LEFT TO HIS own devices, Wyatt Carter would've loved to stay locked up in his room and obsess over the fact that Carson Wright had stopped replying his text messages; FaceTiming his sister, Viv, as they both ate popcorn while streaming a romance that didn't have a happy ending.
But his best friend, Tobiloba 'Tobi' Oliver, had other ideas, and they didn't involve popcorn with copious amounts of self-pity, which suited Wyatt just fine. He was too good-looking to cry over a guy who didn't know the difference between your and you're.
As it turned out, Heartbreak Eleven was more of an ache than a full-fledged break, but reclassifying would mess up his streak and so he went with the flow, more focused on the pimple on his chin than Carson who, in all honesty, kissed like he had a second row of teeth.
"This is gonna be the best night of our lives," Tobi was saying as he lay sprawled on the mattress, browsing through his Instagram feed while the owner of said bed rummaged through his wardrobe, where T-shirts, platform boots, jackets and all other such paraphernalia lay discarded.
The two boys could not have been more different: One muscular, humorously self-deprecating and warm; the other slender, vain to a fault, and distantly aloof.
"Look, I've heard that line before," Wyatt said, deadpan, as he grabbed onto a pair of high heeled ankle boots which he held up for consideration. "Do these look Kurt Cobain enough to pass for grunge?"
Tobi glanced away from his phone momentarily before shaking his head.
"Nah, they're too new looking. But you could make it work. Though I wonder how you manage to walk around in those things."
"I just got them from ASOS and I've been dying to wear them," he murmured wistfully, setting them aside and reaching for a pair of scuffed leather Doc Marten's instead. "So what's our plan, because I was born to be wild―but my dad says I have to be home by ten p.m. or so. This face cannot afford to get bashed-in because of a mobbing."
There were many ways to say it, and while his may have come off a stretch too narcissistic, it was true that he had a nice face. Well, better than nice actually; magnificent, maybe.
He, and his sister, was the product of a mixed marriage that had now fallen apart. An Afro-Latino mother and a white father who, after the divorce, was a high-functioning train wreck that was always in motion. He didn't think his absence would be noted, but it was the thought that counted.
"It's this art showing that Vanda's been dying to go to. Paintings exhibited beside photographs, maybe even a poetry reading."
Wyatt rolled his eyes so hard he was sure he saw his brain.
His best friend had this thing going on with Vanda, a girl who's parents ran the high school they attended, where they acted like a couple but refused to talk about it. Sometimes going as far as flirting with other people to prove a point to nobody but themselves, since anyone with eyes could see what they had going on.
"Are you guys even dating?"
Tobi shrugged. "I don't know. My parent's will be pissed if I bring a white girl home though."
"Your parents would be pissed if they knew I was gay, and we've known each other for basically our whole lives. Fuck them."
"It's not so black and white."
"Isn't it?" Wyatt said, wiggling into a pair of bleached denim trousers that fell just below his shins.
A voice in his head chided him for being so blasé, because while they had always been close, Wyatt would never be able to relate to all of Tobi's experiences as the son of first generation immigrants, though he understood the feeling of constantly being stuck between two worlds.
Still, even the stories he'd heard over the years seemed unbelievable, but some of them he'd seen with his eyes.
Tobi's parents moved from Nigeria right before he was born, and he was an only child. Looking at him, it would've been impossible to tell that he was suffocating under the weight of all their dreams and expectations.
"I'm an asshole," he admitted, looking at the other boy. "Sorry, that was insensitive."
His bestfriend ignored the apology, eyes still glued to his screen in a way that belied the fact that he was more focused on Wyatt than anything else even when he refused to acknowledge it.
"Yeah, whatever," he murmured dismissively, before standing to straighten the wrinkles off his muscle tee. "Are you ready?"
"Yeah, I am."
Without waiting to see if he had anything else to carry, the other boy nodded and strode out of the bedroom. Wyatt shook his head, sighing.
On all fronts they were different, but they had one thing in common though, and it was that they could both sink down to pettiness when pushed.
YOU ARE READING
Still Point ✓
Short Story'I want you to want me,' the text read, and he smiled as he shot off his reply. 'You have no idea how much I already do.' Wesley Chao doesn't believe in love and Wyatt Carter wishes he wasn't always in it, until they both meet at an art exhibiti...
