We Know Better

High

Content warning: drug use

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On Sunday, at ten in the morning, I get a text message. It is a picture of my pillowcase of candy and his message reads "If you wanna see your candy alive again you'll have to come get it."

My response: "Good thing I don't like candy that much." and then after a few moments I send another, "I can be there in a half-an-hour."

That got me a smiley face.

I get out of bed and get ready as quick as I can. When I get out of the shower, I look at my reflection in the mirror and I debate the usual debate on whether I should keep my curly hair down or pull it into a ponytail. Like usual, I go with the latter option and try not to look at myself anymore. I tell my mother that I am going to Mads' house for a little while and even though she complains about me leaving she lets me go. I know I should not lie to her, but I know she would not have been okay with me going and as of now there is no reason to tell her the truth. I want to keep this little friendship thing we have going just to myself for a while longer.

At Brendon's house, I sit outside in my car for a good five minutes so that I can work my confidence up enough to even knock on the door. After talking myself out of starting my car and leaving again, I climb out of my car and make my way up to the front door. As my heart beats heavy in my chest, I ring the doorbell.

He opens the door after a few moments and I am reassured by the happiness I can see on his face. With a sweep of his arm toward the inside of his house, he steps to the side and lets me enter. After he closes the door, he turns to me and asks me if I am okay with going to his room, but reassures that we can stay downstairs if I am more comfortable with that. I agree to go to his room.

We walk up the stairs together and he asks about how the rest of my Halloween went. I tell him about watching Halloween themed movies and eating candy with my friends. That reminds him of the candy I have come to 'rescue.' He motions to my bag that is sitting on his night stand in when we enter the room. He tells me about how he 'guarded it with his life' the entire night after I left it behind. I thank him for his gallant protection as I plop down on his desk chair.

He has music playing and I recognize the band playing. It is one of my favorites: Twenty-One Pilots. I comment on the song and that leads us to a conversation about music that goes on longer than I would have expected and spans across so many topics that I am amazed I was able to coherently participate in it. Usually, having conversations with me, especially when I am out of my element like I am in his room, means listening to me stumble over words and attempt to make sense of what is going on in my head. Needless to say, it is hard for everyone.

I attribute part of my success to the subject matter. Music is something that I am always ready to talk about and something that I really love. It is one of the most important things to me and about me. Another reason for the success: I find that though it may be a slow process, I am becoming more comfortable with him. The jury is still out on how I feel about that.

It has been nearly an hour and a half when there is a knock on the door. He gets up from his bed and pads down the stairs to see who it is. From his room, I can hear what sounds like Cal's voice. They both make their way back up to the room and when they enter, Cal excitedly calls my name. I smile and greet him, and I wonder if maybe it is time for me to leave. They both sit on his bed as I stay seated in his desk chair.

They start up a little conversation amongst themselves and I do not try to enter into it. I check my phone a few times and then my watch redundantly, but I do not know how to say I am going to leave. I avoid looking at Brendon because it somehow feels weird doing it when someone else is here. I curse myself for not being able to be comfortable.