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Wren wanted that. God, he wanted that. He couldn’t remember why he was supposed to keep it a secret. Shit, was he supposed to keep it a secret? He rubbed his temple for a second, then dropped his hands and shrugged. “You gave me that wonderful word. Aromantic.” He spelled it slowly so he didn’t get it wrong. “I thought it fit. It felt good.”
Peh-peh. Ravi’s face was a mask of concern. “But it doesn’t feel good right now?”
“I thought it was right,” Wren told him miserably, the ache in his chest getting worse. “But I like him. I like him. I want to be with him and make him laugh and smile, and I want him to want me. So I was wrong. Again.”
Ravi’s face did something complicated, and it took Wren a second to realize it was a look of understanding. “You need to go to bed.”
Wren blinked. “I’m not tired.”
“Yes, you are. You’re tired and drunk and confused, and none of what I have to say will make any sense if you’re not sober.”
Wren shoved at him with a loose, floppy hand. “Fuck you.”
Ravi just laughed and stood up, offering his hand. “Come on,” he urged with the other.
Wren wanted to throw a tantrum like a two-year-old just to make life difficult. He’d confessed his deep, dark feelings to Ravi, and now he was being sent to bed like a toddler? So, why not behave like one. But he didn’t have the strength for it. He slapped his hand into Ravi’s and let his friend pull him to his feet, dragging him down the short hall and into his bedroom.
Wren flopped over on his covers, and he did little to help Ravi as his friend removed his shoes and jeans, then urged him to climb under the heavy comforter, which felt like the best cocoon ever. He nestled down into the fabric and buried his face in his pillow, letting out the smallest sigh when he felt fingers carding through his hair.
He should tell Ravi what a good friend he was.
He should tell him that he was the best and that he didn’t deserve Ravi’s care or affection.
And maybe he would. In the morning. When he was done being just a little bit selfish.
Wren was no stranger to guilt and humiliation, thanks to either his erratic temper or his poor coping skills, though he’d been doing his best to manage both over the last few years. He knew he should be kinder to himself since he was nothing more than human and deserved to make mistakes, but that was a lot easier said than done.
His hangover was punishment enough—a reminder he was getting too damn old to treat his inside wounds the way he’d done when he was in college. It took him six tries to heave himself out of bed and even longer to find the strength to move from the toilet to the shower so he could wash away the leftover stink of hard alcohol coming out of his pores.
The hot water did him a world of good though, and he was left with his shame by the time he was dressed and heading into the kitchen. Normally Ravi had class in the mornings, but he was unsurprised to find his housemate sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, watching something on TV.
Wren had left his implants sitting on his nightstand. Even the faintest sounds would have floored him, and he once again appreciated living in a Deaf house and existing in Deaf space that didn’t have the expectation he push himself through discomfort for others.
Well, apart from the way Ravi was looking at him expectantly, telling Wren he wasn’t going to escape without properly explaining his breakdown.
“Morning,” Ravi said with one hand, his other occupied with a mug.
Wren considered coffee, but the thought of anything in his stomach made it churn, so he sat down and let out a long, deep sigh. “Morning.”
Ravi rolled his eyes and shook his head as he leaned forward to set his cup down. When he sat back, he stared at Wren for a while, like he was trying to assess him. “Not still drunk?”
“I wasn’t that bad,” Wren defended. If he’d been left on his own much longer, he might have been, but that was his own problem to deal with. “I remember everything.”
“Including your confession about Percy?” Ravi asked.
Wren felt the back of his neck flush, and he bit his lip before nodding his fist. “Yes. And Ravi, I swear to God I wasn’t trying to assume the aromantic label for myself just to fit in. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe other people are right. I’m broken, or wrong, or something. It’s probably some psychological…”
“Stop,” Ravi signed sharply.
Wren blinked at him, his hands frozen halfway through his sentence.
“You’re not broken. You’re not wrong. You’re still aromantic.”
Wren shook his head. “No. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I like him.”
Ravi tilted his head to the side, his gaze unforgiving as he stared. “You know you’re allowed to like him, right? You can like him and want to be with him and still be aromantic.”
Wren’s stomach started to twist in on itself. “How? That breaks the rules. That’s?—"
