Ryder
“You snogged Nathan?!” Nick spits out his drink, the disgusting concoction of bubble tea and his spit landing on my arm.
I scowl and wipe my arm. “I didn’t 'snog' him; I just kissed him,” I say.
He shrugs. “Same difference.”
Sin nudges him. “You lost. Now, where’s my money?”
Nick groans and fishes out some dollar notes from his wallet, giving them reluctantly to a grinning Sin. I narrow my eyes at them. “Were you guys betting on whether I’ll kiss Nathan?”
They both nod shamelessly. “Ever since we saw you hanging out with him during recess. Also, I saw you two walking in the field behind the art storage room and you were leaning close to him, so I assumed,” Nick says and I roll my eyes. What a bunch of friends I have. Then Nick pouts. “Look at all of you lovebirds! I’m gonna die lonely!” he wails dramatically.
“You can get together with Mae, I guess,” I say.
“Yeah, sure, let me ask her 173 husbandos and waifus real quick.” He scoffs. “And by the way, I only see her as a bro and she sees me as a bro, too. See?” He gestures vaguely. “Perfectly platonic bros.”
“Bros in love,” Sin stage-whispers, earning an eye roll from Nick.
“Oh shut up.” Nick sighs. “Not everything has to be love immediately or eventually.”
I raise my bubble tea drink in agreement. “True, true.”
Then, Sin’s phone dings. “Oh shit, I gotta run,” he gasps, standing up.
“What happened?” I ask.
He downs the rest of his drink in one gulp. “Vahn’s picking me up in a bit. We’re going somewhere.”
Nick rests his chin on his hand. “Okay, I’m scared to ask this but what are you both doing?”
Sin looks at him seriously. “What else? I’m going to pound his ass on the matt- ”
Nick and I give a collective groan. “Oh god,” I grumble, shuddering from the ghastly memory. “Don’t fucking remind us of that.”
Beside me, Nick swears under his breath, “I shouldn’t have bloody asked, damn it.”
Sin gives us a shit-eating grin and ruffles both our hairs. “Just kidding, we’re going to catch a movie,” he says as he’s leaving. “Bye, guys!” And then he skips away.
“So . . . he’s gone,” I say.
Nick shrugs in response and we drink in silence. A few seconds later, he spits out his drink for the second time today. And on my fucking arm again. I wipe my arm and roll my eyes. What now?
He coughs for a while, then he whispers conspiratorially to me, “Bro, was I tripping, or were Sin’s eyes hazel, not crimson?”
*
I’m so bored, and my edgy-ass playlist isn’t helping. I’m currently lying stomach-down on my bed with music blasting in the background. This is my daily after-school routine, but, god, it’s so boring! Normally, I’d have someone here to keep me company some days but they’re either busy or too tired, so I’m just sulking on my own.
Plus, a mean cupid probably infiltrated my playlist because some sappy 80’s love song starts playing. Ugh, songs like this remind me a lot of Nathan, and it’s making me feel lonely again (even though I just saw him today at school).
Damn it. It’s lonely boyfriend hours.
It feels a little surreal that I actually have a boyfriend - that Nathan Adler is my boyfriend, of all people! I smile into my pillow and bury my face in it, and it feels like I’m burying my face into his soft, soft hair. I turn over and gaze at the ceiling, smiling.
How did I get so lucky this year? To finally have him is like a million dreams coming true all at once.
You’re so fucking needy and clingy. You can’t even bear to be without that damn boy for a while. This is why no one loves you.
This takes me by surprise, like I’d forgotten to keep my guard up. The world sways beneath me, my stomach plunging. I grip the sheets for support but that does little to comfort me.
I clench my jaw, take a deep breath and quietly count to ten. My heart thuds in my chest, a quickening lub dub that then reverberates in my mind.
Sooner or later he’ll see who you truly are. He’ll be afraid of you. He’ll stay away from you. He’ll see the unstable monster you try to hide from everyone.
He’ll see you.
A lump forms in my throat. Nothing’s helping. Air enters and leaves my lungs at an alarming rate. I try to sit up, but my vision disfigures and I nearly black out. A sharp pain stabs at my chest every time I try to breathe.
But I compose myself before I succumb to his words. I don’t waste a second to think about them. Taking a huge breath, I close my eyes. I try to squash down the deafening voice that booms in my head, like smothering a flame with a cloth. I try to count again, using my heartbeat as a metronome.
I just try to get rid of his voice in my head.
Shut. Up. I don’t need you to keep ruining my life again. Finally, I’ve found my happiness and you’re going to take it away from me? Get a fucking life and stay out of mine.
Once the world steadies, I get up. Turn off the music, dress in something decent and leave my house, unintentionally slamming the door on the way out. Tears start to sting my eyes and I hastily wipe them away. I’m not going to let him get to me again.
One day, I’m going to win. I promise myself that every fucking day.
*
The door swings open and a beaming Patricia greets me. “Ryder? How lovely!” She welcomes me with a tight hug.
“Hi, Patricia. Is, uh, Nathan here?”
I think she noticed my slightly puffy eyes because her expression softens. Then, she releases me and nods. “He’s in Eva’s room.”
“Thanks.” I smile and make my way there, tiptoeing over a sleeping Kirk outside Eva's room.
I knock on the door and open it after hearing an “It’s open!” And god, my eyes have never been assaulted by so much pink in my life before. Pink curtains, pastel pink walls, light pink bed sheets. There are rows of dolls on one shelf and the bed’s a mess of stuffed animals. I am terrified of this room.
Nathan and Eva are both on the floor, him reading a book to her. His voice rises and falls perfectly, like an orchestra. He sounds so sure, so confident of himself when he reads aloud. His sweet voice paints vivid pictures in my head. I stand there, lost in the fictional world until I feel him hug me. This snaps me back to reality and I wrap my arms around his body, feeling the comforting warmth of it.
I bury my head into his neck, immediately consoled. “Hey.”
“Hi.” He smiles against my shoulder. “Is everything alright?” he asks and I nod.
Everything’s alright now.
When we break apart, I feel someone tugging on my pants. I look down and find a grinning Eva with two flower crowns in her hand. She motions for Nathan and me to bend down. So we do.
Then, she says while crowning us, “I now pronounce you kings of the Flower Realm! Oh, and I think Nathan’s a really really really really good boyfriend for you.” After that, she skips away, giggling.
I stifle a laugh while I look at a flustered Nathan. What was that? I shoot him a questioning look and he blushes in response. “Well, last night, I told her about you, and she asked if you were my boyfriend, and I said yes, and she started talking about this girl in her kindergarten class and she asked me if she could be her girlfriend, and I said sure but be careful of homophobes, and she shouted, ‘I CAN LOVE WHO I WANT!’”
“Wow, I didn’t expect that from a six-year-old.”
“Kids are smarter than you think,” he replies. “And also more accepting.”
“True.”
He takes my hand and starts to lead me outside.
“Wait, what about your sister?” I ask, tilting my head towards her direction. We both look at Eva, who has abandoned the book completely and is playing with her stuffed animals.
“She’s fine.” Nathan grins, tugging on my hand. “Come on.”
I shake my head, smiling, and let him lead me to his room. He then closes the door and sits on the edge of his bed, patting a spot beside him. I sit with him on his bed and take his hand, rubbing circles on the back of it.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“Someone’s happy.”
This makes his smile even wider and his orange eyes shine brighter. “I’m just happy you’re here.”
By now my cheeks are hurting; his smile is really infectious. “Me too,” I say, kissing his nose. His eyes flutter shut as he grins again. Then, I take his face.
“Can I?”
Nathan opens his eyes and looks at me with those lilac pools of love. His cheeks turn warm as they become rosy. In answer, he closes his eyes and leans in.
Nathan
I’ll never get tired of this.
We pull away for a breather, both of us panting (it’s kind of embarrassing). Ryder leans his forehead against mine, smiling with his mouth open. Our breaths mingle in the air between us.
“Again?” he asks, and I nod.
I cup the back of his neck, planting my lips on his. A grunt escapes from him, and he kisses me so hard my head tips backwards. I hold on to his biceps for support.
Suddenly, he pulls away, looking slightly panicked. “Stop me,” he whispers.
My head dips to the side. “What?”
“Stop me if I’m going too fast. I understand if you’re not ready for . . . more. Because I don’t think I am too.”
Smiling, I say, “Sure, I will.”
Ryder’s body relaxes and his strong arms pull me into a hug. I wrap my arms around him and let this wonderful feeling sink in. My body buzzes with delight as our mouths move together. Electricity courses through me, running from my mouth down to fill my lungs and up to my fingertips. I run a hand through his black hair, and it slips through my fingers like silk.
Ryder
This. . . . This is my new home.
My new happy place.
Nathan
Past-me wouldn’t think I’d be kissing a boy right now. Or have a boyfriend. Or be sitting in his lap, with his hands on my back and my arms around his neck. Or be with Ryder Dela Cruz.
Come to think of it, I used to be scared of this guy throughout my whole time in Fernwood High. He was the kind of person you’d be intimidated by or admired from afar. I sort of admired his braveness for talking back at unfair teachers and how he just narrowly misses getting detention most of the time - unless it’s because he and Derek fought - but now that he’s here with me, I see that his braveness is merely a mask. The hostile glances he gives everyone is just a reaction to . . . what happened in his childhood. A way of being alert to his surroundings.
He isn’t just someone everyone has heard of, some legend or rumour or another tale. He’s just one of us. Broken and scared.
But he’s a fighter, I know it. He got this. And I’ll support him all the way. I’ll help in every way that I can.
*
We’re both lying down now; my head is on Ryder’s chest, listening to the beautiful beat of his heart. He has one arm around me and one hand in my hair, gentle fingers twirling it.
Out of nowhere, he asks, "Can I, uh, try on your glasses?"
“Are you sure?” I look up at him.
He nods, so I take it off and give it to him. I watch him put it on and he winces loudly. “Holy shit, I can’t see anything.”
“Me too.”
Ryder holds out his hands in front of him and wiggles his fingers. “This is so weird,” he utters fascinatedly.
I laugh. “Come on, I need to see now.”
He rolls his eyes and gives me back my glasses, still smiling. I snuggle into him, my head on his shoulder. A moment passes, but this isn’t like our usual comfortable silence; this silence is heavy. I can feel Ryder’s jaw working against my head as he swallows multiple times. I don’t want to ask him what’s going on in his head - I might upset him - so I just wait.
“Uh, Nathan?” He clears his throat after a while. “Am I too clingy?”
I turn my head to him. His eyebrows are furrowed in worry. “No,” I reply. “Why do you ask?”
He looks away. “I don’t know. I thought . . . it’s just. . . .”
I push myself to a half-sitting position. “Ry, you’re not clingy, okay?” I say, but he doesn’t look at me. I touch my fingertips to his cheek, and he turns his face to me. “You’re not clingy,” I say again. “Besides, we’re just at the start of our relationship, so that’s sort of normal, right?”
Ryder nods, fresh tears forming in his eyes. “Right, right. . . . ”
Another heavy moment passes.
“Did he . . . ?” I don't say the words "Your father," but he gets it.
Ryder hums in response.
My voice is soft. “I’m so sorry.”
“And I believed him,” he replies, all emotion has gone from his voice. “I believed that fucker.”
You could slice the tension in the air with a knife. Neither of us says anything after that. I want to help him but this is way too deep; I’m not a trained or licensed professional.
“You need therapy,” I say, and he groans.
Fully sitting up, I look at him. He still avoids my gaze. “No, I’m serious, Ryder. You really need therapy. It’s long overdue and that’s bad.”
He works his jaw again, thinking. I squeeze his hand.
“I haven’t told Aunt Cam about what’s going on with me yet,” he says quietly.
“Why not?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t wanna worry her.”
“But she’s your family,” I tell him. Ryder gives a noncommittal sound and avoids my eyes again. “Come on, bub. You really need therapy. This is serious. I may be your boyfriend but I can only do so much. I’m sure a psychiatrist or psychologist can help in a deeper way. And maybe medication too.”
He cuts me a look that’s sharper than a knife and I flinch. Then his features soften. “Sorry,” he mumbles, sitting up with me. “I'm just scared of therapy.”
I tilt my head. “Why?”
“Dunno. I just . . . am.”
“Will it help if I come with you?”
Ryder looks up from his lap. “Will you be allowed in the therapist’s office, though?” He cracks a smile.
“Touché. Then, um, I’ll just wait for you until it’s done.”
He mulls it over, then nods. I lean forward and wrap my arms around him. Immediately, I feel all the tension leaving his neck and back. He buries his head in my shoulder, exhaling, his warm breath fanning my neck.
“Just go to therapy, okay?” I pull away to cup his face.
There’s still doubt and trepidation that washes over his expression, but he takes a deep breath and nods.