His demeanor changes. Stiffens. “Did he hurt you?”
“No. Not—no.” Yes. He did, but not like that.
“Was he drunk too?” Coal asks.
“Yeah.”
“Then tomorrow’s a fresh start. For both of you. Try to talk tohim. See if you can get some clarity on the situation without alcohol or stress clouding things. Even beyond this kiss, I think he’s doing something for you. Whatever’s forcing you to face these truths about yourself is worth pursuing.”
He’s right.
Loch is the first person I’ve interacted with who hasn’t immediately made me think about what he expects of me, what he needs, who I can be for him. It’s been nothing but fighting each other from the start—I mean, I’m thinking of how to be what he needsnow,like how to help him with his uncle, but it isn’t at the sacrifice of any part of me. It’s what I want to do.
Coal hums. “No more thinking, okay? Go back to your room and go to sleep. Actually—” He squints. “Where are you? Did you stumble out somewhere safe or do I really need to come get you?”
“No. I’m fine. I’m in the library.” Something occurs to me. Like a barrier lifted, and I can feel things that happened more fully. “The library I was in with Loch, where he gave me those books. I should’ve known then. It was like a scene from a queerBeauty and the Beast.”
Coal laughs. It urges a smile onto my face and I’m so relieved for it.
“Go to bed,” Coal says. “For real.”
“Okay.”
“Do not fall asleep on the floor of the library. And hey. Look at me.”
I do.
His face takes up most of the screen. “I love you, dumbass.”
I roll my eyes in a miserable attempt to hide how much it means to me. “I love you too. Asshole.”
“Pissant. See? I can use that word now, too.”
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
I click off the video call. The library drops into blackness around me, and I lie there on the carpet for another long, shuddering breath.
Then I lift my phone again and send Iris that photo I took of the mess in the kitchen.
A few seconds pass, and she texts back.
IRIS
IRIS
i’ll make a mixed media artist out of you yet
saw your other text. you doing all right?
how’d the bottle break?
How’d the bottle break?
How did the bottle break.
There are a few couches around an unlit fireplace about two rows up, back by the door. I make my way there and collapse on one. It’s stiff and meant for formal sitting, not a sprawling guy drunk off his ass, but I’m too strung out to care.
