campbell's guide to the universe

xv. confessions

college approaches so quickly, and all of a sudden i'm seventeen— the cusp of adulthood.

it's a rainy day when i sit with my parents, long since divorced but as disappointed in me as ever. the cold surface of the kitchen table bites into my arms, uncomfortably preventing me from allowing my mind to wander away from this conversation.

luke had been away at college for three years, approaching getting his degree. whenever he called, he always sounded happy. he'd gone so far, and i couldn't hate him.

but as i sat across from my parents, i could tell they hated me.

luke had gone to college when he was supposed to, luke had made something out of his life. and me?

"have you thought about colleges?" dad asks.

mom just glares at me, communicating in the best way she knows how— fear, intimidation.

"uh. yeah, i have."

"and?" dad rushes me along, catching on to the fact that i'm stalling. once i say the words, he'll wish i would have stalled longer.

"i want to take a gap year," i mutter.

"what?"

"i want to take a gap year," i repeat. it's not any more confident this time, but it's louder.

"a gap year?" mom chokes out, sounding horrified. in fact, that's the same way that she has started talking with me about everything; this mix of disgust, hate, misunderstanding. "no."

"you can't control what i do, mom." my voice wobbles but manages to persist.

"you've always been the disappointment, the child who could never do a single thing that we asked. couldn't wear a dress just once, couldn't resist from cutting her hair just to spite her parents."

"my pronouns are he/him." i was trying my best not to cry. "and all i'm asking for is one year off of school."

"you really are an ungrateful brat." dad says.

you ungrateful brat! we've only ever done everything we could for you. that was what dad said the night that i cut my hair. it's clear to see he still stands on that same hill, thoughts unchanged.

"go upstairs. we'll take about this in the morning." mom and dad trade looks of disdain.

"there's nothing to talk about, though. i want to take a gap year. i don't think it's selfish or ungrateful to do what's best for myself."

"whatever," dad says, wrapping up the conversation like a teenager.

so i go upstairs, receeding into my bedroom, because i know it's a battle i'll lose if i decide to keep fighting.

➸

two years later;

i rest my head on your shoulder, eyes closed as i listen to the sound of traffic and your breathing.

"how was your day?" you ask, quietly.

"classes are shit." i reply. i still don't quite know how to talk to you, no matter how much time i spend sleeping on your couch or using you as a pillow. it doesn't even matter that i've known you for nine years.

"i know."

"i wish my gap year could have been longer."

"i know."

i open one of my eyes, and glance up at you. "you know, huh?" then i laugh, my first laugh of the whole week. we proceed to fall into silence, our familiar rhythm taking hold.

"hey, campbell?" you ask after a minute or two.

"yes, atticus?" your shoulders rise and fall a few times before anything else happens.

and then, when a gust of wind engulfs us, you say it. "i love you."

my head is screaming that it must be in a platonic way, because how could you like me? but my heart disagrees, because my heart wants you to like me. my heart feels the same way that you do. and i can't say anything, because the words get all tangled in my throat.

so instead, i bury my face in your neck and intertwine my fingers with yours.