Chanthony - Losing You

Part Six

SUNDAY, 7:21 PM, 38 DAYS TO MEET QUOTA

Chance could barely make eye contact.

It was rare that Chance would regress into himself. In general, he was brimming with positivity, especially when the warm affection of the nights played out and he felt so loved. He'd have imagined that if Tony had kissed him first, for the first time ever, he would have felt like he was floating, he would have felt like he was sailing through the sky. Instead, every time he looked at Anthony, he could barely stand it for ten seconds before having to look away. Anthony spent the entire day acting normal, as if nothing had happened the night before. And how, Chance reasoned with himself, how could he expect Tony to behave any differently? What did he expect from him? Distance? Adoration? More adoration than he already got?

Maybe he just wanted an explanation. An explanation of what Chance really meant to him. In his mind, he couldn't map out what he wanted from Tony. Over the night, he'd laid awake, trying to imagine the realities of an actual thing- he wouldn't use the word relationship- an actual commitment thing with Anthony, and simultaneously try to convince himself that Anthony really meant nothing by kissing him. Maybe he just hadn't kissed a girl in a while and needed some action. Maybe he was just blazed out of his mind. But even this idea felt fake to Chance, because Chance knew the truths behind being stoned or drunk and kissing Anthony. The intoxication was a cover. And even if a thing-relationship-thing was a potential option, the idea was so foreign and novel to Chance that it made him afraid. Pushing possible consequences for any action out of his mind was possibly Chance's best talent, but in this case, about the one thing he cared about the most, his gut whispered in a language he couldn't understand.

"Bro, we're supposed to be writing this diss track," Anthony said. "I can't think of shit."

Chance blinked down at the paper and the colored pencil he twirled in his hand. "Something about twos," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Like, duos," he said. "Something about duos."

"Duos?" Anthony said. "Like uh... like what? Like uh... we got two dudes... y'all are too rude..."

"Can we get Landon in on this? Landon knows how to spit a bar."

"Landon knows how to roast a verse over a barbeque, man," Anthony said intensely.

"Extra sauce," Chance replied. "I'll text him."

"Yo, we should go out tonight, dude," Anthony said. "Get lit!"

The last thing Chance wanted to do was go out, but getting drunk didn't sound like a terrible proposition. "Let's DO it," he replied, not making eye contact with Anthony. Tony fell silent, staring at Chance for a few seconds, and then returned to stare at his paper.

"Did you say you were going out?" Erika called out from the sofa.

"Yeah, you wanna come?" Chance asked.

"No, absolutely not. You're not going out until you meet those quotas," she called out. Tony looked up at Chance, his expression stating, Oh My God This Fucking Bitch. Chance stared back passively, almost meanly, causing Tony's expression to fade and confusion to set in. But guilt bubbled in Chance's stomach, so he called out, "Yo, you need everyone in the house to know about those quotas?"

"There's nobody here," Erika replied.

"Okay, mom," Tony replied. "What are we going to do instead?"