Clusterfuck

epilogue

Early June

~ ~ ~

"What's this?" Leo takes the papers in his hands, reads the title, and looks up at Toby with one cocked eyebrow. "Something you wrote?"

Toby has to physically restrain himself from snatching the papers back and taking cover beneath Leo's blanket. He suddenly has the overwhelming urge to crawl out of his skin.

"Your birthday gift," he mutters sheepishly, looking off to the side.

Damn it, he can hear Leo smile. "You mean, the birthday I had four months ago?"

"Yeah. I didn't—I didn't get a chance to give it to you then, and then we didn't talk for, like, a month, and then I got distracted by... everything." He clears his throat. "So. There it is."

He caves and glances up at Leo, who is smiling from ear to ear.

"I'm just messing with you," he says, beginning to flip through the stapled pages. "Is this that story you wrote?'

"Yeah." Toby shoves his hands in his pockets, then takes them back out because that's an awkward thing to do sitting down and crosses his arms instead. "Except, it's not nearly as bad as it was when I turned it in," he assures Leo. "I worked my ass off editing and revising once I heard your birthday was coming up, because... I wanted you to be able to read it after pestering me about it so much. Actually, last weekend when I remembered I still hadn't given it to you, I went over it again, and emailed a copy to my creative writing professor. She said she was sorry this wasn't the paper I turned in, because it's significantly better than the last. So. Now I finally have the guts to let you read it."

Leo awwws at him as if he's a puppy learning to sit, and then ruffles the hair on top of his head as if he's finally understood how. Toby doesn't hate it.

"You're so sweet," Leo says, and presses a kiss to Toby's cheek. Toby definitely doesn't hate that either, but that doesn't stop him from blushing like an absolute fool, despite the fact that they've been going out for two months now. Already. God, maybe time still isn't.

"Cora knew her ocean to be green. Not blue, vivid and rich as a sapphire, and not turquoise either, the color of the sea glass that lined her ocean floor. But green. Venom green, dark and toxic and grotesque, as if the—"

"Okay, that's enough," Toby says, sticking his hand out over the paper to stop Leo's narration. "I know this is my gift to you and I wrote it, but please don't read it in front of me. And, like, don't ever talk to me about it. I don't think I'll be able to handle it."

Leo tilts his head. "Why?"

"I—I don't know. It's weird, for me. I guess. Makes me feel weird."

"C'mon. What if I think it's really good?"

"Then I appreciate it, but please don't let me know."

"What if it's bad?"

"Definitely do not let me know."

"Toby."

"It's just—I don't know. Embarrassing. I guess," he mumbles. "I'm pretty sure this is the first time someone other than me or a teacher has read something I've written. I hate showing my stuff off."