Home for the Summer (BOYXBOY)

45 | Ready

On the day that Nico was supposed to leave, the house felt quieter.

Our floorboards lost their creak, our fridge's buzz faded. Not even my mother, master of words, knew what to say. We spent the morning planning and packing and taking every ounce of Nico from his bedroom. All of his clothes were tucked away, his books, his shoes, his shampoo and toothbrush. Nobody warns you about how empty things feel when the person you love vanishes. Nobody warned me at all.

Mom let us have our space, claiming that, "friends swallow their problems whole and digest them beside each other". Mom's voice repeated in my head as Nico and I quietly cleaned up.

"Can I say something generic?" he asked. His eyes were puffy, a mirror of mine. "I'm going to miss you."

"I should hope so."

"No, I mean," Nico took in a breath. "Really miss you. You gave me the world, Apollo, and... I'm just not sure how to live in it without you there."

I could feel the tears starting again, so I shook my head. "It's only nine months."

"Yeah."

"And you'll be back for the fall."

"Yeah."

I paused, pulling his hand into mine. "Please don't forget about me again," I whispered. Neither of us expected that kind of honesty.

"Ollie," Nico replied, "How on earth could I?"

"There are a lot of distractions in 3,000 miles."

"2,800."

I grinned, tears clouding my vision. "Don't be a smart ass. I'm trying to make a point."

"There's no point to it. I am deeply, inexplicably, madly in love with you, and the entire ocean couldn't drive me away. You," he squeezed my hand, "mean the world to me. Do you know that?"

I had never understood the phrase 'madly in love' until Nico said it. To be rubbed raw by the sheer weight of an emotion. To feel insane for caring so much about another human being. To be so in love that you have no other name for it than 'mad'. Nicolas helped me understand a lot of things.

He pulled off my glasses, wiping the tears from my cheeks. I didn't want to tell him what was on my mind, because it would only make things harder, and Nico had a hard enough time already. He had to fly back to his mother and a state that no longer felt like home. All I had to do was stay.

"I love you," Nico said.

"I love you, too." Deeply, inexplicably, madly.

And then, we left my quiet house to begin toward the train station. Mom was waiting for us in the kitchen, eyes glossy.

"You need to stay strong, Nicolas," she said, hands on his shoulders. "Don't let that place beat you down."

"I'll try my best, Bonnie."

"We're always here for you. Always."

"I know."

"You've been a terrific roommate," she smiled. "I expect you back as soon as possible."

We decided to walk rather than bike, because we had an hour to kill and the trail was too perfect to avoid. The train station was closer than an airport and it was cheaper to send him off to LA for a flight, so I followed along toward the sound of clicking wheels. Nicolas and I made our way, hand in hand, throats clogged shut.

"Do you think," he said after a few minutes of silence, "that I'll forget how to swim?"

"Does anybody forget how to swim?"