Baby Fat

sixty-three

The last thing Corrie expects is for his phone to start ringing at three P.M. and Devon's name flashing across the screen.

Corrie is at a loss, not sure how what to do. It's been one week since their last talk and Corrie had been dying a little inside with every passing day.

He accepts the call and holds the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey." Devon's voice isn't any different from the last time Corrie heard it.

Corrie pauses. "What's up?"

It sounds lame when it leaves his mouth, but he can't take it back, so he doesn't say anything else.

"I want to...talk," Devon mumbles. Corrie wanted to hear those words, wanted to so bad, but as soon as he hears them he realizes how mistaken he was. The way Devon said it, his tone was clear...his intentions were clear.

Corrie swallows hard, fingers dancing along the arm of the couch. "Okay. Now?"

"Yeah," Devon breathes. "Can I come over?"

"Okay," Corrie sighs, chest deflating, hope slowly dwindling down.

"I'll see you in fifteen, 'kay?" Devon hangs up the phone before Corrie can say anything and it makes the latter want to pitch his cellphone halfway across the room.

Corrie can't do anything but sit there in silence. Nothing can distract him from the fact that he already knows why Devon is on his way over. For awhile, Corrie was optimistic about the outcome of their relationship. They hadn't come all that way for nothing, but just a couple of seconds on the phone crushed that for him.

True to his word, Devon walks into Corrie's living room fifteen minutes later. He looks the same, only a Penguins hat is covering his hair and his jacket is zipped all the way up.

"Cold?" Corrie asks, eyeing Devon's outfit, forgetting completely about formalities.

"Freezing," Devon smiles and Corrie feels his heart swell at the sight.

"Do you want me to get you something to drink?"

Devon shakes his head. "Nah, I'm good."

Corrie doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything. Instead, he admires Devon from afar. It's weird because Devon doesn't look different, but being around him is somehow so different. Their relationship was so drama fueled, so drama reliant. But, without the drama, Corrie doesn't know how to be with Devon.

And, that's another peculiar thing. Corrie has so much love for Devon. He wants to be with him so, so bad. He's never wanted anything so bad in his entire life. But, just because he wants something doesn't mean he'll ever be able to have it.

"I-I think you know why I'm here," Devon says suddenly, making eye contact with Corrie.

He wants to laugh or cry or something to keep him from having to process the truth. He wants to live in denial, in sweet, sweet ignorant bliss. "Don't tell me. I-I don't want to know."

Devon nods as if he understands, but he will never understand the pain Corrie has been through to get to this point. He'll never understand the suffering, the amount of blood, sweat, and tears he has put into simply living.

"I want to sit here with you like you're not going to break my heart in five minutes," Corrie murmurs softly, eyes cast downward at his legs.

"Corrie," Devon says, but Corrie doesn't look up. "Corrie."

He finally looks up from his thighs and he's met with Devon's teary eyes. And, he knows.

"I just don't get it," Corrie wants to scream, but his voice comes out as a whisper. "You know, after everything we've been through, how can you just give up? How can you give up on us?"