I wake up in the morning, eyes adjusting to the light bleeding through the crack in between the curtains.
Basil's bed is empty, and that's when the events of the previous night all flood back to me.
I sit up sharply.
"Do you like me?" I ask, and then I wait a beat before repeating it. "Do you like me?"
Rubbing my eyes, I reach over to the nightstand to grab my phone. When I check the time, I see 9:30. Saturday. I love weekends for purely this reason, even though 9:30 is still fairly early in terms of Ollie wake-up time.
I pull my feet over the side of the bad as more floods my mind.
"Well, yeah. I mean— you're nice, and cool, and basically the only person I can trust at this school." His voice is full of anxiety.
He trusts me. Or at least he did before I messed it up. I don't know about now.
"That's not what I meant." I had responded.
I kind of want to scream. I had messed everything up. Maybe I should have told him that I'm aroace, that I don't like him.
But how do you say that to someone? How can you if they might not even understand?
"Ollie, I— You're great but..." He stops.
And then, all of a sudden, he murmurs an "I'm sorry" and the door clicks closed behind him.
I shiver.
On the desk sits the black oil pastel drawing I made. I had almost forgotten about it. But now that I'm seeing it in the light, it looks like it is representing the turmoil of my brain.
••••
I walk down the street, wondering where Basil might have spent the night.
And wondering how I might fix this.
But first thing first, caffeine. I'm still half asleep as I push open the door to a Starbucks and the warm, homey scent hits my nose.
But, of course, there he is.
Basil sits at a booth, head balanced on his hands and bags underneath his eyes.
Did he get any sleep? I can't help but wonder.
A few empty coffee cups sit there in front of him. It's probably his signature black coffee, but that's too bitter for my taste.
"Hey," I say, tentative as I sit across from him.
He opens one eye to peek at me before sighing and closing it again. "Hey."
"So. We need to talk." When he doesn't reply, I decide to push on. "About last night— I'm sorry I messed things up." This time, I wait. And once the silence hangs heavy, I speak again. "Say something. Please."
"Can't you just say it?" He sounds exhausted.
"Say what?" I think I know where this is going.
"That you like me."
"I don't. Not like that, at least!" I'm defensive, which is something I don't often get. But I can't help it.
"You don't?" He doesn't seem convinced.
"No. I fucking don't!"
"You cussed." He says, voice flat. I know he's probably doing backflips in his mind though because I've never cussed before.
"Where did you go last night?" I counter.
"I sat on a bench in the courtyard and listened to music." He rocks slightly back and forth, but through it all his eyes stay closed. "Have you ever listened to Sufjan Stevens?"
Yeah, I have. But I don't tell him that.
"Please can we just talk about last night?"
"Look, Ollie—" I can practically see the wheels in his head turning. "I need to tell you something."
"That's kinda what we're here for."
"I'm aroace." His eyes squeeze closed a little bit tighter. "Aromantic asexual." He rushes to say. But I know what he means. Of course I do.
For the second time, my heart jumps to my throat.
We have a lot more in common than I thought. More than originally planned.
But before I can say anything, he talks again.
"So, I'm sorry that we can't have that cliché roommates to lovers story. The one that you want." He sounds genuinely apologetic and I hate to think that I made him feel all these things that are coming through in his voice.
Because that story isn't what I want. What I want is a friend who said he trusts me. A friend who I trust.
"I'm freaking aroace too!" I exclaim.
One eye pops open, but I think he must be too tired to open the other one so I let it slide.
"No fucking way?" It's more of a question than it is a statement and he seems so bewildered.
I'm bewildered too.
What are the odds that two trans aroace boys end up at the same boarding school as roommates? Apparently high, because here we are, sitting right across from each other.
"Freaking way." I laugh, high-pitched.
"Just say it." He says sleepily, but this time I'm not so sure what it's about.
"Say what?" I repeat. Wow I'm annoying.
"Fucking." He says it without a care, without a second thought.
So I try to do the same. "Fucking way."
A glimmer of a smile positions on his lips but drops away almost immediately. "I've been waiting for you to cuss. Now, if I don't get to the dorm room soon, I'm going to pass out."
I'm kind of tempted to let him pass out. Unfortunately, I'm too nice for that. So my nice tendencies take over.
Laughing, I lug his arm over my shoulders.
And then, his eyes still mostly closed, we wander down the street, giggling.
The knot in my chest loosens.
••••
i don't know who decided i was going to be a writer because my motivation + inspiration levels are touch n go
but here you are,,,, a chapter !! hope y'all are enjoying this <3
