lost [editing/rewriting]

𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛

"...told you yesterday, Leah, I have a lot of things to do, I can't—"

At first I think I'm the one interrupting Sam when I enter the kitchen, until I hear whoever Leah is talk so loud I can make it out from his phone. Sam's sitting there, phone to his ear and eyes stuck on the books in front of him, looking like he wants to die. 

I definitely shouldn't be here. But you know what I'm good at? Making people uncomfortable, so I start rummaging through the kitchen. 

Sam glares back at me for a split second before turning back and trying to cut Leah off. "Leah—" Rolls his eyes, tips his head back and lets out the quietest sigh I've ever heard. "Do I need to say it again? Spell it out?" 

I grab a bag of chips from one of the cabinets and sit opposite of him. "Who is it?" I whisper.

He holds up a hand. "Leah, I need to go." She keeps talking, while Sam plays with his glasses that are lying on the table. "I'll call you later," he says, articulated and slow. "Bye." He hangs up before he gets a response, and lets out a relieved sigh.

I eat one chip. At this point I'm too hungry from munchies that I don't care about the texture of food and the feeling of it in my mouth that usually grosses me out. Everything started tasting like vomit at some point, and munchies is the only thing that has helped with that. "So?" I say.

"My ex." 

"Your ex?" 

"Yes."

 I put my feet up on the chair next to me, trying to ignore the sinking feeling of him possibly being straight. Not that it would matter, of course. Or, maybe it would matter a little. "And she's still calling you?" 

"No, Aiden, I put myself through the misery of talking to her voluntarily." He rolls his eyes.

I smirk. "So you chose me over her?" 

"I didn't choose you. You were the better option, but not a good one." His slight smile says otherwise. Well, at least I hope it does. He might also just genuinely hate me, who knows?

I nod slowly, swallowing before I speak because, yes, I'm a rude and annoying person, but I like to think that minor things like that makes me a little bearable. "Why's she calling you?" 

"Who fucking knows?" He shrugs. "You two are similar, though." 

Can I pretend that's a Hey, I like you? Probably not, but I do anyway for some reason, because getting my hopes up for something I don't even really want happening is a good move. Great move. "In what way?" I ask.

"You're both ruining my schoolwork." Sam opens his book. "I'm suing you if I ever get any less than an A, just so you know." 

"Sure, you do that. Honestly, I'm trying to be nice. You're always doing schoolwork. Everyone needs a break sometimes." 

"Says the stoner," Sam mumbles. 

Again: I have crippling anxiety let me have my fun and functionality, please. Of course I don't say that, but I definitely would if I was drunk. Do we have any alcohol left? There was a lot left after the party, but that was yesterday and I have a feeling it's all gone now. 

God, I wish I was drunk. 

No, I don't. 

It's the type of thing you forget the feeling of when you're not there, like work, or relationships. Well, alcohol is more that sounds fun, let's do it, and then realising it's not once you've shared your entire life story and sit on the bathroom floor puking for an hour. Work is it's not so bad, I'll survive this extra long shift, and then dying of stress or boredom, depending on what the shift it. And relationships are more like wow, sounds awesome, then you're stuck in this thing where your suicidal boyfriend is giving you his antidepressants and then you realise you hate being gay and then you're fucking desperate and ask your suicidal boyfriend to fake panic attacks for some Xanax because obviously you can't tell your own therapists you have them or anything and then you're forced to break up with him because you realise you are the most toxic person alive.

It's been a while since I apologized for that for the thousandth time. Guess I need to do it again soon. 

Kieran's response will be the same as it's always been—don't worry about it, dude, that's a long time ago—and he'll look slightly uncomfortable and I'll leave it. But god, I'm never going to escape dwelling that, am I?

Sam gets about five minutes of silent reading and writing notes before one of our roommates come into the room to disturb (so I guess he'll sue us both if he doesn't get an A. At least I won't be alone).

Honestly, I have no idea who this dude is. I've seen him, like, once, and he's this threateningly tall (worth noting I'm fairly tall myself, but this guy is scary) and muscular (yes, one of those guys who kind of looks like they're on steroids, so not like Sam, but they both could easily beat me up).

"Morning," he says in the middle of a yawn and goes to put on the coffee machine.

"Hardly morning anymore," says Sam. 

I glance at the clock. 2 PM? Damn. I think I have a hole in my memory somewhere, because I can't really remember sleeping early, nor waking up late, but it feels like I've been awake for only an hour or two. 

"Emmett, by the way," the guy says, back still turned to us. 

"Aiden," I say.

"Yeah, I know." Emmett turns around, like he knows I'm sitting there with confused, raised brows, hoping he knows me from something positive but probably not. "Lots of parties," he explains. 

Well, I mean, that's better than, hey, you sold me drugs once. 

My eyes automatically go to Sam for a reaction, but his are stuck in his book. Thank god. 

"Too many." I force a chuckle. 

"All depends on what you can handle." Emmett shrugs and takes two mugs from the cabinet, and suddenly I feel weirdly jealous and I hate myself for it.

He pours coffee into them both, then gives one to Sam who smiles back. He smiles. To Emmett. Well, I don't know him, he might be super nice, but he barely smiles to me, and when he does it's this very faint smile, so he must hate me.

Yup.

Give up now, Aiden. There's literally no point.

"Thank you," Sam says.

Emmett got a thank you.

Well, at least I know how to win Sam over now. 

As a friend, of course. He can have multiple friends. Everyone can have multiple friends. He can like multiple people at once, but, I mean, how will I know if he's not smiling at me? 

"Help me?" Emmett asks. 

"Sure," Sam says with absolutely no hesitation, no sigh or slightly irritated look like when I interrupt his schoolwork. Just a sure. 

Yeah, I've bothered him, I've been annoying. So what? I've been nice too. And I don't get these things, I get re-worded fuck you's. 

With a slight smile. 

I stuff my mouth with chips to avoid saying anything as Sam grabs his things and leave with Emmett, only giving me that slight smile as a goodbye. In the doorway he turns to Emmett with a full smile.

Well, at least I know that even if he's bisexual or something like that, I have 0 shots. 

I don't want a shot.

What am I even thinking? 

I want weed, though. Weed will fix everything.