Even though I've only arrived two days ago, as soon as my bobber hits the water, it feels like I haven't fished for at least a decade. The freedom I feel in this cove, the wind in my hair, the sea lapping at my feet- It's about as perfect as it gets.

Pascal's off floating in the water a few yards out. As my bobber goes untouched, I can't help but watch him work, weaving between rocks, sinking beneath the waves, and leaping back up in an instant like a dolphin- an oyster or a starfish clasped tightly in his paws each time.

The morning sun twinkles on the waves as they lazily lap the shore. I woke up earlier than usual this morning to catch up with Pascal, who seemed to have the same idea. The fish are active most in the morning hours, so it should be any minute now before a real whopper snags itself on my line.

"Anything yet?" Pascal asks as he pulls himself over the ledge.

"Nerp."

"You tried the bait?"

"Pops told me never to waste it, so I… well I got into the habit of always saving it no matter what."

Pascal snorts. "Oh yeah, you wouldn't wanna waste any of your bait on actually catching fish… Hey, think you could pass me one of those sandwiches you packed?"

"Shore thing, bud." I reach over into my bag, grinning smugly at my pun.

He doesn't seem to notice, or my pun doesn't impress him- both reasonable reactions- and I toss him the sandwich. In a second, he's ripped off the brown paper and downed half of it in one bite.

"So, you're staying just a ways down the beach that way, right?" He asks, pointing his sandwich the way that I came from this morning.

"Mhm," I answer, staring intently at my bobber, "do you think you wanna drop by sometime? I could show you the place. It's pretty sick. I even have a playstation if you wanted to play something."

Pascal's tail starts wagging like a puppy again, and for once, he seems like he's not sure what to say.

Just under that red fur of his, I think I see some redness on his face. It must be the heat and how much he's swimming, I guess. He still doesn't meet my eyes.

"Y-Yeah dude!… What- like now? I mean, I can go now, I just- Well I don't wanna make myself a wedge in your day or anythin'…"

"Really, it's no big deal. I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want you to come, right?"

"Right. Yeah. Thanks man."

I'm about to reel in and pack up when my line jerks, and in a blink I'm almost dragged into the water. I know this instant that this is gonna be a fighter.

"Shit!" I shout, planting my feet firmly on stone, "Pascal, help me reel in!"

The line goes straight and my rod is almost bent in half, but Pascal doesn't move. In the rush, I manage to glance back and see him staring me up and down, wringing his paws like a little kid scared to pet a dog.

"DUDE."

"I'm sorry man! I'm not… Ugh!"

I feel him awkwardly wrap his arms around my front and pull me towards the back of the cove. It's hard to hold the rod with how he's grabbed me, but I'm too invigorated by the hook to yell at him further. This fish I just met a few seconds ago is now my moby dick; I am its Ahab, and I can feel through my clenched fists that this fish is losing the fight.

In an instant, I fly back and land on Pascal as a giant streak of blue and green flies out of the water, arcing straight into my arms. The fish squirms and tries to fight its way out, but I've held more than enough problem fish in my life to let this one slip away.

"Whoooo boy! A mahimahi-" I exclaim, turning to face Pascal with it locked in my arms.

Pascal's face is a few inches away from mine, and I feel his quickening breath fill the air between us. His eyes are wide in what looks like panic, and it cuts me off before I can even finish my thought.

"Uh…" Is all he says.

I raise my eyebrow. "What? I mean, yeah Mahimahi are kind of a find but they're not all that uncommon either. With this weather it was bound to ha-" I stop when I realize how close we are to each other, and I realize that this is… kinda awkward.

Before I can apologize, my paw slips, and the mahimahi's tail whips up and smacks Pascal right in the eye. Pascal rolls back, silently grabbing his face with both paws as he rubs aggressively for the pain.

"H-Holy shit- I'm so sorry! Are you ok?" Without thinking, I release my grip and rush to help him up, and before I can process it the Mahimahi flails itself back into the water, the sun shimmering on its ocean green scales just before it darts out to sea.

Pascal gets up, still rubbing his eye. "Yeah… Yeah, I'm fine."

"Here, let's get you back to the cabin- we can get some ice on that."

"Really, I'm fine."

"I insist." I give his paw a squeeze, which would be a kinder gesture had mine not been covered in fish slime. He doesn't seem to mind though, and sheepishly follows me back down the beach to my cabin.

I toss the back door open and welcome Pascal inside. Though the sun had dried him a bit on the walk, he's still leaving puddles of seawater everywhere he steps. As we pass my bedroom, I grab a beach towel and wrap it over his shoulders, to which he responds with a tiny-sounding "thanks."

Once I've gotten him to sit down in the den, I grab him a pack of frozen veggies from the freezer and wrap it in a thin towel "Does it still hurt?"

"Not too bad. The ice helps- are these green beans?"

"Yeah… dude I'm still so sorry about that."

"Hey, it wasn't your fault the fish felt like being fussy."

I laugh, if only just to fill the silence. I realize that outside of fishing and the water, Pascal and I don't have much to talk about. It's less noticeable when you have a bobber to stare at than it is now with both of us sitting awkwardly in my living room.

"So… unlucky that we lost that Mahimahi, right?"

Ugh, I wish I was better at talking about stuff that wasn't fish. Pascal only hums in response.

"Do you… Do you wanna grab a shower? Wash off the salt water and hopefully help you feel a little better."

Pascal mulls it over a moment. "I'd feel weird showering in your house while you're just… there."

"Would you prefer showering in my house while I'm not here?" I ask, raising a playful eyebrow.

"N-No I mean like- I dunno- I don't want you to just have to sit there and wait for me."

"I'll just watch TV or something until you're done. Really dude, no sweat."

"Actually, there is a lot of sweat. I walked here in the beating sun."

I blow a raspberry and lightly shove him, prompting him to stand. I show him over to my bathroom and gave him a bath towel. I offer to wash his trunks, but he turns it down- though not before his red fur deepens a few shades.

Faintly, I can hear the sound of the shower running as I sit in the den, flicking through TV channels as my legs dangle off the arm of the couch. I hear a knock at the front door and swirl around in my seat, hopping up to answer the door.

When I open it, there stands Flick, an arm hooking a tan, bread-filled basket. He's dressed differently, opting for baggy white-washed jeans and ditching his flannel jacket. For a moment he looks shocked before he recomposes himself and clears his throat.

"Hey CJ, I just uh- thought I'd bring that bread we talked about last night…"

"Flick!" I raise my hand for a fistbump, which Flick awkwardly partakes in. "Thank you so much, man- here come inside."

"I should tell you-" I say, as I butter a slice of cranberry nut bread, "another friend of mine is here right now too. He's in the shower, so he'll probably be a while."

Flick's finishing up slicing one of the loaves, and he nods in response. "Who is it? I might know him."

I remember again that Flick has lived here for a pretty long while, so that could be true.

"His name's Pascal. He's kinda reclusive though, so you might not have met him yet."

"You're right, the name doesn't ring a bell. Is he from here?"

"To my knowledge, yeah," I say, "he and I share a fishing spot. That's where we just came from actually. We were fishing this morning when I caught a monster fish- the thing whipped around and broke free from my grip, smacking Pascal square in the face. We came here for ice, but I offered to let him shower off while he's here."

"Oof," Flick responds with a wince, "it probably won't come back for a while after that, at least not if it knows what's good for it."

I gnaw on my piece of bread and get lost for a moment in the cinnamon and cranberry.

"That view is amazing." Flicks voice interrupts my thoughts.

"You should see it at sunset," I reply, "the view out on the back patio isn't all that bad either. We're totally lined up to see the sun setting into the ocean, and it's the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

"I bet it is…" He trails off, his eyes scanning my living room. I can see gears turning in his head. "Say, I know this is kind of spontaneous- but do you think I could stay until sunset? I've wanted an opportunity to try out my landscape painting, and your view from here would make a perfect muse."

"Hey, for bread like this, I would let you stay a week," I joke, "but that would be great! I gotta warn you though, my parents are out for lunch right now and will probably be back in less than an hour."

He smiles. "Not a problem at all. After all, you've met mine already. I'd love to get to meet yours."

Flick and I's conversation flows on for about a half hour more. He's the kind of person you can really get into stuff with. Like, he's aloof and a bit awkward, but he always gives an unbothered, judgment-free vibe that a chatterbox like me can really talk miles off of. It's only the wet slapping of footsteps that snaps us out of our conversation.

Pascal stands nonchalant in the hallway, a turqouise towel wrapped around his waist, and a scruffy head of damp red hair falling just above his eyes.

He looks at me, then at Flick and gives him a slow wave. "Sup, I'm Pascal."

"You can call me Flick," he responds, "I'm a friend of CJ's. He was just telling me about you."

"Had to give him some debriefing first. After all, you're quite the character," I tease.

Pascal gives a scruffy laugh and pulls up a chair at the counter. "Good to meet ya, Flick. CJ's cool, so anyone who's cool with him is cool with me."

"I'm glad you say that, cause Flick and I just made plans for him to hang out tonight and do some painting. If it's cool with him, you could hang out too if you wanted," I offer.

"Sure." Flick and Pascal answer in sync, and they both laugh at themselves.

With that settled, I look at Flick. "Do you need to grab any painting stuff from your place?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, I always keep my art stuff on me."

With that, Flick swings his backpack on to his lap and pats it. Inside I can hear the faint clicking of paintbrushes.

"Do you have enough for me too?" Pascal asks, eyeing the pack, "It's been a while since I last got to paint, and I've been itching to get back to it."

"Oh-oh-oh-oh," I interrupt, waving my arm to get their attention, "what do you guys say to a sleepover if my Mom and Pops are cool with it? It's been forever since I got to have one!"

"Yeah!" Flick answers immediately, but Pascal hesitates.

"Um… y-yeah sure man. I mean, if you're cool with it." Pascal says coolly.

"Great!" I exclaim, shoving off of my chair.

I don't really remember what all you need for a sleepover, but I make a guess and grab a few comforters from the closet in my room, along with my PS4. As I gather up all my supplies in the living room, Flick watches confusedly from his seat at the counter.

"Making a blanket nest," I explain.

I can tell I'm a bit more hyperactive than these two by the fact that they spend the afternoon watching me dart around in preparation, but I'm too excited to care.

It's another half hour of setup before my parents get home. I jump up to greet them and explain the strangers in their house as soon as I hear the doorknob click.

"So you're Flick?" Mom says, looking him up and down, "CJ told me about you. I didn't expect you to be so tall!"

"Thank you, I try," he jokes, scratching his head scales.

Dad slaps Pascal hard on the back, though he barely flinches. "So you're the resident angler here I take it? Know any good spots you could show me? I haven't had any luck yet…"

"Da-a-ad," I whine.

"Okay okay." He puts his hands up. "If you wanna hoard all the fish this summer that's cool with me."

"I'll be in touch," Pascal says with a wink. I can tell he and Pops are gonna get along real well.

Flick looks at me and gestures to my parents, who just dropped their bags in the mudroom.

"So hey, Mom and Dad," I start. They know I only address them both at once when I'm asking them something, so they try to pay attention. "Flick, Pascal and I were thinking that maybe we could… have a sleepover tonight? Flick wants to paint the sunset on the beach," I add.

Dad looks to Mom, and Mom just shrugs. "I don't see why not. Just as long as you boys don't leave a mess or anything," she laughs.

"Can we make a little bit of a mess for a blanket fort?" I push.

Flick snickers. "I didn't take you for such a baby."

"I have many sides, one of them being a big baby."

Mom interrupts. "Well, I mean if you're willing to clean it up…"

I wrap her in a hug. "Thanks Mom! We will!"

"Welp." Dad claps his hands together. "Guess I better be making enough food for all of us then, eh?"

Mom took a seat in the living room and started reading while Dad went to take a short nap before dinner. I saw Flick and Pascal awkwardly mulling around and roped them into helping me gather blankets and pillows in my room.

"So you've lived here your whole life?" Pascal asks.

Flick uses his height to shuffle some old quilts off of the highest shelf in my closet. "Hm? Oh, yeah. I live with my parents in the woods. It's a little ways away from that hiking trail just outside town."

"You ever been on the East side of the island?" Pascal asks, "I have a camper set up out there just off of Maple Grove…"

"Imagine it doesn't move all that much? Unless it can float," Flick jokes with a smile.

Pascal chuckles. "Naw… not really any cars out here anyway, so nothing to move it with. I get out a lot to camp though. Some nights I just roll out the hammock and use the warm air as a blanket."

"So a sleepover isn't all that weird for you?"

"Nope. 'Fact when he offered I was kinda excited… I don't really know all that many people around here, so it's nice to have a friend I can crash with."

I look between him and Flick, and I smile. "Well, now you have two!"

Everything was set up well before sundown. While we were originally planning on setting up a proper fort with a roof and all, I got lazy and settled for a hodge-podge pile of pillows and blankets. The other two didn't seem to mind though.

I offer to let them both borrow some of my pajamas, and while Flick agrees, Pascal insists he'll be fine in just his swim trunks. Not very surprising.

It's not long though before Dad is up and about making dinner, and by the time 6pm rolls around, we're all eating together, using the center island as a dining room table.

"—All I'm saying is that you're more likely to get bit by a dog than a shark."

Pascal and Dad hit it off way better than I expected them to, and they've spent pretty much the whole meal discussing fishing, and now- surprisingly- shark attack statistics.

Flick nudges me. "Is dinner normally like this?"

"Pop's always like this- he just has someone else to bounce off of," I answer, taking a bite out of my burger.

Dad overhears me and laughs. "What, intimidated by intellectual conversation?"

"Yeah Ceej, intimidated?~" Pascal adds with a mischievous grin.

I guffaw. "Yeah, a real symbiosis here."

"...Do you mean symposium?" Flick asks.

"Yeah? What did I say?"

He only laughs, which makes me laugh, and I feel my face going red with… embarrassment? I'm not sure, but I cover my face anyway, and Flick pats my back supportively. My face grows even hotter.

"So what are you boys gonna get up to?" Mom asks, saving me from myself.

Flick and Pascal both look at me expectantly, and I suddenly remember that I am the host.

"Uh… well we were gonna do some painting it sounded like, and then once the sunset is gone maybe watch some TV or play some video games?…" I phrase the last part as a question, looking for their thoughts.

Pascal throws up an 'O.K.' sign.

"Yeah that works," Flick replies, "I have a couple shows I could introduce you guys to."

"Oh yeah we got that uh-… that roki thing?" Pops taps his fork on his plate, trying to remember.

"Roku," Flick corrects him, "I know a couple of my richer friends have one."

"Oh did you hear that hon, we're rich now!"

Mom and Pops have a laugh together as Flick, Pascal and I scarf down the rest of our meal. I'm especially excited for tonight, and I think the others are too.

The sunset is just about to get into full swing by the time Flick and I change into our pajamas and get all of the painting supplies ready. Even now, as it hangs over the horizon, I'm in awe of the shimmering infinity of colors that fill the sky. We're all silent there on the back porch, awestruck.

"Hey, CJ, you have your phone?" Pascal asks.

"Yeah I do, why?"

"I'm just sayin' you should grab a photo, just in case we take too long to paint it."

"It's not gonna look the same is all," Flick interjects. I can see him already twirling his pencil to make out the shape of the sun in his sketch.

Even so, I turn around to take a selfie with all of us in frame- one with us in focus, then another with the sky. It's only then that I realize I'm burning daylight, and I jump to catch up to Flick's blazing pace.

I'm nowhere near as fast as him, nor as accurate, but I follow his process pretty well I think, scraping along my canvas with a pencil in the rough shape of the sunset.

"Not so hard. You want the sketch to be covered by the paint." Though he corrects me, he's understanding and patient.

Art was never really my thing- at least the non-photography arts- so I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing, but I'm getting to spend time with my friends, and that's all that's important to me right now.

I'm just finishing my sketch by the time Flick is done with his flat colors, and I hear Pascal scoot up next to me.

"Not bad at all! Nice job, Ceej." He nudges me with his elbow.

Taking a look at his painting, I see that he hasn't bothered with a sketch, or much of a plan at all it seems. His paint is watered down compared to mine and Flick's, and it shows in the way that it all blends gently together on the canvas. In the smear of the sunset's color I see the shapes of fish and what I assume is meant to be shimmering scales.

For a second, I'm confused, but honestly it's more impressive than anything I could make. He notices me looking and shows it to Flick and me more clearly.

"The colors reminded me of a dorado I had seen a few years ago, so I decided to try to make it into that," he explains neutrally.

Flick, after 20 minutes of nearly uninterrupted focus, is totally enamored with Pascal's interpretive mess. I see him squinting at it and turning his head, letting the sunlight bathe the colors in its glow. "Wicked."

Pascal gives a satisfied smile and gets back to work. Suddenly I feel very inexperienced compared to these two, a feeling I try to ignore to preserve the fun they're having.

I slather on a base coat of liquid white (something I only know from Bob Ross) almost covering my sketch, and start painting the mid-sky with orange. As I grow less and less sure of myself, I add in streaks of bright yellow and white.

The moment I'm finally able to add shape to my formless mess of a sky, I splotch down an uneven near-white yellow circle for my sun. By now the sunset is almost over. What once was a fiery orange has cooled down to a deep ocean blue as the sun dips down into the horizon for good. I didn't even get to start my water.

It's then that I simultaneously give up and realize that Flick and Pascal had already finished and are just over my shoulder watching. I jump when Flick speaks.

"For what you finished, I think you did a really good job," he says, giving me a consolation shoulder pat.

Pascal chimes in. "Tough break, but a good start for sure."

"Thanks…" I purse my lips and rinse off my brush. I can tell I'm not doing a very good job of hiding my disappointment. "Man I suck at this, don't I." I laugh awkwardly.

Flick tries to comfort me. "N-No... you don't suck; you just gotta get some practice in."

"You learned something from it, didn't you? Even if you didn't like how it turned out, you're a better artist because of it," Pascal chimes in.

I wasn't expecting him to give such inspiring advice, I'll be honest, but I think he's right. When I look at it that way, the painting doesn't look so bad. I feel like if I tried again, I could get where I'm at now in half the time.

"I'm gonna paint the stars instead," I decide.

"Not all that much to paint. Just spray some white on there and you're done," Pascal replies dryly. All of us laugh.

Pascal was mostly right about it being flecking paint and not much else, but I do it anyway, taking the time to make some slightly bigger and smaller than the others, mixing in some purples and yellows too for variety.

Flick is staring at his painting, his brow furrowed and his knuckle tapping against his lip. I finish my painting and scoot over to him.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

He doesn't answer for a moment, then sighs. "I don't know. It feels like it needs something... MORE. Ugh- the muse just isn't coming to me today, it seems."

"Are we looking at the same painting? It looks great."

Flick's painting is the kind of stuff you pay someone to make- like paintings that get used as screensavers and prints for houses. It's a gorgeous showcase of the sunset's wide range of colors, showing its brushstrokes and also blending together so well that it almost looks like he took a picture.

"Maybe, but it's not… I just copied down what I saw. I didn't leave my imprint on it. I didn't give it any style."

"Like Pascal did?"

Flick looks over at him, and then back at me before faintly nodding.

"Well… I don't know what my style is, but I just painted what I thought would be fun to paint. Maybe… maybe you could paint something you're into with the colors of the sunset?"

I can tell he's thinking as he lazily runs his near dry brush along the edge of the canvas. He taps the handle against the frame a few times before speaking. "Maybe you're right…"

Painting time comes to an end, and we all leave our canvases on the counter to dry. We scrub our hands of the paint and settle down into the living room, where Flick fusses with the roku, trying to find something we can all agree on watching.

"What about Hulu?" Pascal asks, reclining in his chair.

"Nah," Flick answers, "there's nothing good on there anyway. Maybe netflix?"

We flick through a bunch of categories, fast enough that we don't have to listen to the blaring previews that always try to play. There are a few maybes, some hard passes- but nothing yet that any of us want to watch, and it's nearly been 20 minutes of scrolling.

Eventually, Pascal stops Flick and asks him to scroll back up. I see that the row of movies he wanted to see was the pride collection they do every June, and my heart stops for a moment.

I wouldn't be worried if it weren't for the fact that he specifically went back to look at it. All at once I'm reminded of all of the "I don't have a problem with gay people, but-" conversations I've had to slog through, and I can't help but be afraid of what he's about to say next.

"Oh, nice, we get a collection now," he says, resting his arms behind his head and smiling, "glad to see things are changing."

Much to my relief, Flick laughs, "you didn't know? Rainbow capitalism is all the rage. Supporting gay people has become a profitable business venture."

"Hey whatever it takes, right?"

"Yeah."

They look at each other for a second, smiling, before they both go through the collection, reading the descriptions out loud. It's like they just spoke telepathically, and I couldn't tell what they were saying. Either way, I drop it, and join in on the movie picking.

I interrupt Flick on a lesbian rom-com. "That one sounds cute, what do you guys think?"

Pascal gives a slow nod, and Flick presses play. As the opening credits roll, Flick and I follow Pascal's suit and get comfy. I take the couch, wrapping myself tight in my fleece blanket and leaning back on my double-stacked pillows.

The movie is about two women who run off into the woods together, which is funny, because I've heard Mitzi and Cherry talking about doing the exact same thing once they both have the money for it. While neither of them are particularly outdoorsy, I get the appeal.

I'm only half paying attention though, as I am with most movies. I let myself just enjoy being around these two for a while, as I flick through my phone and tune in and out of the movie.

I send a picture I took of my painting and the sunset to Cherry, and ask her if she's seen the movie we're watching. No reply yet, so I click off my phone.

"To be honest, I could see myself doing something like this," Pascal commentates.

"What, being a lesbian?" Flick jokes.

He laughs. "Nah, probably wouldn't be any good at that- I'm talking about the survivalist stuff. I like the idea of just… checking out of it all, you know?"

"My mom said that's why she does it. She likes how the solitude gives her time to think," I add.

Flick hums. "It's also nice cause nobody is looking at you. You can just be yourself, and not have to worry about other people judging you for it."

"Aw, but I doubt anyone's judging you, Flick." I reach over to pat his shoulder.

"Thanks, but I mean… they kinda do? People have their thoughts and their opinions. I just get tired of having to guess them. When you're alone, it's just your thoughts and your opinions."

I almost mumble an apology, but Pascal chimes in.

"I feel that. I don't really think about it all that much anymore, but I know that most people think I'm pretty strange cause I keep to myself so much. At some point, you stop noticing though."

"You…" I consider not finishing my statement, but I see both of them look at me, and I get too anxious to just stop. "Well, doesn't it kinda matter what people think of you? For me, I care about what my friends and family think…"

"That's the thing, you shouldn't have to think about it," Flick says, rolling over in his blanket pile to face me. "The people you love should love you no matter what. You shouldn't have to hide something just so they keep loving you."

"Mic drop." Pascal punctuates his statement with a matching motion.

I'm silent in thought for a few seconds, and Flick turns back to the TV. Pascal is still looking at me though, as if he's waiting for my answer. My first thoughts are about how he must view me right now, how he might be judging me, and then it clicked.

"Oh…" I lean back into my pillows and look up at the ceiling. If Pascal changed how he felt about me because of one thing I said in earnest, then he wouldn't really be someone who cares about me all that much, I guess.

I look over to him, and I laugh to myself, running a hand down my face. He just grins, and I see his tail faintly wagging between his legs.

The rest of the night, I feel way more relaxed. I get a kick out of showing Pascal tiktoks and old vines I see on my social media feed, since he doesn't really use the internet all that often, and Flick always waves me over to show him, though he's mostly just lost in his sketchbook.

When the movie ends, I think Pascal might have been the only person actually paying attention to all of it. Either way, all of us enjoyed it, whether for the actual movie or the background noise.

"You said there were some shows you wanted to show us, Flick?" I ask.

I see him immediately zone back out of his sketchbook. "Oh, yeah! There's this one sci-fi show- you don't mind if it's animated, do you?"

Pascal and I have no objections, so Flick searches it up for us and starts giving us the plot synopsis. "It's about this crew of a space-station going around and making contact with aliens and stuff- I've watched the whole thing three times over. It's so good, you have no idea!"

With the go-ahead, he turns it on excitedly, and I go over to the kitchen to grab us some snacks.

I glance over at the clock to see it just turn 8:30. I nab a bag of potato chips, some cosmic brownies, and throw a popcorn bag into the microwave. Dinner two, electric boogaloo- I call it.

I'm waiting for it to start popping, and I turn to see Pascal mulling at the island and unscrewing a bottle of pop.

"Hey," he says.

"Sup," I answer.

We don't have to stand there in silence long, since the popping quickly picks up, quieting the show's opening, though we're both still watching.

"Can I have some when it's done?" He asks.

"Sure." I reach into the cabinet to grab two bowls for us.

I hear Pascal shuffling up to the counter next to me and see him jumping up to sit out of the corner of my eye. I'd think he was just waiting for the popcorn, but he speaks up.

"Do you watch a lot of movies like that?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Like romances?"

"No like… uh…"

It takes me a minute, but I get what he's asking.

"Oh." I blink a few times then smile. "Sometimes. I have a few friends who really like queer movies and recommend them to me."

"Oh, nice, nice."

I don't really know what else to say, but luckily the beeping of the microwave saves me. I pull it out and fill the two bowls.

"...You have queer friends?" He asks, tossing a piece of pop corn into his mouth.

At this point I'm not really sure what he's getting at, but I shrug it off and answer. "Yeah, I have a couple. My best friend from back home is… well I don't know if I should say what she is specifically cause that's not mine to tell- but she's really gay, just like- the general gay."

"Ah, yes, the monolithic gay," he says in his typical dead-pan.

I laugh, but take the opportunity to ask him the same. "Do you?"

"Have queer friends?"

"Yeah."

He stops chewing on his popcorn for a second before speaking. "Don't think so. I mean… unless you are…"

"M-Me?" I ask, trying not to sound confused. "Uh… No- nah I'm straight."

There's nothing wrong with being gay or trans or anything under the LGBTQ umbrella; I remind myself of that all the time, but I still feel that pressure to make myself look straight, so it takes me off guard when people don't assume.

"What about-… what about you?" I ask, trying not to look too nervous.

He stares at me for a second and blinking a few times before snapping back to the conversation. "Oh, me? Yeah- I'm gay."

He says it so nonchalantly as he takes a sip of his drink, though I can hear he lowered his voice. It makes me feel kinda cool, like it's a secret that I get to be in on.

I grin. "Cool, I'm glad you can tell me."

"Nothin- to it," he says, "I don't tell people all that often, so-"

"-I won't say anything," I interrupt, making a zipper motion on my mouth.

He puts up a fist, and I accept the fist bump, ending it in an explosion. We both stand there laughing before I realize that we're missing the first episode, and I drag Pascal back over.

As we watch, I find myself looking over at Pascal more for some reason. Maybe it's just the fact that I know he's gay now. I don't wanna be weird about it, but I've never had a gay guy friend before, and for some reason it makes me excited- like he must have a totally different perspective I've never heard before.

He catches me staring once, and I try to play it off by acting like I was going to ask if he wanted more popcorn. After that I just try to focus on the TV.

We're a couple episodes in by the time we reach a good stopping point, and I grab the remote to stop the autoplay.

"You and I are gonna have to pick up where we left off sometime soon here, Flick. I loved it!" I say.

"Y-Yeah sure!" He gives me a small smile. "I'm glad you like it. I haven't been able to get anyone else to watch it with me."

This time, Pascal's the only one who isn't super invested. He dozed off at some point during the second episode, and Flick and I have just been going back and forth, me asking questions that he jumps to answer between making doodles in his sketchbooks.

Pascal's already sound asleep without any bedding in the reclining chair, I sprawled myself out within the blanket fort, and Flick has camped out on the couch.

With a yawn and a stretch I rise to my feet and turn out the lights in the living room, leaving a nightlight on in the kitchen in case anyone wakes up. As I go over to the lamp next to Flick though, I stop.

"Oh-" He says, just noticing that I moved, "you can shut out the lights, I think I'm done."

He hesitates for a second, looking at me, then his sketchbook held tightly to his chest. It's only a second though, and he holds it out for me to see.

It's just as gorgeous as his painting was, but this time the sunset has shape, like Pascal's- but more refined with a clear vision. The sun is replaced with a white firefly, whose glowing tail dips into the water, its dark body blending into the deep blue sky left behind; above glows a few others, fading into the stars.

"You added your flair!" I put my hand up for a high-five, and he cautiously accepts.

"Thanks… I was thinking about what you said, and I know that fish is your and Pascal's thing, so I tried to think what my thing was-"

"-And you thought bugs?" I interrupt.

"… I should have much sooner, but… yes. Bugs. And I was thinking- I know that when people think of the sun, the bug they think of is a beetle, but I wanted to try a different kind of bug more local to here."

"Why would people think beetles?" I ask, squatting down to the floor next to him.

"Oh, right, not everyone obsessively read that egyptology book in middle school. Khepri was the beetle god of the sun."

"That explains so much."

"Oh pff-" He hits me with a throw pillow.

"I was a greek mythology kid myself."

"You mean you read Percy Jackson."

I giggle, surprised at how quick he is. "Maybe."

We stare at each other in silence for a moment, the smile still on my face, until I worry about it being too long and I deflect back on his art.

"But yeah, really great. I'm glad you found your… voice?"

"That's one way to put it. I always call it my muse," he hums.

I flip the switch on the lamp as I hear him carefully putting away his colored pencils. I step carefully over my scattered bedding and and plop back down under my couch cushion tent, letting the cool evening breeze blow through my fur.

Despite only being here a few days, I feel like I've definitely gotten closer to these two than I have to anyone in a long time. Maybe I'm just lonely. I mean- aside from Cherry, I don't feel like I have anyone I can really just be my whole honest self with. These two though… I feel like maybe we'll get there someday, and it makes me smile.

Before bed I scroll through my texts again. Cherry reacted with a heart and told me to have fun with the movie, which makes me smile.

This was fun, and I'd like to do more like this if I can. Even if not all of us together, it's nice to have the company of someone else my age- not that my parents aren't great. I'll plan some more stuff like this, I think to myself.

As my train of thought starts to slow down, I feel my eyelids drooping, and I fall into a nice, albeit snore-y sleep.