We've been here forever
And here's the frozen proof
I could scream forever
We are the poisoned youth.

Two days after they returned home, Double D's coworkers decided an impromptu party at their favorite dive bar, inappropriately named Bananas, would be the best way to get two Eds out of their funk.

Double D chose a predictable route. He worked his way through a bottle of very cheap pinot grigio and chose to argue with their manager (who was paying for everything) about the benefits of investing in moving L.E.D. fixtures. The only thing their manager would be investing in that night was a couple of taxis. Double D knew this and ignored it. At that point he was an expert in ignoring things that really required immediate attention. When he stopped babbling financials long enough to let his manager retaliate, he became dimly aware of Eddy going off into some even darker, more secluded area, followed by Jeremy. This was a recipe for disaster, but Double D chose to pretend to listen and drink more pinot grigio, and then dip into Kit's chardonnay. After all, ignoring all his issues had worked fine before Eddy dropped in. It would work fine for another couple hours.

Eddy was outside twisting the last of his travel savings into a grape-flavored rolling paper (courtesy Ariel, ten minutes prior in the boy's bathroom), not caring that he was on the front porch of the bar. "Why do all his friends hate me? What did he tell you guys?"

Eddy seemed to lack the energy to light it once he had finished rolling, so he handed his joint to Jeremy. Jeremy lit it with a Betty Boop lighter, then took a quick, light drag, not one to pass up the chance to speak (especially not over Eddy). "He described you taking advantage of him and making fun of him for being a pussy all the time in high school. Always copying his homework. Making him pick you up when you got drunk, but not inviting him to the party in the first place. Stuff like that. Was he lying? I mean, he had a lot of stories…"

Eddy stared ahead. He wanted to answer that he hadn't been invited to many parties himself, but when he was, he wouldn't have invited Ed or Double D.

"I've been trying to figure out a ton of shit since I got here."

"I bet."

"The big thing with you guys was, I was like, Why would Double D lie to his friends about me?"

"What'd you figure out?"

"He wasn't lying at all. They were true. You might have been shitty friends but I guess he didn't have anyone else."

"If this weed wasn't so strong that I'm already feeling it, I'd totally try to fight you for the shit you say, dude. Drag queen or no. But you're wearing regular people clothes now so it's really throwing me off." He eyed Jeremy's shirt, a teal v-neck with the deepest V physically possible. "Well. Semi-regular people clothes."

"Oh, honey. What you see on stage is the real me. This—" he gestured down at his outfit, accidentally-on-purpose calling attention to the bulge in his painted-on skinny jeans, "- is drag." He took a hit, but started coughing before he could hold it in long. Through hiccups, he said, "You know, you're not so bad in person, though. Also, Double D can react dramatically in his own way, I noticed." He leaned forward for story time, and Eddy mirrored it, trying to ignore the six pack the V revealed. "So you know how they broke up, right?"

"I think every gay person in the county knows."

'Well, D.D. had Jack's number blocked for a while. And his Facebook. And his Instagram. And his Pinterest."

"What does Jack put on a Pinterest? Homemade eyeliner recipes?"

"Ha. So D.D. would only communicate with Jack via post-it note that they left on the door of the lighting booth between shifts. It took a full week for them to exchange everything they had at each other's places because they only left like one box at a time outside the door."

"… How MUCH stuff did they—"

"Isn't that funny?"

Eddy heard a popping from his knees as he uncurled himself from the stiff bench. "Well, my joint is done, my joints hurt, and that wasn't a great story. So I'm going inside to steal a beer from someone."

Jeremy grabbed at his wrist. "Wait. There's a conclusion, I promise."

"Is the conclusion somehow that I'm an asshole?"

"No, the conclusion is that you fixed everything. With their relationship, I mean, not in the world." He looked up at Eddy with red eyes. "We all wrote it off because we thought that we knew them well enough, but… I guess, thanks for proving us wrong… asshole."

Eddy was trying to figure out if the way his eyes had gone watery was emotion or just weed. He finally let go of Eddy's wrist and swiped a hand over his hair to check his perfect brown swoop. "I wish you hadn't picked the outdoors. It's fucking up my hair for real." The lights flickered twice. Jeremy sighed. "That's the sign for last call. You can go now."

"Oh shit. I need to hustle. You're new to the whole emotional openness thing, huh?"

"How'd you guess?"

"I'm in the same boat. I think this is the start of a very difficult friendship." Eddy left Jeremy to fix his hair in the moonlight.

Steps to Getting Your Drunk Nerds Home, by Jack

1. Assess their drunkenness.

a. "Yeah, hon, I told you whites are your kryptonite, but you never listen to me about wine."

b. "What about you, Shawty? How many drinks tonight? … Four shots?! When? Before I got here? … IN THE PAST HALF HOUR? WHY? What are you, fifteen?"

2. Reason with the taxi driver.
"No, they're TOTALLY fine. They're just tired. Okay, they're a LITTLE drunk. But not everyone who drinks pukes. I drink and don't puke all the time. Maybe I should have a couple times, but that's a story we can tell on the ride home, eh?"

3. Apologize to the taxi driver for puke. "Dude. Relax. I'll totally pay for it. Here, I've got—dude CHILL OUT, you've got leather seats for a reason, right?"

4. Repeat Step 2 as many times as possible until you make it back to the apartment.

Eddy signed on to work another show. He had signed to work every one in the next month. Sitting around Double D's apartment seemed more depressing than anything else, though Eddy was quickly reminded that watching drag queens crack wise like nothing was wrong was no trip to the candy store, either. Sitting in the dark next to the curtain, he ached for candy.

"Hi," Jeremy sidled up next to him again, eyes glued to the stage as usual, dressed to the nines. but he didn't greet Eddy with the same snotty twinge to his voice.

"'Sup," Eddy said.

They sat in silence until Jeremy was called to the saunter on stage. It was actually kind of nice, but in a way that still left Eddy feeling empty afterwards. Like he wanted some kind of epiphany instead.

Eddy's green-haired supervisor scowl-strolled over to him with the manager's old-school flip phone in his hand. Eddy sighed and wondered with only faint worry if he was going to be fired. He had been there long enough, after all.

"Someone found our number and called asking for you or D.D. I asked her name and she said Sara."

"I'm not gonna talk to some telemarketer."

"If it makes any difference, she only said a name after I threatened to hang up and block her number. The first time I asked her name she said it was None of Your Fucking Business."

"… Oh. That Sara."

He held the phone an arm's length toward Eddy. "Please take it already. I can hear her yelling from here."