Chapter Twenty-Five: The Mistakes We Make

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies

Choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay

Destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes

'Cause I'm Mr. Brightside

Aerith used to say: for a quiet guy, you always need to have the last word.

Usually, she screamed that during a house party, or in the middle of a street, or in my room after she had to drag me away from the alcohol. And usually this statement followed something vicious and unnecessary that flew from my lips with complete disregard how those words would be received. And as I ran my fingers over the keyboard of my phone, I thought about Aerith's fractured green eyes. The tears that would fall over her tensed face. And how little satisfaction that gave me. And while I was hurt by the cold response from my boyfriend, I hesitated on reaching into my arsenal and responding with something venomous.

I close my phone and give him this win.

Seph, probably not in the best condition to drive, manages to get us to Johnny's in one piece. And once again, I fail to inform my other friends of my whereabouts. Offering no response to Tifa's inquiry as to my plans when we park on the desolate street, in front of a small white house with a "foreclosure" sign that mirrors Johnny's.

I just unbuckled my belt, when Seph asks the question that's been pressed against his teeth for the last two months. "So, what's really going on with you and Sinclair?"

"We're friends," I narrow my eyes at him. Add a confused inflection to my tone, as if his question comes out of nowhere. As if forgetting our altercation in my kitchen almost two months ago.

"That all?" I hate the smirk on his face.

I grip the door handle. Swallow the lump in my throat. I hope that my face remains as blank as the sheets of paper in the book Reno gave me. Because I'm finding it hard to think of happy endings. "Yeah," I continue before curling my lips shut. Let the false accusers dig their grave. But his accusation, or implication, isn't false..

He shifts his hazel eyes to the front window. Drags his tongue over his impossibly sharp bottom teeth. "Heh," he nods, "you know I can't be friends with a guy who sucks dick."

My eyes fall from his form. My heart crumbles like my eighth birthday cake; after he slammed my face into the frosting and laughed with the rest of my tormentors. The childhood devastation of being formally rejected by the boy I idolized for a cheap laugh.

I feel his eyes back on me. I'm strangled by his gaze.

But my body quakes with pent up anger. My jaw locking. Saliva building up like I'm about to vomit.

But I nod that all away. Something has to give.

I let out a light chuckle, "What? Afraid there'd be no dick left for you?" I snap my eyes at him. His head cocked to the side. Like he's shocked.

He laughs. One that rumbled from his stomach. Like I just told him a joke.

My guard slips, I look away shaking my head with a perplexed smile on my face.

His fist smashes against my throat.

And all the air in my lungs expels.

I hack up empty breathes trying to find oxygen. Heaving and gripping my neck

I look at him, red faced, tears in eyes.

He cracks his neck, body shuddering from the effort, and his eyes darken, "Careful, Cloud. Don't make me bruise that pretty face of yours." He opens the door, throwing me one more look, "it's the only thing girls like about you." He slams the door shut, leaving me alone in his hand-me-down white Lexus that he cares about more than me.

I recall my eight birthday again while I sit in the car trying to catch my breath. And remember after scanning the sea of sinister children with their gross smiles, I turned and punched Sephiroth. Blood exploded from his nose. He cried. And the laughter died. And I felt satisfied until a week later, he kicked me down a flight of stairs, and stared down at me with a smile that told me everything I needed to know about him.

I'm so full of every rejection. I know I'm about to explode.

Sephiroth left me. Instantly. I'm not really sure why he bothered inviting me in the first place, if he was planning on linking up with a bored Genesis and a pitiful Kadaj in the kitchen. I enter the house. There's plenty of people from my school here; some from New Dorp, which puts me on edge at the possibility of Tifa or Vinny showing up. I shove my hands in my hoody pockets, walking through the crowd of people as if completely out of place. Which, no, I am out of place. Why am I even here? In a fit of desperation, I jumped in a car with my own bully, just to drown myself in alcohol. To fill a void kicked open by my boyfriend's absence.

Aerith's words crack through my brain again. Do better.

I want to, but it hasn't been easy.

I'm about to back out. Grab my phone and call my friends.

When I see him

And I have to wonder if Sephiroth planned this.

Reno leans against the wall, wearing my blue and gray flannel over a white v-neck, and smiling down at a tiny blonde girl that I recognize as Elena from the dramatic use of her hands as she speaks to him. He's moving into her, smiling in a way I thought reserved only for me. He whispers something to ear, and she shrieks like a child on a playground, and pushes him. And I remember how Aerith and I flirt. Because Reno takes her hand as if rehearsed.

And I think about all the walls my fist wants to punch.

Pretending it's his face.

Problem with being a guy and no acceptable outlet for our emotions.

Boys don't cry.

Especially at a party. With forceful gazes. Waiting for your mask to break.

But fuck, it's hard.

Especially when he seems so at peace with his actions. Not a single stitch out of place. How easy for him to drag his hands down her pale arm to elicit a tiny giggle from her lips. Hands that were on me. That touched me. And when he whispered that I was all he wanted, was that a lie?

There's a weight in my lungs, which still struggles for air, that pulls me into a cold, vacant, hole. Both familiar and strange. I understand why people say they can feel their heart break. Like a crack in my chest. And all the words I want to sling at him die in my mouth; turn to ash and I'm choking.

His eyes move and rest on me.

Wide. Two cerulean globes shuddering as if rocked by an earthquake.

He mouths shit. And his mask begins to unravel. Elena's about to turn, but he distracts her with fingers through her hair and a fake smirk. She zombifies in his gaze and I'm even a little impressed at how effortless he makes this look.

But I can't watch this unfold.

I go to move. Into the kitchen my goal- grab some road beers and then drink until I stumble into Vinny's house. I can't be here. But I take a step and end up colliding into a much smaller body. Warm liquid that smells like vodka and regret splashes all over us two random comets.

A gasp, and Cissnei tries to salvage what's left of her drink that's not currently on both of us. "Oh no! I'm so sorry!" She exclaims once she brings her big brown eyes on me. She tries to wipe my sleeve with her hand, littering apologies and lamenting about how clumsy, and this is exactly why she can't be in any sports.

"It's fine," I assure her, "I wasn't paying attention.

"No, no," she waves me off, "I was too busy looking at my shoes."

With both look down; she's wearing grey uggs with black leg warmers over tights. Or leggings. A short denim skirt frayed at the ends and fell right at her thighs. And I drag my gaze up and realize when I rest on the Hollister logo on her chest, that I look like an absolute creep. Snap my eyes back to her. She has her head tilted to the side, her faded red curls framing her slender face, with a curious smile etching across.

I shrug, "What's up with your shoes?"

"Oh!" She smiles, "They're new. I'm just really impressed with how I styled them, so I can't stop looking."

"Oh..okay."

"Well, you're a boy, I wouldn't expect you to know about fashion," she eyes my outfit with a frown.

"Got a problem with Korn?" I shove my hands in the pockets of my hoody, "Oh, I see. I don't think this was an accident at all. This was a hit placed on my hoody."

"No!' She giggles, "I definitely wouldn't waste my alcohol trying to attack your terrible sense of fashion."

"Ouch," my lips twitch into a forced smile, which Cissnei returns. Her cheeks turn red. I face Reno for a quick second. His eyes narrowed at me. Elena now snapping her fingers in his face to reclaim his attention. And I think, with as much conviction as Kyrie's party where I felt this eruption of alien jealousy, that two can play at this game. And I can play it better. I look back at Cissnei, now twirling her finger through one of the curls. And she isn't bad looking. Some would even say, she's cute. And while she's no Aerith, with her statuesque figure, Cissnei looks like someone Cloud would hook up with under the moonlight after one too many.

I reach over to her hand which holds a red solo cup. And feel the way the small hairs on her skin rise under my touch. And how I need to swallow that sick that threatens to sputter from my mouth. I peer into her drink, "Looks like you sacrificed a bit."

She huffs, "Wah." She takes a dangerous step closer, "Say, where's your drink?"

"Just got here. Was about to head into the kitchen."

"Well," she takes my hand, "Why don't I make you a drink? You know, to make up for ruining such a great hoodie."

I know it's wrong, but I nod my head.

And I know nothing good will come from this, but I grip her hand and let her drag me towards the kitchen. And put on a smile that suggests, this is fine. Even as I flash my eyes at Reno, and the hurt on his face gives me pause.

The drink Cissnei creates tastes of gasoline. Cheap vodka mixed with flat soda. But enough sips burn my taste buds and I just allow the stale liquid fall down my throat until my vision blurs. She sits on a counter, her legs swinging, rambling about school. I watch her with feign interest. Nodding when it seems appropriate. School is the only thing we have in common. That and a lack of sports. But she's in a slew of clubs- yearbook, newspaper, debate. Student council where she's one of the two junior representatives along with Reeve. She tells me how she wants to run for Student Council president, even though everyone knows Rufus Shinra will win by landslide. Validates my suspicion that the whole system is rigged to favor the more wealthy of our population.

"It's bullshit I'm in track three," she exasperates, "I should have been sorted into track one, for real."

"Sorted," I chuckle, "this Harry Potter?"

She unleashes a high pitched laugh and slaps my shoulder playfully, "Oh my god. No. I wish. I would so be a Ravenclaw." She cocks her head and drags her eyes along my face. I'm leaning against the counter, close enough to her legs that I could glide my hands along the black fabric of her tights- if I felt so inclined. And maybe she expected it as she inches towards me. Tapping her finger against her thin, pink lips. "I think you'd be a Hufflepuff."

"Hm? And what's their deal?"

"Well," she takes a sip, her eyes twinkle against the waning kitchen light, "they're loyal, kind, modest." I now feel her foot against my jeans, and I flinch at the sudden intrusion. I don't think I'm any of those characteristics. My skin crawls, but she's blissfully unaware. "And I think Hufflepuffs have the cutest boys."

I shift and dare myself to run my fingers along her hand that rests on her lap. And I know she's smiling through her sips of alcohol. "Well, isn't that nice of you." I comment. Try to remember if I was always this terrible at flirting. I take a large gulp of my drink. The buzz rattles through my face. And my cheeks burn from the combination of embarrassment and liquor. And when she captures my traveling fingers with her own, my skin feels so fragile; I swear I'm made of glass.

A strong hand slams against my shoulder with such force it almost sobers me. I jump back and snap my eyes at the intruder. And Reno stares back with a sly smile and devastated eyes. "Just the guy I was looking for," he sings with an edge of obnoxiousness that I feel transported back to my first encounter with him.

Cissnei, on the other side of me, leans close to my ear. "Ugh, he's a Slytherin."

Reno returns a glare, "Hi, no one cares." He turns his attention to me, and I realize his hand still rests on my shoulder. "Rumor has it you're the kind of guy who can get stuff."

I tighten my jaw, push his hand off me- even though for the moment I felt full again. "What kind of stuff?"

"You know, stuff." He stresses the word and looks into my eyes. Two pearls of ocean blue that fall to my front pocket- which does hold stuff- and then back to me. And I start to pick on what he's getting at.

I shrug, "Gotta be more specific than that."

His smile turns painful, like he's crushing his own tongue. "Come on, you know…."

I curl my lips and pretend I'm deeply confused by his inquiry. And the frustration from him gives some relief to the anchors in my chest. "Hm," I cross my arms over my chest and tap my foot, "could you be talking about…" I pause for dramatic effect. Swear he looks like he's about to knock me out with the way he clenches his fist. "Weed?"

"Yes!" He shouts. Then shifts when a bunch of eyes look at his outburst. Clearing his throat, "Yeah, that."

Part of me wants to smile at how nervous, cross with angry, cross with aloof he's trying to act. And adorable is a word I don't use with sincerity often. But that's the only word I can find to describe the way his jaw clamps shut and accentuates his handsomes features. His high cheekbones and pinched almond eyes. The parts of him that make him unique. Crumbling now before me. Subtle twitches as he tries to keep himself in charge of the conversation. Adorable. Yes. He looks adorably out of place.

"No, I don't," I respond. His eyes crack first. So I continue, "but I know a guy- I'll just give you his number-"

"I would much rather you call," he counters quickly. And his voice falls next; soft yet frigid. "Since he's your guy."

Cissnei leans into me again, and I forgot she even existed. "See, Slytherins are cowards."

Reno bites like a kicked dog, "Wow, literally not fucking talking to you."

"Hey!" I bark, but wince when I see his flinch at my voice, "don't talk to a pretty girl like that." I move into Cissnei, my arm around her back. I hear the giggle and it stabs me in the ear. And I need to remind myself, this isn't her fault. And she's just responding to my cues. I'm reprehensible. And Reno, also just responding to the chill in my attitude, falters. Pleading eyes. Lips crash to a frown. Silent cries to ease up.

So I drag my tongue along my bottom lip and relent. I turn to Cissnei, "I'm going to help him out- you know, since he's new and all. Why don't you find Elena and wait for us." I throw a glare at Reno. "He's going to smoke all four of us up. Right?"

"You got it buddy," he growls.

"Awesome, pal," I retort, returning to the brown eyed girl with the excited smile. "Sounds good?"

"Sounds great!"

I pick her up to help her off the counter, she's a feather, and note Reno's tense expression as I linger just a second longer than I need to before she bounces away. Without another word, or look, I head to the broken screen door- Reno on my heels- and yank hard on the knob I almost ripped the whole thing from the hinges. I storm outside. The wind still touched with the hint of snow. Due for a blizzard any day now. And it seems appropriate that a storm brews outside the house as I make a b-line for a shed to hide behind. Going over my lines. Every word I've held back against my throat. For fear it would do more harm than good- before I ever anticipated walking in on him flirting with Elena.

I duck behind the broken shed, deep in the backyard and far enough away from wandering eyes. I swing around and face Reno, he's hands already up in defense.

"I can explain-"

"Good fucking luck," I challenge.

"I can explain," he hisses, "later."

"Fuck you,"

"Do you see how many people are here!"

"I couldn't give less than a shit. You fucked up."

His shoulders deflate. "I know."

"Oh you know."

"Do you think I want to be doing anything of this?" He gestures towards the party. "I don't even want to be here right now, but I ain't gotta choice."

"Everyone has a choice," I argue back.

And he unleashes a bitter laugh, "No. We don't."

I stare at him, waiting for him to add to that sentiment. I've talked enough. I've begged enough. He sighs like the weight of the world presses against his back, running his fingers through his hair. And I love him, sometimes more that I love myself, but I hate how he shuts down. Turns off.

"If you don't fucking start talkin'," I snap, "this is over."

"Okay okay!" He takes two steps towards me, but I take one back. "Just chill, yo. I'm trying to think."

"What is there to think about? Tell me why the fuck you were flirting with Elena!"

"Lower your voice," he whispers roughly, "Just please. I promise I will explain everything. Let's just, for now, go back to the party. Get the girls wrecked so they can't even move. And then we'll go home and we'll talk."

"So we're going to be assholes and get these girls fucked up? Why?" I question.

"So…" he shifts on his feet, cringing, "So people think we may have hooked up with them. It….just looks better."

My eyes wide, "This is incredibly fucked."

He just shrugs, unable to look at me. "I know. But we don't have the luxury of pretending these rumors don't exist, anymore."

Infuriating how he speaks while saying nothing. And my weak will ruins me. I grumble, "Fine." And he breathes a sigh of relief. But I'm all tied up; chained like a dog. All these people just running over me. At some point, I need to ask myself if I enjoy feeling so not in control.

"Do you have any weed?" He asks. His voice stitched with unnatural softness. "It's gonna look a little weird if we come back with nothing."

I feel he's reading too much into soulless expressions. But I pull out the eighth in my pocket. "sixty dollars."

"You're going to make me fucking pay?"

"With that attitude, seventy."

"You're going to price gouge me now?!"

I don't move. My face contorted in anger. He just throws his hands in the air before digging into his pocket and pulling out two twenties. "That's all I got."

"You owe me forty dollars." I slam the 8th in his hands and start walking back, ignoring his protests.

I should just leave. I keep thinking. I should walk to Vin's where I'm sure my actual friends are- my friends who won't offer me a dubious look when I roll in, eyes in turmoil, and lips shut. They're used to my default look. I play the scenario in my head like I'm giving it a second thought, when I know, as I take a seat outside and send Reno to fetch the girls, that I'm here for the foreseeable future. Because I'm exactly the word I've been writing in the margins of my notebooks for weeks.

Reno brings the girls outside. We all take seats around a patch of dead grass where a fire pit used to occupy. I face the broken screen door. The netting on the window coming undone, revealing cracked glass filthy from smoke. Reno puts me in charge of rolling the blunt while he gets beverages; telling me how good I am at that skill with a wary smile. Elena and Cissnei sit across from one another, giggling from the liquor and going on about a reality show they're both into.

He walks out of the house just as I finish breaking up the weed. The door screeching close- momentarily allowing the various party noises to break the vacant night. He balances two red solo cups and two beers in his hand.

I had asked for the toxic liquid the girls consume. Reno clearly made other arrangements. And I couldn't hide the fire when we made eye contact as he handed me the dewey Natty Ice. Watch him as he takes a seat next to Elena. Flinch when her arm brushes against his. And I want to smoke until feelings no longer exist. Until my whole body vibrates from the numb.

Both girls take a sip and scrunch their faces in unison. "Reno, this is, like, all vodka." Cissnei protests.

Reno shrugs, "No one ever complains about too much vodka."

Elena, feeling embolden I presume, takes a large gulp of her drink and fails at trying to hide her disgust. "Tastes fine to me." She gags before turning in her seat to get closer to Reno. "Thanks for getting us the weed. I told everyone you aren't that much of an asshole."

"I'm definitely an asshole," he responds with a chilly tone that doesn't go unnoticed by the blonde girl; who frowns at the sudden change in his demeanor.

"Thank Cloud for getting him the weed," Cissnei argues, "Reno couldn't even make a phone call."

I snicker and shoot Cissnei a smile. She blushes and I feel only twenty percent like shit. Ten percent when I see the enraged glare Reno targets on the red-headed girl.

"Thanks for the shout out, cutie," I roll up the crumbled weed. Cissnei offers me flirty smiles as I move the brown paper through my fingers.

"You're really good with your fingers," she comments. Reno needs to chug half his beer to stop himself.

"I play guitar," I reply.

"Plays guitar, master at rolling blunts, is there anything you can't do?"

"Oh, there's plenty I can do with these fingers, pretty girl."

Reno chokes on his beer, spitting some of it out and I can't help the laugh that rumbles in my throat. He shoots me a warning glare.

"That's so gross, Cloud," Elena scowls. But Cissnei doesn't seem to agree from the wink she offers. And I definitely feel disgusted with myself. Amused that I have Reno, now, at the edge of his seat with a fragmented expression that shatters across his face. One that mirrored mine when I first walked into the party. But a wave of guilt for his pain boils through me.

I crush it with the flame of my lighter against the blunt.

And we exchange a longing look through fire and smoke.

It doesn't take long for the girls to devolve into a mess of giggles. Reno heavy handed with the vodka coupled with the intensity of the weed, Elena becomes the first to get the spins. And ends up crawling onto Reno's lap, much to his chagrin, scream whispering in his ear that she's not afraid of giving blowjobs. Cissnei keeps fighting for conversation. We have nothing in common. She's an overachiever, I barely pass with the help of my boyfriend. She has Harvard in her sights. She knits for fun. When I mentioned video games, she grumbled about all boys care about are pussy and xbox.

Even so, she runs her fingers against my hands and asks if I'll play guitar for her one day. And I make so many false promises, I forget who I am. Reno's flirting comes off easier- his girl can't even keep her head up. Finally, after their third drink, which Elena drops after her first three sips, Reno vanishes into the house. Mumbling something about getting Rude. Elena flopped on the chair about to pass out.

Cissnei had scooted her chair as close to mine as possible. She's up against me and she smells like the Victoria's Secret in the mall. And even with my mind static, I know the meaning behind her leg brushing up against mine. I understand the words that swim across her face when she tilts her head, flashes a small smile. It's all the same. From Aerith, to Jessie, to even Tifa. Their eyes glowing with teenage want for the sad boy who offers them a blank stare in return. I think about, instead, how they must look the way I do when I'm around Reno. Then, how his name suddenly makes me sad.

I must have given her a signal because she closes the gap. Her lips on mine and I feel more than just nothing. Empty. That hole in my chest cracks open.

I jerk back.

Her brown eyes confused. "Oh, shit," she slurs, "I'm so sorry!"

Echo of the slamming door snaps my attention from her pleas for forgiveness. Reno looks between the two of us, and I can't tell if he saw what happened, or he suspects from the words cascading from her mouth.

"Rude's gonna give us a ride," he announces before walking to the half dead Elena and gathering her in his arms. "If ya'll want to bounce, now's your chance." He shoots me a pained expression. I nod in the affirmative. Cissnei still mumbles apologies as she tries to rise from her seat. Nearly tumbling over, but I offer my hand and help her.

The four of us leave through the side, Rude already next to Reno's BMW with an annoyed look cemented on his face. We throw the girls in the back seat, Cissnei with tears flooding her eyes from the combination of liquor, weed, and rejection. Elena half awake, notices her friend and hugs her with the strength of a snake while threatening to murder the one responsible. So I'm super excited to sit in the back seat with them.

Both are crashing at Elenas. The fifteen minute drive consisted of them flying into me because they refuse to put on seat belts. Then both crying over their fathers. Expression of their mutual need to vomit everywhere. Cissnei collapses on my lap, Elena practically on top of her, both snoring louder than any guy I've ever met. And I'm trying really hard not to judge, because I am 99 percent sure this has happened to me and Cid on more than one occasion. But I'm ruffled. Shooting glares at Reno from the backseat, who's busy having a quiet argument with his cousin.

We pull in front of Elena's mansion at the end of Todt Hill Road. Reno turns in his seat and actually tries to stop himself from laughing. Even when I narrow my eyes at him ready to pounce.

He pokes Elena, "Yo, Elena. Wake up, we're here."

She groans, "Where?"

"Your house. Let's go. You need to sleep it off."

She opens her eyes and shifts closer to Cissnei. "You can come inside," she purrs, "show you my bedroom. I'll be so quiet." Girl can't even keep her eyes open.

"Right, you're drunk and that's rape so," Reno cringes, "I'm good." He looks at me, "You grab yours, I'll grab mine."

Without a word I fling open the door with complete disregard for his car. Drag Cissnei out and throw her small body over my shoulder. Reno manages to get Elena out, but she's trying to make out with him so it's like fighting off an aggressive dog while dragging her towards her house. And this all would have been amusing if I wasn't playing the inevitable fight in my head. We manage to get them both inside. Drop them on the couch in the living room. Look at their drunken, broken, forms. And I think bitterly, with a curl in my stomach, had it not been Reno and I, what would the other boys in the school do with this scene.

The fight starts as soon as we slam the door of the car when I tell Rude to drop me home first. That he can take Reno wherever the fuck he's staying. Reno counters with a weak argument that we need to talk.

I can't even recall what was said in the fit of anger. Just mindless yelling at one another. I'm being unreasonable and won't let him defend himself.

He has the absolute audacity because I've given him days to talk.

I'm being dramatic.

He's being a fucking asshole. Which I called him about three times because I can't think of any other synonyms when I'm this fucking high.

Rude stops the car short, almost sending me into the passenger seat. "Yeah, I'm going to walk home. You two sound like my parents right now," he throws his cousin a look, "you fix your shit. Stop dragging me into this already." He leaves the car, not even bothering to turn it off. I admire how his cool tone counteracts the venom in his words. Now Reno has two people pissed at him.

We're down the block from my house, so I just get out of the car with Reno frantically trying to get into the drivers side. He rolls down the window while creeping next to me.

"Don't play this game with me, Cloud, get in the car." He shouts.

I laugh. "Nah, bro, I'm good on that."

"Jesus Christ, do you realize how fucking ridiculous you are being right now?"

"I'm ridiculous? I'm the one who's acting ridiculous?"

"Shit, lower your voice, why are you so goddamn loud?"

"I'm from New York, we're all fucking loud!" I shriek till my voice cracks and I want to kick something across this island.

"Calm-"

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down. I'll fucking knock your side view mirror straight off your shit car."

A memory hits me across the face. Three broken side view mirrors down New Dorp Lane while the sun rises over Hylan Boulevard. My knuckles bloodied and bruised. And this happened so many times, I can't even recall which day this was.

Reno's voice jars me from my thoughts. "You want to talk. Get in here so we can talk!"

"I wanted to talk two weeks ago! Where the fuck were you?"

He pulls over. And I stop as if on command. He's staring at the steering wheel. Shaking his head, dragging his tongue over his teeth with a defeated sigh. I notice the way his eyes now glisten against the yellow light from the street lamps that line my block.

"Please," his voice like broken glass, "I don't usually beg, man. But I'll beg if that's what you want."

I am molten rage. Hot like lava. But the surrender in his voice cools me for a moment. Long enough to get into the passenger seat with the sound of the slamming door causing him to flinch. I can't look at him like this; my eyes rest on my dirty converses instead. I'll give up the last bit of my conviction if I dared. We sit in silence. I know he's wrapping his head around the words he needs to say to keep me rooted to this relationship. And I'm wondering why I am giving him enough slack to hang himself with.

"My parents went through my phone," he begins, "I made your contact 'sugar baby' as a joke, but our texts were enough to make my parents suspicious. They...freaked out on me. Asking me who the fuck you were. If you were a girl. I told them that you were a girl from school. They want to meet 'you'. They want to make sure. They know I spend a lot of time over at your place. They're not that fucking stupid. I had to…" he takes a sharp breath, and I hear the sadness grow in his throat, "Elena is fucking annoying, but the girl is easy to impress. But even when I went to hit on her, she looked at me different.

"We haven't been subtle," he continues, "Rude's been warning me for months. Your bitch ass friend making that boyfriend comment raised a few eyebrows. Only so many times we can just say it's a joke. Guys can be friends to a certain extent, ya know. Especially when both of us come into this with rumors."

Now I look at him. He's leaning against the driver's seat, eyes wet and resting on me.

"It was, like, the first thing Rufus said when I asked about you… 'you mean that faggot, Cloud?' That's what he said." the word stings when it leaves his lips, "this is going to sound real shitty, but that's kinda how I knew I could flirt with you."

"And here I thought you had impeccable gaydar," I respond bitterly.

"Well I do," he says with a sorrowful smirk. "But I wasn't trying to rely on that after what I went through." He shrugs and looks away. "It wasn't just you. Myspace fucking sucks ass. I deleted it but not before some people saw the comments my former friends left."

"Why couldn't you tell me this?"

"I…" he pauses, "I don't know. Couldn't find the words? Shit, Cloud, I'm really not good at this." I don't know if he thinks his inability to explain himself is going to get him off the hook, but I just stare at him, waiting. I'm not buying it this time.

"I didn't want things to change," he says finally.

"Things did change," I clench my teeth, "and you gave me nothing. Nothing. How long did you think you could keep this from me? Do you know how small this island is? Did you think I wouldn't find out about Elena?"

"Tonight was literally the first night I spoke to her like that," he argues and I shoot him an unconvinced look. He doubles down. "I swear. I haven't flirted with her since Kyrie's party. Since we started getting serious. I just need people to think we're hookin' up. I just need my parents to meet her and think she's my girlfriend."

"That's never going to fucking work," I'm in between laughing and shouting at the sheer stupidity of his plan. "She's into you, babe, so fucking into you."

"You know she means absolutely nothing to me, right?"

I resent the edge in his voice. The scowl on his face.

This aura of self-righteousness.

"That's real fucked up."

And maybe he's thinking the same thing about me.

"How different is this from what you did?"

"It is different," I snap, "I stopped that shit when I met you."

He shifts in his seat so he's facing me completely. Leaning over the middle console. And with an even tone so devoid of life, it startles me, "And I really appreciate that. And I wish it could just be me and you. But if my parents even hear the whisper of me being involved with a guy, you will never see me again."

"Wha-What do you mean by that?" I knit my brows together when I look at him. His eyes petrified. Two stones threatening to fall.

"You think I care if anyone from this shit school knows I'm gay?" He sounds almost offended, "I've been out before, babe. Heard that word every fucking day. I ain't even scared of being attacked. I learned to fight a long time ago- had to. But if my parents find out, they will send me away. They've already threatened me with it twice this week.

"It's the only reason Elena is even involved. I need them to get off my back."

"Where does that leave me?" I shake my head, "how are you going to juggle a boyfriend and girlfriend? You can't."

"No, I can," he stresses, "Because Elena isn't my girlfriend, okay? She's just some chick I hang out with-"

"And fuck?"

"We haven't done that!"

I wince at how he raises his voice. "You can't keep this dual life up. We've barely made it five months together."

"And we're going to make it. I told you, you're-"

"The endgame, right," I roll my eyes, "you shit on my lines, but fuck do you weaponize yours. What do you want me to say? Do I want you to be sent away? Absolutely, fucking, not. But it doesn't look like we can avoid that if we stay together."

"We're not breaking up."

I laugh, running my fingers through my hair like I'm going to rip it out. "Okay. So. Let me see if I understand your train of thought here: You and I stay together. But you see Elena on the side so your parents don't figure out your gay and send you away forever."

"Yeah...pretty much."

I give him an incredulous look. "I don't even know what to say to you right now."

"I don't beg." he's closer to me. I can feel the coldness of his breath. "I haven't begged for shit. But I love you- every part of you- and I believe we have a future. But if you can't do this and you need to bail. I get it. But I'd rather you didn't."

I rest my body against my chair, turned towards Reno. I examine the lines of his face. How much older he looks now in the fantastic midnight. Blue light drenches his skin. Illuminating those two eyes surrounded by darkness. He glides his arm over, And like possessed I allow him to take my hand. His skin so cold from the waning winter chill, it feels like metal.

"Give me till my 18th birthday-" He continues but I cut him off.

"A year?"

"Eleven months. We did five, we can do eleven."

I drop my eyes to our intertwined fingers. How they fit. "This is a big ask."

"I know. But I can leave my family behind then, and I will, I have to." He takes my face in his hands so I am forced to look at him. "I promise."

I want to tell him not to make promises he could have no chance in keeping.

It just reminds me of my mother. Everything about this reminds me of my parents. They were young in love. Thought they understood the entire world and its beautiful complexities.

But I don't say anything. Because my tongue swells and my mouth won't open. Instead, I allow his lips to graze against mine.

And his kiss robs me of my resolve.