Anything But Neutral (House of Gold mock-up)

4

At a little café near the apartment, Drew sipped a large green-colored drink that smelled like a combination of sugar and dirt. Danny dunked a dry bagel into a bowl-like mug of dark roast. Drew exhaled and leaned forward on the table, scattering the emptied sugar packets and hiding his face with his hand.

"Your neighbor friend would probably like to hear about this," Danny broke the silence.

"Yeah, I bet she would," Drew scoffed. Danny shook his head at him and took a bite of the wet bagel. Drew's phone began to ring.

"It's the cop," Drew whispered before clearing his throat and answering. The restaurant was relatively quiet, and Drew's phone sounded as though it was turned to maximum volume. The blaring voice of the officer asked Drew and Danny to meet him at the station, and to not touch the blood. Drew chugged the last of his drink, and Danny threw the majority of the bagel into the trash with the lukewarm coffee, leaving a five-dollar bill on the table.

"This is so pointless," Drew muttered under his breath as they drove to the station. Danny looked at his friend and felt that gutted feeling rise in his throat.

"Can you stop being such an ass for a while," Drew scoffed at Danny and leaned back in the car seat.

"I'm so sorry for being an ass," he picked at the blood dried on the drink holder.

"Dude, fucking stop," Danny angrily grabbed Drew's hand, but he pulled it away.

"What is wrong with you," Danny stared at his friend while they were at a red light.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me," Drew loudly repeated, sounding like he was about to cry.

"My girlfriend leaves me because she thinks I'm a fag, as does everybody else, and now someone's tried to kill me for the same reason," Drew was hysterical. Danny pulled into the police station but let Drew continue.

"The fucking guy probably didn't even know about the text, he just saw me and thought 'looks like a fag'" he laughed with tears streaming down his cheeks. Danny put his hand on his shoulder but Drew forcefully pushed it off.

"Listen, let's just get this over with," Drew sniffled aggressively before opening the car door, getting out, and walking over to the building. Danny got out and quickly followed him inside.

"Dude, calm down for a minute," he loudly whispered into Drew's ear. The receptionist stared at the two of them blankly as she gathered files, then left down the hall. Drew wiped tears from his eyes but retained the angry expression.

"Dude, I'm sorry. I know you're going through a lot right now, I just want to help you," Danny sounded calm and collected, but knots were building inside his stomach.

"It's alright," Drew spoke with a sudden, but forced-sounding resourcefulness, touching his friend's arm. He sniffled one last time, blinked several times to remove the excess water from his eyes, and then wiped his eyes and turned to the front desk. The receptionist, who had a short, natural afro about four inches from her scalp and a tired expression came walking back down the hall and stopped, giving Drew her index finger to signify that she'd help them in a moment. Danny stood next to Drew and stared at him. He wondered if the textbooks he read in college had prepared him for these conversations: was Drew really alright? Was he going to try to kill himself? He shuddered at the thought.

"What can I help you with?" The receptionist was holding about fifty files in one arm, her face a light shade of pink.

"Hi, we're, umm," Drew scrolled through his phone as he talked, realizing he hadn't gotten the officer's name, only his contact information.

"We talked with an officer yesterday about a hate crime that was committed near 71st and Wilson," Danny stepped in. She typed quickly on her keyboard and shook her head.