Irrational Problems (Zombie Lane)

Troy’s brow furrows, and he realizes he has been reading the same sentence in his textbook over and over again, without ever processing it. The study group is, as it has been for about a week now, unhelpfully quiet, and the silence eating away at him is what finally jerked him from his thoughts. Shutting the book with a snap, Troy studies his schoolmates tersely, his face screwing up slightly. Normally, the group is bigger, and a lot more amicable. Oswald, who isn’t here right now, would be cracking jokes with Boon and facetiously making silly mnemonics he shares with the others to remember important test notes, and O and Michael would be pleasantly chatting, while he and Nate might playfully agitate each other, with Ivy buzzing between the lot of them, laughing, and occasionally laying with her head in Michael’s lap.

Wrinkling his crooked nose slightly in distaste, Troy realizes that Nate was right. Although initially brought together by her, everyone has been a lot more distant since Ivy began getting closer to them all as individuals. Nate himself hasn’t been half as tolerant of Troy’s gruff mannerisms since he caught Ivy on her tiptoes pushing stray hair back behind Troy’s ear after class, and Troy can’t pretend he hasn’t been less patient with Nate since Ivy has started going over to his house alone to study one on one. Even if he and Ignatius constantly bicker, he hasn’t liked not seeing the irritable bastard as both his friend and his ally, and seeing the others displeased and going through similar things amongst each other doesn’t make him feel any better about the situation.

“I know this is some, like… sick, twisted, young adult fiction prompt…” Troy starts shortly, and although his intonation is notably curt and rough, the natural charisma of the way he speaks gets the attention of the group of boys around him, formerly studying, or attempting to do so.

“What is?” Michael asks, looking up from his heavy textbook with a naïve, soft face, and one luminous green eye, his thick black eyebrows drawing up and together in a concerned curiosity.

“Well. There’s been some unmistakable agitation,” Troy continues, somewhat shrewdly, though his freckled face is deadly serious “Regarding Ivy.”

“Oh, great, here we go again,” Ignatius cuts in with a pitchy growl, knowing that he, in fact, started this in the form of a heated discussion with Troy before the others got to the library, though he is internally rearing for Troy to continue.

“What happened?” Oliver, baby blue eyes wide and trusting, looking back and forth between the five members of their study group who showed up today, trying to glean from their expressions unspoken answers “Is Ivy okay? She hasn’t gotten here yet, should I text her?”

“She’s not coming today, she had to stay after class and talk to her professor about her IEP,” Michael says helpfully, but Troy shakes his head, and they all focus back in on him again.

“I’m glad she’s alright. This is more a concern with us, though. Ivy hasn’t done anything wrong,” Troy’s pale eyes narrow briefly to take in the others, his authoritative nature causing them to remain silent despite their questions, until the usually wordless Boon can’t hold back any longer.

“What’d we do?” his sharp Jersey accent makes his nasal voice cut cleaner through the pause, and to this, Troy raises an eyebrow.

“It’s no secret everyone here, right now, has a crush on Ivy. I wanna talk about that,” his bold claim causes everyone present to begin to flush and shift and quietly deny this assertion, Michael turning the reddest of all, but remaining silent “That sort of competition isn’t healthy. It’s been tense since everyone’s realized what’s going on. And honestly, I’m kind of sick of it, given that we all have to share common spaces, and it’s been making studying - and staying friends- hard. I think someone should just ask her out.”

“I suppose you think it should just be you, then, huh?” Boon spits, the only person with the gall to say something, and in his usual fashion unflinchingly failing to hide or deny absolutely anything.

“No. Not really,” the left corner of Troy’s often flat, joyless mouth crooks upwards in an unmistakably self deprecating smile poorly disguised as sly, and a slight murmur passes through the gathering “I just think someone should. Whoever can win her over first. Namely,” Troy continues, shooting a humorous look at the still flustered Nate, “So Ignatius stops starting shit.”

“I don’t start shit!” Ignatius yelps, horrified that Troy would single him out, not that either of them have ever held back from ribbing on one another “W-What, you think you’ve got a fighting chance? You can’t-you can’t even manage to be civil for five straight minutes. If anything, Michael—”

“Me?!” Michael says shrilly, turning to Oliver, seemingly for answers, as everyone else busts out into a flurry of yelling and movement, but Ollie only shrugs in absolute befuddlement.

“I’m not saying I think she’ll choose me, Ignatius, I’m saying, someone should just fucking ask her!” Troy snaps back, standing up now, and as the only athletic member of the group, his impressive muscle lends handily to his intimidating bulk.

Boon stands up as well, quick as lightning, “There is no way in hell a bastard like you is going to fuck everything up for everyone! Just leave it be. Your dumb fucking ideas are going to push her away. She’s kind of the only thing holding this group together, given the fact that you and Nate won’t stop picking fights!”

“It’s not stupid,” Nate hisses, taking Troy’s side for perhaps the first time in Boon’s recent memory “He’s kind of got a point, the codger. There has been more tension than ever, with everyone fawning over the same person. Maybe, it’d be nice if we could draw some actual lines in the sand, so people stop crossing them. I’m sure Ivy would like that too.”

“Why do you want to put her on the spot, then? If you’re concerned about what she’d like,” Oliver asks, suddenly, causing everyone to whip around and face him “Wouldn’t that be worse, having, like, five guys visibly competing for her?”

“Then don’t be weird about it. Or don’t join in,” Troy says with commanding finality, to which Oliver grimaces “Michael, what do you think? You know Ivy best.”

Michael looks up at them in surprise, face still shining scarlet.

“W-What? Me?” he splutters, then shaking his head and gathering himself “Uh, yes. I’ve known Ivy since the fourth grade-”

“We know, Mike,” Boon spits, although usually sharp tongued, this aggression has scarcely been ever directed at the compassionate and patient Michael, whom even he is typically gentle with.

“Mm. Yeah, uh. I… I actually don’t think she’d mind. She’s been… worried, for a while, that nobody would… like her, in that way. Maybe if there was some sort of time constraint, it might actually encourage me to… you know, ask her out. Hm,” Michael slowly fumbles out, the group leaning in closely to pick up and hang off of every quiet word to pass through his lips “And if it does make her uncomfortable, to any degree, we should stop. Her opinion and safety matters, or it should, to all of us. O-Otherwise what’s the point in dating her? But, I don’t think it’s wrong, to want to try and do so, no matter the amount of people involved. I think, on the plus side, things might also go back to normal if we talk about these things, or at the very least, come to a conclusion on them. I miss the dynamic before we were all… on edge.”

“Okay, great. See?” Troy shoots a look at O, whose frown presses deeper, and looks down “If she turns you down, drop out. No making her uncomfortable.”

There is a heavy silence, constituted by everyone in the group intently weighing their options, until the break in conversation is palpable, Troy and Boon both still standing, though no one’s eyes meet. Then, Oliver’s phone goes off in his hands, and he looks up, still texting without focusing on the screen.

“Mm’kay,” he announces, now holding up and jiggling his phone back and forth “I sent Ivy a text, asking if she wanted to go out on a date, and she got back to me ASAP, and said, ‘Yes! Where do you want to go?’ Smiley face… smiley face… smiley face.”

There is a beat, where everyone stares at Oliver blankly.

“What,” Troy is the first to speak, looking uncharacteristically shocked.

“I just asked her if she wanted to go on a date. She seems excited, and I know Ivy really likes seafood, and there’s this sushi place, like, halfway between our houses, so I thought I’d ask if she wants to go there,” Oliver explains, smirking a little, revealing his crooked teeth that Ivy has, on multiple occasions, described as charming.

“O-Oh,” says Ignatius, sheepishly, and Troy scratches at the back of his head, Michael letting out a tense sigh.

“I mean, it’s just a date. Don’t give up hope quite yet, it’s not like we’re going steady,” Oliver chuckles, pleased at finding a straightforward answer to this stupid question, and excited at how smoothly it worked.

“Well now I feel stupid,” Boon says dejectedly, plopping back down on the ground in a heap, and propping his sagging head up on his knees “O. As much as I like you. I hope the date goes shit.”

“Thank you,” says Oliver graciously, though his chin tips up somewhat smugly.

“Does anyone… still want to study?” Troy asks flatly, seeming to be halfway spaced out, and still standing up slackly.

“Not really,” replies Michael, very quietly “I kind of... want to go home.”

“Yeah, me too,” Troy raises his eyebrows in chagrin, before he looks at the the others who all shrug gloomily and nod, except Oliver, who’s pride has rendered him immune to feeling even a little sorry for the group “Welp. Meeting adjourned, I guess.”

Boon slings his backpack over one shoulder, making an incredulous face at his own stupidity, the same Troy just pulled, as he nods goodbye to them, and heads off without another word, whereas Michael very glumly picks himself up, politely congratulates Oliver, and then begins to pick up his things with shaky hands. The rest begin to disperse, but Nate remains, and silently assists Michael in gathering his books and papers after the trembling man spills the contents of his pencil case upon the library floor.

Normally, he’s aware that O and Michael go to each other with their problems, but with everyone else already headed off, and O having put himself in an unusually adverse position, Nate doesn’t feel right leaving his friend there, alone, to deal with this.

“F-Fuck,” Michael uncharacteristically swears, eye glossed over and wet, though his voice is just as soft and measured as always.

As Michael quickly stoops and begins gathering the mess, his quaking only causes him to keep dropping whatever he picks up, spreading the mayhem further.

“Mike. Mikey,” Nate tries to get Michael to let him take over gathering things up, while struggling to measure his inherently disgruntled voice to sound reassuring “It’s okay. Michael.”

“Yeah, I know,” the levelness of Michael’s voice cracks, revealing a sorrowful desperation “It’s all going to be okay.”

He looks up at Ignatius with a trembling lower lip, which causes Nate’s stony gaze to soften. It’s hard not to be sympathetic to Michael, who unlike Troy, or Boon, or even Oswald and Ollie, has never lashed out or spoken ill of anyone else around them, and has always provided advice, and a listening ear, and a sense of comfort to them all. He is, after all, also the closest to Ivy, and it's been no secret to any of them despite Michael’s best efforts to hide it that he has loved her for a long, long time.

Nate stops packing Michael’s scruffy yellow backpack, and hesitantly places a hand on the other man’s shoulder, tilting his head slightly as Michael tries to fight back his overwhelming emotions and budding tears.

“It… it was shitty I didn’t stop Troy. From saying dumb stuff. It was my idea, anyways, and… I’m really sorry, Michael. I…” Nate fumbles, finding it impossible not to be honest with Michael, it all comes tumbling out at once under the vulnerable presence of the upperclassman that seems to have a contagious nature, but Michael just shakes his head, his thick black hair spilling in waves over his one green eye and impressively, plaintively expressive eyebrows.

“It’s not your fault,” Michael insists, so earnestly and gently that it almost hurts Nate worse “I’ve known Ivy for about twelve years. If I was going to… a-ask her out, I would’ve. Don’t worry about it.”

Michael purses his lips, and then forces a tight, sad smile. Ignatius falters again, not able to agree with Michael even in his own interest, a sort of backstabbing he wouldn’t have hesitated to pull with his mother or her boyfriend. Ignatius, coming from a home where he has never felt safe, has felt no reason in return to protect or love his family, who has never given him as much. Being amongst Ivy and her friends, and being welcomed in by them all, has given him the newfound and alien desire to self sacrifice, and clumsily return the kindness he is so unfamiliar with.

“Michael, that’s bullshit, and you know it,” Nate says in the kindest way he can manage “We all know you like her.”

Michael’s soft mouth draws very flat to keep his lower lip from wavering any further, but his eye grows dewier and even wider, and then he frantically shakes his head, and begins packing up even faster, spilling his pencil case again in his haste, and then letting out a choked exclamation of frustration and pain. Acting with a brisk efficiency often mistaken for uncaring, Nate grabs Michael firmly by the shoulders, directs him to the overstuffed chair Troy was sitting in, and briskly pushes him into it, before very quickly gathering Michael’s things, and placing them into his bag in an orderly manner. Then, zipping it up, he tucks it next to Michael, pulls up the nearest seat, and sits down face to face with his shaken friend. Their knees are almost touching as he leans in and stares Michael down with a great deal of concern.

“I-I-I’m not crushing on Ivy,” Michael finally says, his voice strangled.

“That’s nonsense,” Nate responds in a hushed whisper, almost unreadable in tone, but his pug-like face betrays any mystery of his intentions “You’re going to pick her up from class soon, right?”

“Yes,” Michael stiffly nods, looking away now, his hands fiercely gripping the arms of the chair.

“Okay, good. You should ask her about… I don’t know. Any of this. If it matters to you this much, which it clearly does, you should tell her. Or at least get closure,” Ignatius carefully watches Michael to make sure he is okay, or at the very least listening, Nate’s head bobbing as he keeps a steady gaze on Michael.

“But Oliver-” Michael starts, though Nate doesn’t let him finish, cutting him off sharply.

“It’s just a stupid game, anyways,” Nate’s words are for a moment very reproachful, again regretting his actions and his stupid rivalry with Troy, but then the hardness of his face melts off again, and he carefully tells Michael “I will go with you, if you want. I’d love to, actually. I think you… we both could use all the support we can get. We are friends, after all. And I think you were right. We should actually talk about these things.”

Michael lights up a bit, giving a sweet sort of half smile twinged with pain, and then briefly leans in, pushing his forehead up against Nate’s, who almost recoils, but then eases and untenses as the tender sort of friendly touch comes so welcome, and all at once reminds him of both how loved and how lonely he is in the midst of his friends, and not more than a second later, Michael pulls away, and then stands, checking his backpack, and then siddling it onto his broad shoulders, and giving Nate a fuller, more complete, closed mouth grin.

“Thank you. I mean, for the pep talk. And helping me pack up. And coming to study with us so much,” Michael’s voice has returned to normal, warm and calming, and Nate just scuffs at the floor with his shoes, head down and mouth drawn tight in a kind of embarrassment he can’t quite place as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, abashed and trying to play it off coolly.

“Of course. You’re my friend,” he looks at Michael directly, who beams wider, revealing his missing canine and squeezing his one eye nearly shut, before the husky twenty-one-year-old turns and gestures for Nate to follow.

“Ivy’s staying after anatomy and physiology, which is in the science wing. That teacher has been giving her heck,” Michael begins to fill their walk with amiable, softly spoken conversation, to which Nate mostly listens politely, but finds the reprieve from silence very much appreciated, and as they walk together, he keeps an easygoing pace, though his squarish, rough hands he finds so embarrassing remain buried deep in the pockets of his slacks “Ivy’s talked about you a lot, actually.”

Michael seems to add this as an afterthought as the two finally reach the closed door of Ivy’s classroom, and the sudden shift makes Ignatius do a gut punch of a double take.

“Hm?” his head perks up, having been lulled into a sense of bored, comfortable safeness by Michael’s pleasant voice, but now his heart begins to race wildly “What did she say?”

Nate’s stomach turns as he glances back at the heavy wooden door dividing them, unsure of sure how long they have before Ivy comes out of the classroom, and desperately, nauseatingly, however much he tries to force down the desire or deny it, wants to know more. Ivy wasn’t expecting them to be done studying so soon, and apologetically she texted Michael as much when he asked of her whereabouts.

“She likes you quite a bit, though I think that’s hard to miss. Whenever she talks about you, it’s very sincere and enthusiastic,” Michael recounts this very fondly, the mere recollection of his best friend’s happiness enough to greatly delight him, even if it is her speaking of Nate, a now established romantic rival of his.

“Please, she talks about everyone that way,” Nate tries to dismiss this quickly, as to not get his hopes up, but Michael giggling quietly makes his breath get caught in his throat “What?”

“I only live with her, Iggy,” Michael gives another gapped tooth smile, this one proddingly mischievous, which catches Ignatius off guard and completely winds him “I mean, she talks about you. She gets really, really excited when you guys make plans. And when she comes back, she likes to gush about you. She says she feels safe around you, Nate. That’s… not an easy feat.”

“What kind of sadist are you?” is all Ignatius can manage to say, his own voice strained now with flustered embarrassment, face bright, cherry red, and a thin sheen of sweat materializing on his brow very quickly at the knowledge Michael seems to have.

“Masochist, I think is more apt,” Michael’s dry joke is cheerful but clearly inward-punching, but Nate thinks he may be right, given that Michael has done nothing to dissuade him from seeing Ivy as a potential partner, even seeming to be encouraging it.

Seemingly aware before any indication Nate can pick up, Michael turns and looks to the door expectantly, and not more than a second later, it swings open, and Ivy comes out, at first looking downtrodden until her silver eyes meet Michael’s shining green one, and her face splits into an excited grin. Although only ten feet away, she comes running over, not willing to wait the few extra moments to be with Michael and Nate. Ignatius, realizing his face must still be red and damp, desperately begins to try and subtly wipe his brow, but Ivy is already upon them.

“My boys!” she exclaims gleefully, throwing her arms around Michael, and pulling him into an exuberant hug, to which he can’t help but catch her infectious smile, and squeezes her tightly against him, burying his face in her neck, and upon breaking away from him, she drops her backpack on the ground and offers Nate an open armed hug, that he awkwardly, scarlet-faced, shuffles into, and limply wraps his now very sweaty arms around her.

Given that this isn’t far off of Nate’s usual composure around Ivy, she pays this no mind, and pulls him into a warm, friendly embrace, that dazzes him more than he’d like to admit. When Nate steps back, he can see Michael is in much better spirits, simply being around Ivy seeming to do numbers to cheer him up.

“How’d it go, Vee?” Michael asks sweetly, sympathy preemptively creeping into his voice, the reason for which immediately clear as Ivy gives him an exaggerated sigh.

“We had to meet in the first place because Mr. Bowler won’t comply with IEP regulations to begin with,” Ivy explains to Nate, before shifting back to better face Michael “So pretty shit, honestly. But, on a much brighter note, something kind of crazy happened! Crazy-good I mean. Ollie asked me out! On a date, I think?! For sushi, which is super exciting!”

“Oh, Ivy, uh-” Nate begins to stammer in horror, as Michael immediately tenses and his face pales several degrees.

“What’s wrong?” Ivy realizes before Nate can even get a full word out “Mikey?”

The two have an almost wordless way of communicating, like dancing, but somehow sweeter and far less rehearsed. Each crease of the eyelid or quirk of the mouth seems to act as a full sentence, Ivy currently coaxing Michael to speak as her lips barely part, while Michael mutedly explains to her he will in the most subtle of nods, he just needs a moment, but thank you for waiting - this is told by his eyebrow furrowing sadly accompanied by a little squint - and she, just as silently, tells him she understands with a touch to his arm, she’s here, and she loves him, and he thanks her again with the slightest of facial flickers, the small tilt of his head and wrinkle of his brow, his jaw relaxing. Finally, almost as though entirely for Nate’s benefit, Michael continues aloud.

“We were… talking about that, in study group,” Michael concedes, to which Ivy nods thoughtfully, clearly worried, but patiently waiting for him, having come to be linked around his thick, soft upper arm, her cheek resting pressed against his shoulder.

Nate watches very tensely, stiffening every second with anxious anticipation, which Ivy seems to have noticed, her eyes darting over to him regularly, trying to drink up answers and yet not interrupt Michael, who is ever shy and straining to speak. Ignatius knows he shouldn’t worry, but in his own life, consequences are so high. He’s not sure he’ll ever be able to forgive himself if he’s made things worse for the person who’s shown she cares about him most. He knows, selfishly, his main stakes in the drama he created are, in truth, because he doesn’t want to lose Ivy.

Ivy is a touchy-feely person. She and Michael both are, though many would never guess this about the latter. The level of closeness that she shares with Michael, and that he reciprocates without a second thought, would lead most anyone to assume the two are already an item, and it initially shocked Ignatius that they weren’t. But Ivy treats all her friends similarly, Nate realizes sheepishly, holding Michael, or hugging him, exactly as she tucked Troy’s shaggy red hair out of the way when the wind swept it up and across his solemn face. He feels even worse now, for being jealous of Troy for that, especially when Oliver has made it very clear you can just ask for affection from Ivy, and receive it after her consideration.

“Is that why you guys left early?” pulling away from Michael’s arm enough to clearly speak, Ivy looks to Nate for guidance, or information, to which Ignatius’ watery eyes widen powerlessly, still processing his realizations set off by the impulsivity he and Troy share, and the situation as a whole.

“Yes,” Michael says grimly, before something seems to dawn on him as well, and then he smiles at Ivy with an earnesty that makes Nate further uncertain of where he stands “I am really, really happy for you. Ollie’s a good guy. I think he’s who I’m closest with at college. I guess I’m just nervous for you both.”

Michael’s strange, grayish complexion is stricken slightly pink, which Ivy’s busy grey eyes take in quickly, but she can’t help from grinning cheekily, and squeezing Michael’s arm tighter, and when Michael begins to chuckle, Ivy seems to not be able to help but to laugh with him at something only they presently understand, till they are both clinging off of each other. As they both straighten and pull away, each wheezing a little and baffled by their own spontaneity, they just give each other looks that are lost on Nate, and come out the other side seemingly unfazed and comfortable. Michael props his arm on Ivy’s shoulder at total ease, and she leans off of him, facing Ignatius.

“So what have you been up to?” she asks Ignatius, paying him special mind, feeling bad for leaving him out of whatever the hell just happened that made Ivy understand and she and Michael both feel totally better.

“Study group?” Ignatius says lamely, trying to catch up “Pardon me?”

Ivy looks at Michael eagerly, and shooting a cheerful sideways glance at her, he inclines his head towards her, then the two burst out laughing again. Bemused, but also somewhat grateful, Nate stands there uselessly, appreciative at least of the walls both Ivy and Michael have let down to let anyone witness their giddy, very familiar behavior, as despite her extroverted tendencies, Ivy is just as guarded as her ghostly, oftentimes sullen best friend.

“I’ll let Jonah know to set an extra place or something, and let him know I’ll help. Do you like pesto, Iggy?” Michael asks good naturedly, giving a charmingly sloppy half smile he only gives in the close presence of Ivy, which favors the left side of his mouth under his one eye, and where his missing tooth is most visible.

“What?” Nate isn’t sure he can process much more after the afternoon he’s had, still pleased despite his stress, but now especially confused.

“You can come hang out with us if you’d like, Nate,” Ivy offers hopefully, pulling away from her roommate and assuming a more demurse, passive stance “Jonah will be getting home from work in, like, an hour, and we’re gonna make pasta and salmon. Ozzie will be there too, of course. I bet he’ll feel pretty bad about ditching the study group though.”

“I highly doubt that,” Nate accidentally blurts, having only meant to think that snidely to himself.

“Huh?” replies Ivy.