"We all have a monster within; the difference is in degree, not in kind." - Douglas Preston, The Monster of Florence
#
November 7th, 1998
On Saturday, Derek celebrates his eighteenth birthday at a paintball range in a Denver mini-mall. All of the Rebels are there, even Reb, who ought to seem out of place at a teenager's birthday party, but it's not as if any parents are in attendance. According to Derek, his "real" birthday celebration with cake and presents will take place at his parents' house tonight; the paintball game is meant for him and his friends to have fun. Syd supposes it's an upgraded version of having your birthday party at a Chuck E. Cheese.
Derek has chosen this venue for the sake of a class project. "I need to make a movie for my filmmaking class," he said during Tuesday's lunch, biting into a barbecue wing. "And I have no fucking idea what to do."
"What's the prompt?" Taehyun asked.
"That dickhead doesn't give us prompts," Derek said. The dickhead in question was the school's video class instructor, Mr. Sanders.
"Isn't that a good thing?" Taehyun said. "You're not restricted to a certain topic."
Derek gnawed on another wing. Both sides of his mouth were covered in barbecue sauce. "When you can literally do anything, it stifles you. Limitations are responsible for some of the best art of our time. Look at Halloween. Michael Myers' mask was just a cheap Captain Kirk mask spray-painted white. They didn't have the budget for special make-up effects or anything."
"Neither do you," Syd pointed out.
Derek scowled at him. "Whatever. It's due on the 14th. I still have time to come up with something." He sucked the sauce off his thumb. "Oh, you guys need to come to my birthday party. It's this Saturday at the paintball range."
"You know," Syd started, "maybe this paintball thing could be your movie. Make it a short war film or something. And film in black and white so the paint looks like blood."
Derek grinned. "I like the way you think."
And that's how they ended up here, five players per team, taking cover behind inflatable bunkers. The Rebels—sans Derek, since he's filming with his handheld camera—are on one team, and the other consists of various siblings and friends invited to round out the numbers. Syd, an avid Doom player, feels right at home in a tactical situation with an airsoft rifle in his hands. He shoots from behind cover like a soldier in the trenches. Taehyun covers him as Syd darts from one bunker to the next.
The first game is orchestrated by Derek. He shouts commands across the field, ordering his actors to move in, fall back, or make a dramatic run for one of the teams' flags. During one of these flag runs, Jesse is captured by "enemy" soldiers and held hostage on the other side of the field. While this move is unorthodox and usually illegal in an actual paintball game, this run is entirely for the sake of the camera. They will play a real game later, untethered by the need to capture video footage.
As Jesse is held at gunpoint by the leader of the blue team, Derek orders Syd to climb into a nearby sniper's nest. Syd sneaks to the higher vantage point and aims his rifle, feeling like Charles Whitman taking shots from the university tower. Syd fires. An explosion of red paint blooms on the dark T-shirt of Blue Team's leader. Jesse wrenches free, and a bloodbath—or paintbath, rather—begins, with both sides firing frantically. Syd jumps back when a paintball splats against the exterior of the tower, though he isn't hit himself.
The film culminates with Taehyun and Syd as the last men standing. The field is strewn with bodies covered in red and blue paint. Taehyun reveals he has been shot in the scuffle, as his hand peels away from his abdomen in a mess of blue paint. He draws from the well of movie cliches, rasping, "Tell my family... I love them..." before dying in Syd's arms.
"Goddamn it, Hudson, don't you die on me!" Syd wails, equally cliched. He looks at the camera, solemn, and says, "War... is hell."
Suddenly, an enemy figure appears behind him (it's Reb, his face just out of frame) and fires a close-range shot into the back of Syd's head, then a shot at the cameraman. The camera falls, skewed on its side, still filming as Reb's boots walk past. It's technically friendly fire, but Reb was the only one tall and intimidating enough to play the surprise assailant. Syd figures once the film is cut together, turned black and white in an editing program, and given the slow-motion and voiceover treatment, Derek should have a decent project for the grading period.
When the filming has wrapped, everyone takes a break at the snack bar. Syd and Taehyun sit together, sipping Cokes. "I hope you don't mind losing a day," Syd says. Weekends are strictly their time together, unimpeded by the presence of the Rebels, and now that the two of them are a couple, alone time is more important than ever.
"This is fun," Taehyun says, grinning. "I wouldn't mind doing things like this more often."
"With them? Or just me?"
"It doesn't matter what we do," Taehyun says, and Syd feels his heart melt. "But with them... I would prefer this to those awful movies."
"I think we just made a pretty awful movie," Syd says. He wanted to make the film a period piece, playing the role of a German soldier (putting his German 101 language class to good use), but Derek overruled him, claiming Taehyun's presence on either side would make the film "historically inaccurate."
"Sure," Taehyun agrees, "but it was fun."
Syd is seized by the urge to kiss him. It's something he can barely control now that he knows Taehyun is cool with it, but he hates that it's something they have to hide. Even Syd's mother doesn't know about them yet; at least, Syd hasn't told her. He doesn't put it past her to know using some parental witchcraft, especially since she was perceptive enough to pick up on his crush in the first place.
"You have a holiday coming up, right?" Taehyun asks.
"Yeah, my dad's coming for Thanksgiving," Syd says with a sigh. "That's going to be a disaster. He's bringing his trophy wife and his shit-head trophy son."
Every other year, Syd's father makes the pilgrimage to Denver for a sit-down Thanksgiving with the family. Last year, Syd and Misty road-tripped to Salt Lake City to spend the holiday with his grandparents. This year, he will be subjected to the presence of Brooks, his stepbrother and replacement in his father's eyes. Of course his dad would trade in the weird loner teen for an upgraded model: the Jock-O-Tron 5000, complete with steroids and a smug sense of superiority. Brains not included.
"You're kind of lucky, if you think about it," Taehyun says. "Your family comes to visit you for the holidays."
"I know what you're getting at, and in any other situation you'd be right. But my dad's new family is terrible. My 'stepmom'"—he nearly gags on the word—"is a gold-digging slut who stole my dad away from my mom. And my 'stepbrother' is a douchebag jock who thinks everything I like is 'retarded' and 'gay.'"
"All families are unhappy in their own way," Taehyun says, paraphrasing the famous Tolstoy line.
"No offense, but I think you're biased because you miss your family. I'd rather spend Thanksgiving with you and my mom, without my stupid dad bringing his fake new family to rub in our faces."
"On the bright side, your Chuseok lasts only one day."
Syd supposes that could be considered a bright side, that he'll only have to deal with his stepfamily for twenty-four hours (probably less, depending on how quickly things get heated). "And you'll have an amusing story to tell your folks back home."
#
November 27th, 1998
Syd wakes up sore and well-rested, albeit alone in his own bed. Taehyun spent the night with him, both of them kissing and fondling each other underneath their clothes before falling asleep. This has become somewhat of a nightly routine for them, and if Misty is aware of it, she's remained quiet on the matter. Syd glances at the clock; it's half-past noon, and delicious smells waft in from the kitchen.
He joins Taehyun and Misty five minutes later. Taehyun's helping Misty bake and prepare the last remaining items; the three of them spent last night preparing a few dishes ahead of time—Misty's famous dressing potatoes and the cranberry-apple pie, notably. Judging by the smell, the potato dressing is currently baking in the oven.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Misty teases him. "About time you joined us."
"I had a busy night," Syd says, catching Taehyun's eye. Taehyun blushes and turns away. He's looking particularly delectable in a huge white sweatshirt and holey, light jeans.
"That didn't stop Taehyun from rising bright and early to help me with the cooking," Misty says. "I'm glad you're both up. I don't want to give the safe sex talk twice."
Syd blanches, going apoplectic. "What are you talking about?"
Misty sighs, as though Syd's routine of playing dumb insults her intelligence. "I know you two are"—she searches for a non-graphic word—"experimenting with each other."
"To the lab, Igor!" Syd says to Taehyun, affecting a cartoonish German accent. "We have very important work to be done!"
"It's pronounced 'eye-gor,'" Taehyun volleys back. To his credit, he knows how to take a bit and run with it.
"But they told me it was 'ee-gor'!"
"Well, they were wrong then, weren't they?"
Misty puts her hands on her hips. "Are you guys doing a bit? Come on, just let me check the safe sex talk off my list, please."
Syd drops the silly accent. "You gave me the sex talk when I was thirteen. And I'm not stupid; I know to use condoms and all that stuff. Every health class I've ever had brings it up and then spends the rest of the hour showing us horrible photos of STDs."
Misty relaxes a little. "Oh, well, Taehyun, are you—"
Mercifully, Taehyun cuts her off. "My parents gave me this talk before I came to America. I think they assumed I would be in great sexual demand here."
"Were they wrong?" Syd asks, spreading his hands. Taehyun gives him a nonplussed albeit amused look that accentuates his dimples.
"I just want you both to know you can come to me with any questions you have, okay?" Misty says. "Sex is natural and nothing to be embarrassed about."
Syd smirks. "She said, blushing."
"Are all mothers so... permissive here?" Taehyun wonders.
"No, I know I'm in the minority on this. But it would be pointless and counterproductive for me to forbid you from doing it," Misty explains to both of them. "My parents tried that with me, and, well, it didn't work."
"Mom," Syd groans. He figured out pretty early that his mother conceived him quite young, almost as if she'd been just out of high school. But he doesn't want to hear about his mom's sexual escapades any more than she wants to hear about his own.
"I'm just saying, if you're going to do it, be safe about it. Please. For your own sakes."
"Got it. Can we please talk about something else? Like how you figured it out?"
"Why does every teenager think their parents are stupid?" Misty asks, rhetorically. "I'm your mom. I know things about you that you probably don't even know yet."
"Then tell me, oh wise and powerful Cleo, how you knew."
The timer beeps, and Taehyun dutifully retrieves the baking dish from the oven. He looks ridiculously domestic wearing Misty's colorful oven mitts, and Syd gets a fizzy feeling in his chest that must be affection.
"You haven't been slouching as much," Misty tells Syd. "Your mood is better, you're very agreeable, you two do practically everything together, and the way you both look at each other... Come on, Syd, it doesn't take a genius to put two and two together."
"Fine. It's not like I've been trying to hide it or anything," Syd grumbles. "You think Dad will notice?"
"Unless you and Taehyun kiss in front of him? Not a chance. Now help me with the sweet potatoes."
Every dish Misty makes on Thanksgiving is a tried-and-true recipe from someone in the family, usually her mother or grandmother. There's the potato dressing—which is really just mashed potatoes dressed up for a fancy dinner—the green bean casserole, the ultimate sweet potato casserole, and the pie, which combines cranberries and apples in a buttery, homemade crust. The turkey itself is almost an afterthought, thrown into the oven with store-bought box stuffing crammed inside, its leftovers slated for a dishful of turkey tetrazzini in the days to follow.
"Mom, you really missed your calling as a baker," Syd says while mashing up the sweet potatoes.
"You tell me that every year," Misty says.
"Yeah, well, maybe you should listen."
"Maybe you should hush," she says, kindly. "There is so much financial red tape and sacrifice in starting your own business. I've thought about it a lot, but without someone else to pick up the slack, it's just not in the cards for me right now."
"I could get a job," Syd says.
"You have college to think about."
"Community college," he corrects. The lack of financial ruin as opposed to traditional university appeals to him. "And I could do both."
"You're my son. I'm not going to put that burden on you. You have a life too, y'know."
In conversations like these, Syd wonders if his mother is happy. Did her life turn out the way she planned? Probably not, considering she's raising a teenager by herself. Was teaching something she fell into out of necessity, or did her yearning to have more children manifest itself in a job where she could be around them?
"Will you be okay?" Syd asks. "Y'know, seeing Dad again?"
"I can handle your father just fine. It's that homewrecking bitch I can't stand."
Taehyun gasps, perhaps shocked at hearing a mother use such harsh language in front of her kids. Syd chuckles at his reaction.
"And her meathead son is the worst," Syd says. "You're not gonna make it into the NFL, Brooks. Read a book."
Misty laughs despite herself. "Try to be civil, okay?"
"I can't promise anything."
Syd's father Wade, his new wife Susan, and his stepson Brooks arrive just after one p.m. Syd decides he'll take one for the team where his mom is concerned; seeing the whole family at once like this might upset her.
"Who is this handsome young man?" Wade says when Syd opens the door.
"Hi, Dad."
Wade claps a friendly hand on Syd's shoulder, and he has to stand on his tiptoes to do it. "You get taller every year, don't you?"
"Maybe I'll get drafted to the Nuggets," Syd says, slouching, suddenly self-conscious.
From behind his parents, Brooks scoffs a loud laugh. "Yeah, right, dork."
"Hello to you, too, Brooks."
"It's nice to see you again, Syd," Susan says, wearing a look of awkward politeness. For a moment, Syd pities her, then pity is swallowed by anger at her, for encouraging Wade to leave his family instead of breaking off the affair.
"Susan."
The three of them step inside, and Syd's role as family ambassador is over as quickly as it began. Wade and Susan are drawn to Misty, engaging her in conversation about the house, the weather, whatever the hell adults talk about when the love has gone out of a marriage. Syd slinks over to Taehyun, who's in the kitchen gathering dishes.
"Let me help you with that. Anything for a moment's peace."
Syd helps him locate the serving platters and utensils. As they begin to set the table, Brooks says, "I didn't know you guys were rich enough for hired help."
Syd scowls. It's a dig at his family and Taehyun, and he won't stand for it. "Shut up. This is Taehyun. He's an exchange student from South Korea."
Taehyun smiles at Brooks. "Nice to meet you." He is polite and sweet and cordial, demonstrating a dangerous cultural ignorance where Brooks and his ilk are concerned.
"'Sup. I'm Brooks. Do you actually speak English, or do you only know a few key phrases to get by?"
Syd almost punches Brooks and forfeits the familial detente before Thanksgiving has even begun, but Taehyun can handle himself. "I speak English. I currently have an A-plus in my English class."
"Of course you do," Brooks sneers.
"At least he actually earns his As," Syd says.
"You calling me stupid?"
"I'm calling into question the integrity of an education system where athletes are given passing grades just so they can play sports," Syd says. "And, yes, I'm calling you stupid."
Brooks' ears go red. "If my parents weren't here, I'd beat your face in."
"I'm sure you would. Did you know there's a legal loophole that lets me bring an adult—which is eighteen, by the way, so, high school senior—to a gun show to buy a gun for me? A gun which I would then use to shoot you in your sleep?" Syd says. "Well, there's no loophole for the last part. I'd still go to prison. But it'd be worth it. So watch your back."
Brooks makes a face. "God, you're such a freak." He leaves them alone and heads out the back door, where he will likely light a cigarette from the pocket of his letter jacket.
Taehyun studies Syd's face. "It's strange. I dislike when you threaten people, but you are incredibly attractive when you do it."
Syd grins. "I'll made idle threats all day long for you, baby."
Taehyun's face does that adorable judgey-scrunchy thing. "I'd rather you didn't." He returns to the kitchen for another armful of dishes.
"You know you love it!" Syd calls after him.
Five minutes later, everyone is seated at the table. Misty, Syd, and Taehyun are gathered on one side, with Wade, Susan, and Brooks on the other. Syd imagines them as army generals from opposing sides sitting down to sign some kind of peace accords.
Wade makes them all say grace—he was always the religiously-centered one in the family—then they fill their plates. The first few minutes are quiet. Wade munches on carved turkey. Susan chews green beans. Brooks drinks a Mountain Dew. Then Susan breaks the ice, asking Taehyun questions about how he likes America and what life is like in South Korea. Taehyun is happy to talk, and Syd's glad to hear him; the more Taehyun talks, the less anyone else says. And Brooks is less likely to make an insulting comment in front of his parents.
"Do you think you'll stay here?" Susan asks after Taehyun has explained his educational goals.
Taehyun looks at his plate, pensive. "I don't know if I can."
"Sure you can, dude. There's tons of illegals here," Brooks offers, and Syd has no idea if that's a dig at Taehyun.
"That's not really..." Taehyun shakes his head and starts over. "I would want to become a citizen."
"It's not too hard," Wade assures him. "You just take a test, sign a few papers."
"South Korea does not recognize dual citizenship," Taehyun says, looking morose. "To make a choice feels like a betrayal. And I cannot abandon my South Korean citizenship until I complete my military service."
"Hold up, what?" Syd asks through a mouthful of food. "Military service?"
Taehyun's eyes are wide with alarm, like he can't believe they haven't talked about this yet. "Every Korean male eighteen and older must serve about two years in the military."
Brooks says, "Jeez. Say what you want about the US, but at least we got rid of the draft in the '70s."
Syd feels the pinpricks of fear in his gut, the beginnings of panic rising up from the deep. Two years? Syd can't imagine being away from Taehyun for two weeks, let alone years. And Taehyun turns seventeen in April, which will begin a ticking clock until he hits eighteen and returns to South Korea and disappears from Syd's life for two entire years, if Taehyun ever returns at all. What the motherfucking hell is he supposed to do now?
"I—I have to shit," Syd announces before bolting from the table. It's the only thing he can think of that will prevent anyone from stopping him.
"Syd," Misty groans, but she lets him go.
He shuts himself in his bedroom, allowing the world to spin beneath him as panic closes in. Two years. Two years. What the fuck?! The only person in the world who makes the insanity in Syd's brain actually stop, the only person who makes his entire existence worthwhile, can just... leave?
A line from Romeo and Juliet floats into Syd's mind: Take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of Heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night, and pay no worship to the garish sun.
They certainly feel like star-crossed lovers, brought together by fate and ripped apart by societal prejudices and Taehyun's own duty to his country. Or maybe it's all a cosmic joke on Syd himself. Of course he couldn't be allowed to have a best friend and a lover wrapped into one. There would have to be consequences, a sour caveat to justify the universe's gift in the first place.
And the length of Taehyun's absence is only the beginning. What if he returns to his homeland and finds someone infinitely better than Syd? Someone who speaks fluent Korean, someone who knows the ins and outs of Taehyun's culture, rather than being an outsider to it. Someone Taehyun's parents will approve of—a woman, probably. His parents will arrange a date and eventually a wedding with some beautiful, cultured woman, and in the afterglow of their wedding night he will regale her with stories of his time in the States, laughing about the few short months when he dated a stupid, gangly loser who loved him too much to let go.
Maybe Taehyun will do a quick search for Syd on the internet and find an obituary dated a few scant months after Taehyun's departure from America. He will grieve for a short while, but the etchings Syd made in his heart will already be filled in and replaced by another.
The bedroom door opens, and Syd jumps. Taehyun offers a friendly smile. "You okay?"
"That's not a question anyone asks when the other person is doing great."
Taehyun's smile gains a sense of grimness. "Sorry. I sort of... dropped a bomb on you. It's not a real Thanksgiving until somebody storms out, right?"
Syd hears himself laugh. Funny how Taehyun remembers he said that. "And we're not even done with dinner yet."
Taehyun steps inside and approaches him. "I have until I'm twenty-eight to enlist, you know. We still have lots of time together."
"Can't you be a conscientious objector?"
"I think they put you in prison for that."
"Jesus." Syd drops onto the bed, wondering when his life became so goddamn complicated.
"Ten years is a long time." Taehyun sits beside him to offer the comfort of his presence. "I could become a doctor in eight. Ten years ago, you were six years old. Think about how much has happened in your life since then."
"Time speeds up each year. Or at least it seems like it does."
"So that should make the two years I'm away feel shorter."
"Don't be Mr. Silver Lining right now," Syd says. "I'm quite used to feeling miserable."
"And still I adore you." Taehyun throws his arms around Syd's neck and kisses the corner of his mouth. Syd fights a smile. "Two years is not so bad, when we can have the rest of our lives together."
"What if you meet someone better while you're over there? Or just forget about what we have and how good it is?"
"Change is possible," Taehyun concedes. "But you could change too. Your life during those two years will be much more interesting than mine. The chance of you meeting someone new and exciting exists, too."
"It took me sixteen years to meet you," Syd points out.
"And you survived being alone that long."
He's not wrong, and being alone might be more tolerable when Syd has someone worth waiting for. "I wish you would've told me sooner."
"So you could get a head-start on worrying?" Taehyun grins when Syd frowns at him; his smile is heartbreakingly beautiful, and it's hard to stay angry or even mildly upset in the face of it. "You didn't even think you'd live to see twenty-eight, Mr. Downward Spiral."
"It's not off the table." Syd is aware of how strange it sounds to defend his own suicidal tendencies. "But... you make it all go away." If Taehyun can reference Nine Inch Nails in casual conversation, so can Syd. "Life is good when you're with me."
Brooks barges into the room; Taehyun must have left the door open a bit. "Are you guys homos?" Brooks asks, sounding smug and amused, and it's hard to deny when Taehyun's got his arms wrapped around Syd's neck, especially if Brooks was eavesdropping on their conversation.
Syd rolls his eyes. If their relationship had been discovered at school, there would be a quick distillation of suicide methods flickering through his mind, but this is just Brooks, the asshole stepbrother he sees once every two years who doesn't even live in the same state. Who gives a shit what he thinks? "Zieh Leine, scheissekopf!"
"Okay, Hitler," Brooks says, oblivious to the fact that Syd just called him a shithead. "Is that why you freaked out a minute ago? 'Cause your boyfriend has to go away for two years?"
Taehyun seems to sense the tension here and withdraws his arms from Syd's person, though he doesn't scoot away or put distance between them.
"I get it, Brooks," Syd says. "You're jealous because you're going to die alone. Maybe you fuck a lot of cheerleaders, but they don't really care about you. You've hedged your entire future on a football scholarship, because you literally have nothing else going for you. Outside of your ability to throw a ball, you have no substance. And that'll carry you just fine through high school and college, but after that, you're a nobody."
Brooks' entire face is red. "Fuck you, man!" He rushes at Syd, his fist cocked and ready. Taehyun pulls Syd away from the arc of the swing, but Brooks doesn't let up. "You're such an asshole!" He snatches the front of Syd's T-shirt and slams him against the wall. Syd feels the air rush out of him.
"Stop it!" Taehyun tries to intervene, pushing at Brooks' muscled shoulder, but Brooks doesn't budge. "This is ridiculous, both of you."
"I wasn't kidding about the gun," Syd tells Brooks, trying to keep the quiver out of his voice.
"I'm not scared of you, dickhead. I've got nothing to lose, unlike you."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Let go of him, please," Taehyun pleads. Brooks gives Syd a half-hearted shove and releases him. No one is more surprised than Syd; Taehyun's bewitching sweetness must work on straight guys too. "What do you mean, nothing to lose? Is everything okay?"
Taehyun seems to actually care, and this geniune concern softens Brooks' angry expression. "No, dude, everything sucks," Brooks says to him, ignoring Syd.
"You're the all-American football star Dad always wanted." Syd blurts out. "What could possibly suck for you?"
Taehyun places his hands on Syd's chest, as if holding him at bay. "Stop. You're just upsetting him more."
Maybe he deserves it, Syd wants to say, but he knows Taehyun is right, and that he's being somewhat of a bully. The rush of self-righteousness is intoxicating, but dangerous. Syd takes a step back, holding up his hands in a show of surrender. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry."
This apology dissolves most of the tension in the room, and Brooks lowers himself into the nearby beanbag chair with an unusual amount of delicacy for a jock. "Me too," he says, his face a twisted mask of complex emotions. "I just hate being here."
Syd takes offense to this, but he tries to keep any vitriol out of his response. "I get that a social hierarchy exists in school, and I'm the sort of guy you have to call a faggot and stuff into a locker to look cool for your friends, but can't you just be civil to me once every two years? We share a dad! You'd think that would give us something in common."
"He's your dad, not mine," Brooks says. "I spent most of my life without a dad, and it sucked. I was so jealous of everyone else for having one. Then my mom finally remarries, and I thought, 'thank God, finally,' but all Dad ever talks about is you. Whenever I bring home a report card, it's never good enough. 'You know, Syd was in advanced classes when he was just eight years old!' 'You should take a computer class! Syd knows how to make his own Doom levels!' 'Syd's going to college for computer programming!' Even when we're supposed to be doing something together, he always finds a way to bring it back to you. 'Syd and I used to go fishing back in Colorado!' 'I let Syd shoot my rifle at the range.' He doesn't give a shit about me, dude."
Syd is almost bowled over by how much he likes and hates his father in this moment, how much he suddenly pities Brooks, and how he must reevaluate himself. "In the end, he chose you over me."
"He chose my mom," Brooks insists. "I was just an afterthought."
Syd sighs. "Look, I'm sorry for giving you such a hard time. I didn't know you had thoughts and feelings and weren't just created in a lab for the specific purpose of annoying me. Can we start over and be friends?" Extending the proverbial olive branch is a moment of weakness for Syd, but he figures Brooks has showcased enough weakness here himself, and Syd knows that's no easy feat. "Let's at least finish dinner. My mom's an awesome cook."
The three of them return to the dining room, where the parents have begun to argue with each other. "All I'm saying is this is a difficult time for kids Syd's age," Susan tells Misty. "The lack of a father figure in the household can have a profound effect on a teenage boy."
Susan is a psychiatrist and thus tries to shoehorn in a psychoanalysis of Syd every Thanksgiving. Last time, Susan warned Misty to keep an eye out for the homicidal triad: bedwetting, setting fires, and cruelty to animals.
"I'm aware, Susan," Misty says through a forced smile; Syd's amazed she's had the restraint not to blame that lack of a father figure on Susan and Wade's affair. "But Syd and Taehyun are both great at communicating with me. I think I know a lot about what's going on in their lives, and they're comfortable talking to me about any problems."
"I'm glad to hear that," Susan says, sounding the opposite of glad. "But teenagers are capable of hiding so many secrets. A few months ago, a fifteen-year-old in Oregon shot and killed his parents before killing two students at his school and wounding twenty-five others. You think his parents saw that coming?"
Syd retrieves his plate and utensils from the table where he abandoned them. "Don't worry, Mom," he tells her. "You've never been on my list of people to kill."
Susan blanches. "You have a list?"
"You don't?" He laughs at her flabbergasted reaction. "We're gonna eat downstairs, if that's okay," Syd says to his mother.
"You're getting along?" Wade says, pleased. He shares a look with Susan. "See, I told you they'd be fine."
Misty gives Syd a look that seems to say 'take me with you,' but she allows him, Brooks, and Taehyun to bring their food to the basement.
"Oof," Syd says while they're heading down the stairs. "I would not wanna be at that table."
"My mom thinks every teenager is a budding Jack the Ripper," Brooks laments. "We're all nuts. That's why you can't start medicating our brains until we're eighteen."
"I think I'm well-adjusted," Taehyun says with slight offense.
"You're an outlier," Syd says, and if he had a hand free he would ruffle Taehyun's hair.
They spend the afternoon on the couch, eating and playing video games, and occasionally heading back upstairs for more food and sodas. Even Arlene emerges from her hiding spot to observe the three of them. It's weird for Syd to feel so comfortable around someone like Brooks, the archetype of every school bully Syd's ever had, but Brooks' moment of vulnerability made him somewhat sympathetic.
Every time Syd leaves, he catches wind of a new, resentment-riddled argument amongst the parents. Wade accuses Misty of being too liberal in her parenting ("You let him smoke pot? That basement smells like my college dorm!"), Susan diagnoses Syd with some kind of disorder, and Misty makes veiled, passive-aggressive jabs at Wade's infidelity. No wonder Brooks is so screwed up. It's a shitshow, and Syd wishes his mother were the type of person to stab a fork in someone's face.
"It sucks up there," Syd says, returning from the kitchen for a third time. "You're okay, Brooks, but if I see a single tear in my mom's eyes, I'm kicking the shit out of your parents."
"Can I at least watch?" Brooks says. He's playing Twisted Metal with Taehyun. Having someone else down here is strange as well; Syd's never really thought to invite any of the Rebels over, too concerned about infringing on Taehyun's space.
Syd takes his spot beside Taehyun. With three people on the couch, they're all almost uncomfortably close. Taehyun steals a forkful of sweet potatoes from Syd's plate; Syd doesn't mind, just leans into him a little.
"So you guys are, like, really gay? Like, together?" Brooks asks.
Syd doesn't see the harm in confirming that. "Tell my dad on your way home. Maybe it'll score you a couple points."
Brooks considers this. "Nah, I don't wanna sell you out. You guys are cool."
"A jock thinks I'm cool?" Syd grins. "Now there's one for the history books. Should we take a photo of us shaking hands, like Elvis and Nixon?"
"I take it back. Taehyun's cool. You're still a dweeb," Brooks says, but there's no heat to it.
Tensions seem to have cooled by the time the three of them go upstairs again for pie. No one at the table is speaking to each other, but at least there's no arguing. Wade breaks the silence. "Why don't you boys join us for dessert? We barely got to see you."
The three exchange glances before deciding the path of least resistance is probably the way to go. They each serve themselves a slice of cranberry-apple pie and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top before taking their empty seats at the table.
"You sounded like you were having fun down there," Wade says, attempting to get them to open up. It seems the adults can't talk without the conversation devolving into bitterness, so the teenagers have been enlisted instead.
Syd bites back a sarcastic reply—I didn't know you could hear us over all your yelling. "Just playing video games."
"I think it's great that you and Brooks are finally getting along," Susan says, trepidatious.
"Almost like we have something in common," Syd says with a smirk. "You know Brooks is a bookworm? He's the only person I know who reads Hemingway and James Joyce for fun." Brooks revealed this while they were downstairs to answer the question of what he actually enjoyed besides football. Syd's taste in literature skews more toward authors like Stephen King and Clive Barker, but he can appreciate a fellow reader, and this revelation gives Brooks a chance to connect with Wade.
"You never told me that," Wade says, eyeing Brooks with curiosity. "When did this start?"
"I've been reading a lot since seventh grade. You guys just... never asked." Eventually he is goaded into explaining some of his favorite novels: The Great Gatsby, Moby Dick, and Of Mice and Men. His taste skews heavily toward classic American literature that schools across the country force kids to read, but Brooks actually seems to enjoy them.
He takes great pleasure in explaining how The Great Gatsby received a lot of criticism when it was first published, and how most of that criticism completely missed the point of the book. "Yeah, he focused on the upper class, but that was the point. Even when people have money and power, they can still be miserable and empty emotionally. Their lives are just as messed up as anyone else's, sometimes more, because of the lies they tell to get there."
Wade suggests other novels based on Brooks' taste, and Syd's just glad they're all having a civil, polite dinner together.
Later, when the dishes are cleared, Syd gets his father alone. "Do you really gloat about me to Brooks?"
"I wouldn't call it gloating," Wade says, defensive. "I like to keep him abreast of what you're doing."
"Well, don't. Because it just makes him feel like he's never going to be good enough."
"Nothing wrong with a little healthy competition."
"Except it's not healthy," Syd says, growing furious. "Brooks is sensitive, and maybe he's too afraid to say this, but I'm not. Stop comparing him to me. He's a totally different person who likes sports and classic American lit. Take an interest in what he likes instead of trying to make him into a clone of me. Anyway, if I'm such a great kid, why'd you leave?"
Wade's calm expression falls. "It's complicated."
"Right, sure. I don't know why I expected a real answer to that. Just... be a real father to Brooks. He was so desperate for someone to listen to him that he opened up to me and Taehyun, a kid he doesn't even know. Does Susan spend all her time psychoanalyzing me, or does she ever think about Brooks?"
Wade places a hand on Syd's shoulder. Syd, to his credit, doesn't shrug it off. "Syd, I know you're confused and hurting. I wish I could make it better for you. But you don't know everything. Brooks has his own problems, and while some of them are my fault, not all of them are. He sold you a story that you would be sympathetic to, but, like most stories, the ugly truths are cut out."
"I never said he was a saint." Syd remembers now why he only writes a few paragraphs of catch-up exposition in his Father's Day and Christmas cards, instead of actually speaking with his father. "Just let him be himself and stop comparing him to me."
Syd moves to leave, then stops so he can say more. "And by the way? All of us are made of ugly truths. The only reason anyone likes us is because we act like sanitized, watered-down versions of ourselves."
He thinks that's a halfway decent exit line.
Before Brooks leaves, Syd slips him a piece of paper with his email address and AIM username written on it.
By dark, the house is back to normal, with only Misty, Syd, and Taehyun left ruminating at the dinner table. Arlene is curled up on one of the empty chairs, soothed by their familiar voices. "That wasn't so bad," Syd says, working on a second piece of pie.
Misty lets out a groan of emotional exhaustion. "Speak for yourself. I hate that smug, pill-pushing witch. She thinks you should start taking Luvox because you're 'depressed' and 'have anger issues.' I'm just going to stop telling your father anything, because it always ends up getting back to her."
"I feel sorry for Brooks," Syd says, and tells her about their conversations.
Misty looks like she's about to cry—an uncomfortable state in which to see your mother. She places a hand on Syd's cheek. "Am I a good mom? Be honest."
Syd says yes immediately, because it's the truth. "Did Dad say you weren't?"
"Not in so many words." Her hand lingers on his face for a moment before dropping away. Almost immediately, he misses her warmth. "Taehyun, you get a say too. Have I been a good host mom?"
Taehyun blinks, looking put on the spot. He probably just wanted to sit here and eat his pie, not be dragged into this family's psychodrama. "Yes, of course."
"Really? You're not just saying that to be polite?" Misty sniffles.
"Yes!" Taehyun hops up from his seat and hugs her. "You are a good mom! You've been so nice to me. My own mother would not let me date a guy like Syd."
"'Cause I'm a bad influence," Syd says, only half-joking.
Misty wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to get so upset. It's just hard sometimes."
"If Dad really thought you were a bad mom, he would have offered to take me," Syd says.
Misty starts to cry again, and Taehyun gives her another hug. "Syd, come hug your mom," he orders, and Syd does.
"He wanted to take you back to Kansas City with him and Brooks and Susan," Misty says through short, stabbing sobs. "I said absolutely not. I'm sorry I didn't let you answer for yourself, but—"
"I would have said no. I'm not leaving."
She hugs them closer. "Thank God."
"He really asked to take Syd away?" Taehyun says.
"He said Syd might be happier with a 'stable family unit' and a stepbrother whose popularity he could use as leverage to make new friends," Misty explains. "I told him you're doing just fine here, honey, and that you have a lot of friends and don't want to leave them."
"How did you not just jam a fork right into his eyes?" Syd asks with a chuckle.
"Oh, I've gotten used to him. It's Susan I wanted to rip limb from limb."
Syd looks at Taehyun. "Ah, so that's where I get it." He says to his mother, "According to Brooks, it sucks in that house, so thanks. I dodged a bullet."
During the remainder of the evening, they snack on leftovers and crowd together on the living room couch to watch Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. It's one of Syd's favorite movies, and Taehyun seems to get a laugh or ten out of it too. Arlene cuddles in Syd's lap, then moves to Taehyun when she wants more attention.
Seeing his mother cry has shaken Syd a bit. Whatever Wade and Susan said to her today must have sneaked through some crack in her defenses. And Syd can't help but feel guilty himself, because maybe a defect in his personality or character has reflected poorly on Misty. As much as he tries to brush it off—judging from Brooks, Wade and Susan aren't Parents of the Year—his mother's inner pain still hurts him too.
Ruminating over this and Taehyun's impending military enlistment, Syd falls into somewhat of a gloom. Later, he approaches Misty's bedroom door, peering through the opening to see if she's awake. The bedside lamp is on, and Misty's in bed reading a John Grisham novel. Arlene is curled at her feet. Misty looks up, sensing Syd's presence through some motherly sixth sense. "Syd? Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Can I talk to you?"
"Of course!" Misty drops the book on her night table and pats the empty space beside her. Arlene raises her head, as if to discern what's going on, then lowers it when she sees no threat. "What's wrong, honey?" Misty asks him, laying a hand on his arm when Syd sits on the bed.
The entire room feels too big for just Misty, and the absence of his father makes Syd feel sad and guilty and angry. He's always viewed her as an impossibly strong woman, only annoyed by the notion that she needs a man, rather than hurt by it. Her willingness to raise him alone has always seemed like a strength instead of a weakness. But he wonders if she gets lonely, if he's a burden on her happiness.
"Don't listen to Dad," Syd says. "You're a good mom. He's just jealous, I guess, 'cause he made the wrong choice. That's why he makes Brooks feel like crap by comparing him to me. Maybe he compares Susan to you, too, and that's why she's such a bitch."
Misty smiles and brushes some of Syd's hair out of his face. "I don't know if it's that simple, but thank you."
"I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like a bad mother. Maybe it's just me who's bad."
Misty rises up to her knees so she can hug him. Syd closes his eyes, feeling pathetic and rejuvenated in his mother's arms. "Oh, Syd, honey, no. You're not bad, okay? I need you to know that. You're just going through a tough time, being a teenager. But you're doing great. I've watched you come out of your shell the last few months, and I'm so proud of you."
Syd thinks the fact that he came here to comfort his mother but ended up making her comfort him speaks to his own innate awfulness, but mentioning this will only make Misty feel worse. She holds him tighter, as if aware how much he hates eye-contact during conversations like this. "I know you don't like to ask for help, and that you have trouble talking about how you feel," she continues. "But don't be afraid to tell me anything. No matter what. That's why I'm here."
"I know." Syd does know, but it's nice to hear every once in a while. "Thanks."
#
By midnight, Syd and Taehyun are in bed, kissing in the dark. Taehyun's mouth is minty fresh, and Syd takes his time winding him up, licking inside his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip, kissing the dimples that appear when he smiles.
"You are adorable," Syd murmurs before recapturing Taehyun's lips. "I love you so much." He only says it during moments like this when they're incredibly close and their cocks are unoccupied. Syd never thinks to say he loves Taehyun during sex, or as a way to encourage an orgasm, because it's not about getting off. Syd loves Taehyun most in the moments where all he can think about is how lucky he is to have him.
"I love you too," Taehyun says, shy and sweet, like this is the first time he's said it. His hand brushes through Syd's hair, curling at the back of his neck. They're pressed together in all the tenderest places: chests, stomachs, groins, thighs. Both of them are hard, and neither is trying to hide it. Taehyun skims a hand over Syd's thigh, and his fingers come to rest against the ridge between his legs. "I want..." Taehyun seems to search for the proper word or phrase, but comes up empty. "Something."
Syd chuckles. Taehyun might be fluent in English on the streets, but definitely not in the sheets. He can't blame him; it's probably impossible to learn sex terminology from sitcoms, which can't use the terms 'blow job' or 'anal sex.'
"I'll give you something," Syd promises. He's been thinking about sucking Taehyun's dick since August. Time to give it a shot. His hands push Taehyun's pajamas down his thighs. Taehyun gasps, probably at the bite of cold air against his skin, and Syd sinks to his knees. His hands slide over Taehyun's legs, hoisting them over his shoulders. Taehyun makes a quiet sound of fear and anticipation.
Syd swallows as much of him as he can (which isn't much, but it's enough). Taehyun moans, squirming over the bed, his legs briefly sliding across Syd's shoulders. Syd hums around him, smiling when Taehyun grows harder and swears in Korean. At least he assumes it's a curse word.
Syd didn't think he would enjoy the physical act of giving head, but hearing Taehyun's gasps and moans turns him on, makes him feel god-like and desirable. He even likes how Taehyun feels in his mouth, hard yet sort of spongy, responding to his lips and tongue. And he likes the salty-bitter pre-cum that oozes from the tip, and the way Taehyun flinches and hisses through his teeth when Syd licks away the slimy substance.
Taehyun's hands tug at Syd's hair, and Syd pulls back a little, sensing that he's close. The tip of his tongue plays with the ridges, then the slit, and Taehyun comes with a cry of surprise and relief. Syd sputters and coughs, unprepared for the suddenness of it against his tongue and throat. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and swallows what's left in his mouth. Taehyun tastes like cotton, slick and sweet.
"Wow," Taehyun says, breathless. "That was amazing."
"It was your first time," Syd reminds him, mouthing over the virgin skin of Taehyun's inner thighs and making him squirm.
"Still good." Taehyun's hands linger in Syd's hair. "I want to do that for you."
Syd doesn't argue or protest; he is, after all, a horny teenager in bed with his first love. They switch positions, Taehyun kneeling on the floor and Syd half-naked on the bed. The sensation of Taehyun touching his bare legs almost makes Syd shoot off right there.
There's the heat of breath against his cock, the warm curl of fingers, and then Taehyun's perfect mouth around him. Syd groans, shaking, trying to keep himself from jackhammering into Taehyun's throat. Syd is so, so close, even with just the tip engulfed. Taehyun uses his tongue to trace the curves and ridges of Syd's cock, each wet swirl earning a breathy noise from Syd.
Taehyun gazes up at him with every sound, like he's seeking instruction or permission to continue. Syd urges him on with an encouraging hand around the back of his head. Taehyun's mouth works slow and easy until Syd feels the sweet clench of bliss down below, then he's painting Taehyun's throat.
"Good?" Taehyun licks his lips (the sight of which almost makes Syd come a second time) and climbs into Syd's lap to kiss him. A spike of pleasure blooms within him at the skin-on-skin heat of Taehyun's naked thighs.
"Yeah," Syd says around their kisses, "really good. You're the best." Taehyun takes Syd's face in his hands and kisses him harder. "I'm serious. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."