For Research Purposes | ✔

CHAPTER TWENTY

     He wasn't dating Sam. He hadn't been cheated on or lied to. Things were just over. They wanted different things. They felt differently about each other. There's no crime in that. Sage has no reason to be this sad, he just knows that he is.

     "What is it?" Ruthie asks, staring at him, reading him better than anyone. "Something's happened. Is it Sam? It's Sam, isn't it."

      He nods and says, "That's over."

     But she's just not going to accept such an oversimplification of what's gone on with them. He resigns himself to reliving the night again, taking Ruthie through every mortifying moment.

     She doesn't say anything while's talking and offers very little perspective once he's done. She doesn't to justify Sam's behavior, doesn't sugar coat what could've just been a miscommunication. They climb into his bed and start binging That '90s Show. And he's glad she doesn't try to make him feel better or worse about it, just lets him think and feel what he does.

     Sage is surprised when he starts dozing. He hasn't done anything to be this tired and yet he is. He hates that, how physically draining being emotionally hurt is.

❧

     Sam has a script memorized.

     Sage, I'm sorry.
     Your paintings were very nice. (Nice? No, lovely. No nice, who says lovely. Okay, fine beautiful. He'll say beautiful.)
     Your paintings were very nice beautiful.
     I should've said that. I shouldn't have just left.
     I understand if you want to just go back to being research partners. I can handle that. I cannot, however, go back to being enemies. (Sam can't actually handle being just research partners either but he will certainly pretend.)

     Sam knocks at Sage's door and waits. He doesn't actually expect him to answer on his first or second civil knock. He may need to result to banging. He knows Sage is home. He's been scouting his apartment all week. Sage hasn't been to any of their classes, hasn't left his apartment as far as he can tell except to get his take-out. He knows he's home.

     The door opens a crack and then just big enough for Ruthie to slip past and shut it gently behind her. "Sameer Kaan," she accuses, hands on her hips. She is accusing Sam of his name. His name, he notes, that she pronounced perfectly.

     Sam knows Ruthie but doesn't like know her. He knows what he's seen and what Sage has mentioned. Knows Ruthie is Sage's best friend and therefore probably hates his guts and wants to cut his dick off or something.

     So he greets her with, "I'm sorry."

     She tilts her head, raising an eyebrow questioningly. "You even know why you're sorry?"

     "Because I hurt your best friend," he says rather plainly.

     She takes a moment to absorb that and then crosses her arms. "So how do you plan to fix it?"

     "I had a speech prepared," he says confidently. A speech is a bit of exaggeration but he thinks Ruthie won't accept any less.

     She looks at Sam pointedly. "Well let's hear it then."

     He was not prepared for that. He clears his throat and decides to stick to the script. He thinks it's a good apology. Acknowledges what he did wrong. Compliments Sage's work. No, it's definitely good. He's actually—

     "—an idiot," Ruthie is saying before he's even finished. She definitely just called him an idiot. "What are you expecting to get from that? Because you're not going to get Sage back."