The next few days passed in a blur. Every day after school, Jensen found himself at Billy’s house, working on the project—or at least pretending to. Most of the time, they just talked. It was easy with Billy, easier than it had ever been with anyone else. There was something about the way Billy could make even the most awkward silence feel comfortable, like he wasn’t expecting anything from Jensen except for him to be himself.
Not that Jensen really knew what being himself meant anymore.
By Friday, the project had somehow morphed into a presentation about how everyone feels like an outsider sometimes, even the people who seem like they’ve got it all figured out. Billy had laughed at the irony when they first came up with it, but now, sitting in his room again, Jensen couldn’t help but feel like they were skirting around something deeper.
“So, you think everyone feels like an outsider?” Jensen asked, lying on his stomach on Billy’s bed, scribbling in his notebook.
Billy was sprawled on the floor, tossing a basketball from hand to hand. “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, no one really fits all the time, right?”
Jensen looked up, watching Billy lazily toss the ball in the air and catch it, his face relaxed but thoughtful. “You don’t seem like the type who feels that way.”
Billy shrugged, still focused on the ball. “I don’t know. Maybe I just don’t show it like other people do. Doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.”
That was the first time Jensen had heard Billy talk about himself like that—like there was more going on beneath the surface than the easygoing guy everyone saw. Jensen felt something shift between them, a crack in the armor Billy wore so well.
“Like what?” Jensen asked before he could stop himself.
Billy paused, letting the basketball drop to the floor. “I don’t know, man. I guess... I always feel like I gotta keep it together, you know? For my family, my friends. People count on me to be the happy one, the one who’s got it all figured out. It’s... tiring sometimes.”
Jensen nodded slowly, understanding more than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t the happy one, but he knew what it felt like to hide behind a mask, to keep people from seeing the mess inside.
“Yeah, I get it,” he said quietly.
Billy looked up at him, really looked at him, like he was seeing Jensen for the first time. “You do, don’t you?”
Jensen didn’t respond, but something about the way Billy was looking at him made his chest tighten. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, this kind of *understanding*. It was unsettling and comforting all at once.
“You wanna take a break?” Billy asked, breaking the tension with a grin. “We’ve been working on this thing for hours.”
Jensen shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Sure.”
“Come on,” Billy said, standing up and grabbing his basketball. “Let’s shoot some hoops.”
Jensen hesitated. He wasn’t much for sports, and he definitely wasn’t the type to just hang out and shoot basketballs like it was no big deal. But the way Billy was looking at him, like he wasn’t expecting anything but for Jensen to try—it was hard to say no.
So, Jensen followed him outside to the driveway, where an old, slightly crooked basketball hoop stood. The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows across the yard, and the air was cool but not cold. Billy bounced the ball a couple of times before tossing it to Jensen.
“Give it a shot,” he said, stepping back and grinning.
Jensen caught the ball, feeling its rough texture under his hands. He wasn’t sure why, but something about the way Billy looked at him made him want to prove he could do this, even if it was just for fun. He squared up, aimed, and threw.
The ball bounced off the rim with a loud thunk and rolled back toward Billy, who caught it easily.
“Not bad,” Billy said with a laugh, tossing it back to him. “Try again.”
Jensen tried again. And again. Every time, the ball missed the hoop by a mile, but Billy didn’t care. He kept tossing it back, encouraging him with that same easygoing smile. After a few more tries, Jensen was out of breath, laughing despite himself.
“Okay, okay,” Jensen panted, leaning over with his hands on his knees. “I suck at this.”
Billy chuckled, dribbling the ball lazily between his legs. “Nah, you’re not that bad. You just need some practice.”
Jensen rolled his eyes but smiled despite himself. There was something about the way Billy could make even his failures feel like victories that made Jensen feel lighter, like maybe he wasn’t as much of an outsider as he thought.
“You wanna keep going or call it quits?” Billy asked, bouncing the ball toward him one last time.
Jensen caught it, turning it over in his hands. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want to stop. He liked being out here with Billy, liked the way it felt to just... be. No pressure, no expectations, just the two of them, messing around like normal teenagers.
“Let’s keep going,” Jensen said, surprising even himself.
Billy grinned, that same bright, carefree grin that made Jensen’s heart beat just a little faster. “That’s the spirit.”
As the sun dipped below the horizon, and the sky turned a soft shade of purple, Jensen realized something. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he was on the outside looking in. With Billy, he felt like he belonged.
And that scared him more than anything.
