Cole thinks this is what it feels like to die.
He's fallen, stretched along the pavement of a sidewalk. He doesn't know where he is, but he has been running, and he is out of breath. He is aware his cheek is bruised and probably bleeding, but his legs are numb. It's cold. Cole curls in on himself.
His shoelaces are untied. Yes, this would be a pleasant way to die.
He doesn't remember the fighting, but his parents had said they've been unhappy for a very long time. Cole feels like a burden. He doesn't know why.
He doesn't remember the yelling nor the name-calling nor the gaslighting, but he's not supposed to remember something like that, if it happened. If it happened, if it happened, if it didn't happen, he would remember sitting across his parents during dinner while they scolded him for being alive, he would remember how it felt to wake up every morning to the sound of cabinets slamming shut, he would remember stuffing his face with ice cream after he received a clean bill of health.
He doesn't remember any of that. He doesn't want to. It hurts. Everything hurts.
Cole's favorite flavor of ice cream is strawberry.
When he was sixteen, his parents had officially divorced. His father was a stranger when he hugged Cole goodbye. His mother told Cole it was okay to cry at a time like this, but Cole had told her he didn't understand why he should cry when this was his entire fault, he needed to be punished.
His mother stared at him, and Cole knew she wanted to hit him, but he didn't say anything, and she didn't hit him, and he went to his room right after, and he made sure to exhale out the window when he smoked.
Cole has a friend who lives in the apartments downtown. She has a ring through her lip, and she likes having fun. She doesn't know Cole's name, and he doesn't know hers, but they do business better that way.
Cole sometimes steals money from his mother, but she doesn't remember. She never remembers. He still feels guilty when he perches on the window sill and smokes and thinks about death.
Cole is seventeen when he is found on the pavement by a pair of black toenails. They mumble something Cole doesn't understand and proceed to poke Cole in the side. The toes dig into him, almost as if they are ripping him apart, in two, into a million pieces. Everything hurts.
"Up you go," the toenails whisper. Cole does. Cole stumbles. The body the toenails are connected to is lanky, and it almost breaks in half underneath Cole's dead weight. The body is strong, though, and Cole finds the toenails, the body, have arms. The arms are strong, too. They hold Cole. Cole wants to be as strong as them one day. "Everything is going to be okay," the toenails say.
"Everything hurts," Cole says.
"Yes, it does." The toenails are not good at making friends.
Cole likes sitting on his roof. If he slips and falls, he wouldn't die. He's tried twice. He's busted his nose both times.
The toenails have a face. The face is hard, and it has pretty eyes. Cole wants to touch them. When he had attempted to do so, he had gotten a scowl, but he's been scowled at ever since he's regained some form of consciousness.
"Do you often cross into personal spaces that are not your own?"
Cole blinks. "I don't know."
Cole is sitting on top of a counter. He's being poked at again, but it's by fingers this time. These fingernails are nice, clean, and they're gentle against his cheek. "What's your name?" The voice is unsure, uncomfortable, not used to conversations such as this. Cole understands.
"My name is Cole."
"Cole." Cole's cheek is poked again. "Cole, my name is Fenris."
Cole likes that name. "Fenris."
"It means 'little wolf'." Fenris sounds like he's reading a script. He prods at Cole's cheek again. "How do you feel about having gauze covering your entire cheek?"
Cole blinks again. "I don't know." He thinks for a moment. Fenris is staring at him. "Does my cheek need that big of a bandage?"
At this, Fenris shrugs his shoulders. He digs out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a bag of cotton balls. Fenris rips the bag, on accident, of course, and now they're in a snow storm of cotton and balls. Cole sniffs. Fenris plucks a cotton ball from his hair. "Probably not. I'm not a doctor, nor am I a nurse." Fenris tears a cotton ball in two. "Would you like me to get a doctor?"
Cole quickly shakes his head. There are two Fenrises when he does so. "No, no. You don't have to take me anywhere. I, I'm fine."
"I'm not taking you anywhere," Fenris says, and he sounds rather annoyed and offended at the thought of him stuffing Cole into a car and driving him to get help. He leaves the room, though, and it makes Cole wonder if Fenris actually is about to call an ambulance despite what he had said prior. Thinking about Fenris makes Cole's head hurt. He wants off this counter, wants out of this house he is unfamiliar with, wants to go back to his bedroom.
It's hard, trying to get off the counter. He has to swallow something bad down his throat, and then he has to remember how to walk. He's like a baby, a baby who's resorted to crawling. Cole is crawling, and he doesn't have the energy to become embarrassed when Fenris reenters the room with a man at his heels. The man is laughing, and Cole can only assume the man is laughing at him. "Nice job, Fenris," the man is saying, but Cole doesn't hear. He's crawling, even faster now, toward the toilet. He's retching into it, loud, disgusting. Fenris walks out of the room.
Cole had a pet chinchilla when he was ten years old. His father told him it had run away when Cole was at school. "Did you try to stop it?" Cole had asked, and his father had pointed a crooked finger at him and responded, loud and harsh, with an "It probably tried to get away from you."
Cole thinks he has gone blind, but then he remembers how to open his eyes. He's on a bed, head propped by a pillow. His face feels numb. When he touches his cheek, he realizes he can't feel it. It's not here. His cheek is hidden beneath a bandage. It's a rather large one.
Then, in the corner of the room, the sliding of boxes against carpet, a soft voice going "trash, trash, keep, trash, trash".
The bed creaks as Cole sits up. He sees the man who had been laughing at him in the bathroom. The man is staring at Cole now, from his corner, a single cardboard box set in front of him. He has a garbage bag beside him. It's filled more than the box. The man pushes aside the box in order to stand, to walk toward Cole. Cole is frightened. He scurries across the bed, backing away from the man with the strawberry-blond hair, until he is falling from the bed and hitting his head against the end table.
Cole's first meal he was able to keep down during his chemotherapy was a Happy Meal from McDonald's. The salt from the fries made his lips burn, but he happily munched away. His stomach didn't fight him, and he didn't recall why he was so anxious all the time.
He's more anxious now. He tries not to be.
The bed Cole is on this time is softer, and it smells familiar—almost like home, but Cole knows he isn't at home. He hears arguing, but his parents don't argue anymore. He smells cigarette smoke, too, but his mother doesn't smoke.
Cole rolls onto his stomach, grabs at a pillow, and shoves his face into it. His cheek isn't numb now. It hurts.
The arguing has ceased. Cole hears somebody clear their throat, and he somehow knows it's from Fenris. "Since my… friend here seems unable to see what he has done wrong, I would like to apologize on his behalf."
"I did nothing wrong!" the man from before retorts, and he sounds irritated, tired. "I just walked toward him!"
"I'd flee at the sight of you walking toward me, too." A door is slammed shut, and then Fenris laughs. "Moody little fucker. Are you all right?"
Cole still has his face in a pillow. Slowly, he peels himself off. When he moves to sit up this time, the bed doesn't make any noise. "I'm fine."
Fenris is sitting on the floor, an ashtray balanced on his knee. A cigarette is between his first two fingers. A smirk is playing at his lips. "Are you positive? I would be traumatized for months if I had him come at me with that monstrous mug." Fenris flicks away ashes. It doesn't land in the designated destination. Fenris doesn't care. He's talking again. "Although, I suppose I was being a bit harsh on him. He is useful. He patched your cheek up. He's rather good at that. He's a doctor. Imagine that. Quite useful having one of those around." Cole doesn't know how to tell Fenris he's rambling, so he lets Fenris continue. "Despite how much I hate his guts, he's the only one I trust to handle my testosterone." Fenris stubs out his cigarette. "Would you like something to eat? You can stay for a while. It's a weekend. I'm sure your… guardian wouldn't mind if you weren't home tonight."
Cole pulls his knees to his chest. "My mother doesn't care. She hit me. She hurt me. I don't like her."
Fenris is looking at Cole, eyes soft, a small frown on his face. He is putting two and two together, and Cole sniffs, rubs at an eye. "What's your friend's name?"
"He's not my friend. His name is Anders." Fenris is getting up from the floor. "I'll get you something hot to drink."
Cole was twelve when he had wanted to kill both of his parents. Killing them, he thought, would have set them free from their misery, from this life, from him. Cole knew he was the cause of their agony; he had been told that on more than one occasion, and he began to believe it.
Does he believe it now? Well, his mother cries more now than she did when she was with his father, but Cole isn't supposed to know that.
Cole sits at the end of the bed, his palms together, trying to quiet the tremor in his fingertips. He is unaware as to why he is shaking so, but it must be because of the strangers in the house. Cole is afraid, but he supposes if they were going to murder him, they would have done it already.
Fenris comes back into the bedroom with a mug between his hands. It is ceramic, and Cole would have thought the mug itself would be scalding if Fenris were not holding it with bare hands and with such generosity. "Hot chocolate," Fenris says, passing over the mug. "In case it wasn't obvious," he adds.
Cole takes the mug. "I think it was obvious. You said you were going to get me something hot to drink. It's nighttime, so coffee is out of the question. Plus, it's cold. Hot chocolate only makes sense." Fenris looks at Cole. Cole takes a drink.
Fenris sits down, next to Cole. "Does it make sense?"
Cole isn't so sure now. He drinks and doesn't try to think. He begins to think about how hard it is to not think. His head hurts. Fenris is lighting another cigarette. The man Fenris had named Anders is walking into the room. He's standing there, shoulders back, looking like he's ready to open his mouth and deliver the winning monologue of the century. Cole stares at Anders, the mug resting on his knee. Fenris is staring at Anders, too, a smile on his face. "Well?" Fenris flicks the ashes from his cigarette. No ashtray is nearby, so it falls to the floor. Anders is turning his head, inch by inch, as he watches each and every little speck of ash fall to the floor. It gets lost in the carpet, and the muscle underneath Anders' left eye twitches.
"And another thing," Anders says, and he's walking fully into the room, snatching the cigarette from Fenris and smashing it into the ashtray. It's on the end table. Fenris had been too lazy to reach over and grab it. "I told you, Fenris, I don't like it when you smoke in here. I told you that—many, many times."
Fenris gets up from the bed, goes toward Anders, and Cole can see the light behind Anders' eyes dim for only a moment as he becomes frightened. Anders is strong, though, or at least, tries to be. He stands up straighter, but Fenris follows suit, erecting his spine, becoming the same height as Anders, albeit a centimeter or two taller. Fenris is squaring his shoulders back, mocking Anders' previous posture. "And I told you this is my place, this is my room, and I can do what-the-hell-ever I want to do in it. If you don't like it, leave."
"I am leaving!" Anders retorts. "It's completely unrelated to the cigarette thing, but I am leaving. You keep asking me to do stuff. It's like you're deliberately trying to delay my move."
Fenris steps away from Anders, snorting, clearly having had his fix of shouting at him for now. Fenris plucks the cigarette from the ashtray and lights it up again. Anders wrinkles his nose. Fenris blows smoke in his face. "I would never. I want you to leave. It's not my fault you're so…" Fenris waves a hand, trying to find a word, but not quite getting there. He seems to be putting on a show, too, just to irritate Anders, and it's working.
Anders looks as if he's ready to shoot fire from his mouth. "What? I'm so what?"
Fenris blows smoke in Anders' face again. Anders leaves the room, stomping, slamming the door. Cole flinches at it, but then he's laughing, giggling like he's a child again. Fenris laughs with him.
His mother likes to turn a blind eye to Cole's drug use, but her favorite hobby is poking into Cole's belongings. Cole doesn't feel safe at home. He's only seventeen. He doesn't know what to do.
Cole stays the night with Fenris. "If you want," he says, "I can get Anders to give you his bed."
Cole likes it here on the couch. He bounces lightly on a cushion. "Here is good."
Fenris won't stop looking at Cole. His eyes are scanning him, picking him apart piece by piece. "How did you get here?" he asks, tilting his head. "It's late. It's cold. You look young." Fenris grows concerned. "You're still in high school, aren't you?"
Cole hangs his head, cheeks a pink color. "Yes. Is that a problem?"
"No," Fenris says quickly, then again more delicate, "No, it isn't a problem. I often work with children, people your age. It's fine."
Cole looks at his feet. Fenris looks at them, too. "Why?" Cole asks, quiet, his head still low, neck still bent.
Fenris takes a couple seconds to form his answer. "I like it."
Cole is satisfied with that answer.
Cole used to be scared of thunderstorms. He used to hide underneath the covers and shiver until he passed out. That was when he was sick, though. Of course, he doesn't do that now.
Anders is looking down at Cole when Cole rouses from sleep. It doesn't take long for Cole to wake fully when this is occurring. Anders shushes Cole, waving his hands around, frowning. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to check your bandage."
They're in the bathroom. Cole is on the counter again. Anders is standing between Cole's legs, taking hold of the end of the bandage and slowly beginning to pull it away from Cole's cheek. Cole tries not to squirm, but it hurts whenever tape is ripped off skin. "I'm sorry," Anders repeats. He tosses the trash into the bin, next to the toilet. Cole turns his head, letting Anders get a better look at his cheek. Anders is soft. He inspects Cole's cheek. He doesn't touch it. He doesn't speak for quite some time, until he's pulling open the medicine cabinet, digging out another bandage and some more antibacterial cream. "I don't hate him, you know."
Cole blinks. "Who?"
"Fenris. I don't hate him. I just don't like him. I don't like anything he likes, and I can't stand anything he stands." Anders stretches the bandage over Cole's cheek. "But I don't hate him."
Cole sniffs.
Anders slides back. "I don't think I could hate anybody. Well, maybe." He glances at Cole. "Did you want breakfast? I can cook better than Fenris."
Fenris walks into the room, then. Anders smiles at Cole, as if to say "speak of the devil", but he decides it's better to keep quiet. Fenris is yawning, scratching his stomach, his hand up his shirt. There are white intricate lines stretching along his dark skin. "It's that time of the month, Anders." Fenris has something in his hand, but Cole can't tell what it is.
"You can wait in the kitchen, can't you? This won't take long," Anders says to Cole.
Cole hops off the counter. When he leaves the bathroom, Cole can hear Fenris begin to talk. He sounds tired. "Don't ogle me this time, Anders."
Then, Anders, frustrated, "I have never ogled you, Fenris."
Fenris laughs.
Fenris lets Cole borrow a jacket as he's about to leave. "It's cold. I don't want you getting sick. You look like you have a weak immune system."
"I did," Cole mumbles.
Fenris is scanning Cole, still trying to figure him out. "You should drop by tonight, if you can. Do you know the shitty community center downtown? Be there at seven, okay?" Fenris pauses. "Can you drive?"
Cole shakes his head.
Fenris smiles, and Cole doesn't know why. "I'll teach you someday."
"I can walk," Cole says, rubbing his arm. "I can walk there tonight."
"Be careful. We can't have you dropping dead in front of someone else's house tonight, do we?"
Cole slowly blinks. "No…?"
Fenris is laughing again. Anders appears behind them, dragging a trash bag. "Are you done laughing? It's giving me headache."
Cole thinks, if Fenris were to have a cigarette hanging from his mouth, he would blow smoke in Anders' face. Instead, he sticks out his tongue and blows a raspberry. Anders does it right back. He shoves past Fenris, the trash bag continuing to drag behind him. "How many of those are you going to take out?" Fenris calls after him. "It's been three this past week!"
Anders doesn't give Fenris a reply. Cole picks at his thumb. "Is Anders going to be there tonight?"
Fenris puts on a scowl. "Yes, but who else is going to provide the refreshments?"
Cole's mother is sitting on the couch when Cole walks in. Her eyes drift to Cole, and Cole can see the disinterest behind them, the disgust. She's studying him, gaze going down to his shoes and up to his face. She pays particular attention to the bandage on his cheek. Cole feels uncomfortable. He shuffles past. His mother goes back to the television. She flips through channels. "You didn't tell me you met someone."
Cole lets out a shaky breath. His hands are trembling. She hasn't mentioned his cheek, although, Cole doesn't think she would bring light to something she had done wrong. "What are you talking about?" he quietly asks, taking hold of the door frame to steady himself. He watches his fingertips turn white. "I meet people every day."
He isn't facing her, but he can see her eyes roll as if they are his own. "That's not what I'm talking about, you idiot. I'm talking about your jacket. Typically, lovers wear each other's clothing." She considers this, then adds, "But I forgot you're not typical, are you? I guess I expected too much from my only son."
Cole sniffs. He goes upstairs and sits on his bed. It doesn't take long before he's climbing out the window, onto his roof, and sticking a joint into his mouth. He rubs his cheek on his shoulder. It itches underneath the bandage.
If he hadn't had fallen and scraped his cheek against the concrete, Cole thinks his cheek would be okay enough to leave it uncovered when he goes out tonight. His mother had left a nasty bruise, but that was partly due to the rings on her fingers. Cole falling had only worsened it. It looks ugly. Cole finds some bandages in the bathroom and doctors himself up. It's efficient. He can already hear Anders scolding him later.
As Cole is leaving the house, his mother is calling him from the kitchen, demanding to know where he's going at this hour. It isn't late, and Cole doesn't know what to tell her, so he doesn't say anything. He shoves his hands into Fenris' jacket and leaves. He was scared in the house, in her presence, but now, since he is outside, he feels fine, he feels relieved. He feels free.
The shitty community center downtown isn't as packed as Cole would have thought it would be at seven. It may have been the way Fenris talked, but Cole was sure it would be a full house. Cole can count the amount of people on two hands—barely. He likes it better this way. He doesn't like talking in front of a large crowd, but Cole isn't expecting to talk. He likes to watch, to observe.
The first person Cole sees is the girl he gets his marijuana from. She's messing with the ring through her lip, talking animatedly with another girl. The girl seems interested—eyes wide and unable to keep a smile off her elfish face. Cole makes eye contact with them, and he gets a grin and a wink from the girl with the lip ring, but he can't bring himself to walk over. He feels unwelcome, despite being invited by Fenris. Cole doesn't know where Fenris is. Cole sees Anders, though, so he walks over to him, stands there. Anders is setting down bowls of milk. It's an odd sight, especially after Fenris saying Anders would be the one to provide refreshments. Cole stares at him. "What are you doing?"
Anders straightens up, eyebrows raised as if he has been caught doing something inappropriate. He quickly relaxes, however, and begins to smile. "Setting out milk for the cats. Sometimes there are cats here."
Cole doesn't know why he had been terrified of Anders before. "I like cats."
Fenris appears. Cole hadn't seen him approach. He's light on his feet, which are bare again. Fenris doesn't seem to mind the cold temperatures. His toes look like they're on the edge of frostbite—blackened. Cole tries not to look at them. Fenris doesn't notice. He's yanking on the ring through Anders' right ear. "Help me get the chairs." Then, to Cole, "It's nice to see you."
Anders departs with Fenris, scowling and shaking his head, leaving Cole to stand next to the saucers of milk. The bowls are pink with little fish on them. Cole would very much like to see a cat tonight.
After the chairs are unfolded and formed into a circle, Cole can see there are six people here—including himself, Anders, and Fenris. Cole continues to feel unwelcome, as he sits between Anders and the girl with the lip ring, but he doesn't focus on that. His head is lowered, looking at everybody's feet. He only talks when spoken to, which, unfortunately, is right away.
"There are some new faces here," Fenris remarks. "I feel like we need to introduce ourselves. I am Fenris. The dunce to my right is Anders, and I would advise everyone to act like you're interested when he starts talking." Fenris smiles widely, head tilted as he stares at Anders. Anders is frowning, but that isn't new.
"You forgot to tell everybody what it means," Anders says. "'My name is Fenris, and oh, did you know it means "little wolf"? I'm also an asshole.'"
Fenris slowly blinks. "Thank you, Anders." He turns to Cole, staring at him with a soft expression and "your turn?" in his eyes.
Cole looks down at his hands. "My name is Cole."
The girl with the lip ring sitting next to him makes a noise in her throat. She drapes one leg over the other. "I'm Isabela."
Somehow, after acquiring a name to the face beside him, Cole doesn't feel so unwelcome—at least, for a few moments anyway, until the two other people introduce themselves.
The girl next to Isabela—the one Isabela had been chatting with prior—pipes up with a "Name's Sera." And finally, the girl sitting to Fenris' left introduces herself with a sheepish wave and a quiet, "I'm Merrill."
Fenris is looking each of them over. Cole stares at Fenris' feet, watching his toes curl, uncurl, watching him bounce on the balls of his feet. "Who wants to go first?" Fenris asks, and turns his head to stare at Anders. "Would you like to do the honors again?"
Anders narrows his eyes. He opens his mouth to begin talking, but Fenris cuts in. "Remember, everybody, this is when you pretend to listen."
Anders scrunches his nose, Fenris laughs, and when Cole turns his head, he sees an orange cat lap up milk.
Anders is worried about the future. He's going to be moving away in a few months, and he doesn't feel ready. He already has a new job lined up, and he knows some people where he's moving to, but he's still scared. He swears it isn't because he's going to miss Fenris, no matter how much Fenris would like to say otherwise. No, Anders is scared about the usual stuff as anyone when they're moving. Plus, he thinks Fenris is trying to sabotage his life. Fenris is making him do this and that, and Anders is busy, and he's only packed one box so far. Anders might need to be put on medication, too, but he doesn't want to talk about that right now. Who's next, please, anyone?
Sera is candid. She has been abused by her guardian, who's a gigantic tit. Sera doesn't even know her. Sera was dumped in her lap by the state, and that's all fine and good, yeah, but she's a tit. Sera says her name with a sneer and a wrinkled nose. Lady Emmald, what a stupid name. Sera remembers waking up one night to find half her head shaved and the Lady standing over her with scissors in one hand and a razor in the other. Sera remembers screaming and having to go to the doctor to get her throat checked out. She had to get her tonsils removed, but the doctor said her screaming and this wasn't related, but Sera still, to this day, thinks the doctor was lying. Whatever, though, yeah? It's all fine, Lady Emmald is old, and she's going to pass soon, and Sera's moving away to college, so she's never going to see her again, good riddance. Sera's fucked up, but it's Lady Emmald's fault, not hers, so blame her, not Sera. Was that too much?
Isabela is here to sell drugs and have fun. Want her number?
It is at this moment Merrill and Cole stare at each other with pale faces and pressed-together lips until Fenris decides to take over.
Fenris is doing pretty well today, thank you for asking. This is the first, and only, time he will admit that he might actually miss Anders when he moves out. Anders has been his roommate for so long, and Fenris can't possibly imagine what it would be like without having Anders arguing with him at all hours of the day. Also, Anders knows what Fenris is allergic to, and he always knows what Fenris can and can't eat, and now Fenris has to remember that shit now.
Merrill is quiet. She talks little. She's been put on anxiety medication, and that's really working for her right now. She thinks there are ghosts in her house, too. She's going to be moving soon for school, so she manages to sleep through the voices and the doors and windows shaking in the meantime.
Cole doesn't know what to say. Does he have to say anything? More cats are here.
Anders is out of his seat in no time at all. He's dropping to his knees and petting each one. There are three of them, and they are meowing. Anders is cooing. Fenris begins to laugh. "We've lost him."
Anders tries to take a cat home. He has it stuffed in his jacket, and he might have gotten away with it, if the cat hadn't started to meow very loudly and profoundly.
Anders sets it back on the ground with Fenris standing over him. "I can't have animals," Fenris says, and Anders grumbles, and Fenris narrows his eyes. "Now, now, don't go into one of your moods again. I thought we were actually going to finish the night on a good note."
Anders grumbles some more. He picks at his thumbnail.
Cole stays the night with Fenris and Anders again. Anders locks himself in his room. Fenris and Cole sit on the sofa, watching television. It's quiet. Cole is still wearing Fenris' jacket. There are cigarettes in the pocket, but that isn't what Cole is pulling out. He has his own packet in the back pocket of his pants.
"Do you care?" Cole asks, fingering a hole in the packet.
Fenris stares at him. "I do care." Fenris stares at him some more. "It helps, doesn't it?"
Cole nods. "Ever since I was a child. I… I had leukemia."
Fenris is still staring at Cole, but now, it looks as if Fenris understands something, but Cole doesn't want to ask. He's scared. He lights up. Fenris stretches his legs on the coffee table. "Maybe we should get Anders in here. He needs to loosen up a bit." Fenris snorts. "'A bit'. He needs more than a bit."
Cole curls his toes around the edge of the coffee table. His feet are overdressed with socks compared to Fenris' bare feet. "He said he might need to be put on medication? Is there something wrong with him?" Cole pauses, peeling dry skin from his lips. "That's insensitive. I'm sorry."
"I'm not Anders. I don't take offense." Fenris reaches over, working the joint from Cole's fingers. He sucks on it for a moment. Cole watches him hold in the smoke for so long, Cole almost forgets Fenris had any when he exhales. Cole tries to do what Fenris had done, but he ends up coughing. Fenris laughs at him. "He's bi all around."
Cole begins to cough again. "Who?"
"Anders," Fenris says, pulling a leg to his chest. He grabs the television remote and channel surfs. "Bipolar, bisexual, bigender." Fenris pops his toes. "Light me another joint, will you? Anders needs something."
His mother doesn't talk to him when he's at home. Cole keeps to himself, doing his homework, hanging out with Isabela and Sera, learning to drive with Fenris. Whenever Cole is over at Fenris' house, he helps Anders pack. He has two boxes filled now, shoved into a corner. "Old textbooks," Anders says, when Cole had asked. "I can't bring myself to throw them out. Somehow."
Cole sits on Anders' bed, feet swinging. "I wouldn't either."
Anders smiles. "Have you decided where you're going to college?"
The thought of college makes Cole's stomach hurt. He doesn't trust his voice, so he shakes his head. Anders nods in understanding. "I was indecisive when I was your age, too. It'll be okay."
"I want to help people." Cole picks at a cuticle. "Although, I probably wouldn't want to help people in the way you help people."
Anders looks at Cole. He doesn't get upset. It seems like he understands, though. What he understands, Cole doesn't know, and he doesn't want to find out.
Anders throws a notebook into a garbage bag. "I think I'll take up knitting."
Fenris lets Cole drive him and Anders to the shitty community center downtown. Fenris has the windows down, cigarette smoke leaving the space between his lips. He's about to say something, but Anders cuts in from the back seat. "I like it better when Cole drives. I'm scared Fenris is going to get angry and drive off the road on purpose."
Cole glances at Fenris, who is beginning to smile. "You took the words right out of my mouth, Anders."
There isn't a lot of people here tonight—only Fenris, Anders, Cole, Merrill, and a newcomer. He looks out of place in the metal fold-out chair and dog tags around his neck. Like a substitute teacher in their presence, they do roll call, and when it comes to the man sitting between Merrill and Fenris, he says his name is Cullen. Cole feels bad for him. Cullen looks as if he doesn't know what to do, what to say. Is there etiquette when attending group therapy? Cole was curious about that when he first showed up. He's sure Cullen will get the hang of it when it's his turn to talk.
Anders has a cat on his lap when he commences the talk. It's shorter this time, only mentioning how he's excited to move, to start his new job. He keeps forgetting to check if he's allowed to have pets in his new place.
Cole volunteers to go next. He's going to get his driver's license when he turns eighteen. He thinks he's going to pass. He still doesn't know where he's going to go to college, though. "One step at a time," Merrill says quietly, from beside him.
Merrill tells the group her house has been strangely quiet. She expects something big is going to happen soon.
This is when Cullen decides to speak up. He's nervous—that much anybody can tell from the way he fiddles with the chain around his neck. Cullen tells them he's scared, how he's currently going through drug withdrawal after having been discharged from the military. One of his friends had told him going to group therapy could help, and Cullen thinks it might. He has to wait and see.
Fenris is lightly bouncing his feet. "How are you coping with the withdrawal?"
Cullen laughs awkwardly. "Oh, it's going great. I have to be doing something at all times or else I'll start to have these spasms and go crazy." He's currently picking a scab on the inside of his forearm. "It's great, though. I think I already said that. Aside from this, my friends have been a big help. We've got this idea for this… for this game. It sounds really stupid right now, if I told you, but it's still in development, and I think it's going to be really… well, really great. I've said 'great' too many times, haven't I?"
Merrill and Cole are walking home. They live close by. They don't know what to talk about. The silence between them isn't strained. Cole will even go as far as to say it's comfortable. Fenris often likes to say silences shouldn't be filled with empty talk. Then, Anders would start to sing at the top of his lungs, and Fenris would have to silence him—more often than not with a pillow to the face or a promise to shoo the cats from the community center forever.
Cole doesn't know Merrill's stance on silence, but she's quiet right now, so that must be something. However, she is wringing her hands around the ends of her scarf. She's thinking. That's why there's silence. "Do you like Isabela?" she asks finally. Cole looks over at her. She's not making eye contact. "I see you hang out with her sometimes. Sera, too."
"Isabela is around. Sera is normally with her. They're my friends."
"Yes, but," Merrill sighs, "do you like Isabela?"
Cole blinks.
Merrill tries again. She stammers. "I mean, I, I don't mean to impose if you do, Cole. It's just that, well, she calls me 'kitten'."
Cole blinks again. "She sometimes calls me that, but it's only when I give her money after she gives me marijuana."
Merrill blinks this time. She looks up at Cole, her bottom lip trembling a bit. "Oh." She lowers her head. "So, so… I'm stupid, right?"
Cole stops walking. Merrill does, too. She isn't looking at Cole. "I don't think you're stupid," Cole says. "Isabela is fun. I would like her if I could."
Merrill screws her face up, confused. "What does that mean?"
"I don't know."
They start walking again. Merrill is squeezing her scarf. It's quiet. She's thinking again. "So, you don't… feel things that way toward people?"
"I don't know."
Merrill nods. Her cheeks are pink. "I feel things that way toward Isabela."
She hugs Cole once they get to her house. Cole doesn't hug her back. She doesn't mind. "Do you want me to text you or something? I could help you with choosing a college or… or something. You can say no."
"I don't want to," Cole says.
Merrill goes inside. A light upstairs turns on and off. Cole remembers Merrill's house is haunted, so he quickly goes home.
Cole gets his driver's license. The first place he goes is the cigarette shop with Fenris.
The second place he goes is the animal shelter with Anders. Anders doesn't want to leave. They stay there for two hours.
Anders has a tower of boxes in the back of his car. "I feel like I'm forgetting something." He keeps running in and out of Fenris' house, while Fenris sits on the porch and watches with an amused expression on his face. Cole is sitting beside Fenris, on the railing. They're both smoking their own choice of poison.
Anders walks out of the house for the umpteenth time. "Am I forgetting something?"
Fenris flicks ashes into the air. "Maybe your head."
Anders laughs dryly. "Oh, ha. I made sure I had that first, thanks." He begins to fret some more, checking inside the car, and then running back into the house. Inside the car, into the house, inside the car, into the house.
When Anders is at the car, Fenris goes inside the house. As Anders is making his route back into the house, Fenris is stepping out with a cardboard box. Anders looks like he's about to erupt actual volcanoes from his ears. "You knew I was forgetting something, and you didn't say anything!"
Fenris keeps quiet. Anders takes the box, narrows his eyes at Fenris. "You know what? I don't think I'm going to miss you. You're such a miserable little fuck, and I—"
Then, softly, a mew. Anders pales. Fenris smiles. "Open the box, and then say all that shit to me again."
Anders opens the box. He quickly loses all vocabulary in order to call Fenris a miserable little fuck again. Inside is a small orange tabby kitten. Once it sees Anders, it jumps onto his shoulders, anchoring itself to his shirt. It meows. Anders looks as if he's about to cry. "Oh, Fenris."
"I thought it'd be good for you to have some company. Think of it as… a therapy pet." Fenris looks proud.
"I'm going to name you Ser Pounce-A-Lot!"
Fenris rolls his eyes. "Of course."
Cole laughs.
Group therapy is different without Anders. Cole has taken it upon himself to set out milk for the cats. Eventually, the cats stop coming.
"Maybe they followed him," Merrill says, next to Cole. "Maybe he took them all."
Cole still uses Fenris' car to drive. Fenris insists he doesn't mind, but he ends up buying Cole a car anyway. It's old, and it jerks a little when the brakes are pressed, but Cole loves it. He hugs Fenris, and he doesn't let go. Fenris' reciprocation is just as tight. "Think of it as an early graduation present."
Cole's mother sees the car in the driveway. She doesn't say anything.
Cole continues to drive. He continues to get high. He continues to college search with Merrill.
He still thinks he wants to die.
When he tells Fenris this, Fenris tells him this is good, he's making progress. Cole furrows his brow. "I don't see it as progress."
Fenris is picking at his toenail. "Before, you wanted to die. Now, you think you want to die. There's doubt in there, and doubt is good." Fenris' toenail cracks. "Damn, can you find me some nail clippers?"
You could always go to the same college as me? Merrill texts Cole one night. Sera is coming down here, too. She's getting one of those apartments off campus. I'll be staying in the dorms, but… I mean, I got a job in the university library. I've already met the librarian—Mr. Pavus. He's really nice.
I don't know. If I move away for school, then my mom will come with me.
I'm getting the impression that wouldn't be a good thing. You could always hang out with me!
What about Isabela?
She said we're going to try this long-distance… thing. She doesn't want to move. Frankly, I don't want her to. I want to focus on my education.
Yes.
I could help you find a job down here, too! That'll take up some of your time.
Yes.
Cole goes to bed actually excited for the future.
Cole and Fenris only show up at the shitty community center downtown today. Fenris doesn't seem sad. "People leave. People grow."
Cole finds an old board game in a back room. Chutes and Ladders. They play. Fenris cracks another toenail.
Cole's mother hasn't hit him for some time. He isn't scared around her anymore. He's alert, but he isn't scared. "How have you been?" she asks when they're in the same room together.
"Fine."
"Are you going to college?"
Cole realizes she doesn't know a thing about his life. "Yes."
"Are you going to live on campus?"
He looks at her. She looks at him. "I won't have to if I continue living with you."
She begins to smile.
They watch TV together that evening without arguing, and Cole doesn't climb on the roof to get high that night either. He feels safe.
Merrill, Sera, and Cole agree to meet up after moving into their respective residences. Sera had never given Merrill nor Cole a definitive answer, but she still shows with a lazy wave and a yawn. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Let the party begin."
They walk around campus. Merrill drags them to the library to meet Mr. Pavus. He's sitting behind his desk, talking aloud to his computer, which is frozen. Merrill says hi, just in time to stop Mr. Pavus from banging a hand into the keyboard. "Hello, Merrill," he says, cheerful, bright. "Are these your friends? I'm glad you have friends."
Sera snorts. Cole picks at a spot on his chin. Merrill stands there, smiling, happy. "Yes, these are my friends." It appears Sera was the only one to get the backhand comment.
When they exit the library, Sera begins to groan and complain. "Can we sit down somewhere?"
They find a tree to sit under outside. Sera gets on her phone. Merrill runs her fingers along the grass. Cole watches someone with black hair enter the library.
"Do we have any classes together?" Sera asks, the first time she has shown genuine interest in her education. She pulls her schedule from her bag. Cole and Merrill do the same. They set them side by side, in a straight line. Merrill's schedule is significantly longer than everybody else's. "What the hell, Merrill," Sera says. "How, no, why are you taking this many classes? Do you want to off yourself first semester?"
Merrill is offended. "It's not a lot."
Sera shakes her head. "It's clearly a lot."
Cole reaches over and touches Merrill's arm. "I think you can do it, Merrill."
Her face lights up. Sera can't take her eyes off Merrill's schedule. "It's confusing, that is. You're not going to have any free time. And what is this"—Sera pauses to count, then shakes her head again—"you have so many history classes."
"We all have one together," Merrill says. She points it out. "Strange. The instructor's name isn't listed."
Sera rummages in her bag. "Probably new. No. Probably a weirdo. Want some gum?"
I think they're hiring at that café a couple blocks away from campus…?
Thank you, Merrill.
Cole gets the job. He enjoys the smell of coffee.
Merrill is extremely nervous on the first day of classes. She jumps at the littlest sounds. She bites her thumbnail until it bleeds. Cole wraps it up with toilet paper he gets from the restroom. "Did you take your medication?"
Merrill turns into a mouse. "I knew I forgot something."
Sera replaces Merrill in a matter of minutes. She's cool, collected. "Do you think I could just… not show up to this history class?"
Cole blinks.
Sera sighs. "You're right. I can't. It's a fucking year-'round course, too. Bollocks."
"Maybe it won't be too bad," Cole reasons.
Sera puffs out air. "You're going to be my study partner, okay? You gotta help me."
Cole wants to help people, but he doesn't think Sera exactly wants help—well, if "help" somehow means making someone do her work for her, then Sera might actually want help.
Merrill is back. "I feel a lot better now."
Sera stares at her.
Merrill doesn't notice. "Should we, I don't know, show up to class early? Is that allowed? Will we be made fun of if we go to class early?"
Sera begins walking without any confirmation. Merrill and Cole quickly tread after her. Sera never pegged Cole for the type who would want to go to class early, but this is the first day, and she might want to pick a good seat in the back. However, when they get to the classroom, there are no empty seats in the back. "Balls," Sera says, and she plants herself in the front row, in the seat closest to the door. Then, Merrill sits beside Sera, and Cole files in after Merrill, as if Sera is the mother goose.
The classroom is almost full, but there's still time before class is officially set to start. Cole thinks the professor is already here, but the man he thinks is the professor is sitting atop the desk. The man is cross-legged, a sketchbook in his lap. His skin is dark, and he has black 'locks pulled back to the nape of his neck. Cole remembers seeing this man walk into the library days prior. He's working hard on whatever he's drawing. There are rings underneath his eyes. If Cole remembers one thing when he was a child, he remembers those rings he would get when he was sick. They're different from the ones he would get if he were tired or down with a cold. No, the rings under the professor's eyes remind Cole of bad times.
Merrill lightly nudges Cole in the side. "Cole?"
Cole blinks a few times. "Yes?"
"Sera needs a pencil. I only have pens."
Cole passes one over.
After a final person meanders into the room, the professor hops off the desk with such energy Cole forgets about the rings under his eyes. After tucking the sketchbook into a backpack with far too many buttons, the professor walks to the front of the classroom, hands behind his back. He looks at each of his students, and with a smile, he says, "My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I'm pleased to see you all here."
Most of Cole's first homework assignments are emailing his professors something about himself. He sends them the same four sentences.
My name is Cole. I like helping people. I work at a coffee shop. I used to have leukemia as a child, but I'm okay now.
At the end of the first week of classes, Merrill is surprisingly in good spirits. She's visiting Cole while he's working, all smiles. "I can do this," she says. "They say the first year is always the hardest. I can do this. We can all do this, Cole." She orders hot chocolate. Cole draws a smiley face as the dot of the i in her name. She takes the drink, continues to smile. "Did I tell you my house burned down? I think the ghost got angry I left."
Cole takes Merrill's words to heart. He can do this.
One day, while Cole's working, Solas walks in. With each passing lecture, he has been getting worse and worse. It has progressed to the point of Sera even taking notice. "Do you reckon he's got that stomach virus that's going around?"
Cole has kept quiet. He doesn't know how to bring it up.
Once Solas gets to the counter, Cole sees him up close. There's only so much someone can see in the front row. It isn't just the rings under his eyes anymore. "What can I get for you today?" Cole asks.
"Cole?" Solas says, a bit unsure. He drops his eyes to Cole's nametag. Cole looks at it. It's upside down. He quickly fixes it.
"What can I get for you today?" Cole tries again, but he can tell Solas isn't in the mood for coffee. He looks ready to fall over at any moment. He grips the counter with enough pressure to turn his knuckles white. His hair, normally kept in the neat dreadlocks, has seemed to have lost its shine. Cole's throat tightens. There's a permanent marker to his right, and he squeezes onto it. With just enough strength and thought, Cole might be able to bend it in two. Cole thinks about Fenris cracking his toenails. He remembers watching half of one of those blackened nails fly across the room and land somewhere Cole doesn't remember. Cole doesn't remember a lot, but he remembers looking like Solas at a point in his life. "Solas," Cole says quietly.
"Cole," Solas replies, voice quiet—quieter than Cole's. "I have leukemia."
Cole knows he doesn't want to die.