The Boy I Met On the Roof

Memories

"I'm not in love with either of them!" Sasha yells, swatting at him with her open palms; it doesn't hurt; maybe it stings a little, or perhaps he has developed a too-high pain tolerance on account of everything that has happened. He smiles at her with his yellowing teeth, cheeks hurting from the strain put on the underused muscles.

She glares at him, seemingly not mad but more so in a bratty, fakely offended way.

"I think...that maybe I was in love with Dani? I mean.." she shrugs her shoulders, hand stroking up and down her arm in an attempt to comfort herself: "People always talk about how you should keep all those queer things away from kids, so I'm just...not sure if I am remembering it right."

A puppy crush: nostalgic memories of when that girl from Dustin's kindergarten class made his tummy feel all kinds of funny, memories of throwing sand in her face instead of asking her out because he thought that's what you are supposed to do as a boy.

After all, boys will be boys, and the other ones aren't gentle, either; boys are rough, brutish creatures like a man is supposed to be, and girls are supposed to be intelligent, sensitive, and forgiving.

Whenever the girls went to cry to their teachers, they got told that the one that hurt them must have had a crush on them; they all vowed to never fall in love. The boys pretended to hate the girls, making disgusted faces as they passed. The girls ran away from the boys, squealing because they were told that love meant being hurt.

Maybe it is true, just not like getting sand thrown in your eyes, but in a cruel, more mature way; calculated, under the influence, words thrown your way that hurt more than anything you've ever experienced, fists that you wish would leave bruises so you'd have a reason to feel hurt.

But hey, what does Dustin know? He's been single his entire life, excluding whatever he had going on with Noah.

Silently, he places his hand on her shoulder, sending her another smile, this one more knowing: "If you aren't straight, you've spent your entire life not being straight; people realize it at different points in their lives."

Placing his free hand on his chest, he points out: "I realized it at thirteen, and that was with the help of the internet: a privilege you didn't have."

Sasha furrows her brows, chewing at her lip.

Looking back on his journey, he distantly remembers hundreds of different online quizzes on all flavors of queerness; the younger Dustin had believed if he retook the tests and lied, it would cheat the system and instantly undo all his feelings. Nowadays, the memory of his stupidity makes him cringe internally; you can't change a system not laid out for people like you.

The redhead shakes her head, mumbling: "I've never had a crush since."

He pats her shoulder, responding: "It's different when you...well, if you aren't mentally well, I wasn't thinking about crushes back when I lived with my stepdad or for the first two-ish years in the school."

Leaning closer, resting her head in between her neck and shoulder, Dustin continues: "You're always in survival mode in situations like that; when not dying is your priority, everything else falls short. She made living easy and took you out of that headspace, so you fell in love with her."

A mentally ill brain makes you get everything you can and cling to anything positive; search, scramble for affection, touches that don't hurt.

He had spent a long time lying to himself, denying his needs and identity. He loves Noah, and Noah loves him: they are one of those perfectly imperfect love stories you see on TV.

He was okay with what Noah told him; he was good with being persuaded to drink and the fact that Noah views him as an open resource, a tool, a dog. Maybe he is like a dog, liking his owner's hand and risking his life to save someone who would never do the same thing for him.

If he ever, by some miracle or divine intervention, meets him again down here, he'd leave him to rot because now, he has someone better, even if deep down, Dustin doesn't and likely never will like he deserves it.

Dustin hopes that he will stick to his thoughts and the promises he made to himself, as he has a bad habit of growing soft at the last minute.

"Is that a good or bad thing?" Sasha asks, noticing him spiral down his head and pulling him closer, burrowing her nose in his hair.

He shrugs, answering: "It could be either; sometimes you meet someone you would have loved without being traumatized, but it can get you in some pretty bad situations."

Sasha sighs, sending warm air all over his scalp, making a sound between a sob and a laugh: "Man, this isn't fair at all; I had fewer problems while the experiments still happened."

The image of Alex's face flashes behind his eyelids for just a fraction of a second; his warm, brown eyes, full of compassion and comfort, meet his.

Warm hands, blankets, a canine tooth on the floor in a pool of blood, jokes about how expensive it'll be to get replaced later; it's a strange mix of positive and negative memories, the lines between the two twisting and swimming. The boy's chest feels tight at the memory and a sharp pang of pain stabs in his heart.

Dustin hates how they met and despises the way Alex left him, but he can't find it in himself to be mad at him; what kind of person would he be to expect someone to keep living just for him?

The thoughts of what-ifs plague his mind; could he have been kinder? If he had been better, would he still be there? Is there any use in thinking about it now? Maybe Alex wouldn't have wanted Dustin to be sad about his passing, but he had always been too kind for his own good; Dustin deserved to feel like this.

"Just shove the memory in the back of your mind; you'll have time to deal with it once you get out."

Well, fuck that, he isn't gonna deal with this at all.

"It's always like this." He comments: "It's always easier when you're in the situation, then boom, your whole life turns upside down."

He never considered something was amiss in his home life while living with his mom; in a way, he couldn't have known any better.

No one gave him the "adults aren't supposed to hurt you" talk, be that physically or by words. No one told him that actual families eat at a dinner table, that parents should make sure their kids go to school, that parents should be these kind, loving figures that ruffle your hair and pat your shoulder or something instead of glorified roommates.

In a way, even the word "family" makes him feel sick; his mom never knew anything about him or his interests, his likes or dislikes, and she never cared to get to know them.

Family is supposed to be this tight-knit circle of people related by blood, where you put each other over everything else and would die for each other. A mother is supposed to be someone you can talk to about your problems, your crushes, and everything else; somebody who loves you, hugs you, and that you love the same.

He can't remember ever having experienced that; maybe that's why he turned out the way he did.

One day, during school, after he had a nasty fight with his mom, he heard one of the other kids complain about how his mom kissed his cheek while dropping him off at the gates, and he had to stop himself from outright sneering at him.

How people can whine about something when their lives are perfect is beyond him; oh please, tell me more about how your mom is so evil for being mad you failed all your classes.

He only really started considering what happened after arriving at the school; he listened to the stories the others would tell because they had normal parents if you leave out the common denominator of violence.

Long nails scratch at his scalp; the circular motion is soothing, so he leans into the touch, making a content little noise in the back of his throat.

He hadn't known Sasha for long, but he found himself becoming attached to herself uncomfortably quickly.

Really, it's a habit at this point; become attached to someone, and they either hurt you or they die.

This time, he hopes he will die before Sasha; she is strong, stronger than him, so she can manage.

With that thought in mind, he falls asleep curled up to her, waking up the next day with her warm body still attached to his.