21: Awkward, Different, and Broken

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Recap: Ryder has old friends, one of them is dying. He also has a dying father, overall, he's just surrounded by old, sick people. Ryder and April were in her first normal party and things were going good for them

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21: Awkward, Different, and Broken

We were still inside the Unidentified Room, although our business shifted from touching each other's private parts to me drawing a My Little Pony horse on Ryder's neck, when Quentin barged inside with a bang.

"I SEE YOU DOING MY SISTER!" he screamed, and then, upon seeing us, closed the door and smiled lopsidedly. He didn't looked half as embarrassed as he was relieved. "Just in case. But now that I see you're being pussy-whipped, it actually became a good joke."

"I wish it wasn't a joke," Ryder held his fist up in the air and Quentin greeted it with his. "I can't believe I let her draw a horse on my neck."

"Hypothetically, if April weren't my sister, I'd say 'Fuck it' and hook you up with one of the girls that I know- believe me, they're slutty," Quentin sat on the corner of the bed and examined the MLP horse. "Sis, I think the mane should be bigger... Yeah, that's right. That's Pinkie Pie." And then, back to Ryder. "But then she's my sister and you're her first boyfriend so I'd take the role to be the protective brother who'd punch you at the sight of you two doing couple stuff."

"Noted," Ryder said. "I'd do the same if I had a sister."

"You two talk as if I weren't even in the room," I said, more to inform them that I still had two perfectly healthy ears, even though my concentration was 75% on the finishing of the drawing.

"Easy to do, when half of the time you weren't even interested in what we have to say," Ryder said, and then it was Quentin's turn to offer him his fist on the air.

"So now it's eleven thirty and Mom had started sending me legions of texts asking me to tell you to go home," Quentin said.

"Do you need to go home, too?"

"Sis, I have no curfew as long as I don't give them grandchildren. So I'll go home later, but your guy needs to take you home now."

"You two have awesome parents," Ryder finally said.

"Yeah, that's the perks of having parents that adopt a semi-hippie lifestyle, unlike your-" Quentin stopped midway as he realized that he had just ventured to dangerous territory. "Anyway, you're not drunk, are you? Can you drive?"

Ryder shook his head. "I'm not drunk, and it's ok. My parents do suck. The only thing they're good at is arguing and coming up with insults that are not stereotypical. Yours can be a little touchy-feely, especially your mom, but they're still pretty awesome."

Quentin smiled, and I smiled too, because I really wanted Ryder to like my parents, and he did. I returned the black pen back to the drawer on the side of the bed and we held hands again. "I think Mom likes you a lot."

"She likes him a little too much, if I may say," Quentin scoffed disapprovingly. "She never has that kind of reaction whenever I bring my girlfriends home."

"That's because a lot of your girlfriends won't eat what she has cooked," I pointed out. "That, or your girlfriends often look at me with squinty eyes."

"They do that?" Ryder looked at me incredulously. "Later at school, you can point me out the girls who did that and I'll deal with them."

"Y-You don't need to. I mean, Quentin dumped the ones who are mean to me in the meanest way possible, too, like through skype calls. Or text. Or a post-it note."

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