Nathan
Ryder pokes his food around. It’s odd to see him suddenly quiet, so I ask him, “What’s wrong?”
He looks up with a slightly panicked look on his face, then he relaxes and smiles sadly at me. “Nothing,” he says, “it’s just that I haven’t been getting much sleep these days.”
So that explains the dark circles under his eyes and his messy hair. “Oh,” I reply, “maybe you should try drinking warm milk before you sleep? It helps me sometimes.”
“Oh, okay, thanks.”
“Oh right, how was the party?” I ask, but as soon as I said those words I instantly regret it because Ryder’s grip tightens around his spoon.
Ryder
Last weekend was really shitty (not as shitty as my actual living-in-hell level of shitty, but it was still pretty shitty).
It started after I woke up, checked my phone and went back to sleep. That was kind of normal, I guess, but then I woke up around 6 pm. But I was too drained to do anything - even cook dinner - so I went back to sleep with an empty stomach and mind.
Then, the nightmares started coming. I mean, it’s a somewhat normal occurrence for me whether I liked it or not, but it was more messed up than usual.
In the nightmare, it started with me being in an empty white room. I walked around it, touching the walls to see if there were any exits, but there were none. Then, the room started closing in on me. The lights started to flicker and I panicked, trying to stop the walls from pushing in until they finally stopped, and the whole room now looked like a hallway. The lights were dim and I could barely see what was at the end of the hallway.
Suddenly, I saw a dark figure coming slowly towards me, and every time the light flickered, it came closer until it was in front of me in a matter of seconds. I had no way of escaping as it had me pinned against the wall. I struggled and tried to break free but suddenly it showed me its face and I screamed. It was all melted off like candle wax and it reeked of death. It opened the slit in its face (probably its mouth) and it stretched wider until the whole lower half of its face became unhinged. Then, I screamed louder as thousands of black bugs scrambled out of its mouth and engulfed its whole body.
Blood-curdling screams filled the air as the bugs crawled onto me and went inside my eyes, nose, ears and mouth. I kept screaming and flailing around to get the bugs off but I fell into a hole that had manifested out of nowhere. The bugs disappeared but the only thing that stayed was the eerie screams that tormented me and filled my head.
And then I woke up to the sound of my alarm. Oh god, I thought. I forgot that I had to work. I got up in a rush and went off to take a shower. The nightmare was so real that I could still feel the black bugs crawling all over me and I could hear the piercing screams begging me to stay.
Work was tough. I mean, it’s usually a breeze but because of the nightmare and the amount of sleep I had - or lack thereof- it was hard keeping track of customers’ orders and keeping a steady hand on the cups that I gave them (I spilt coffee on someone by accident and they threatened to sue us). My manager, Mrs Silva, asked me afterwards if I was alright and I just said that I had a rough couple of days and then she let me off. I like her - she’s chill and nice to everyone; but I don’t take advantage of her kindness. I'm not that kind of person.
I went home afterwards, ordered takeout because I’m too tired to cook food and went to bed early. But that didn’t mean I slept early; I just lay in bed waiting for sleep that never came.
*
Nathan asks me the one question I don’t want to answer: “How was the party?”
I grip the spoon tightly and focus on my food. I don’t want the memories to come back, but I have to answer him, whether I wanted to or not. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
I can’t tell him what exactly happened, can I? I mean, I don’t want to be rude or anything but I’d rather keep that to myself. But I can’t bring myself to lie to Nathan.
“I. . .well. . .” I stumble, “I. . .uh. . . The party was kinda boring, and uh. . . okay, something happened after that and I, uh, don’t want to talk about it. . . so, uh. . .” I trail off.
All this while, Nathan’s sitting in front of me with an intent look on his face, his hands propped under each cheek. My heart races again at how cute and precious he looks, and I keep stuttering because of that. I cringe inwardly; I’m making a big fool of myself again.
Then, he reaches out and touches my hand. I’m freaking out. He touched my hand! Oh my god, I’m losing my shit. My heart’s all jittery and mushy and my hands are freezing (a side effect of liking Nathan - I get so anxious around him my hands turn cold).
But then he looks into my eyes and says, “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, but I’ll always be here for you.”
Holy shit! Call me cheesy but that is by far the best thing he has ever said to me - what am I saying, everything he says is the best - but anyway, I’m currently panicking. My heart rate spikes and my cheeks burn.
I can’t think straight when he’s around - no, I can’t even be straight around him.
I divert my eyes from him and focus on my plate of soggy potatoes and bits of rice grain. I mentally count them to calm myself down. 1, 2, 3 soggy potato cubes. 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 rice grains.
“T-thanks,” I mumble, barely audible.
Nathan pats my hand reassuringly twice. I instantly melt on the spot and it’s taking a lot of effort for me to not squeal. I can feel my ears burning as well and my heart pounding wildly. Oh god, I’m such a wreck. Literally, every touch is making me lose my sanity, but I at least have the grace to not fall down to my knees.
God, I’m so hopeless.
*
Ah, yes. The sizzling of endorphins in my body and my heightened excitement signals the end of school - along with the bell ringing, of course.
I pack my things and get up, going over to Nathan’s desk. But just as I'm about to call him, I feel a weirdly familiar hand around my wrist. I look back, and my heart sinks and then shrivels up.
Derek.
"Can we. . . uh, talk?" he says. I instinctively yank my hand away and I prepare myself to throw in the first insult, but the worn look on Derek’s face makes me sigh in defeat.
I turn to look at Nathan. He's watching us curiously, his head slightly tilted. I mouth to him, Sorry, and he whispers, “That’s okay, I should go.”
“Okay, bye,” I say. He gives me a small smile and heads off.
I look back at Derek. His hand is still on my wrist.
He says, "Can we go somewhere private?"
*
I kick the ground and watch a small layer of dust settle on my Vans. We're at this abandoned place behind the gym (Fernwood has a lot of abandoned places), sitting on the dusty stairs leading to the back of the gym.
I don’t say anything, not even bringing myself to look at him. I'm still bitter about everything that happened last week.
"I. . . uh, just wanted to apologise." Derek breaks the silence.
I scoff, "For?"
He sighs. "For being a total asshole to you. I'm sorry for the way I treated you, you know?"
Then, he confesses to me about everything. Why he stayed over at my place that time, why he started hitting up on a lot of girls, why he accidentally blurted that out, why he kept taunting me, why he kissed me at the party. . . every last detail. He occasionally let out some embarrassed laughs, and other times his voice went so quiet I had to strain my ears. All this while he didn't look up from his hands, which he’s nervously fiddling with.
“I know I went too far. I’m sorry, Ryder. I shouldn’t have said that about- ” he begins but I hold up a hand, cutting him off. Don’t finish that sentence. Don’t bring him up.
He quickly gets my message and sighs, fiddling with his fingers again.
A long moment of silence passes. I stare into the distance, looking at the birds that populate the trees outside the gym. Beside me, Derek sniffles. I'm still kinda angry at him but my anger is slowly depleting away. Just a little bit.
“You’re still an asshole. A shit-fucking goddamn deplorable bastard,” I start. "So this doesn’t mean I’m gonna forgive you that easily.”
Derek nods. “I know. I deserve it- ”
“But. . .” I interrupt him, and his head shoots up. "I'm tired of fighting with you. I'm already fighting things myself and I don't want to add to it. So" - I hold out my hand - “truce?”
He looks between my outstretched hand and my face for a moment. Then he shakes it. “Truce.”
We fall silent again, then I speak up, “Sorry about your nose, though.” One time in grade 11, a fight between us got out of hand; I broke his nose and got suspended.
“That’s fine, I deserved it.”
“So. . . you’re gay?” I ask after a while.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve accepted myself already,” he says. “Fuck what my parents think.”
The corner of my mouth twitches upwards. This part of the conversation feels so weird and surreal. No punches or sneering or scowling.
“You said you like someone, huh?” he asks.
I completely forgot that I said that when he kissed me. I avoid his gaze.
“Okay, let me guess. . . ” He leans towards me, a sly grin creeping on his lips. “Nathan, right?”
“Fuck off, man.” I turn away, my cheeks burning.
“I knew it!” Derek laughs. “But I understand, dude. He’s cute and all.”
I let a reluctant smile creep on to my face. But there’s one thing that’s bugging me: am I really that obvious about my crush on Nathan? Oh god, I need to stop blushing whenever he’s around or when anyone says his name.
“Ryder?”
“Yeah?’
Derek claps my back. “Go get your man, tiger.”