The Anatomy of a Parody Heart

best idea

Dan staying for dinner is probably one of the best ideas that Enzo has ever had.

They sit next to each other, at the table, and Dan doesn't comment once on how the tablecloth - tattered and ratty - has holes, or how the plates wobble, or how the chairs creak. He smiles and laughs and holds Enzo's hand - and Enzo is going to prom with him - Enzo is going to prom with him.

Best. Idea. Ever.

Faith seems to take particular interest in Dan. Enzo remembers her talk of the prom yesterday, at breakfast - and Robyn's comment - what's got you so suddenly into boys, Faith? Does Faith...does Faith...

"Are you going to prom, Dan?" Faith asks him.

"Faith's got some kind of obsession with the prom," Robyn says, "ignore her."

"No, I haven't!" Faith says heatedly. "I was just wondering. That's all."

Dan laughs. "Yeah," he says, "I'm going to prom."

Gem gives him a curious look. "Huh. I didn't know you went to our school."

"I don't. But - "

"He's going with me," Enzo interrupts. He feels, for some reason, like it is him - Enzo - that has to say it.

It is important, somehow.

A pause.

Then,

"Ha." Robyn grins. "So you finally asked him."

Gem's eyebrows lift, and her mouth opens in a little 'o' of surprise.

She swallows. Frowns.

Swallows again.

"So...you are going to prom."

Enzo gives her a steady look. "Yes."

His hand - holding Dan's, beneath the table - clenches.

"But - I thought - "

"You thought what?" Enzo glares at her. "That I'd go with a girl?"

Gem stiffens. So does Dan.

And in that moment, Enzo hates her. Hates her for reacting like - like that - like the news that he is going to prom with Dan - with a boy - is a surprise, unexpected - different. Why - why does everything he do have to be different?

Why can't I be normal?

"Enzo," Dan says, softly.

"No," Enzo says. Stands up. "No - I've had enough. I've had enough."

He throws his chair back. Upturning it.

Storms out of the kitchen.

Worst. Idea. Ever.

Dan finds him, sometime later - standing by the window, in his bedroom. With his back to him.

He has ripped out his cannula. Left it - and his oxygen tank - on the floor.

Dan picks them up. Carries them over to the window.

He takes the cannula, in one hand. Passes it up, under Enzo's shirt, out the nape. Brushing skin and scar - lumpy, bumpy scar.

He doesn't flinch.

Then he wraps the cannula back around Enzo's face. Gentle. So gentle. And now his thumbs are on Enzo's cheeks, tilting his face up, and they are close. So close.

Enzo closes his eyes.

"I just...I - I hate how they react. Like - like we're weird. Wrong." Enzo pauses. "Are we wrong, Dan?"

"No," Dan says. He puts his hand on Enzo's neck. Pulls him closer. "No, we're not wrong." 

Their foreheads touch. 

"We're different."

Enzo blanches. "I hate being different."

"Why?"

"It's - it's - " He scowls.

"It's what? Different is not wrong, Enzo."

Dan's eyes hold his.

"Different is beautiful."