Double Dare

7

Beau sits in the squat grey chair in the corner of his room. The blinds are shut tight against the sunlight. Usually, the dark feels like a hiding place to Beau; today, it feels like company. He tugs his knees, creaky from stagnation, up to his chest.

It's been three days, today the fourth, the usual length of recovery time, but something has changed this time around. Benji has bounced back, as he has a knack for doing, but there's still a weariness that clings to the shadows under his eyes. He still smiles when he brings Beau things to eat, and he still smiles when he picks up the untouched food later on, but it isn't the same. Beau hasn't been able to get comfortable with the lights on; he showers in the dark, and does most of his schoolwork, delivered by Benji, at night.

Beau sighs. You've got to get out of bed sooner or later, you know. And what about Danny? He probably thinks you're dead or something. Or maybe you embarrassed him so much that he's just put you out of his mind for good. What do you-

His phone chimes, as it's been doing periodically for the past few hours. He's afraid it might be Danny; he's also afraid that it won't be. Beau turns his phone off without looking at the screen, replaces it carefully on the bedside table. He shuts his eyes, inhaling the air- his clean, disinfectant spritzed air.

How embarrassing. A freak out over some dusty air? In public, no less. Beau scrubs at his face, grimacing at the fuzzy beginnings of stubble. He sighs, pushing to his feet; he supposes he should go and shave.

A knock on the door freezes Beau in a half-stooped position. "Beau? It's me." Benji pokes his head around the door, smiling a little. "Feel like eating?"

No. Beau nods. The least he can do is be polite. "Yeah, sure." His throat hurts when he speaks; has he really been that quiet that long? "Come in."

Benji slides into the room, nudging the door shut with his hip. He carries a bowl of stew. "It's chicken and dumplings, your favorite." He settles lightly onto the edge of Beau's bed.

Beau's eyes widen. "You didn't have to cook for me," he murmurs, accepting the soup and setting it in his lap. He stares at the bowl, steam wafting lightly above it, and inhales. It smells like home and safety, and something about it, its overwhelming undertone of love, makes Beau want to cry.

Benji stares at Beau, eyes gone soft and watery, wanting to hug him but refraining from doing so. "He's worried about you, you know?" Benji folds his fingers together, head assuming a hesitant tilt. "Danny, I mean. He asks about you."

Beau winces, another splinter of guilt pressing into him. "Really?" He plays with his soup, stirring the spoon around. "Um... What does he say?" He makes a conscious effort not to sound too invested.

Benji sees straight through him like he's made of seran wrap, but he pretends not to. "Well, not much, just if you're okay and when you're coming back." Watching his brother's face closely, Benji continues. "And if he can see you, but he gets all nervous about that."

Beau's expression goes through a series of changes. He perks up at the sound of Danny asking to see him, then slowly relaxes back into sulking. "He wants to see me?" He shovels dumplings into his mouth, trying to avoid talking anymore.

"Duh." Benji rolls his eyes, attempting to seem light-hearted; he's honestly a little concerned. "You should call him, tell him you're okay."

Beau swallows, staring at his bowl. Suddenly, he has less of an appetite, stomach churning. "I- I can't. What if he hates me?"

Benji scoffs, exasperated. "Hate you? Puh-lease, Benji. The boy lo- He really likes you, Beau. Just give it a chance?" Benji puts on his best puppy dog face, the one that works on everyone. He makes his eyes extra big and blue and full of promise, lips pulled into a small pink pout. "Please?"