The road is empty and open, a flat, lifeless black expanse flanked by green and brown streaking by on both sides through the windows like brushstrokes, painting the sky as if God were one of the great Impressionist masters.
From the radio, a gentle guitar riff floats out just loud enough to block out the thoughts of Victor along with the incessant clicking noise that pierces the air whenever Benji's driving—he hasn't had the money to take it to get checked out and his own tinkering only made it worse—but whatever, it still works. For now. Even if he has to lie to his friends and say he doesn't have a car, it's still better than letting them see the piece of junk he has to drive.
Benji sniffles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand as he sighs and slows down, brakes squeaking and vibrating against the wheels—perhaps that's another thing worth checking out—and he turns down the familiar street in Creekwood lined with apartment blocks, many littered with curly, white, exaggerated letters on the sides and pieces of the outer walls missing and broken windows covered with blue tarps and cardboard taped in their place that Benji knows will stay up for months.
The bit of grass outside is overgrown and brown, pieces of paper and cigarette butts embedded within it. Benji can't help the grimace that curls his lip as he pulls into an open spot on the side of the road, parallel parking outside one particularly run-down looking building that's six storeys tall, its exterior dark and mossy.
When Benji exits the car and slams the door a little too hard, he yelps as the mirror clatters to the pavement, shattering all over the street. He groans, running his hand down his face as he writes himself a mental note to fix that at some point before he leaves.
Staring at the ground for a second, Benji's shoulders sag as he just leaves the glass because he knows it won't detract from the fact that his neighborhood is a shithole, and he opens the trunk, pulling a duffle bag and his guitar case out and being a bit more careful on closing it this time around before he locks the car from the outside—not that he needs to, because he wouldn't be mad if someone just took it, although he also knows no one would even want it.
He slings his bag over his shoulder, guitar in hand, and treks down the sidewalk with weeds growing between the cracks, opening the door to the building and letting the heavy metal door fall closed with an echo through the red-tiled interior that also happens to smell of mildew and stale air and concrete.
The sound of stomping and heavy breathing serves as a soundtrack to Benji's ascent to the third floor. Once he arrives, he takes a moment to breathe, unzipping his jacket and leaning over with his palms on the fronts of his thighs before he swallows, takes a deep breath, and knocks.
For a moment nothing happens, and then the sound of movement approaching startles him. Benji stands up straight, stepping back as the door swings open and a short, blonde woman greets him.
"Hey, mom."
"Hey, honey, don't you look nice," Benji's mother, Alice, says, hugging him and giving him a kiss on the cheek as she pulls him into the apartment.
"Thanks," Benji says with a small smile as he sets his things on the floor and removes his jacket, then kicks his shoes off. "I missed you."
Benji's father, Richard, appears in the doorway and hugs him stiffly; Benji wonders if it's just because his mom is right beside them. "Good to see you, son. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you're still wearing women's clothes."
Rolling his eyes, Benji scoffs. "Wonderful to see you, too, Dad. And what's wrong with women's clothes?"
"Nothing. I'm just saying that since we already know you're, you know… gay, you don't need to advertise it to the whole world, right?"
"Leave him alone, Dick," Alice says, emphasizing the diminutive as she narrows her eyes and smacks him on the arm. "You know how fashion changes over time. This is the style now."
"Yeah, it's gender neutral since, you know, it's just a piece of fabric," Benji says bluntly. "You know men used to wear high heels and dresses back in the day."
"Jeez, I can't say anything without you two jumping on me, huh," Richard says, clicking his tongue. "What happened to my First Amendment right? Free speech, remember that? Of course you don't, college is full of liberals who just wanna censor anyone who doesn't agree with them."
Lip twitching, Benji eyes Alice, who shakes her head. "Free speech doesn't mean you're free from criticism, just means the government can't arrest you, Dick. We've been over this," she says gently, patting him lightly on the shoulder. "But enough of this. Benji, you must be hungry. Come sit down. Tell me how things went at school."
Benji shuffles into the kitchen, pungent with the scent of chili, which is right beside the main doorway. Across from the kitchen is a little sitting room that opens to the balcony, where Benji can see the clothes flapping on the clothesline as they dry in the afternoon sun, right across from where Richard sits, passed out in front of their little television in his green cloth armchair that Benji can't recall not seeing as he grew up. Down the small corridor are two tiny bedrooms and a bathroom that doubles as the laundry room.
"So… talk to me," Alice says, yawning and grabbing a bowl from the cupboard.
Shrugging, Benji leans against the counter, eyes downcast. "Not much to say, honestly. I'd rather hear about what's been going on here without me."
"Same old, same old," Alice says as she ladles some chili into a bowl and sets it on the table before she sits down on one of the old rickety wooden chairs and motions for him to sit beside her. "I made this vegan just for you. Meat's expensive, anyway."
"Thanks," Benji says, grabbing a spoon and digging in. He eats quickly; he had, as usual, skipped breakfast that day, but he won't tell his mom that.
"Are you sure everything's okay, sweetie?" Alice asks, leaning her head on her hand and letting her other hand rest on Benji's arm. "You seem… kinda down."
Glancing over his shoulder to see his dad sleeping in his armchair, Benji rises from his seat, letting his mom's arm fall away. He washes his dishes, setting them on the drying rack before returning to his spot and leaning forward on his elbows.
"I guess I've just been… really tired," Benji lies, exhaling loudly. "This semester has been pretty tough."
"Oh, honey, c'mere…" Alice says, bring Benji's head to rest on her shoulder. "Why don't you take the next few days to rest, don't worry about cooking and doing all that other stuff, even though I do miss your food."
"Don't be ridiculous, mom. I can still do stuff, I'm not just gonna sit around and have you wait on me."
"All right… I can also tell Mrs. Brandeis and Mrs. Jackson you won't be available to babysit, if you want."
"It's fine, really, mom. I need stuff to do, anyway, otherwise I'll just be bored over the break. I also start at Brasstown again tomorrow because I could honestly use the money, too," Benji says, neglecting to mention the fact that he basically subsisted through the semester on ramen, convenience store food, and things he'd snuck out of the dining hall in the handful of times he went there, and half of those times Mia had swiped him in. "Plus, you know what dad always says—"
"Since when did you care about what your dad says?" Alice muses, brushing the hair away from Benji's forehead.
"He may be wrong most of the time but that doesn't mean I don't care what he thinks," Benji retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.
Alice giggles. "Anyway… did you get the early shift at Brasstown so we can see each other before I go to work?" she asks.
"Yeah. And I can't believe you're still working the night shift."
"It pays the bills, and I want you to have some spending money!"
Benji gives her a tight-lipped smile, because he doesn't want to tell her that he used a lot of the money she'd given him to buy clothes at the thrift store, and the rest to buy himself a new Fender. Well, a new second-hand Fender, of course. There's no way in hell he can afford one that's actually new.
Body relaxing against the warm solidity of his mother's presence, Benji allows her to wrap her arm around his shoulder as they chat a bit longer, Benji's dad snoring across from them as they quiet their laughter so as to not wake him. Soon Benji recuses himself in his room as Richard eats dinner in silence before he goes to work for the night; Alice takes a nap before her shift at the store, leaving Benji alone.
He soon realizes the mistake he made in going to sit in his room on his own, stomach dropping, the sensation of longing tugging at his innards, threatening to tear the tissue of his organs to shreds. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Benji pulls out his phone and opens Grindr as he rolls onto his stomach on his bed, feet accidentally kicking the wardrobe standing sandwiched edge to edge between the back wall and the bed
Frowning, he scrolls and scrolls… and scrolls… through all the options of men he can hook up with nearby. He can't invite them here, he reasons, even though he also doesn't care about what some strangers think of him. Benji isn't actually embarrassed about the giant posters of a young Leonardo DiCaprio and Noah Centineo he hung right beside each other over his bed, that he'd worn the ink off with how many times he'd practiced kissing them. He's grateful his mother never paid it any mind.
After scrolling for a few minutes and realizing that absolutely none of these guys are catching his eye, he groans. They're all too far away, he decides. Even with no one around to hear his internal monologue, he's still lying. Without thinking, he goes to Instagram, scrolling through pictures of the vast blue ocean and plush, white sandy beaches where people are on vacation. He rolls his eyes, flipping onto his back, phone hovering over his face.
As he scrolls down further, one post in particular incites a swift punch in the gut, knocking the breath from him and setting him on fire simultaneously, and he drops his phone directly on his nose, swearing as he massages it, a lone tear stinging at the corner of his eye. That lone tear multiplies quickly, and soon the floodgates open as he blinks and picks his phone up to peer at Victor's smiling face as he sits with his arm around a girl with a cascade of dark, wavy hair dressed in black and wearing a neutral expression.
Shit, that's right; Benji had forgotten to unfollow Victor. But as usual, something stops him from doing that now.
He can only stare, roving over the disheveled dark brown hair that Benji remembers being so soft, and how it would tickle his hands when he went to pull it; he thinks of those wide, shining, expressive eyes that remind Benji of a baby deer and he wants nothing more than for Victor to look at him while they have sex, to feel his gentle gaze on him and to feel warm from the sensation of simply knowing that Victor wants him and that he'll be nothing but kind to him and take care of him after. He misses the sound of his own name on Victor's tongue, misses his voice. Hell, he misses him.
Benji feels like an idiot as he covers his face with his forearm to block the sound of his sobs so his mom doesn't hear and awaken, since she needs to be rested for work, as her shift starts soon. But as always, he doesn't want to be there; he wants the dilapidated cage around him to disappear. He tells himself he only needs to endure it for a few weeks but that barely does anything to console him. And so he goes to sleep because he knows that's the only thing that can help him in that moment.
The days pass quickly as Benji puts in as many hours as he can at Brasstown, as he does whenever he's home on break, coming home in the late afternoons to a quiet apartment with creaky joints from standing all day as he goes to prepare dinner. Sometimes he brings home some food from Brasstown but not much lately since people have started snitching on each other and he would rather not get caught.
After work he would babysit for the neighbors as he's done since he was in high school because they like him and pay well and for the most part; the kids aren't complete monsters most of the time, especially when he whips out his guitar and shows them how to play some chords.
And once the kids go to bed, he gets a few sketches done as he sits quietly in the tiny living room; he wonders when his hand will tire of drawing those wide, shining eyes, that dark hair with the faintest of curls, and who can forget the dark spot on his cheek… Benji knows he'll have to start a new sketchbook soon, but he wonders if maybe he has another problem.
Sometimes afterward he even has a few hours to see his friends, but soon realizes how little they have in common, with some of them already engaged and planning for their future after college; Benji hasn't gotten to that point yet. He's barely planned what he's going to make for dinner tomorrow. He still sees them sometimes, though, because in the end, he'll do anything to keep himself out of the apartment, crawling back only to pass out until the next morning when the cycle begins again.
Benji knows he sounds like a fucking nerd when he says he can't wait to go back to school. And he'd never been more grateful that he has scholarships to pay for his expenses because he doesn't know if he would be able to handle work on top of school.
The only good part of being home is the few hours he spends with his mom. The rest… not so much. Perhaps they could have had a better living situation but the fact is that Benji's parents are still paying off medical bills from his dad's accident a few years back. But Benji knows it isn't his fault.
One day after Christmas, on a particularly cool day, Benji is subsumed with the small crowd that gathers in the queue to the counter at Brasstown, shouting out orders for customers as one of his colleagues whips them up and pours them into red and green and blue holiday-themed paper cups with little snowflakes and snowmen on them. At the end of the line, the face that he'd drawn more times than he could count appears before him, and his breath hitches in his throat as he looks away, the eye contact alone enough to stir the hot, bubbling cauldron within him.
He puts on his best fake smile and his customer service voice as Victor gazes up at the menu; Benji knows he's only pretending to read so he doesn't have to look at him. But he can't, either; he can only look past Victor's face as he speaks.
"Hi, welcome to Brasstown. How can I help you?" Benji says, scaring himself with how easily he can swallow his pain and strengthen his facade.
Victor's Adam's apple bobs before he unglues his eyes from the menu. "Hi, uh… can I get a… medium vanilla mocha, please?"
"Sure, coming right up," Benji says with a huge forced smile. "Gimme a second."
Benji slips away from the counter and taps his colleague, a tall girl with long dark hair and strong eyebrows called Lana, on the shoulder. "Hey, can we switch for a second?" He whispers in her ear.
Lana frowns. "Why?"
"Just… because. I need this for a few minutes. And the guy at the counter already paid so just take the person after him," Benji lies as he takes a cup from the stack and a pen.
Rolling her eyes, Lana complies. "You owe me, Benji."
She goes to the counter and waves Victor away to the pick-up area as he approaches with money in his hand and a raised eyebrow; Victor pockets the money as he narrows his eyes. Meanwhile, Benji scribbles a note on the cup quickly as he waits for the coffee to brew. It reads:
"Dear Victor,
I just want to say I'm sorry. My shift ends in like fifteen minutes so it would be cool if we could actually talk face to face and then I can give you a real apology. You don't have to accept it but I think you deserve it after how I treated you.
Love,
Benji ?￢ﾀﾝ
Sighing, Benji pours the coffee into the cup and puts a lid on it before stepping up to the counter and handing it to Victor.
"Here ya go. It's on the house," he says with a nod, and Victor takes it with an unreadable expression.
"Thank you. Bye," Victor says as he turns to leave, stopping right before the door and turning on his heel.
Victor sits down at one of the tables in the corner and sets his coffee in front of him, glancing up at Benji, whose eyes flit to him for a moment. Benji can feel his facial muscles straining from the way his lips stretch into a wide smile—a genuine one this time—as he returns to the register to take more orders.
Once he finishes his shift, Benji rushes to remove his apron and his uniform before returning to his civilian clothes and making his way over to the table where Victor is sitting scrolling through his phone, pulse racing quick enough and with enough force to barrage through the wall. He slips into the seat across from Victor, making him jump.
"Hey, thanks for waiting for me," Benji says, watching as Victor pockets his phone and takes a sip of his coffee.
Peering at him over the top of his cup, Victor sighs before putting it down. "It was weird not seeing you around lately."
"I know… And I wanna say I'm sorry for how I ended things. It wasn't right of me to just make that decision after I just straight up ignored the boundary we both agreed on," Benji says, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater. He's dressed more casually than usual; he hadn't expected to see anyone he knows.
"Well… I appreciate that. Thank you," Victor says, taking another sip of coffee as he stares down at the table.
"Also… it wasn't true when I said I didn't want to see you again. I guess I'm just… not used to letting people in. But I like being your friend."
"I like being your friend, too," Victor says before he exhales loudly. "But to be fair, I did also kiss you back."
"Now that you bring that up…" Benji says with a soft chuckle, cheeks heating up as he takes note of the space between their hands, large enough that a few molecules could fit. "I didn't wanna say it, but it's good you did."
"Well, I should have stopped it. So it's hypocritical of me to be upset at you for crossing the boundary when I was encouraging it," Victor says, pensive. He makes eye contact with Benji for a moment, irises vibrating. "I couldn't stop it because I liked it too much."
"Oh."
Benji swallows, pressing his lips together into a tight line, the heaviness of Victor's gaze and his words pushing down on him as if they intend to stack more and more of themselves atop him like rocks on his back until he collapses to the ground. The weight of that admission almost accomplishes that already, but Benji rights himself.
"Yeah…"
"So… where do we go from here?"
"I don't know."
"Well…" Benji says, running his hands through his hair and staring up at the ceiling. "I wasn't even expecting to have an opportunity to run into you again and say what I needed to say to you so this is all really just off the cuff."
"For the record, though, I forgive you, if that's any consolation."
Smiling, Benji sits up a bit straighter. "Thanks. That was fast."
"Oh, god, I'm horrible at holding grudges. I mean I basically forgave you as soon as I left your place."
"Huh... " Benji says, raising an eyebrow. "Me, too, usually. Although I will say the whole thing with Mia has brought out an ugly side of me that I… don't really like," he adds, feeling his mood sour again as he slumps over and plops his head on his hand as he rests his elbow on the table.
"Well.. do you want friend advice or 'I wanna fuck you so I'm gonna say what you wanna hear' advice?" Victor asks.
"The first option, please. I'm tired of people lying to get in my pants."
"Have you tried apologizing to her?"
"No, she started it," Benji says, crossing his arms over his chest. "I just left her alone."
Victor tilts his head, eyelids hanging low. "Maybe she also didn't know how to approach it but unless one of you stops being stubborn, nothing's gonna change. And you shouldn't just count on her to put in all the work, regardless of who started it."
"You're probably right," Benji grumbles. Victor takes a sip of his coffee, grinning and leaning back in his chair.
"I'm just saying… there's no sense losing your best friend because of something like that. You two just need to talk."
"Okay, you already proved your point, I get it," Benji says, shaking his head as his lip curls up on one side. "Anyway… thank you. For taking the time to talk to me. And for being so cool about the whole thing."
"No problem. I honestly didn't even know you worked here."
"It's just on breaks from school so I can grind and save up money for food during the semester," Benji says with a sigh, "and now I have to go home and do shit around the house. So I probably won't see you til the semester starts."
"That sounds rough," Victor says, eyebrows knitting together in concern.
Benji shrugs. "Eh, I'm used to it. School is chill in comparison."
"Well, I'm gonna go home and try to keep my sister and mom from killing each other, which is always fun," Victor says, sarcasm lacing his voice.
"Oof, good luck with that," Benji says, as he rises from his seat and leads Victor out the door.
"I'm going down this way, so… see ya. But, I would like to see you again. At some point."
Chuckling and not caring about the repeated fluttering tickling the inside of his ribs, Benji lifts himself up on his toes and kisses Victor on the cheek. "See ya around."
With a wave, Benji turns in the opposite direction, glancing over his shoulder after a moment to see Victor doing the same, before he returns him, a smile plastered to his face. When his mom asks him what's gotten into him, taking note of his chipper attitude, he can barely contain himself.
"Aww, I'm so glad he makes you happy, sweetie. This Victor boy sounds so perfect," Alice says, swooning, as she sits down at the table to eat, hair wrapped up with a white towel on top of her head.
"Well, I don't wanna call him perfect, but… yeah he kinda is," Benji says, a goofy smile contorting his face. He shuffles down to the entrance of the kitchen and calls: "Dad, dinner's ready!" before returning to the table.
"So, wait, are you two together or what's the story?" Alice asks, taking a spoonful of some lentil stew that Benji had prepared and blows on it before putting it between her lips.
"Not exactly, we're not putting any labels on it or anything yet."
"Hmm… okay. Well, if you do decide to do anything, just make sure you use condoms—"
"Mom, please, I know," Benji says, burying his face in his hands. "We don't need to have 'the talk', I'm a grownup." If only she knew...
"What's this I hear about using condoms?" Richard says as he enters the kitchen, sitting on the opposite side to Benji.
Choking on his stew, Benji glares at Alice as she pats his back gently.
"Oh, I was just telling mom about this guy I like, that's all," Benji says once he'd finally regained his composure.
"Well, we're not sending you to that school to think about hooking up with boys, you know that, right?" Richard says as he stirs the contents of his bowl. "You're there to study so they don't take your scholarship away."
"I know," Benji says, rolling his eyes. "I get good grades."
"Dick, please. You don't need to throw a fit whenever he talks about liking someone," Alice adds.
"All's I'm saying is you're already wasting time getting that useless art degree so you better be the best damn artist in the world once you're done with it," Richard says.
Bristling, Benji stares down at his bowl and says nothing.
"God, I need a cigarette," Alice says, rising from her seat and opening one of the drawers under the kitchen counter and pulling out a box and a lighter. She opens the window before pulling out a cigarette from the box and lighting it, then tosses the box back into the drawer. "Do you really think berating Benji is gonna make him change his mind, Dick? You're constantly on his case for something, and you wonder why he never wants to come home to see us."
Benji spoons more stew into his mouth and chews without much vigor. He misses the days when his parents would close themselves in their room and have their fights in private.
"You give him too much free will, Alice. Maybe if we'd been stricter, he would be going to do something that's actually useful, like law or medicine. You know, something that can actually make money," Richard replies.
"Ya'll know I'm literally right here, right?" Benji says, voice wavering. "Not everyone is cut out for those professions and I shouldn't have to defend myself for my choices every time I come home."
Alice takes a long draw from her cigarette before putting it out in the sink. "You're right, honey. It's not our choice to make."
"Well, maybe it should have been. Then maybe he wouldn't be parading around the town in women's clothes and being irresponsible—"
"Dad... can you not?" Benji says, tired of the same spiel.
"Then stop being an embarrassment to this family!" Richard all but shouts.
The words feel like a punch in the stomach as Benji's stomach drops into his feet, the sting and burn of shame filling his core as if he'd just stuck himself with nettle. Benji stands, saying nothing in response as he runs out of the kitchen.
"Dick, what the hell is wrong with you?" Alice roars in response, but it's too late. "Benji, wait!"
He slams the door behind him and locks it before collapsing against it in a heap with his face in his knees, smearing his jeans with his tears. Down the hall, he hears the indistinguishable words of his parents as they continue their verbal sparring match without him.
But soon Benji tires of the shoebox that is his room, the walls feeling as if they're creeping toward him ever so slowly with the intent to compress him. Once the screaming dies down the house is quiet again, with Benji's dad all but throwing the front door closed as he leaves. After a few minutes, Benji retreats from his room, passing by his mother, who stands hunched over the kitchen sink with another cigarette in her hand, not paying him any mind as he slips his shoes and jacket on.
"Are you okay, mom?" Benji asks, and Alice turns, wiping her face with her wrists, her blonde hair sticking to her sweaty forehead.
"Yes, baby, I'm fine. Are you okay?" she asks, pulling Benji into a hug and kissing him on the forehead.
He knows she's lying for his own sake. "I… don't know. I think I'm gonna go outside for a bit. I need some air."
"Okay. Stay safe, honey. I'm gonna go to work in a bit but I'll see you tomorrow."
"Bye. Love you."
"Love you," Alice echoes.
Benji trudges down the stairs to the ground floor before shoving the door open to the outside and letting the winter air caress his skin like an icy cloak. He shoves his hand in his pocket and withdraws his phone, opening the message thread between Victor, which had sat abandoned for a few weeks.
"Hey, are you busy?" he writes.
"No, why??" Victor responds immediately.
"Do you wanna come to my place? I need someone to talk to?"
"Sure omw. Text me ur address pls?￢ﾀﾝ
He sits down on the stoop, resting his head on his fist as he stares down the road to where the trees fold together, intertwining until linked hands become a chain becomes a single black point of saturation in the distance.
Soon he sees the familiar figure growing from afar, and he can see Victor absolutely booking it toward him. When he arrives, out of breath, he sits down beside Benji on the stoop, their shoulders pressing together in a way that feels more like home to Benji than the apartment building behind him.
"Hey!" Victor says.
"Hey. I didn't expect you to run to see me," Benji says with a chuckle. "Do you want some water? I can get you some…"
"It's fine," Victor says with a wave of his hand. "You messaged me at the right time. I was getting my ass handed to me in Monopoly."
"Oh. You could have told me you were busy, I don't wanna keep you away from your family."
"There are some things that are more important," Victor says, gaze soft.
Benji bites his lip to suppress a smile as he knocks Victor in the arm with his elbow. "That's so cheesy but appreciated."
"What happened?" Victor asks, tone serious all of a sudden.
Taking a deep breath, Benji fidgets with his fingers on his lap. "My parents got into a fight again and my dad basically called me an embarrassment, which was… I'm not gonna lie, it hurt a little."
Victor rests his hand on Benji's back. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I just… don't really have anyone else to talk to about this right now. I don't feel like anyone else would understand."
"I get it," Victor says, rubbing his back gently. "That's really mean of your dad to say that, though."
Nodding, Benji fills Victor in on the details, and Victor listens intently.
"If it's any consolation, I also had to deal with my parents constantly fighting before they separated and I know how shitty it can be when they take things out on everyone around them when they're unhappy. It's unfair and you don't deserve it," Victor says. "I know this is a bit of a different situation but just know that what your dad said isn't true."
"Thanks. Like, I knew he didn't agree with a lot of my choices but like… I feel like he was being lowkey homophobic, too. It's like everything I do wrong comes back to the fact that I'm gay, which is ridiculous."
"What the hell?" Victor says, body tensing as he slips his arm around Benji's shoulders. "That's awful."
"Mhm. Thank goodness my mom was there because I don't know what I would have done if both my parents were on the same page or if I'd been alone. But anyway…" Benji says with a sigh and an air of finality. "Thank you for listening to me and I'm gonna try to not like. Constantly put my problems on you but I feel sorta alone lately."
"It's okay," Victor reassures him, kissing Benji on the cheek. "I appreciate you trusting me."
"At least I get to go back to school in a few weeks and not have to deal with this nonsense for at least a little bit…"
Just then, the door behind them opens and Alice exits, jumping when she sees Benji and Victor sitting on the stoop together.
"Oh… Hi, love. Am I interrupting something? Benji, is this—"
"Mom, this is Victor," Benji says with a soft smile as Victor stands to greet Alice with a handshake, but she embraces him instead.
"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Campbell," Victor says politely.
"Oh, please, call me Alice," she says, before turning to Benji and whispering: "Make sure you feed him. He seems like a nice boy."
Benji's face grows warm again. "Don't worry, I will," he says, before looking to Victor and saying: "Do you wanna come inside? I made lentil soup."
"That… actually sounds really nice," Victor says.
"Well, I'm off, you two. Make sure you use prot—"
"Have fun at work, mom!" Benji says loudly, cutting her off.
"Bye, Mrs. Camp—I mean, Alice! It was good meeting you!"
"Bye, boys! Love you, Benji!" Alice says, as she disappears around the corner.
—
Victor opens the door to his own apartment, slipping inside. Outside, it's dark, the still midwinter air chilling him through the fabric of his jacket nonetheless. Within the apartment, the heat engulfs him, wrapping Victor up like a blanket of small coals as he enters, only to see that he isn't alone.
"Hey, mijo. I wasn't expecting you to be gone so long," Victor's mother, Isabel, says, her dark brows scrunched together in worry on her lined face, her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She sits in her flannel pajamas on the couch, elbow resting on a stack of pillows, knees curled up to her chest; she mutes the television..
"Hi, mom. I just uh… my friend had a little bit of a thing and needed someone to talk to," Victor says, removing his jacket before he sits down beside her. "I wasn't expecting him to give me dinner, too."
"Friend, huh?" Isabel asks, making room beside her as she tilts her head to the side. "Is this the basketball player or the artist?"
"The artist. Benji. And I have a few friends who play basketball so you have to be more specific," Victor says, pressing his lips together and looking past her, before continuing. "He was having some trouble at home. I didn't know he lived a few blocks past Brasstown."
"It was nice of him to give you dinner and I'm glad you were able to talk with him. Adrian ended up cleaning us all out after you left," Isabel says with a soft chuckle. "But if you wanna talk more about your… friend, let me know."
Rolling his eyes, Victor nods. "I will."
"Is he cute, at least?"
"I mean… yeah. I can show you a pic," Victor says with a laugh, his face growing hot as he pulls out his phone and taps around. "This is him," he says as he shows Isabel the photo he'd taken of Benji playing his guitar on his bed and smiling at him.
Of course, this was a few moments before Benji got so frustrated with Victor roasting his song choices that he almost threw his guitar aside before pulling Victor down on top of him by the front of his shirt. But Isabel didn't need to know that bit.
"Ohh, he is, you have good taste," Isabel says, hand over her heart. "Good taste in friends," she adds, knowing. "I hope you bring him over one day so I can meet him."
"We'll see," Victor says, giving her a hug. "Thanks, mami. I think I'm gonna head to bed now, though. I love you."
"Goodnight, mi amor. Get some rest, okay?" she says, patting Victor on the shoulder before he rises and pads down the corridor.
He sighs as he goes toward his room, only to be stopped by a sharp, piercing psst, like a cat hissing at him from down the hall.
"Yo, Vic," his sister, Pilar, says, standing in the doorway to her room clad in a My Hero Academia t-shirt and red plaid pants. She pulls him in and shuts the door behind them. "Where were you?"
"I went to see Benji."
"Oh, so you two are talking again?"
"Yeah, he apologized for everything and now we're friends again, I guess. We had a good chat."
"That's really interesting…" Pilar says, sitting down on her bed and patting the spot beside her for Victor to sit down. "You accepted his apology fast, don't you think?"
"Well, what was I supposed to do? Tell him to fuck off?"
"You could have been a bit… I don't know, less easy. Make him work a bit harder for your forgiveness. So he sees what it actually means for him when he hurts you."
Victor sighs, dragging his hand down his face. "I guess I just don't see the point in prolonging the whole thing. Like, I was so happy when he wanted to make things right that I didn't read too far into it. But anyway, this isn't even about that. He just wanted someone to talk to today, that's all. We didn't even do anything else."
"Okay, wait, that's actually a little surprising," Pilar says, eyebrows rising like two hills over her eyes. "How come?"
"Because… well, for one, neither of us were in the mood for it, and second… I just wanted to spend time with him and help him feel better. And just… talk, instead of distracting ourselves. I guess I just wanted him to be happy again."
"Vic… it sounds like you have this disease that I heard about a while ago, the symptoms you're describing sound so familiar," Pilar says, feeling Victor's forehead as he squints at her.
"Just spit it out, Pilar," Victor says, removing her hand from him.
"The disease is called… You like him. As more than a friend."
Sighing, Victor flops back on the bed. "Maybe you're right."
"Of course I'm right. You talk about him way too much for him to just be a fuck buddy or a friend with benefits. This is the real deal, Vic. You have feelings."
Groaning, Victor grabs one of Pilar's pillows and places it over his face as if he has the intention to smother himself. "Fuck," he says, voice muffled by the material.
"Benji and Victor sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G," Pilar sings. "First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage."
Victor smacks her in the face with the pillow and sits up. "Shut up, this is serious."
"Hey, so is a baby," Pilar counters with a shrug. "Just say it. Just say you like Benji and I'll leave you alone."
"I like Benji," Victor says in a monotone, feeling his face instantly flush with warmth.
Dammit.
He likes Benji.