incandescent ²

03. comet

lauren

the boy's standing so close to me that it's making me uncomfortable, but i don't have the heart or guts to say anything about it. instead i focus my attention on the arched sign overheard.

he taps my arm once, catching my attention. he didn't actually lose my attention in the first place, i just can't be relaxed enough.

"you come here often?" he asks. we're walking again, and we've finally passed the gates. the street lights are on, as they should be, and they light up the place perfectly.

"not often enough." i would love to spend my days here, mostly because i don't like the tension at home. don't get me wrong, my family's not terrible, and i don't have anything against them, it's just, they keep looking at me like they're scared i'll disappear before their eyes. i don't blame them for it, though. if the tables were turned, i'd probably react the same way.

i'm defective. it's a simple harmless think i like to remind myself daily. believe it or not, it helps me keep myself in check. else, i'll probably be jumping off buildings in hopes that i sprout wings and fly, even though i know that's not humanly possible.

i wonder if he's noticed the yellow ribbon in my hair yet. of course, it's not out of obligation to, and it's not likely he'll understand what it's for; i guess a part of me wants to talk about it and see if someone understands me without pitying me.

if there's anything i hate, it's sympathy.

soon we're at the swings, and he sinks into one, wrapping his long fingers around the steel chains holding it in place. we're both too big to be here, and his legs are on the floor, but it's still peaceful and quiet. a mini getaway.

i slowly take a seat on the second swing.

"i have a question. it might be a touchy subject, so just let me know if i'm prying, okay?" his body visibly relaxes and he turn to me, cocking his head to the side.

maybe he has noticed. or maybe he wants to ask about the alleyway thing. either way, both subjects are touchy.

"i don't think you really want to know. i'm boring, and every other interesting bit of my life is unhealthy and bad and maybe chronic," i say, forcing a small smile.

"okay, then. we can start small, ease your way into it. ease our way into it. it's a two-way thing; i'll ask questions, you answer, then you ask questions and i'll answer. how's that sound?"

"why are you keen on finding stuff out? i don't like conversations."

"i'm not asking for a conversation." his face breaks out in a crooked smile. "i'm only asking for your name."

i hesitate, nibbling on my lower lip. even if i tell him my name, it won't change much. i could die right now and that'd be the end of my life, but i highly doubt that'll happen. "lauren. you can call me ren, though. no one does, except family, and i like it a lot so. . ."

his eyebrows set into a straight line. "it's cute. i like it."

in the tiniest voice ever, i ask, "what's yours?"

he stretches a hand out, a wide smile overtaking his face. "arden hayes. nice to meet you, ren. i have a feeling we're gonna get along fine." his smile falters and his eyes widen. "i gotta get this down."

i frown in confusion and watch as he pulls out a felt tip pen from his trouser pocket. "what are you—?"

"it's for the aesthetic," he says with a wink. he takes off the cap and scribbles my name on his left arm. "and so i don't forget." he returns the pen to its initial position. "i have a slight memory problem. the perks of having anterograde amnesia." he shrugs like it's no big deal, when in reality it's a huge deal.

"yeah, okay," i say like i hear this every other day. "so, you have any more questions you want to ask me? i could write them down on my "grocery" list." i pull out a neatly folded piece of square paper from a fold in my left sock. "pen?"

he shakes his head. "i'll do my best to remember." his smile is still wide and pretty, and his eyes are twinkling under the starlight. i still can't tell what colour they are. "do you go to school?"

i nod, then shake my head. "no, not anymore. i got pulled out because it's pointless for me. i still take classes online, just in case i have the chance to have a future." i add, "sorry for sounding so grim. i don't like talking."

"it's fine. not grim at all. i think you pulled me in a little too much, though." he leans his head on his palm. he's looking at me with so much interest that i'm certain isn't feigned. "tell me about yourself."

"um, that's not specific."

"it is. go on. you know what i mean."

and the thing is, i do. he's being direct and innocent and straight to the point, and my gut's telling me i can trust him, but my brain still isn't convinced.

"i'm a cancer kid?" i mentally facepalm. "sorry, i meant—" he cut me off.

"no, it's cool. not cool, but you don't have to lie about it. i won't judge you. i won't shame you. i won't pity you. that's no help. plus, we've all got something wrong with us. some people are just luckier and some are better at hiding."

"i'm seventeen. i've never had a best friend. i have a sister, though. she's a few months younger. not adopted. it's a weird thing. and i like to draw. sorry for the info dump."

"don't apologize, ren. i promise you, i won't remember any of this by the morning. that's probably not helping. sorry." he wipes his palms down on his trousers. "i probably shouldn't apologize if i don't want you to. but that doesn't make me any less sorry." his head snaps up. "what do you want to know?"

"nothing too personal."

"i'm a high school student, i play basketball, i sing in the shower, and i like watching comets. i'm also single, because no one wants to date an intersex guy who can't remember anyone's name. if you're interested, the offer's on the table. not to be forward, but you're really, really beautiful. how often do you get that?"

"oh, me? never."

"seriously? that's a bust. i can't believe it, but still. do you — are you being serious?"

i nod.

"well." he rises to his feet and places both hands on his waist. "we have to change that. maybe not. i want to feel like i have a purpose in life."

"i'm pretty sure you do. and trust me when i say i don't care about compliments. the only thing people say is that i look sick, and i know that's not true."

i might have stage three osteosarcoma, but it's not as limiting as i'd expected. i can still move, even though it's hell on earth.

"change the subject? you look less than comfortable." says arden.

to me, it looks like he's very getting of people. i worded that wrong because there's no right way to word it. he's different. good different.

·—·
a/n

i'm on a roll. just wish i could stick to "eall" like this :/
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