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It was so understanding that Ishir barely knew what to do with it.
Ishir tried to scrounge up the courage, the strength, to contact Zee, but it had sunk to the pit of him, too far away to reach.
There was silence, and then, a fortnight later, Ishir spotted him at a party some other friends had managed to drag him to.
Zee’s face lit up as soon as he spotted Ishir, and he bounded over at once.
Despite what had happened, it felt good that Zee was still so eager to spend time with him.
“Hey,” Zee greeted breathlessly, but his grin sobered quickly. “Sorry. Is this okay? I just reacted.”
“Yeah, it’s okay.” Ishir laughed.
They hugged, the embrace tight and going on for a little too long. Ishir was the one to break it up, leaning away and smiling at his friend.
“I was gonna go get a drink,” Ishir mentioned. “You can come,” he said when Zee seemed hurt, making him perk up and follow.
They went to the kitchen, grabbed a pair of solo cups filled with a suspicious-looking punch, and headed to the massive yard outside.
Ishir could do this. He’d hang out with Zee, and things would return to how they used to be. Everything would be great.
Of course, because the universe fucking hated Ishir, that was the instant Carl appeared.
Ishir and Carl had met in a café a few years ago when Ishir was nineteen and ready to explore his sexuality. Carl, with his hulking body and green eyes and floppy brown hair, had caught his attention at once. He’d played football in college, apparently, and they’d hit it off well enough for Carl to ask Ishir to spend his rut together a year later.
The experience had been fun. At the time, he’d thought that was how ruts were supposed to be—sexy but not too overwhelming.
After being with Zee, how intense his had been, Ishir wasn’t sure what to think.
Carl and Ishir had kept in touch after that, hooking up a few more times, but it never turned into anything serious.
It was usually a treat to see him. Now, though, Zee’s body froze as Carl approached with a jovial expression and a booming, “Hi!”
“Hey. Wow, man, I didn’t know you were in town already,” Ishir greeted, grinning despite the trepidation in his gut.
“Yeah, just got here yesterday. It’s good to see you, man. Sorry about the playoffs, but you guys killed it.” He turned to Zee. “I’m Carl, by the way.”
Ishir saw the exact instant the name landed in Zee’s brain. Zee visibly stiffened, expression turning cold and aloof.
Ishir jumped in to relieve the sudden awkwardness. “This is Zee. It’s so funny you two haven’t met yet.”
“I know,” Carl said, humour in his voice. “This place can seem so small sometimes, and then you meet someone who lived two streets away from you your whole life.”
“I know, it’s crazy. But, hey, how’s school?” Ishir asked.
They chatted for a while, Ishir drawn in by Carl’s easy presence, massive hands flying through the air as he gestured wildly. Carl even tried including Zee in the conversation a few times, but Zee was at his most uncharismatic, barely saying a word.
“I need to catch up with some other people,” Carl said eventually. “But do you wanna meet up sometime?”
“Sure,” Ishir replied, but his voice was drowned out by Zee’s sharp, “No.”
They both blinked at Zee, Ishir’s insides turning to frost. He sidled between Zee and Carl—the former straightening his shoulders as if he were about to throw a punch while the latter looked on, bemused.
“Sorry about him,” Ishir bit out. “I’d love to hang. I’ll text you, okay?”
“Uh, okay. Sure.”
Ishir smiled at him tightly before grabbing Zee by the arm and dragging him away.
