Jema

10. The Lies We're Told and the Truths We Aren't

{a/n} guess who doesn't gaf that ansel elgort is everyone's dream guy? me. he's also exactly who I envisioned for toby so if ya don't like, too bad :3

He's beautiful.

Goddammit I know it is so cliché, but he is. Two years of nothing, not a single hint of communication (the fault falls on both of us) and he's gorgeous. I must look like an idiot, staring at him like he's come to rescue me or something.

"Toby," I say, but it comes out as a whisper, barely audible to my own ears. He nods with that crooked smile on his face.

"You gonna sit there or are you gonna hug me?"

That's something he doesn't have to say twice.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and he scoops me up, spinning me around like he used to. When we were friends. Ha, guess whose fault it is that we're not.

Out of old habit, I'm tempted to drag my fingers lethargically through his soft hair, tilt his head and kiss him... but that's not happening. The same earnest friendliness loiters in his big, penny-copper eyes as it did two, three, four years ago.

"I love you," I whisper.

"Love you, too, Germ," he says, setting me down. That's how I should've finished our dumb argument from two years ago. I have mutely, deeply regretted leaving Toby to roast in his own kitchen since the day we left in June 2013, and even now, if I try to apologize for being such a pain in the ass, I know he'll cut me off and tell me to shut my mouth because it doesn't even matter anymore.

"You gonna be alright?" he asks, cupping my cheek in his hand. I nod, surprised at the wide smile on my face. "Wanna talk? I mean, I know we ain't really been close for a while-"

"Of course I'd like to talk," I huff. Why on earth would I decline?

I follow Toby to a bench over by a water fountain. We never hung out at the parks here in town. We always were at his house or mine, talking or making out or playing dumb video games. "I don't know what to say, Germ," he laughs. His voice is deeper than I remember. His hair is shorter.

"Well, how have you been?" I ask, almost in this commercial-fake voice that indicates that I really don't care. But I do. Toby senses it, and that half-crooked smile quirks up on his lips instantly. "Gee, thanks," I retort.

"No, you just... I dunno. You're all grown up," Toby says. By the way his eyes widen after his statement, it seems as though he doesn't mean to say it. "Not in a little kid way, ya know. I mean... you look different." I smile anyway, although I don't know if the 'different' I look is good or bad to him. It's taking all I have not to just cut the small talk and do something radical like slap him across the face or yell at him or kiss him... I should've prepared myself for this.

"What you been up to?" Toby questions once I don't give a response to his comment.

I shrug, kick a rock away from my shoe, and shrug again. "The usual. Taking care of my children. Being gay. Sitting on--"

"Still?" Toby chuckles. I look up at him, confused. "Ya know... I thought you'da been done with that when you left."

"Done with what..." I ask cautiously. "Raising my mom's kids or liking dick?"

Toby huffs in annoyance. "Ya know I ain't mean it like that-"

"Not just something you get over, Toby," I sing-song, trying not to be so defensive.

He huffs again, clasping his hands together as if he's making a valid point. "I did."

"Bullshit," I crack in response, trying to keep my voice lighthearted enough to let our conversation remain amicable, but still protecting myself. "Whatever," I dismiss it. "How have you been?" I ask again, my voice not so fake this time.