Step III: Admission

I can only remember one time when it's been weird between Blink and me. One time. In all the years we've known each other. And even that time, it was more-or-less a misunderstanding, back when Blink had a brief crush on my sister in eighth grade, right about when I was figuring out that I was gay – he thought I'd be weird about his crush being my sister (which I was, just a little), I thought he'd freak out about my sexuality (which he insists he never did, and I'm not so sure.). It lasted a little more than a week, with us being awkward and trying to avoid conversations. I said I had a lot of homework, Race was almost constantly at Blink's house and though we hung out in school – well, it was awkward.

And then after a week and a day, Blink was alone at home, save for his brother and I invited myself over, came out to Blink and everything was okay again. Which is strange, because really, it should've been the other way around – awkwardness after my confession – but Blink's never been traditional. Luckily for me.

Then two weeks after my big epiphany, we started getting awkward. Blink spent more time at Race's house, and he's never done that before, not more than once a week or so. At lunch he'd keep up a constant conversation with Jack or Racetrack about something, anything. One lunch he even spoke continually with David, instead of just talking to me. That isn't to say I was allowed into the conversations – he'd talk to me, but it was awkward, as if he was trying to avoid looking at me too much or something.

And of course, after a day or two of that – even in the fucking car he'd only glance at me every once in a while – I figured that he'd seen through me, that he'd – oh my fucking god – figured out that I was in love with him.

And that was freaking him out.

Of course, relying on previous experience the smartest thing would've been to talk to him about it. Get it out, as David told me repeatedly during several panicky phone calls at odd times of the day and one visit to his house. I had the weird feeling his mother was seizing me up as a potential boyfriend. And I knew that David was right, but I wasn't ready to talk about it, I mean, and it was Blink, my Blink – and what if he decided he didn't want such an awkward friendship, that he didn't want a best friend who was in love with him (at which point David hugged me and told me to tone down the drama).

Like I was going to be taking any of David's advice, and it's silly really, because usually I can think sensibly, usually I do the sensible thing, but there was nothing sensible about the situation I was in and I think that was the point David was missing. Or maybe I was missing it, I don't know. In the end, what I did was start avoiding Blink. Maybe in the back of my mind I thought if I backed off he'd forget, or something. Hell, who knows how the hell my mind works – all I know is that I started avoiding Blink as well. Those car rides to school might literally only've been ten minutes, but they felt so incredibly long, with us talking about nothing – or actually, Blink talking to the steering wheel, me talking to something out of the window and absolutely no conversation that went deeper than how-are-you's or good-game-yesterday. That kind of thing. And you know, I kept wanting to ask what was wrong, on the off-chance that it wasn't me, that something was completely, utterly wrong at home or something, but I kept getting stuck on what Blink's reaction to me might be. And then I'd forget about asking.

One week into that mess, and Jack stopped me between my 3rd period Spanish and 4th period English and asked me if I was okay. That's when I knew something was wrong – Jack's a great guy and all, a good friend, but he's not the most perceptive person, he never has been. And if he was asking me if I was okay, chances were that'd he'd already spoken to Blink and man, then the situation really was out of hand.

Then four days later, Race cornered me after lunch and just stared at me for a while.

"What do you want?" I asked, even though I pretty much knew.

"Talk to Blink already. Seriously Mush." And then he left, typical Race, figuring that I'd know what to do.

I needed to think.

And the best way to think, apart from dancing, which I don't have enough space for in my room and I refuse to do anywhere people might see me, is shooting hoops in the driveway. Even if I'm lucky to hit once for every ten times I shoot. Considering I've been doing this since I was ten, maybe younger, you'd think I'd be better at it.

My sister was the one who taught me; she's six years older than me, and as far back as I can remember, if she had an essay or a big assignment, she'd spend half an hour shooting hoops in the drive before she got started. Told me it helped her to concentrate. Times like this, I really missed her. Tessa would've known what to do about Blink and she would've let me beat her at basket. Well, okay, maybe not anymore. But she used to when I was younger. The day after she moved, Blink came over to shoot hoops with me all afternoon while I babbled about how much I missed her. He even let me tie with him and he normally he'd beat me by, you know, a million or so.

So I skipped my last two periods, hoped my dad wasn't home in the middle of the day again, and shot hoops in the driveway. The repetitive movement was somewhat calming, the running after wayward balls less so, but it wasn't helping me reach any decisions about Blink, about us. I mean, easy enough for Race to say talk to him. Easy enough…but wasn't it? I mean, it was Blink, and if I let it go a week more, my mother'd be asking about it and then she'd be talking to Blink's father.

And then Blink pulled up, one hour too early by my watch, and my decision was more or less made for me.

"Jack said you'd left early," he said, and I wondered vaguely if the three others had a conspiracy going or something – then I made myself refocus.

Blink was fidgeting, but he was looking at me and I made myself meet his eyes.

He blushed and stared at his shoe.

"Yeah. I needed to…I didn't feel so good," I told my shoes. Then I felt Blink's hand on my arm.

"You okay?" he asked, still blushing, but he looked more concerned than disgusted or awkward.

"We need to talk," I said, staring at his hand for a few seconds before looking at him instead.

Blink looked vaguely like he was going to throw up. He removed his hand from my arm and we stood awkwardly not saying or doing much of anything, until Blink cleared his throat and I said all in a rush, "come in, let's get something to eat, then we'll talk." Blink didn't look thrilled, but he followed me anyway.

Inside the house which seemed strangely quiet, we sat in the kitchen. The eating part seemed to have been dropped. I was staring at the shopping list attached to the fridge, Blink was staring out the window. Finally, he spoke up.

"Let's talk," he said.

"Okay," I agreed. And waited for him to start. When a minute had passed and he still didn't seem inclined to talk, I started.

"I'm sorry," I told him, "I totally didn't mean to. I mean…I just…I didn't mean to make you awkward. Or anything. And I won't like, do anything about it, Blink. I just…I just want my friend back. I, uh." I took a deep breath and was about to continue when I noticed Blink staring at me like I'd lost my mind.

"Why are you sorry?" he asked, "You haven't done anything. It's my fault. I mean, I'm supposed to be the straight guy, right?"

I think I blacked out a minute right about there. I mean. What? When I regained my sense, Blink was still talking.

"…and I just felt so stupid, I mean, just because you're gay doesn't mean you'll want me and I didn't want to use you to experiment, so I kissed this guy and it maybe sort of worked for me, but I still, I mean, what if you hated me and I couldn't tell anyone and I don't see myself as gay, but then again, you aren't typically gay, if there even is such a thing, but the thing is , you're you and I love you and maybe…maybe…" Blink took a deep breath and I tried to catch up, somewhere at the back of my mind admiring his ability to not run out of breath and then I noticed he seemed to have stopped completely and was staring at his hands.

"Maybe, what?" I asked, even though I thought I knew, because I had to know, because this was Blink, the most important person in my life and this wasn't allowed to be a joke or false or…

"Maybe I'm in love with you," he said.

I almost fell off my chair.