Last Names | Tyrus/Muffy

Part 11

Buffy's POV

The doors to our rooms are only a metre apart, but crossing the hall might as well be crossing the universe. There's no chance we'd ever find our ways to each other's sides. TJ's been in his room, his door sealed, and I've been in mine, my door open only a crack. I told my mom it's because I like the airflow, but, being inside, there isn't really much of an airflow. The truth is, I'm waiting for the door to open, for a knock or something so that I don't have to be the one to take the first step across the border. 

A rattle from the hall makes me think for a second that it's worked, but then I realize the doorknob shaking isn't mine. I get up from my desk where I've been working on my math homework, and I shuffle out into the hallway. I immediately notice that TJ's door is open, and he's not in it. 

Then, from the bathroom, I hear a voice mutter, "Shit."

I walk toward the open door. As I get closer, I see TJ in his pyjama pants and a grey T-shirt, standing with a ziplock bag containing a toothbrush and dental floss. He catches my eye in the mirror but looks back down, ignoring my presence, and I guess I deserve it.

"Everything okay?" I ask. 

"Yeah," TJ mumbles back. "I just . . . forgot my toothpaste."

"Here." I squeeze into the space between TJ and the cabinet on the right wall then swing the door open. I grab the tube of my own toothpaste and set it down on the counter. "Use mine," I say.

TJ looks at me as though trying to decipher a code before eventually accepting the offer. 

"Thanks," he says cautiously. 

He squeezes out a bit of the paste onto his toothbrush and starts scrubbing away at his teeth. While he does that, I figure he's not going anywhere, so I take the opportunity to say something I've been trying to get myself to say since dinner. 

"Hey, I've been a bit of a bitch to you," I admit. 

He spits out foam before wiping his mouth with a cloth and setting his toothbrush down on the counter. 

"Is Buffy Driscoll apologizing?" TJ says with a grin. 

"I'm not apologizing," I assure him. "I'm just acknowledging that I wasn't exactly nice to you."

"Close enough," he accepts. 

He turns around with a smile before stepping past me back down the hall toward his room. I follow him there, not quite finished with the conversation yet. 

"Can I ask you something?" 

He sits down on his bed, looking about ready to go to sleep, but I stay regardless.

"Depends on what you ask," he replies. 

"Why did you talk to Cyrus that day at the swings?" I question. "Was it because you wanted to make me mad?"

He laughs a little under his breath and shakes his head. "Buffy, that had nothing to do with you."

"Then why?" I wonder. "Because, personally, I don't usually try to becomes friends with my enemies' friends."

His smile is replaced by a look like he's contemplating something. 

"You wouldn't get it," he says. 

"Try me."

He glances up at me, eyes holding a look of frailness in them. Then he lets out a tiny but noticeable breath.

"Okay," he says. "Well, have you ever just felt . . ." he pauses like he's searching for a word ". . . like you wanted to know somebody, but you didn't know why?"