoulder. His hand lingered a second too long, enough that Alexis could barely maintain the slow, steady rhythmic breathing of sleep, before Erik finally pulled away with a quiet sigh and lay down beside him again.

What if Erik knew? What if he hadn’t really been asleep earlier, just like Alexis wasn’t really asleep now? What if he knew Alexis had pressed his finger to his lip, and he’d kept still to spare them both the humiliation of acknowledging it?

But if that were true, would he really be comfortable lying back down beside him?

Just when Erik seemed to settle again, a soft chime broke the silence. A text. The mattress shifted as he sat up again. Erik quietly tapped out a reply, then a moment later his phone began to vibrate with a call, and he stood up to quietly but quickly cross the room. The bathroom door clicked shut, muffling Erik’s voice, but not enough to keep Alexis from hearing.

“…Hey. Why are you calling this late?” A pause. “Yeah, I’m awake, but it’s one in the morning. What do you— …Yes, usually, but what about our date tomorrow? Isn’t that soon enough? …Are you really that desperate for me? …I wish I could, but I’m kind of busy right now—No, of course I’m not. The only person in my bed is my best friend, and he’s sound asleep. …Don’t be gross, Christine.”

That was all Alexis needed. He didn’t have to hear Christine’s words to know what they were. He could picture the joke: easy, cheap, and the kind people tossed around when they thought two boys were too close. And Erik’s answer, don’t be gross, had basically been the sound of a closing door.

Not that the door had ever been open to begin with. Alexis wasn’t foolish enough to believe it had. But at least he had fantasies to make the colorless parts of his life more bearable. Now even those felt worthless.