what we do best

part six

It's nearly one in the morning, and Tris has entered a giggly state of drunken childishness. He lays sprawled across the floor with a jumbo-sized bag of gummy bears. He tosses one in the air and catches it in his mouth, clapping his hands.

I'm watching him, sitting in the ledge underneath his window which has been turned into a cozy nook. A glimmer from his fairy lights creates a sparkle in his eye, smiling up at me. I hop down from the ledge and sidle up next to him. He tosses me a gummy bear, which I fail to catch properly, and let him laugh his belly laugh as I search for it on the floor.

"I'll get it later, don't worry about it," Tristan's voice contains a smile. I can hear it. "Come with me."

He pushes himself upright and walks me to the window. Tris pushes the window up, and then the screen. He slinks his body through the opening and onto the roof.

He holds his hand out for me to take. "Coming?"

I climb through the window and lie down next to Tris. "Do you do this a lot?"

"I would come out here when I needed to get away, but couldn't actually go anywhere," Tris laughs gently and keeps his eyes focused upwards.

"Did it have anything to do with these?" I trace my fingers along his wrist which he had let me touch so many months ago.

Tristan takes a deep breath. "Sometimes."

"Is it okay if I ask why?" I lower my voice to a whisper and turn on my side to face him.

Tris shrugs. "It's nothing really. I don't really know why I do it. It's really fucked up, I guess."

That's the first time I've ever heard him curse.

"I was in the hospital last year. After I got out, they were gonna make me retake all my classes at my old school. So, I transferred," Tris sounds almost angry, and I want to tell him that it's okay if he wants to stop. But he keeps going. "It was really fucked up, Ollie. I have a roof over my head and parents that love me and food on the table. I have no reason to be as fucked up as I am."

My heart falls into my stomach. I pull him into me and let him cry. My shoulder is soaked with his tears. "Hey, hey. It's not your fault. You don't control this. You didn't make your mind."

"But they didn't even medicate me. I tried to fucking kill myself and they wouldn't fix me," He says that last part so softly I can hardly hear him. But I do.

"Oh, Tris. I'm sorry," My own tears spill down my cheeks and I pull him away, so I can look him in the eyes. "You don't need fixing, Tristan."

"Yes, I do Ollie. Something's broken up here," He taps the side of his head and hiccups to try to repress his tears. I don't know what you're supposed to say in a situation like this.

So, I hold him. And I let him cry. I kiss the tears off his cheeks. I let him hold my hand so, so tightly. I let him because he needs to hold on to something, and I need to be that something.

Neither one of us speaks.

"It's raining," Tris mumbles.

"Yeah."

We don't move. The rain falls over us like a blanket. Our clothes are soaked through and we're shivering, but we don't move.

"It's fucking cold," Tris says after a while. We go inside.

+++

Our eyes are puffy and red, but we exchange sad smiles as we dry off.

"Strip," Tristan says, handing me another towel.

"Excuse me?"

"Just kidding. But I'll put your clothes in the dryer. You're dripping on my floor," Tris peels off his shirt and wriggles his pants off. I avoid looking at him for the sake of privacy. He stares at me, waiting for me to do the same.

"Turn around!" I wave my hand around. He rolls his eyes and smiles. But he turns around. The smell of wet denim should never have been manifested. My sweatshirt is heavy and, Tris is right, dripping. I wrap a towel around my waist and wrap another one around my wet clothes. I hand the pile to Tris and he eyes me up and down.

"Underwear?" Tris holds his hand out. I raise my eyebrow. "I'll give you a pair. Mind out of the gutter, Ollie. Don't want you to have a wet butt is all."

I slide my boxers off and let him take them to the dryer. I stand in his room, naked with only a towel covering my bottom half. I'm cold.

Tris returns and sees me shivering. He takes a blanket from his bed and wraps it around our almost naked bodies.

"Can we get dressed now?" I ask, muffled in his chest. I feel him exhale.

"Yeah," Tris lets the blanket fall at our ankles and turns to his dresser. He tosses me a sweatshirt and a pair of underwear. "I don't think any of my pants will fit you, Ollie."

He's right. Tristan is a good five inches taller than me. I suddenly feel exceedingly small.

I slide the underwear on underneath the towel and let it fall at my sides. The sweatshirt is loose and hangs to my thighs. It smells like him. Tristan stands at his dresser, hands in his sweatpants pockets. He gives me a half smile.

"You're so cute," His back stays put against the dresser, watching me from afar.

"Aren't you gonna put on a shirt?" I walk over and poke him in the stomach.

"Shirts are stupid," Tris pushes my hands away. "That tickles."

"Does this?" I raise myself on my tiptoes and kiss his neck. Tristan lifts me up, so my legs are wrapped around his waist. He carries me back to his bed, my head nestled in the crook of his neck.

+++

"Truth or dare?"

"Hm, truth."

Truth or dare was one of those sleepover games I'd never had the proper youth to enjoy.

"Okay. How long has it been since you've dated someone?" Tris looks at me, deadpan.

"A long time. Why?"

"Just asking. Who was he?"

"I don't want to talk about him. I have you," I tease, pinching his cheek.

He sighs.

"Truth or dare, Tristan?"

"I want to go to bed," Tris yawns. It's about three. I wonder how late Tristan stays up usually.

"Okay."

Tristan goes to use the bathroom and I'm once again left alone in his room. Being alone in a space that he spends a lot of time in feels unnatural. I'm a foreign invader in a space he's created himself. I don't want it tainted for him.

Tris returns with a sleeping bag and a few blankets. "You can sleep in my bed. I'll stay down here."

"Tris, no. This is your house. I'll take the sleeping bag," I reach out for the sleeping bag, but he pulls away from me. He puts a finger to my lips.

"Ollie, please. Let me do this," He lays the sleeping bag parallel to the bed and climbs inside. "Go, get in bed!"

I reluctantly sit on his mattress. "This is ridiculous, Tris." But I lie down.

Tristan stares at me, the fairy lights from the window softly illuminating the room.

I stare back at him.

He falls asleep first.

It feels too empty without him. I hop down from the bed and inch next to the sleeping bag. I synch my breathing with Tristan's and let his sweatshirt encase me in its warmth. Tris smiles in his sleep. I kiss his forehead, and then his smiling lips. Almost as a reflex, he reaches his hand out from the sleeping bag. I hold it. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze. I start to wonder if he's actually asleep.