Eye-to-Eye Chapter 20

Eye to Eye

Standard disclaimer: This story mentions sexual acts involving minors. You've been warned.

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Chapter 20

Isaac wakes up Friday morning with an unsettling dread. He is one day closer to the quince, one day closer to a giant ball of anxieties: unfamiliar people, strange places, different customs, loud noises, foreign languages, telling Juan he has a boyfriend...

The last one puts a pit in his stomach. He really doesn't want to hurt Juan's feelings, but he knows that everyone is always terribly upset when they get rejected. He can't imagine this will go any better. But Juan is usually very happy, he considers. Maybe he will be different. The thought doesn't convince him, though.

He goes through his morning routine, putting on all of his clothes in order and the like, paying attention to his growing cowlick and the bit of bed-head on his right side. Regretting that his routine does not currently accommodate fixing his hair, he tries gingerly to wet his hair just enough to get it to sit down; when the water drips off his hand onto his shirt, though, he sighs with a loud growl, yanks off his shirt, and throws it at the floor, using his frustration as a shield against the urge to sit and cry about it. Great, he laments, now I don't have the right amount of shirts, and I have to put my clothes on in the wrong order, and my hair is still bad!

"Honey?" he hears from the living room. "Is everything okay?"

"No!" he snaps, catches himself, and sighs. "I mean, no, Mom."

"Do you need help?"

"...Yes, Mom." He grits his teeth and squints, losing the battle to his tears.

She comes over and rubs his shoulder. "What's the matter?"

"I got water on my sh-shirt when I was trying t-to fix my hair." He sniffles. "And now I'm crying like a baby b-because I c-c--" He grimaces, managing not to sob out of sheer stubbornness. Because I can't do anything myself.

She rubs his back a few times, allowing a sob to escape Isaac before he regains control. "It's fine. You're just worked up. Take a breath, and we'll see what we can do for your hair." She puts her purse down outside the bathroom and runs water over her hands, working her fingers through Isaac's hair. It would feel nice if he weren't spending every ounce of his attention on being mad, just to avoid breaking down.

After a few moments, she says, "How about we wash your hair, as if you would be going to get a haircut?" She stands to the side of the bathtub and waits.

He hesitates, regretting every moment that this morning is deviating from routine. Taking a shuddering breath, he huffs in defiance of his own emotions and hangs his head over the bathtub rim. In short order, his mother has the water to the right temperature and works the shampoo through his hair, the same as it's always been done, the way that somehow makes him calm down, even before the trauma of a haircut. He takes a moment to center himself with the warmth of the water, the gentle head-scratching from his mother's nails, and the adherence to at least some sort of recognizable procedure.

After she blots his hair dry with his fluffy towel, she drags her fingers across his head a few times, deftly putting his hair into place (and making the hair on his arms stand). "There. No more bed-head. Feel better?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good, because this is a perfect time, since you haven't put your shirt on yet, to discuss another part of growing up."

"What...Mom?" That was definitely not what he expected her to say.

"I'll be right back. Go pick out a different shirt, hang that one back up, and wait for me, okay?"

"Okay, Mom," he replies, confused. He finds himself anxious, too, but mostly just because he's confused. He follows her directions, getting a light blue shirt -- the color of the seventh octave of a piano -- and hanging the other one up. When he returns, his mother has a small, hand-sized cylindrical bottle with a grayish ball stuck in the top.

She announces, "You've reached the age where you need to add another step to your morning routine: deodorant."

He stares at the bottle. "But I don't smell bad."

"Honey, smell your armpits."

He does and immediately wrinkles his nose. He heard all about this last year in the puberty stuff they talked about in science class, but he isn't sure it prepared him for that smell. "Ew."

His mother laughs openly. "I told you. So I want you to try this on; it's the kind I use. It has a light scent and dries quickly. Hopefully this will feel okay for you."

He takes the bottle and stares at it, as if he were just handed the controls to an alien spacecraft. "How do I..."

She stands behind him and imitates the process. "Lift your arm like this, and just roll the ball up, then down, up, then down, until you've covered from here to here." She indicates the area on Isaac's armpit, making him instinctively pull his arm down. "Sorry. Do you want me to put it on for you today, and we can practice more later?"

"Can I just go to school without putting it on? We're going to be late."

"We're already going to be late, dear. It's fine. I want to make sure you're happy and confident at school."

"Mom..." he groans.

"Do you want to stink?"

"...No, ma'am."

"Then lift." He does so, and his mother rolls the deodorant bottle quickly up one strip and down the other. She gets about halfway through one armpit before Isaac's arm clamps down on the bottle. "Stop, stop, stop!" he laughs, "it tickles! Let me do it."

Through the mirror, he sees her roll her eyes. "All right, go ahead. You saw how I was doing it, right?"

"Yes, Mom." He continues, slowly rolling the ball up and down. When he's confident he covered the space she designated, he flaps his arm a bit, feeling the coldness in his armpit. "It feels weird."

"Does it hurt, or bother you?"

"It bothers me a little bit."

"Do you think you can get used to it?"

"...Probably, Mom."

"And is the smell okay?"

He ventures a cautious sniff at his armpit and finds the light perfumed scent much more tolerable than the pungent sting from before. "Is it cotton candy?" he asks.

"I'm not sure. What does the bottle say?"

"Powder Fresh. It smells pink."

His mother hesitates for a moment; he sees her mouth twist slightly, though it doesn't look like a frown. "Either way, it's not bothersome?"

"Um...no, Mom."

"...Okay." She puts a lot higher inflection on the word than normal. "Try the other side." He does so, noting a small, enigmatic smile on her face as he finishes up. He hands back the bottle and flaps his other arm to match.

She pops a cylindrical top onto the bottle and crosses her arms. "You know, Isaac, you're being very mature this morning."

Isaac frowns, utterly confused. "How, Mom? I was crying like a baby, and I couldn't--"

"It's not about that, Isaac," she says softly. "You were frustrated, and even frustrated adults cry. That's not a baby thing, that's a human thing." She begins to tick off examples on her fingers. "You accepted help, you monitored your reaction to me and changed your tone of voice to be more respectful, you didn't fight my suggestions except to try to keep punctuality, you actively cared about your appearance, and you even took initiative on something you've never done before. I'm actually quite impressed. And, judging by the smile I see on your face, you're okay with that."

"Mom...!" he says, hiding his mouth with his hand. "You're embarrassing me!"

"Well, that's a shame, because you should be okay with feeling proud. Now, you smell nice, you look nice, and you are nice. I think we're ready to get to school now, yes? Put your shirt on and we can go."

First Vin pointed out that he should feel proud more often, and now his mother is saying that he should be okay with feeling proud. Do I really have that much of a problem with being proud? he wonders. His mind explores the various facets of the idea on the way to school.

When they arrive, his mom parks the car instead of going through the drop-off lane. "I'll walk you in to make sure you won't be counted tardy. They should still be serving breakfast, but if they're not, we can make sure you get something to eat before school. Nobody learns well on an empty stomach."

"Yes, ma'am." He's not a huge fan of his mom escorting him in, but he's less of a fan of getting in trouble.

Thankfully, nobody is roaming the hallways -- at least nobody that Isaac knows would pick on him for "walking with his Mommy" or whatever bullies try to say. She leads him to the front office, checks him in to get a hall pass for class, and walks with him to the cafeteria; she waits at the cafeteria door to make sure that they are still serving breakfast before waving goodbye and heading out. Isaac is actually quite happy he still has time for Friday breakfast, since it's one of his favorites: good old bacon, eggs, and toast. The bacon is thin, the toast is cold, and the eggs are mushy, but even though it doesn't measure up to his mother's, he can't argue. Bacon is bacon.

He eats quickly and hustles to the Living Room; even if he has a hall pass, he still doesn't like to be late to class. To his surprise, he makes it there with a decent bit of time before first period; also to his surprise is the fact that Christian is sitting at David's table, raptly watching him draw. Isaac's stomach sinks deep.

He slowly walks up to the table and sees that David is in fact working on the drawing of Vin, and it's astounding; the penciling is impeccable, every detail perfect, as if he were just filling in the blanks of a photograph. It's a picture of Vin in his school jersey and basketball shorts, with a basketball tucked under his right arm and a half-smile on his face. Isaac silently watches as David effortlessly shades in the lines on Vin's thighs, adding the finishing touches of color to the picture.

"Oh, hi Isaac!" Christian calls out, ripping Isaac forcefully from his fascination. "Did you see what David is drawing?! He can draw like a whole lot of things, not just penises!"

"I know that, Christian," he replies with more than a hint of irritation. "And you just said 'penis.'"

"I said 'penises.'"

"But you thought that th-the word w-was w-word...that it was w-weird."

Christian shrugs. "I did. But I don't anymore. It's just 'penis.' Penis penis penis." Isaac snorts as Mr. Coleman gently chides Christian for being rude. After Mr. Coleman leaves the table, Christian continues, "But he showed me his Tifa, and his Sailor Moon, and Sylvanas, and a bunch of others. He's real good!"

Isaac rolls his eyes and blurts, "I know. He's drawing this for me."

"Oh. OH! Is this because you and Vin are--"

"Christian!" he shouts, immediately gasping and turning to Mrs. Jimenez. "I'm sorry, ma'am! I'm sorry!"

"It's okay, Isaac. Just please speak more calmly and quietly so you don't disturb others."

"Why are you mad?" Christian asks, frowning.

"I told you not to say...that thing."

"What? Ohhhhh -- it was an accident!"

"I don't care if it was an accident. Just don't say it."

"Okay! Okay!"

David looks up at Isaac, and a picture of Isaac and Vin holding hands resolves in Isaac's mind. Isaac sighs heavily and rolls his eyes. "See? David knows now."

"But I didn't say--how do you know that David knows?"

"Bec--" Isaac freezes. He can't deal with this right now. He already hates himself every time he tells a secret, he hates people finding out about his weirdness, and he really hates when he accidentally says something stupid. He feels panic well up inside him, but it is quickly cut short by David shoving his sketchbook in front of Isaac with Vin's picture on one side, the rest of the sketchbook on the other. David grabs Isaac's chin and points his eyes at Isaac; Isaac yelps in surprise as he gets an image of himself tearing the page out of the sketchbook.

"David!" Mr. Coleman says as he passes by the table. "It is rude to do that!"

Isaac looks at the notebook just as the announcements come on for the day. He recites the morning pledge, but as the announcements continue, he looks at David again. "Are you...giving me this picture?"

He pushes the notebook closer to Isaac.

Isaac keeps an eye on David as he slowly tears the thick paper at the perforation, leaving him with a pristine picture of Vin, the basketball star. He stares at it in wonder before remembering his manners. "Thank...thank you, David."

Mr. Coleman kneels down between the two of them, slightly startling Isaac out of his reverence for the picture. "David, did you just give Isaac a picture?"

David doesn't answer; he just takes his sketchbook and starts up another picture with his favorite pencil.

Mr. Coleman looks at Isaac. "You know, he's never done that in the year he's been here."

Isaac looks up at Mr. Coleman and gets a rush of amusement, pride, and a warm sort of feeling that Isaac cannot identify. "I didn't know that, sir."

"Well, you've made a good friend, it seems." He pats both of them on the shoulder; David shrugs aggressively as he shakes off Mr. Coleman's hand and continues drawing.

"Isaac," Christian whispers loudly. "How did you know that David knows? He doesn't talk. How did--"

The bell rings over Christian's interrogation. "I have to go to class, Christian." He thanks the bell yet again for allowing him a reason to get away from giving away information.

Reading class is back to grammar, as apparently everyone keeps using semicolons incorrectly. Isaac gets the rules for them, but he doesn't understand why someone would use a semicolon when a period works just as well. More importantly, though, Mr. Guthrie is not in the room again; somehow, this only makes Isaac think more about the upcoming meeting and what it could possibly entail. Regardless, he gets his work done early for once -- Mr. Guthrie always has something else to work on, and this was an easy lesson -- so he grabs a young adult novel off the class bookshelf and reads a bit about a boy who keeps getting called the wrong name on his first day of school. The very notion makes him angry for the boy. It's just rude to call someone the wrong name, so why does everyone keep doing it? Are they bullying him? He doesn't get far in the story before the bell rings, so he leaves the book on his desk and heads out.

At least Friday is usually something fun, Isaac considers, and we're done with the Regional Games, so this shouldn't be too bad. He does realize he's going to see Juan; he hopes that isn't going to cause him any problems.

He enters the locker room and sits down to remove his shoes; as expected, Juan shows up shortly afterward and sits in his customary spot as well. "Hey, Isaac!" he says energetically.

"Hey, Juan," he replies while stuffing his socks into their respective shoes.

"How's it going--what?!" Juan cuts himself off. Isaac looks up at him to see what the issue may be; Juan is looking over Isaac's head for just a quick moment before he looks back directly at Isaac. "Uh, sorry, I, uh, thought I saw something. How's it going?" Juan's dark eyes are full of playfulness, excitement, lingering surprise, and happiness.

"It's going, um, okay, Juan," he says through his shirt. Folding it up, he continues, "I was late today, and then, um, a friend in my, my homeroom gave me a present."

"Oh, that's cool," Juan says, nodding. "I'm super excited about tomorrow. It's gonna be so much fun!"

Isaac slides his pants off and starts to fold them. "I'm...I'm nervous about it, Juan."

"Oh, don't be -- it'll be fun," comes a New York-accented, smooth tenor voice from his other side.

He looks up and almost falls off his seat when he sees Vin there, untying his shoes as if he hadn't even spoken. "VIN!!" he shrieks, bouncing in place with uncontainable excitement. Both Juan and Vin crack up laughing.

"Me!" Vin says with a grin, taking off a shoe; he gives Isaac a sidelong glance and leans in, bumping his shoulder to Isaac's. "How's it going?"

"Vin! You're back! Already! You--and then--I thought--"

"Hey, whoa, don't overheat, my man." He takes off his other shoe and slides off his white pants; he apparently has been there long enough to have changed shirts, already. "We got all class to talk about it. Also, you're still mostly naked. Might wanna finish dressing out, heh."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I mean, yes, Vin." Isaac's heart and face both feel like he's run laps around the gym, but he focuses on dressing out before class actually starts.

After Juan finishes, he interrupts the end of Isaac's dress-out routine. "Oh, hey! So I got some of the official quince invitations so you could get my address." He reaches into his locker and grabs a folder, taking out two slightly-wrinkled, elegantly-scripted invitations in Spanish, each with one address scratched out and another circled underneath. On the side of the invitations is a phone number written in large, round numbers with a steady hand. "That's my address and number, so if you need something, just let me know."

"Nice, thanks man!" Vin says with a wide smile, slipping the invitation into his locker on top of his clothes. Isaac takes the time to make sure his is placed carefully within his work folder so he knows where it is for later.

The gym is set up in stations, which is fine with Isaac; if he doesn't like a station, it only lasts a few minutes. Everyone sits on the bleachers, and the coach wastes no time assigning stations to people to evenly distribute the class; he just points to a boy, calls out a number, and they go to the station with that number, as has been done in times past. Isaac knows that he is just going row by row sequentially, so he's going to be split up from Juan and Vin. He briefly considers trying to move where he is, but when the coach gets to Vin, he just says, "You're both Station Four." Both boys share a confused look as they get up and walk together, but the mood quickly switches back to giddiness as Isaac practically hops to the station next to Vin, though he watches with slight disappointment as Juan goes to a different station nearby.

Vin shrugs and watches from their spot the basketball hoop as the rest of the boys file out. "Well, that was unusual, but cool o' him. Coach Robertson usually sticks to procedure pretty hard."

"Is his name Coach Robertson?"

Vin blinks. "Uh, yeah? Did you not know that? He said it like on the first day of school."

Isaac scans his memory. "I was...maybe I wasn't paying attention, Vin. I don't know, Vin."

"Heh, well, I worked with him after school for weeks, so I guess I got a leg up on that one."

A couple of other boys join the group; a dark-skinned boy with flat-topped curly hair, and Dan, the boy with the staticky hair. Once Dan gets there, he realizes that Dan is actually taller than Isaac thought he was, but Freddie, the other boy, is about Isaac's height, not counting the extra inch or so of hair. There's not a lot of conversation to start as the boys practice free throws for the station. When they get to the next section, stretches, Vin turns to the side and grunts to Isaac, "We should let Juan know before class is over, yeah?"

Isaac effortlessly replies, "Yeah, Vin, we should tell Juan. Um, do you want to say it or me?"

"What, the invite to hang out?"

"No, Vin, that we're--" He stops himself at the same time Vin looks at him with a strange glance full of desperation and frustration. Face flushing, stomach dropping, Isaac just pulls his knees up and presses them into his eyes, resisting the temptation to just start smacking his head against them.

"Is...he okay?" Isaac hears one of them ask in a lower alto voice, likely Freddie.

Vin sighs and scoots up next to Isaac. "He will be." To Isaac, he says, "Breathe it out, my man. It's fine, okay? The answer is yes, I'll tell him."

After a moment, Isaac lifts his head, still squinting hard. "I'm...so tired...of s-saying things..." He starts to vigorously rub his fingers through his hair, which quickly turns into scratching himself.

"Hey, hey, none of that," Vin says assertively, holding Isaac's hands away from his head. "You didn't say anything. Please. It's okay."

"But I'm stup--"

"You're not stupid," Vin interrupts. "You know you're not. Remember what we talked about, yeah?"

Isaac fights Vin's grip for a futile moment. He wants so badly to call himself stupid, to say that he keeps making stupid mistakes, to point out that he almost gave secrets away multiple times just today, but he knows full well that Vin won't let him get away with it, won't let him be right about being wrong. "Let go, Vin."

"You gonna be nice to yourself?" Isaac looks at him through blurry eyes and still finds himself awash with warmth, love, sadness, and a sprinkling of frustration. Vin smiles, though his emotions don't change.

"I...I'll be nice to myself." Vin releases Isaac's hands just in time for the whistle to cut into their conversation. He finds himself still full of frustration by the time they get to the station for crunches; he goes first and burns off his irritation by ripping through as many rapid-fire crunches as he can. When he can barely lift more than his head, he finally lays back and growls out the rest of his breath.

He swaps places with Vin, who takes significantly longer to reach exhaustion. After he catches his breath again, Vin remarks, "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you get that...determined about something."

"What do you mean, Vin?"

"Well, you snapped at me, first off, and instead o' cryin', you just crunched it all out. That's the most testosterone I think I've ever seen outta you."

"I snapped at you?!" he says in horror. "I'm sorry, Vin! I'm sorry!"

Vin rolls his eyes and stares frustration and amusement into Isaac's eyes. "Bruh. That's not the important part. You handled this a whole lot different than I've seen you before. In a good way. Yeah, you shut down a sec, but then you were just like 'Screw you, abs, I'm takin' it out on you,' heh."

"I did?"

"Ask your abs." Isaac laughs and regrets it immediately. Vin smiles and asks, "So...did it help? You feelin' better?"

"I don't know, Vin."

"Well, do you still feel like you wanna hurt yourself?"

"...No, Vin. Maybe a little."

"Then I'd say it worked. Maybe next time you're gonna shut down, just do push-ups until you collapse, heh."

Dan looks over, breathing heavily from his own crunching spree. "I didn't know you were a self-help guru."

"What? Me?" Vin asks with furrowed brows and a weird smile. "Pff. I wouldn't listen t'me if I were you."

Dan shrugs, sitting up. "I mean, you sound to me like you know what you're talking about. I've watched a few videos on YouTube with that kinda stuff."

"About what?"

"Oh, mental health stuff. How to be a teenager without dying. Things like that."

"Fair. Guess I don't listen to myself as much as I should."

"Mood," Dan says with a sharp nod. They both laugh.

Isaac doesn't even bother wondering why talking about death is funny. Afterward, Vin falls silent, looking off at a distant wall. Isaac is curious what he's feeling, but Vin doesn't look in his direction.

The next station is "Hopscotch Plus," where a person has to make it as far as they can in a loop of squares, switching from hopping on one foot or the other, or on both. On any other day, Isaac would look at this kind of activity with dread, but something about being with Vin again in class makes him feel reckless enough to give it a shot. He falls within two hops, catching himself with his hands. "Ow."

"Whoa, you okay?" Vin asks, kneeling next to him and offering a hand.

"I'm okay. I don't have a lot of co-ordination."

"But you play piano like a demon, though. Isn't that coordination?"

Isaac stares off. "That's different, Vin," is all he can figure out as an explanation. "Let me try again." He gets another three squares before toppling, landing on his knees.

Vin laughs a bit and suggests, "A'right, a'right, maybe cut back on the testosterone a bit, yeah? Don't hurt yourself."

"But I want to finish it, Vin."

"A'right...howzabout you go slower?"

"But you and they went fast."

"And you learned a piano song in a tenth of the time it takes me. What's your point?"

"But..."

"'But that's different' somehow, too?" he interrupts, smiling with a raised brow. "Look, just do what you can do, yeah?"

Isaac has no comeback. "Okay, Vin." He hops to the next square, taking the time to stabilize himself before going to the next one. Left foot, balance. Both feet. Right foot, balance. Turn, left foot, balance.

"See?" Vin says. "You got this."

Nothing about it is funny, per se, but Isaac lets out a small laugh nonetheless. He continues through the steps, but the whistle saws through his concentration and he stumbles two squares before the end. Ignoring the cue, he stands back up on one leg, hops the last two, and lands solidly on both feet. "There!"

Vin nods with the "Not Bad" face. "Nice work, my man."

"Thank you, Vin."

"...Is that pride I hear?" he asks with a growing grin.

"Vin..." he says with the tone of voice he usually reserves for his mother's compliments.

"Fine, fine, but I'm just sayin'. Remember that for later." He winks and heads to the next station.

The conversation dies down as the boys concentrate more on their station work while Isaac frets about talking to Juan. When they finish up the full rotation, the class is over, and they change back in. Vin leans across Isaac -- making Isaac blush more than he'd like to -- and calls out in the noisy locker room, "Hey, Juan! Piano rooms after school?"

Juan looks back with wide eyes, in an expression he cannot parse. "Uh, yeah, sure! Isaac, you coming too?"

"Yes, Juan, I'm coming too."

"Cool! Maybe I'll get my violin and we can jam!"

"Nice, nice," Vin says with a nod. "See you there!" he says as Juan gets up to head out, and then smiles in Isaac's direction. "Man, I'm glad to be back in this class."

"I'm glad, too, Vin."

"Your grin says as much, heh." Suddenly he frowns, leans in, and sniffs in Isaac's direction. "You smell nice," he says with a tiny smile.

"Um, thank you," Isaac replies awkwardly, but smiles in spite of himself.

"New deodorant?"

"Yes, Vin. Um, first deodorant. Mom told me I needed it."

"Ah, heh. Always fun. Brandon told me I smelled like an onion went bad. We got in a wrestling match and he shoved my head into my own armpit to prove it. I gagged, and he laughed so hard. Embarrassing, but kinda hilarious when you think about it."

Isaac does not consider the thought of Brandon and Vin fighting to be "hilarious," but thinking about watching the two of them wrestle does things to him that he doesn't want to process at the moment. Instead, he mentions, "I like the smell of your deodorant, too, Vin." He doesn't want to think about the fact that the first time he smelled it was during the fire alarm, but there's only so much he can do to prevent his mind from going there.

With a half-smile, he responds, "It's a'right. `Mountain Crisp' or somethin' like that. Better than rotten onions, I guess. Anyway, bell's about to ring."

The two of them get up and walk out of the gym together just as the bell rings; Isaac knows that Vin continues down the hallway as Isaac splits off toward the cafeteria, but it's nice to walk with him anyway, even if they're not talking in the sea of noise anyway.

Except that Vin turns with him.

"Vin? You're going to miss class if you keep walking with me."

Vin frowns and looks at him long enough to portray a good bit of confusion. "No, I have lunch. I'm just going to the cafeteria. Remember? They chang--"

"YOU HAVE FIRST LUNCH NOW?!" Isaac practically shrieks. He glances to the side quickly to see a girl rubbing her ear and distancing herself from the two boys.

"Yeah, I--wait, you have first lunch?! No way, man! C'mon, let's get the fresh food first!" And with that he starts to lope down the hallway until a teacher calls him out by name, telling him to walk or to go all the way back to the gym to try again. Vin ducks his head and immediately stops to wait for Isaac. "Sorry. Excited, heh."

"I can't run as fast as you anyway, Vin," Isaac says with a slap on Vin's arm.

"Okay, okay, that's fair. I hate that teacher, though. I think he's the band director, dunno, but geez, chill, y'know?"

"I know, Vin."

"Heh."

They get in line for food, which is just good old-fashioned cheeseburgers (albeit with cafeteria-grade meat). Isaac gets his burger, steak fries, cup of peaches, and milk; as he's walking to his table, he realizes he should wait for Vin so that he can show Vin where he likes to sit. He turns back and sees Vin walking out with two stacked cheeseburgers, which leaves him speechless for a moment.

"What?" Vin asks. "I eat a lot."

"I...didn't know you could get more than one."

Vin shrugs. "You gotta pay for it, but yeah."

Isaac isn't sure why the idea of eating multiple entrees seems so strange to him, so he logs it away for future ignoring. "Um, I like to sit over here," he says, walking toward the corner table. Vin follows, and they both have a seat.

Vin puts his tray down and sits next to Isaac, their backs to the rest of the cafeteria. "Why do you sit all the way over here?" he asks, stuffing over a third of a cheeseburger into his mouth.

"Everybody is loud, and then th-they're mean, and then sometimes they're just annoying."

Vin finishes his first bite before replying, "That is a whole mood, right th--"

"Isaac! Who's sitting with us? Normally you don't let anyone, nobody else sits--wait, is that Vin?!" Christian comes around into view, puts his tray down, and gawks at Vin. "But...you're not in our lunch!"

He shrugs, palms up, and smiles. "Am now."

"Cool!" He drags the word out over a few seconds. "Oh my God, um, this is, this is so cool! I didn't know you would--why are you in our lunch?!"

Vin, meanwhile, just takes a bite of his cheeseburger and chews with a strange expression not entirely unlike a smile. "So, Isaac, would you like to introduce us?"

Isaac sighs in Christian's direction. "Christian, this is Vin. Vin, this is Christian. He talks a lot."

"I'm beginning to notice that, heh."

Christian responds with a face full of steak fries, "I don't talk a lot!"

"And you talk with your mouth full."

"I--" Christian forcefully chews his fries and swallows deliberately. "I don't always."

Vin just laughs at the two of them. "I can already tell you guys are BFFs, hah! Well, this is already more entertaining than the other lunch period was, for sure."

"Vin!" Christian yelps. "Do you want to join our clan in Clash Royale?!"

"Christian!" Isaac says. "You're being annoying!"

"Hey, hey, it's cool, Isaac," Vin says with a sidelong glance. "I used to play Clash Royale a lot."

"Wait, you did?" Isaac asks, but it goes unheard underneath Christian yelling "YOU DID?!"

"Yeah, heh. I mean, didn't everyone? I kinda got bored of it though. Maybe I'll start back up, I dunno. If I do, I'll letcha know, for sure."

"So why are you in this lunch now?" he asks, thankfully before taking a bite of burger. Isaac is fascinated watching two of his friends from completely different aspects of his life get to know each other; it's almost like characters from two different cartoons having a crossover event. He finishes a third of his cheeseburger before moving on to his five fries (which will just have to be eaten in three bites each), watching raptly.

"Dropped out of athletics, got my schedule changed up." Vin stuffs the remaining chunk of the first cheeseburger in his mouth and washes it down with his drink.

"Why, though? Didn't you, aren't you, you're really popular, and, and tall!"

Vin is about to take a bite of his second burger, but he stops, staring at Christian for a moment. "But...what does that have to do with athletics?"

Christian stares back, speechless. "I--it--tall people play basketball and are really popular!"

Vin suddenly puffs his cheeks out and puts his hand in front of his mouth. "Oh mah gah, ho--hold on a thec!" He chews his food, swallows, and turns red-faced in laughter.

"What did I say?" Christian asks, watching Vin with wide eyes. Isaac can't help but catch the laughter.

"Geez, ow! My abs! Phew. Okay, so, where do I start with that one? One, people who play basketball aren't always tall, and tall people don't always play basketball; two, can you name the other players on the basketball A Team?"

"No," Christian replies simply.

Palms up, Vin responds, "So...are they popular?"

"Oh. I guess not."

"Right. So, uh, I stopped because I don't really wanna do all that. Long story short, I just wanna be a nerd and hang with the gamers and pianists and stuff."

Isaac quickly adds, "'Pianist' means someone who plays piano. He doesn't want to hang with penises."

"I mean," Vin interjects, "penises are known to hang pretty well."

Isaac stares for a moment. "Oh, that's a pun!"

"I don't get it." Christian stuffs a fry in his mouth.

"Because 'hang' means to, um, hang with someone like a friend, and then it means to hang, like this." Isaac sticks his elbow up and lets his arm dangle from it. He swings it a few times for emphasis.

"Hey, two for two on the puns!" Vin says with a small fist pump.

"Mine doesn't hang," Christian states. "It just kinda sits there."

Both Isaac and Vin stare for a moment. Vin admits, "I...don't know what to say to that."

Christian's eyes go suddenly wide. "Oh! Isaac! You didn't tell me how you knew what David, that David knew about you and Vin--"

"CHRISTIAN, STOP TALKING RIGHT NOW," Isaac shout-growls over the end of Christian's sentence. "I hate when you do that! I hate it! Stop saying things about me! Stop telling my secrets! You always do that!"

Christian gives him the characteristic wide-eyed, teary silence in response to Isaac's outburst, which makes him feel just as bad as it always does. Before things escalate, though, Vin butts in. "Hey, hey! Isaac, bro, chill!"

"He was t-telling my sec--my secrets again," Isaac says weakly, between hiccups. Isaac sits on his hands and rocks furiously to prevent himself from getting any worse. Christian sits silently and continues eating his last few fries.

Vin sighs. "Isaac, buddy, look. What's eating you? You're never this, this stressed or snappy."

"I don't--don't know, Vin," he says through a sniffle.

"Are you stressed 'cuz of the party?"

"...Yes, Vin. And then 'cuz it's...it's really hard to keep secrets." He grits his teeth against the wave of emotion that hits him in response.

"...I get it." Vin sighs again. "Look, I...I'm sorry that...okay, so Christian knows about...us, you said, right?"

"...Yes, Vin."

"So we can talk about it here, then. Christian, I'm sorry that Isaac blew up at you -- that's basically my fault for making him keep my secret."

"I don't care that you two are boyfriends," Christian says in an unusually quiet tone. "I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"Well, that, and the fact that I'm bi, yeah? I mean, that makes sense since I'm going out with a boy an' all, so I figure you probably know that much, but--"

"Oh, I thought maybe you were just gay."

"Nah, boobs are way too nice." Both of the other boys can't help but snicker at the comment, even with the current mood. "So first off, Isaac: I'm real sorry that I'm making things harder on you. That wasn't my intention, an' I feel real bad about it."

"No, Vin, it's okay, I--it's not your fault, Vin."

Vin looks down. "It kinda is, if we're bein' honest. This is on me, yeah? This is my problem, and it's not fair t'you t'make you deal. So...just try not to talk about it, an' if it gets out, then, I guess...whatever, y'know? Maybe a couple less people talk to me or whatever. I don't even really care anymore all that much. Just...don't let my secret hurt you like it is. It's makin' you upset, I can tell, and...just, just don't take it so hard on yourself." Isaac nods and wipes his nose on his napkin. "So, number two: tell me about this 'David' guy."

Christian immediately pipes up. "David is this kid in our homeroom who always draws, like all the time--"

"No no, I know who he is. You said he knew about us, right?" he asks, looking at Christian but pointing at himself and Isaac.

"Yeah, Isaac said that David knew, even though I didn't say anything about it, because I don't tell secrets." He puts extra emphasis on the words.

"You tell everything to the whole cafeteria sometimes, Christian." Isaac wipes his eyes and gets back to eating the rest of his cheeseburger.

Vin snickers behind his hand. "Okay, Isaac, you're getting sassy now, and I can't tell if I love it or if I should call you out on it. Maybe David is just really perceptive. Just because he doesn't talk doesn't mean that he doesn't listen, yeah?"

"No," Isaac says with a sigh. "It's not that."

"...Isaac?" Vin asks in a lower voice.

He looks at Vin and feels confusion, with a touch of fear and concern, rushing past his own exhaustion and building determination. He keeps eye contact and says, "I'm so tired of secrets, Vin. I don't care if he knows about my ability."

Christian looks at Isaac, eyes widening. "You have an ability?"

"Yes, Christian," he says, looking him in the eyes. Intense curiosity and rapidly-growing surprise mingle with his own determination and courage. "I can see what people are feeling."

"Oh, you mean like their emotions?"

"Yes, Christian. Can you feel mine?"

He looks away. "Um, no?"

"No no, Christian, look back at my eyes. Can you feel what I'm feeling?"

"No. Am I supposed to?"

Isaac stares back, confused; he can feel Christian's roiling emotions, so he knows that it's "working" like normal. "Yes. You are, um, confused, and then excited, and then, um, you want to know...you're curious, and then...um...embarrassed maybe?"

"Oh. I guess so. Maybe. My doctor says I have 'Alexis something' and I can't tell how I'm feeling."

"Oh." That explains why he never said anything even when we looked at each other, Isaac realizes. Maybe that's part of why he's in the Living Room.

"Wait, hold on," Vin interjects. "What's alexi...what was it? 'Alexithymia'?"

Isaac drinks some milk and wipes his face. "Alexithymia is when you can't tell what you're feeling. Sometimes you can't...you don't show emotions on your face, and sometimes you can show it, but you can't, um, you can't tell what you're feeling. Like you can be happy or mad, but you don't...feel it. I think."

"Yeah!" Christian exclaims. "That! Like people ask me, 'Why are you mad?' and I'm like, 'I'm not mad,' but then they yell at me to stop yelling at them, so I yell at them 'cuz they're yelling at me, and then Mr. Coleman gets real loud and we all hafta shut up."

Vin blinks a few times and pulls his lips inward in a weird expression; he glances at Isaac long enough for him to feel the nearly-uncontainable laughter welling up in Vin's chest. Vin closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and says in a very calm, measured tone, "Thank you both for the explanation."

"You're welcome!" Christian responds for the both of them.

Isaac thinks for a moment. "So, Christian, look at my eyes again. Can you feel this?" He locks gazes with Christian and then touches his own nose lightly with a finger.

Christian immediately reaches up and tries to brush an invisible fly off his nose before looking back at Isaac in wonder. "That was you?!" he asks, and a crashing wave of disbelief, washed away by an equal tide of excitement, hits Isaac square in the face. To prove it, Isaac touches his forehead, nose, and lips in turn; Christian bounces in his seat and practically screeches, "THAT IS SO COOL!"

Isaac feels a tap on his right shoulder; both he and Christian look over to their respective right side, and Vin cracks up laughing. "Oh my God it worked! Hah!" Isaac realizes what Vin did and smacks his shoulder, which only makes him laugh harder.

"Hey--Vin? What're you doin' here?!" a hoarse, deeper voice calls out from another table. Isaac looks over and recognizes the boy in his reading class, Javier, and immediately regrets even looking.

"Oh, Javi! Hey!" Vin calls back. "They swapped my classes, so I'm here now."

"Ah, cool! You should come sit with us!"

"Nah, I'm good over here."

Isaac looks back over to watch Javier's response. "But...why you over there sitting with the silent kid?"

"Oh, Isaac?" he says, putting a hand on Isaac's shoulder. "He's a good listener. Hey, do me a favor -- could you ask your tablemates why they're sittin' with the stupid kid?"

"What?" When Javier's entire table busts into laughter and "Ooooooh!" sounds, he says, "Wait, who's the--oh god dammit."

"Language, young man," the well-placed lunch monitor scolds, only making the laughter worse.

Vin grins. "But hey, nice talkin' to ya! Cheers, mate!" He turns back to his tablemates and says, "Anyway, where were we?"

"He's gonna get mad, Vin," Isaac points out.

"He'll get over it, or he'll get a fist up his nose, either way. Boy needs to learn when to shut his mouth before he says something stupid. Which is basically every time he opens his mouth."

Isaac chews on his lip. "But you were bullying him."

"I--no no, man, it's different. We always talk shit to each other. It's just how we do things. It's hard to explain, but...it's not bullying 'cuz he does it back. It's just...playing rough."

Isaac nods, but Christian immediately picks up the slack in the conversation. "That is so cool, Isaac! When did you, did you, did you always have this ability? What else can you do? Can you read people's minds?"

"Can you ask me one question at a time, please, Christian?" Isaac asks with barely-restrained irritation.

"How long have you had this?"

"Maybe half of a year, Christian."

"Oh. So um, can you read minds? Is that how you knew that David--oh, that's another question. So can you read minds?!"

Isaac rolls his eyes. "I don't know, Christian. Just...how the body, um, feels, like emotions and touch, and then, um, other body things." He doesn't want to talk about the whole sexual aspect he's discovered.

"How did you know that David knew that you were, um, you know...?" He points to both of the other boys in the most discreet action Isaac has ever seen Christian do.

Isaac looks at Vin, at Christian, and then at the table. "I can...see what he's thinking. But only him. And, um, I think it's what he's...seeing in his mind? Like when you think about something, and it shows up?" He scratches his head in embarrassed frustration.

"Oh, like visualizing things? Visualizations?" Vin suggests.

"Yeah, Vin, visualizing. I think he is visualizing things and I can...I can see that."

"Whooooooa." Christian stares at Isaac with an explosion of wonder and awe, enough that Isaac needs to look away. Christian has really big emotions for not being able to feel them, he muses.

Vin turns to Isaac. "So...d'you think that's, like, your powers getting better?"

"They're not...it's not a 'power.'"

"But--fine, whatever you want to call it. Are you maybe getting better at it?"

Isaac shrugs, tired of answering questions verbally.

"Sorry, we're bugging you. I'll stop. You okay?"

"I'm okay, Vin."

The rest of the lunch conversation revolves around Christian trying to get Vin to join his Clash Royale clan, and Vin explaining why Christian would totally get stomped if he joined back in. Isaac contents himself watching the two banter; for one, it lets Christian make his wall of sound without having to interact, and for another, he gets to watch Vin laugh, smile, and generally look happy, a reward unto itself. When the bell rings, Vin tells Isaac, "So, I got put in first lunch because I have math next; is that where you--I can tell by your eyes that you have math next period."

"Yes, Vin! Are you--do you have Mr. Crawford?"

"Yeah, thankfully. I hear Ms. Riley is a real witch-with-a-capital-B." At Isaac's silence, he explains, "The B replaces the W."

"...Ohhh." Isaac blinks. "Why not just call her the B word?"

"For the same reason you didn't call her that just now. You can't just say 'bitch' in school."

"Vin! You just did!"

"I know." He smiles inexplicably.

Isaac rolls his eyes and continues walking with him to math, at least until they get to Mrs. Davis, who calls out, "Good morning, Isaac!"

He stops suddenly enough that Vin takes a few steps before noticing. "Good morning, Mrs. Davis."

"Oh, hello," she says to Vin as he joins the conversation. "Irvin Ward, A-Team basketball, right?"

"Not anymore, ma'am, heh," he says with a half-smile. "I, uh, just quit athletics."

"Oh, I see. Well, the team will miss you, I'm sure. They relied on you scoring points, I could tell."

"You watched the games, ma'am?"

"Every one of them! I always support our teams." She nods firmly. "So are you two friends?"

Vin looks down at Isaac, who stays silent; he is too busy fitting Vin's renown into his own worldview. "Yeah, we're friends. Turns out we're in the same math class now, heh."

"Well, that's nice! Speaking of which, you should run along, now. Class starts soon."

"Have a good day, Mrs. Davis," Isaac replies to the send-off she doesn't say. "Wait, did you already say 'Have a good day'?"

She smiles. "No, but I don't have to be the first to say it always. Have a good day, Isaac, Vin."

"Have--oh." Isaac stands awkwardly for a moment before walking off silently, Vin at his side.

In math class, Isaac takes his normal seat at the wall, somewhat separate from the others. Vin walks in and scans the area; he walks over to Mr. Crawford, asks him a question, and then looks back around for a seat. He ends up at a nearby cluster of desks, where he looks over at Isaac and nods his head upwards in a gesture that Isaac has seen people do when they're saying hello or when they first see each other somewhere.

Isaac sighs, annoyed at himself that he wanted Vin to sit close to him when not only is it unfair to expect that all the time, but he also sits at a desk, alone, near the wall, with nobody else near him. This arrangement was fine and wonderful until exactly today.

The class lesson is about the slope of a linear equation on a graph, and how to make a graph when given a linear equation. Isaac is quite a bit further along in the book than that, so he doesn't pay much attention to what the teacher is talking about; instead, he looks ahead at the next chapter and reads about similar and congruent figures; he finds geometry even easier than just algebra, though, so he doesn't expect that it will take him long to get through the problems in this section.

"Isaac?"

He jumps, gasping lightly. "Yes, M-Mr. Crawford?"

"I know you are currently working ahead, but this is a particularly confusing subject for many people, and I was wondering if you would be okay with working with a partner today."

Isaac scans the room, noting that everybody is already working in partner groups. "Do...I have to?"

"No, but if you would like to, the new gentleman in the class doesn't yet have a partner. His name is Vin, and he's a very nice--"

"I can work with Vin! ...Sir."

Mr. Crawford blinks a few times. "Do you know Vin?"

"Vin is my...friend, Mr. Crawford." Acquaintance, friend and boyfriend, Isaac reminds himself.

"Oh. Well, that will work out wonderfully. I'll have him pull a chair over and you two can share this desk." He goes to talk to Vin and then makes a slow circuit around the room, observing.

Shortly, Vin comes up with his textbook and materials, saying, "Yes! They finally put me with a private tutor!" Before Isaac can retort, he adds, "I mean you are, aren't you? You know this stuff already -- I know you do -- and you're not helping anyone else, so that makes you my private tutor." He grins widely, and Isaac catches a feisty playfulness in his eyes as he situates himself at the desk.

Isaac happily goes through the basics of the lesson with Vin, who seems to understand things pretty quickly. He makes a few mistakes on basic concepts, and Isaac catches a mistake in his calculations, but Vin takes over pretty quickly and works on the problems while Isaac does his own reading and working; Vin glances over once and asks, "How many lessons ahead are you?"

"I'm only ahead five lessons, Vin."

"Only f--! ...Right, only, uh, only five lessons. That's, that's good." Vin looks back down at his work and focuses on his work, shaking his head slightly.

Near the end of class, Mr. Crawford walks by and asks Vin, "How's it coming along?"

"Hm? Oh, real good, Mr. Crawford. Don't even think I'll have homework."

"So will you be ready to explain it to the class on Monday?" the teacher asks with a small smile.

Isaac is horrified at the idea, but Vin just grins at him. "Yep! Do I get to use the laser pointer for the lesson?"

"No, Vin. I know you better than that," he says in a low voice, though his smile doesn't change. Vin just laughs.

"Are you gonna teach the class on Monday?!" Isaac whispers.

"Nah, he wouldn't do that. I don't think. ...He was probably joking?" Vin shrugs.

"I would be so scared to do that!" Isaac can feel the panic even thinking about it.

"He was totally joking, Isaac. If he really wanted me to do that, he'd give me time to prepare and stuff. And if he didn't, I'd make an idiot of myself up front and he'd take back over, no biggie."

Isaac just stares at Vin in wonder. He's certain that he would have a meltdown on the spot if he was told to teach something to the class; it was hard enough being the spokesperson for the group the other day, and that's not even counting when he was made fun of. "You're brave, Vin."

"What, 'cuz I don't mind makin' a fool of myself? Heh. I used to be the biggest class clown back in the day. I--"

"You may be done, but others are still working, gentlemen." Mr. Crawford looks down at the both of them, who immediately shut up. They both share a look, one full of shame and embarrassment on one end, amusement on the other.

After math class, the day goes somewhat normally, not counting Isaac's mixture of dread and excitement from the various events of the day, so far and yet to come. He finds himself rocking unconsciously in most of the rest of his classes, though none of his teachers pay any attention (Mr. Jones, his history teacher, looks at him funny and asks him once to stop, but when he finds himself doing it again, the teacher doesn't seem to notice or care).

The time finally comes when Isaac calls his mother after school (as per routine) and makes his way to the choir room, where Vin is waiting outside the door. He does the upward nod at Isaac (who does not attempt it back) and opens the door for him. They go together to the practice room and chat about how boring the remainder of the classes were, until Juan shows up with his violin. "Hey!"

"Wassup, my man?" Vin says, giving Juan the slap-and-tap. Juan offers the same to Isaac, who smiles despite himself and accepts.

Juan settles into a chair on the wall next to the piano. "So, you wanna jam for a bit? Maybe you play something on the piano and I try to harmonize?"

"Maybe you guys can once I head out," Vin says with a shrug, "but I don't got a lotta time, gotta catch the bus. But uh, hey, so...you're a real good friend of ours, so I wanted to make sure you heard the news."

Isaac watches Vin and Juan both with a pit in his stomach. Juan replies, "Oh yeah? What's up?"

"So, uh...we've been keeping it a secret for obvious reasons, but me 'n Isaac are going out. We're boyfriends."

Juan looks back and forth between Isaac and Vin; Isaac makes very sure to keep his eyes downcast. "...Oh!" he says. "So you're gay?"

"Bi." Vin barks a laugh. "...Man, everytime I admit that, it feels better and better."

"Cool!" Juan says after a moment. "Congrats, you two!" He grins widely and holds his fist out, which Vin happily fist-bumps. Isaac follows through, encouraged by Juan's reaction; he's not acting how I thought he would at all, Isaac marvels.

"Seriously, it feels good to get that out there," Vin sighs. "Now, o'course, you know how it is, don't go spreading the info around an' all. I mean, yeah it's Adler Intermediate and everyone knows everything in like two days, but at least this way Isaac an' I get the chance to say it on our own terms, yeah?"

"Oh, yeah, for sure," Juan agrees. "I'm happy for you two, though."

"Thanks, my man! A'right, I gotta run to the bus--you guys make some good music together, a'right?"

Isaac says "A'right, Vin" as Juan nods and replies, "See ya."

As the door closes, Juan looks in Isaac's direction, and as their eyes meet for a brief moment, Isaac feels a huge swirl of emotions, with the most intense one being that feeling of smallness that Isaac gets in Vin's house. Juan, however, quickly looks down at his violin. "I'm really glad for you two," he says in a quieter voice.

"Thank you, Juan," Isaac says tentatively; he realizes that the emotions he felt weren't based on happiness.

"I can't believe you're going out with Vin, man, one of the most popular kids in school. That's so awesome." Juan picks brushes dust off a spot on his violin. Isaac isn't sure what to say, but Juan takes a deep breath and says, in an even softer voice, "Kinda figures though. You're both cute, and smart, and nice. ...And I'm just a big-toothed kid who gets called 'maricón' and 'Ratatouille' and plays the violin like the Orchestra nerd I am."

When Juan sniffles and quickly wipes his eyes with the back of a hand, Isaac realizes that he was not, in fact, taking the news well. "You're not a nerd, Juan," Isaac says meekly.

"Even my younger brother is more popular than I am, and better-looking, and taller, and I'm supposed to be looking out for him, but..." He sniffles and puts his violin down, using his shirt to wipe his face. "But I'm just some short kid who can't get a growth spurt and who nobody likes."

"I like you, Juan!"

"Then why aren't you going out with me?" Juan stares into Isaac's eyes, and a stabbing assault crashes into Isaac's chest, full of black tendrils and desperation, like the feeling he had when he saw Vin and Leila flirting.

Isaac's floodgates open in empathy with Juan, but he doesn't break eye contact. "We w-were going out first, Juan! You asked after were we--after we w-were already boyfriends!"

Juan stares for a moment longer before quickly pressing his shirt to his eyes again. "You're right. I'm sorry. That's...I'm sorry. I dunno why I said that. That was mean. I just...wish someone would love me for, for what I am." His face wrinkles up into the telltale sign of an incoming sobbing fit, though it comes out much more quietly than Isaac expects, just silent shaking and occasional hard sniffling.

Isaac knows he should help, but he doesn't know exactly what to say. Instead, he takes the chair from the other side of the practice room, brings it over next to Juan, and sits down next to him. He rubs Juan's back, which makes Juan cry harder; he doesn't know why that happens, but it always seems to have that effect before it makes things better.

Juan continues to sniffle loudly, wiping his face obsessively. "I'm sorry, Isaac. It's not your fault."

"It's okay, Juan. You don't need to be sorry." A few moments pass while Juan's emotions work themselves out. After the sobbing dwindles to just a few involuntary sniffles, Isaac says, "I'm sorry I made you sad. I won't go to the quince."

Juan quickly looks up. "No! I still want you to go! Please! I--I'm not mad at you two. I still want you there."

"But I...we made you cry."

"No," Juan says with a firm shake of his head, "I made myself cry, because I'm an idiot. It's not your fault, I promise."

"You're not an idiot, Juan."

He sniffles. "Yeah, I am. I shoulda known you two were a thing. I mean I guess I thought maybe when you were always so excited around him that you just had a huge crush on him, and maybe he was straight and didn't feel that way back. I actually thought that you were waiting to tell me no at the party, because you were still crushing on Vin." He takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I even told myself that you would eventually realize that Vin wasn't going to say yes, because he was straight, and then...when you finally stopped chasing him, I would come over and be there...ugh. When I say it out loud, I sound like a creepy stalker. And also a complete idiot, because Vin is gay -- or bi, anyway -- and of course you two would be together." He shakes his head slowly. "This is on me, not you. I need to get over it. I'm the oldest son, and I need to be strong, not a crybaby just because my friends are going out."

"I'm sorry, Juan." Isaac isn't sure what he's sorry about, but he cannot stop himself from feeling guilty in this situation. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Juan says while wiping his nose on his sleeve. "Ugh, I'm all snotty and gross now." He turns his head toward Isaac, but keeps his eyes downcast. "I really am happy for you two, I want you to know that. Just because I'm a crybaby doesn't mean I don't still like you both and want you to come to my party. Please, just, just don't worry about me. I'll be fine, I promise."

Isaac feels the urge to refute Juan's self-insult, but he honestly doesn't know if Juan is a "crybaby" or not; he just doesn't have enough evidence either way. "Okay, Juan," is all he can figure out to say.

'God, this is embarrassing," Juan mumbles. "Look, I'm gonna just go practice for a bit and head home. Congratulations again, and have a good day."

"Have...a good day, Juan." He watches Juan leave the room as a tangled knot of empathy, regret, and guilt weaves itself in his stomach.

End Chapter 20

Hey everyone -- hope you're all doing well out there! I'm here, if only somewhat; last year wasn't great, but here's hoping 2024 shapes up to be a better time. Maybe I'll finish this story before we all die of old age, yeah? Until then, thank you for sticking with me, and I would love to hear from you at Phillipbontemps@gmail.com. Until next time, my friends!