New Lease on Life (That You Can't Afford)

     In a rare streak of luck, Wyatt’s 18th birthday fell on a Sunday. He suspected Blake might try surprise him with something, (not that he hadn't done everything in his power to keep him separate from his home life. In his darkest nightmares the other kids convince Blake to stay away, too. But if Blake set his heart to something involving his foster home, he'd find a way to show up there. Of that, Wyatt was sure,) so he made sure to pack all his belongings into his backpack and a duffel bag the night before, and he took his uneventful leave before the sun came up the next day. It’s not like he had anyone to say goodbye to, anyway. 

     He hadn’t had very much time to scout the town, but he’d finally settled on a spot right next to the man-made river he and Blake frequented together. There was almost never anyone there, and up a ways was a sudden cluster of dense trees, pines that would offer good coverage from the elements. He just had to make a detour down the street behind Blake’s so he wouldn’t get spotted, and otherwise he was home free. Quite literally.

     Blake’s neighborhood was a bit more densely packed than his foster home’s. That place was massive, and the properties around it were much the same. This neighborhood was quiet rows of single-story homes, many sporting quaint little lawn decor. The two of them once spent a summer exploring every corner of his neighborhood trying to see what interesting sights they could find. One house always had encouraging messages in chalk on the sidewalk in front of it. The more the two came around, messages started appearing talking to them directly, much to their delight. One had such an elaborate, fancy front garden that it looked almost out of place in the tiny square of a front yard. One had a little “treasure box” affixed to the railing that was for neighborhood kids to take and leave small toys and trinkets in. The boys had a field day with that discovery.

     The Rockwells, themselves, had a little box for people to leave essentials in that others could take. Honestly, it would’ve been exactly what Wyatt needed right then-- he knew for a fact it was always stocked with bottled water-- but he wouldn’t risk it when it was literally right in front of the house. 

     The street behind theirs, the one Wyatt would take as a detour, had none of these things. What it did have was an elderly couple that hated his guts, so he could be sure they probably wouldn’t give a damn what he was up to when he started frequenting the area alone more. They seemed to be on good terms with the Rockwells, but made it no secret they thought Wyatt was a bad influence on Blake. If it were up to them, he’d be banned from the area, he was sure.

     Lucky for him, not even those old coots seemed to be up this early. He hurried on past and further until the suburbs gave way to empty streets and fenced-off treelines. Wyatt hopped the fence and ventured down the well-worn secret little path to the man-made river. He kept moving until he was sure he’d be out of view. When he got there, he hesitated.

     Wyatt was good at adapting. He had to be, when he spent his childhood getting moved around so often. But for just a moment, he despaired. He doubted. It would be easier to walk right back and tell Tomas and Harris what was going on. He really was going to have to sleep under a tree, otherwise. But… no! This was his problem to deal with. It wouldn’t be fair to shove it into the laps of the only people who’d ever actually given him the time of day.

     Conviction solidified further, he squared his shoulder and buried himself deeper into the man-made forest. When he was sure he couldn’t see the river from his position, he picked out a pine with low, sweeping branches and crawled on under. It was alright… the roots were bumpy, so he would have to be prepared to have a few sleepless nights as he got used to the change. Nothing he couldn’t handle. 

     He sat against the base and set his bags down. Zipping open his backpack, he checked to make sure he’d have everything he could possibly need for the day (it would be a bit of a hassle if he forgot something and had to pretend to go home to get it.) After a little fretting and moving things between the two bags, he finally zipped them both back up, satisfied. His duffle was strung up on some branches above so it’d be hidden from view. 

     Finally, he let himself relax. He took a deep breath. Everything was going to be fine. He’d work this out. Once he graduated he’d have more time to work, and then he could afford an apartment and no one would ever be the wiser. It was just temporary. He was alright. 

     Internal pep talk complete, Wyatt let himself have a cigarette before he let himself care about what the rest of the day would bring. 

     Usually, it was kind of nice that Blake and his parents cared so much about celebrating his birthday. They wanted to give him a day all about doing whatever he wanted. It made him happy, he could admit that, now. He was just scared to go into it harboring a secret from them, now. It normally wouldn’t bother him, but, well, these were the Rockwells. The exception to every life lesson he’d learned up to the day he met them. It just felt bad.

     But it’s not as if he was going to skip the plans he had with them that day or anything. Since this was just temporary, it didn’t make any sense to let it stop him from enjoying himself! He already had everything set up just right, so he had nothing to be anxious about. He finished his cigarette as the sun began to turn the sky blue, dropping the cinders unceremoniously to the dirt. Christening his new home, he thought with dull amusement. 

     He shouldered his backpack and drew up to his feet, retracing his steps back the way he’d came. He took great care to make sure the street was empty to witness him hopping the fence again, and looped back around behind the Rockwell home so no one would notice he was walking from the opposite direction.

     Not a single internal struggle would be any match for the sight of Blake waiting for him on the sidewalk, vibrating with excitement. He was always so enthused at the idea of making Wyatt happy. It was weird and it had taken a while for Wyatt to get it, but it was also super lovable, so what was a guy to do. As soon as he spotted him, the shorter teen’s expression only brightened.

     “Good morning, birthday boy!” He exclaimed, pulling out a handful of party poppers and only managing to set off two, the rest cluttering and spilling from his hands. “Woops,” he said. Wyatt burst into laughter.

     “It was a good effort,” he tried to be encouraging through his cackles. 

     “Whatever, it was cool,” he sighed, looking at the pile of confetti-sprinkled cardboard tubes on the ground, and his friend doubled over with laughter threatening to join them for love of his failure. He did his very best to act offended, but he was clearly holding back his own snickers as he latched himself to Wyatt’s arm and began trying to lug him into the yard. They tried to recover as they made their way to the door. 

     “Come on, come on, we have breakfast to be eaten, you know!” Blake pretended to complain.

     The Rockwell residence was a smaller house compared to the rest of the homes on the block. It was surrounded by a charming little wooden fence that had a variety of vines growing along it. Wyatt knew at some point a neighbor had complained, so they were always sure to trim it so it was only on the inside of the fence, not a centimeter outside. Malicious compliance, he thought with amusement. There was a crack in the concrete leading to the porch that had had flowers growing out of it for years. And of course, there were always crafts hanging in the windows.

     Blankets and misplaced clothes were piled on the couch and completely hiding the hooks by the doorway. A charming yet mismatched collection of carpets led from the entry through the living room, past the tv and the piano nestled beside it, and into the dining room. A skip away was the kitchen, always in disarray, the sink never empty, a sign of how well-loved it was. Papers, crafting tools, keys and glasses covered every other open surface, halfway between where they belonged and where they were needed. The whole place was cluttered and cozy and warm.

     Today, the first thing Wyatt noticed out of the ordinary was that the dining room table was almost entirely cleaned off, except for some plates, cutlery, and a variety of foodstuffs. He was amused to see a bowl of candy corn was one. They always slipped in some festive snack. Tomas was working along at his relaxed pace in the open kitchen right next to it, and Harris was watching from a barstool. 

     It looked like the two had prepared a good helping of crepes of all different flavors, because Wyatt had let it slip once that he loved french pastries and the psychos had never forgotten it. He didn’t last long lingering in the house before he’d been spotted, and Harris leapt to her feet with as much enthusiasm as her son.

     “Good morning, birthday boy!” She exclaimed in a way that made it exceedingly hard to forget that secretly, Blake was just a little copy of her. “I hear you have quite the day planned!”

     “Really? Who told you that?” Wyatt playfully responded.

     “Happy birthday, Wyatt,” Tomas greeted.

     “Thanks,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. It was always harder to brush off Tomas’ compliments with humor, just because he was so genuine about it. Not that the straight-forwardness wasn’t appreciated, actually, he just still wasn’t entirely used to so much positive attention. 

     “Come on, come on, sit down, boys.” Harris herded the duo over to the little oval table and ushered them into their seats. 

     Wyatt was served a plate with one of every type of crepe they’d made, apparently. Strawberries and whipped cream, ham and cheese, nutella and brown sugar. Harris, especially, always had a habit of giving him large portions-- which, to be fair, he wasn’t about to complain about, it just amused him to think she didn’t seem to realize. Even so, he didn’t often get much at his own place, in large part because he just didn’t want to hang around the ever-busy kitchen there too much. So, secretly, he looked forward to sharing meals with the Rockwells. 

     “Will you be out all day?” Tomas asked, finishing the last of his batter off.

     “Probably?” Blake turned to Wyatt, who shrugged and nodded.

     “Well, be sure to be back by ten at the latest, alright? We need time for the present,” he said.

     “Besides, it’s dangerous for kids to be out alone after dark,” Harris agreed. (Wyatt snorted at that. It was late fall and they were in the midwest. Dark was 5pm.)

     “We should be able to get everything done by then, I think.” Again, Blake looked to him.

     “I mean, probably. You still haven’t told me what we’re doing, exactly,” he prodded.

     “Well yeah, ‘cause it’s a surprise, you know.” He nodded sagely, waving a fork full of nutella crepe in the air. Wyatt rolled his eyes and spent a little attention on his own food, too.

     “How does it feel to be 18, Wyatt?” Tomas asked, finally serving himself and taking a seat at the table. 

     Wyatt pretended to think about his answer. “Hmm. Like way more responsibility than before,” was his answer. They laughed.

     “Now you know how it feels,” Blake teased. Wyatt laughed, too, and willed his shoulders not to tense as reality threatened to creep back up on him.

     Even still, the food was warm and delicious and the conversation was just as comforting. Wyatt reveled in the attention, and spent his morning forgetting the cold new reality he would be stepping back into when the day ended. Laughing and talking with Blake and his parents made it feel like time stopped existing, sometimes. Blinked and it was over, and Blake was pulling him to the coat rack and throwing a sweater into his arms. He obediently shouldered his trusty backpack and followed along.

     “Make sure you both come back when you’re done, you still have your present, after all!” Harris called after as the boys waved and stepped out the door.

     Blake was clearly eager to get a move on whatever adventure he’d no doubt been planning for the last few months. He rushed them to the one bus stop near his neighborhood, fretting that they would miss their ride (public transport wasn’t terribly busy around these parts.) They, of course, did not miss their ride, and very deliberately picked the seats at the back that were on a raised platform. They spent their ride across town talking about Survivor, because they had vehemently different opinions on who should win this season and why. 

     The bus dropped them off downtown, which was small by most standards, but a sprawling cityscape compared to the rest of the area. This was where the two of them spent most of their time after school, when they weren’t lazing around by the various bodies of water that littered their hometown. There were restaurants both cheap and smarmy, and plenty of unique businesses to entertain themselves with. On a Sunday afternoon, every single parking space was filled, people traveling for miles just to spend time at the little attraction site. 

     “Alright,” Blake said, pulling out what appeared to be a hand-drawn map, “this way, follow me!”

     “Oh no, I sure hope nobody’s leading me into a deadly trap,” Wyatt teased, following along regardless.

     “Me? Me?? Lead you into a deadly trap?? Why, that sounds nothing like me,” Blake replied with a playful grin.

     They pushed through crowds that were a bit thinner than usual, probably in no small part due to the overcast weather. Wyatt wondered if it was going to rain. It occurred to him that that would be particularly problematic for the bag of belongings he had hidden in the woods.

     "It's actually in the mall," Blake said, drawing him back from the beginnings of a train of thought. "But it's not the mall itself, I didn't cop out, promise." He crossed his heart as he said so. 

     "Y'know, I don't think there's really a way to 'cop out' for like, celebrating stuff," he said.

     "Of course there is! That would be just not trying!"

     "Right, and I like the mall, so that would still be trying," he snickered.

     "Nooo we already do that all the time," he retorted. "It has to be something special!"

     "Yeah, yeah." Wyatt rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Personally, he didn't mind mundane activities, as long as Blake was with him. But his friend insisted on always going the extra mile when it came to doing something nice for him. He figured part of it was probably that Blake thought he felt undeserving of the effort (and to be fair to him, there was a bit of truth in that.) But he also worried he felt like he needed to, hoped to convey properly someday how he really didn't need anything more than his company, that he didn't need to prove how much he cared because Wyatt already knew.

     Seriously, Blake was an enigma, but not one Wyatt regretted. He turned him soft. Wyatt would kill for this person in a heartbeat, which was quite a unique development for someone like him.

     They knew their way to the mall so well by this point, neither even bothered to watch where they were going. Their favorite junk food spot was there, after all, where many a study session had been held. It was small, only two stories and a basement, but packed to the brim with food and entertainment. The only places Wyatt wouldn't really touch would be the clothing stores, but Blake happened to be a fan of quite a few, so he ended up visiting them frequently, anyway.

     "This way," Blake said, grabbing his hand and breaking into a run. Wyatt laughed and ran after. They dodged around other patrons through the green-and-white tiled halls, Wyatt occasionally keeping Blake on his feet when he tripped. He pulled him down halls they knew well and some they didn't, until slowing to a stop to catch his breath. 

     Wyatt, admittedly, was also a little worn at the impromptu sprint, but still had enough energy to tease his dumb best friend about it. Blake batted him away playfully and then drew himself and struck a pose that was too dramatic to be conveyed while he was still tired and panting.

     "Ta-da!" He said.

     It took Wyatt a couple seconds to catch on, but he glanced behind the other boy's exhausted jazz hands to see an unfamiliar storefront that read in bold red neons "ARCADE."

     "Oh! This is the place, huh?" He said, pointing.

     "Yes!" He popped up, excitement energizing him right back up. "They just opened like a couple weeks ago, but apparently it's like, huge in there! We gotta test it out!"

     "Damn," he whistled, "how'd we miss it all this time?"

     "I mayyy have been keeping it a secret," Blake giggled.

     "How devious," he said.

     Blake got down on one knee and  grabbed his hand again and pulled out two wristbands, one which he wrapped around Wyatt's.

     "For you," he beamed.

     "A million times yes," he deadpanned, and promptly laughed to himself.

     "Come on, let's decide what to try first!" Blake led the way after applying his own all-day pass. 

     The arcade was, indeed, pretty huge. The entrance area was all game cabinets and claw machines, with a prize counter at the back, and behind that it seemed to open up to a bigger area. From what Wyatt could see from the entrance there was definitely a go-kart track and a rock-climbing wall (ooh!) which went up two stories.

     Blake craned his head around, taking inventory, too, then looked up at his friend.

     "You pick! After all--"

     "Yeah, yeah, special day and all. Well, uh, I might already kinda have an idea." He pointed to the climbing wall.

     "Knew it," he snickered.

     "Are you calling me predictable?"

     "Yep! Let's go!"

     "Hey," Wyatt called after him, "you can't just say that and then leave!"

     The boys burned through the afternoon and into the evening playing every activity they could get to. The rock-climbing was a favorite for Wyatt (to neither's surprise,) and he spent nearly an hour doing every course two or three times each, until he started to feel shaky from exertion. He would have been happy if that had been the whole day, really. But there were VR machines right next door, and neither had ever tried something like that, so they got to work. 

     They never ended up scoring very high on any of the games, and Wyatt was sure to blame the rock climbing every time, but it was a lot of fun anyway. The day was capped off by an epic battle with the most spiteful claw machine known to man, where each boy took turns determined to win the same stuffie for the other. In the end it was Wyatt that got the lucky run, so the large purple teddy bear was presented to Blake, who would have to carry it around the rest of the day as a token of his shameful defeat.

     When the sun started to filter in orange they realized they missed lunch and were going to be late on dinner, so they called it a day and headed out into the greater mall. Wyatt cut off his wristband and put it into his backpack as a memento. Then, it was his turn to lead, since food was his pick. So he led them out to the street and began walking.

     Blake knew just as well where Wyatt was going to lead them, but he acted surprised, anyway, just to be annoying. Wyatt rolled his eyes and gave him a playful shove, the same way he did every year, and they made their way into their favorite smarmy restaurant. Wyatt, personally, always set aside savings for events like these (once he had savings to set aside.) Trying out different restaurants they wouldn’t normally spend the money on was a common holiday practice. This place was one they’d decided was the best, though, after several different samples and fierce deliberation. The portion sizes weren’t unreasonably small and the food was, in their collective and humble opinions, to die for.

     It was called Lakeside Eats. It was not in eyeshot of the lake, but it was close enough, so most people let it slide. The boys, themselves, thought this was hilarious, and it may have had a hand in them naming it their favorite.

     They picked out a booth in the corner and each took a side, Blake stuffing his prize into the space beside him. A waitress about their age was quick to find their table and hand out menus. Wyatt wondered if she lived on the other side of town or just moved over, because he didn’t recognize her. Her hands shook ever-so-imperceptibly, and she seemed flustered from the moment they said hi, so he figured she must be a new hire.

     “Hello, welcome, my name’s Jenny and I’ll be serving you today,” she greeted. “Can I get any drinks for you?” She fumbled for her notepad.

     “Two cokes, please!” Blake replied, forcing his hand (water’s free, after all.)

     “Of course, I’ll be right back!” She smiled and glanced at Wyatt and then rushed off.

     “We’re at the stage of the relationship where you order for me?” He turned back to his friend with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

     “I’ll pay for it, come on. You need to have soda on your birthday, you know,” he said, crossing his arms in a very ineffective show of defiance. Wyatt laughed. 

     “Fine, I’ll let it slide,” he said. “This time.”

     “Finally! I’m going to buy you so many things!”

     “I said this time!”

     “I’m going to buy you so many sodas!”

     They laughed at their own antics. Not too long after the waitress reappeared with their drinks and handed them out.

     “Are you guys ready to order?” She asked.

     “Aw shit, we haven’t even looked at the menus yet,” Wyatt laughed apologetically.

     “Sorry! We’ll get right on that,” Blake said.

     “Oh, it’s ok! No worries at all! I’ll just come back in a bit,” She said, then hovered for a moment. “Um, actually, I was wondering, do you guys live around here?”

     “Yup,” he said, “actually, we come to this restaurant, um, like, every few weeks,”

     “More like once a month,” Wyatt corrected. “Don’t scare the poor lady.”

     “Oh! That’s great, I just moved here, actually, so i-it’s nice to meet new people,” she laughed nervously. “Um, my name’s Jenny. A-although you already knew that, haha,” she glanced at Wyatt, then addressed him directly. “What’s your name?”

     “Wyatt.” He gave a half-hearted two-finger salute.

     “I’m Blake,” Blake said with a grin that usually meant he just got a troublesome idea. Wyatt tried to discreetly send him a look, and went ignored.

     “Well, uh, nice to meet you!” Her face was turning red. Wyatt felt a little bad, knowing how taxing it could be to work food service. “I’ll let you get back to your browsing, then. Be back in a bit!” And with that, she left.

     “Huh,” he chuckled, “she seems nice.”

     “Yeah,” Blake fixed him with that grin of his.

     “Alright, what are you up to?” He narrowed his eyes at the brunet. Blake was a very kind-hearted and loving person at his core, but that didn’t stop him from being mischievous when the mood suited him. Especially when he thought he could fluster one of his friends. He found great glee in the few times he managed to get such a reaction from his red-head best friend. It didn’t happen often, but enough that Wyatt knew to be on guard during moments like these.

     “Nothing,” Blake said, like a very bad liar. Wyatt raised an eyebrow and said nothing, which had Blake breaking into giggles in mere seconds. “I’m not going to do anything, promise! I’m just enjoying the show.”

     “The hell does that mean?”

     “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Blake reached over and patted his arm comfortingly. 

     “You’re the worst,” he said. Blake laughed.

     “Maybe we should actually read the menus before Jenny comes back, though.”

     Wyatt rolled his eyes good-naturedly but shrugged it off and they began perusing their options in comfortable silence. Every once in a while one would point out an item to the other and they’d marvel, and complain about how difficult it was to settle on just one item. Neither of them were very picky and it was both a blessing and a curse. Eventually they each decided on their items with the agreement that they’d share amongst themselves (that way they could technically get two meals each. Military genius.) They ordered without much incident except for Blake continuing to smile to himself whenever Jenny interacted with him.

     Wyatt finally started to understand what that was all about when their plates came and a slip of paper with Jenny’s name and a phone number was on his. 

     “Oh,” he said. “Was she flirting with me?”

     Blake snickered, which meant yes.

     “Aw hell, how was I supposed to know?” He complained, feeling the beginnings of a blush coming on.

     “I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually,” his friend laughed, laughed at his misery, like a traitor. “Besides, can’t blame her. She’s got good taste.”

     “God, shut up,” Wyatt huffed, blushing even harder. Blake laughed again and patted his hand.

     Wyatt gingerly put the number away in his backpack, not really intending to get into contact, but not wanting to hurt the girl’s feelings on the off chance she was watching. It was only the second time he’d ever been the subject of someone’s interest-- at least, as far as he knew-- but it still made him rather embarrassed. He just had absolutely no understanding of these things. Also, Blake was totally going to bring it up later to tease him.

     Otherwise, dinner was uneventful. The boys talked and laughed and shared their meals like they usually did. They watched the sun in the last rungs of its climb down to the horizon, and the familiarity was bliss. 

     When they had no more good reasons to loiter, the boys simply wandered with no real destination in mind. Sometimes they found gems that way, but usually it was just a walk. Today, it brought them to Miroire Lake. It was a favorite, so they may have just picked it without realizing, after all. 

     For whatever reason, skipping stones had become a favorite activity for the two. And it wasn't one they had picked, instead fell into. It was something to do to keep hands busy through long conversations about nothing important, so they got a lot of mileage out of it. Sometimes, they'd make it a competition. Today, they simply christened their stay with a few casual tosses. Blake cheered when he managed to skip one six times. 

     "When we graduate, we should get an apartment down here," he said. 

     "That soon, huh?" Wyatt said, trying not to be apprehensive. "I doubt we could afford that."

     "Is that a yes?" He grinned.

     "Well yeah, obviously. But like, when rent is down, or something." 

     "Jeez, it can't be that bad," he sighed. "But fiiine. I guess it would help if I got a job first, anyway."

     "Maybe a little," he laughed. 

     "It's a promise, though," Blake said, turning to look him in the eye. "Eventually, we're going to be roommates."

     "Sure." Wyatt smiled despite himself. 

     "Speaking of places to sleep in--!" He suddenly perked up.

     "A worrying segway."

     "-- Let's go into the caves!"

     "Not great for sleeping. I checked."

     "What? Why in the world not?!" Blake exclaimed as he hopped up from the rocky shoreline and began picking his way back up. Had to dodge a dead tree that was hanging from the outer edge and dipped into the water.

     "'Cause that's where everyone thinks to sleep. Wildlife included.” Wyatt followed with precision but absolutely no grace. Generally the opposite of his friend. “Plus, jackasses like us go wandering around in there."

     "Yeah, but not at night, though." 

     "I'm sure there's someone out there dumb enough."

     “Ugh, fine, ruin all my dreams of sleeping in a cave, then,” he sighed with a hand thrown over his heart.

     “I doubt it’s that fun,” Wyatt snorted. They hiked their way up further away from the water, where the ground broke up into short cliffsides, about twice Wyatt’s height, and yawned into the cave systems that drew many an explorer. The two resolved to never go too deep after one outing where they got lost for a terrifying 30 minutes. They agreed to never tell Blake’s parents, but Wyatt suspected he had confessed, anyway, because he was a lousy liar through and through. 

     “Maybe they make houses that are built into rocks. That would kind of be the same thing, right?”

     “Huh. I bet they do. We’ll have to check it out next time we’re at the library, I guess.”

     “I’ll write it down!” Blake declared, pulling out his phone and sending himself a text that read ‘-look for cave houses on computer.’

     Wyatt passed him by to stand up on the lip of the entrance, peering down at the foot-or-so ledge that he was balanced over. Blake caught up and hopped down, so he did too and followed him in. The shorter teen pulled out a hand-drawn map-- different from earlier-- which they’d been logging the cave paths on. It wasn’t awfully extensive, but it felt productive. This way, he’d reasoned, they wouldn’t tread the same ground twice; they often ended up doing so, anyway, of course, because their combined mapping skills were still horribly incompetent. 

     Wyatt pulled out his old flashlight to match. It had gotten dark about partway into dinner, after all, and it would simply be irresponsible to walk around underground in the dark (said the voice that sounded very much like Harris in his head.) They began exploring and mapping a section of the cave for a solid ten minutes before realizing it was a section they’d already been through and making their way back. Both then crowded around their homebrew map to try figure out if there were any of the tunnels in this particular cave entrance they hadn’t already been through.

     “What time is it, anyway?” Blake poked his head up from behind the paper.

     “Um,” Wyatt pulled out his phone and flipped it open, “a little past 10.”

     “What! Aw jeez!” He began hastily folding the map and trying to stuff it back into his bag. “Mom and dad are going to get worried if we don’t get back soon! We’ll have to come back later.” He began moving towards the entrance, stuttered, and turned to Wyatt. “Sorry, it’s your birthday and all.”

     “Ha, I don’t mind. Pretty sure we’ve already seen all the paths in this one, anyway.” He shrugged, ambling along to join him.

     The two hurried their pace as soon as they were under the sky again, lucky that the buses ran much later for no good reason. Even though it was cut short (spiritually speaking,) Wyatt was pretty happy with how they’d spent the day. He’d had a lot of fun, and he was still buzzing with joy as they spent the majority of the ride home in exhausted but ecstatic silence.

     Technically, of course, Wyatt’s day wasn’t over yet. He didn’t get off at the stop closest to the foster home, and instead stuck with Blake to the one that would drop them near his house. Let himself be led back to the Rockwell residence as Blake’s excitement began to slowly return his energy.

     The Rockwell family had developed the tradition of just getting Wyatt one gift from the group of them. At first they’d all gotten him something, but it had proven a bit overwhelming for a kid that had never had anyone to celebrate a birthday with before then. Truly, if it were up to him they wouldn’t have to spend anything on him, but they insisted he ought to get something, so this was the compromise. Regardless, Blake was always inexorably eager to have him open the gift. Having given a few presents to the lot of them, himself, he certainly understood the feeling.

     “Late night?” Tomas greeted them, amused, as the teens stepped in from the mudroom. 

     “Sorry! We lost track,” Blake laughed guiltily. Wyatt simply nodded, shameless.

     “Boys! You’re back!” Harris popped out from a pile of books stacked upon the miniature workbench. She extracted herself from her project and ran over to grab them both in a quick hug. “How was your day? Everything you hoped it would be?” She directed the last question to Wyatt.

     “Yeah, it was pretty cool,” he said, in a grand understatement of his opinion.

     “The arcade was awesome!” Blake agreed. Wyatt could always rely on him to pick up his slack in the ‘expressing emotions’ department. “We tried VR!”

     “Made him sick,” he added, grinning.

     “You, too,” he pouted.

     “Just not as bad.”

     “Well that simply cannot stand.” She put her hands on her hips. “Know what will fix it?” 

     “Dessert,” Blake replied without hesitation. 

     “Exactly!”

     Wyatt heard Tomas chuckle softly to himself.

     So the day was capped off with some brownies covered in whipped cream and ice cream and chocolate syrup, and Wyatt opening his little gift to find a gameboy (Blake produced his own to match, promising he could use his cartridges.) He tried very hard not to let on how much it meant to him. He ended up staying for some hours after, until Blake hugged Wyatt goodnight and headed to bed.

     “You should stay the night,” Tomas offered. Wyatt’s hands slowed and it suddenly became difficult to maintain eye contact.

     “N-no, it’s alright. I didn’t pack anything, anyway,” he said, which technically wasn’t a lie.

     “If you’re sure. It wouldn’t be any trouble,” the older man said.

     “Thanks. I’m fine, though,” he insisted. 

     And really, he was being an idiot. He knew it. He spent nights over at the Rockwells’ without planning beforehand all the time. Often enough that they kept spare amenities for him. All he had to do was say yes, and he could put off his problem for one more night, maybe even more. But then… he’d end up never leaving, he knew it. He’d let himself just keep imposing on them, and they’d let him, too. He’d probably end up confessing what was going on. 

     Besides, he told himself, he’d left all his stuff in the forest, and it was probably a bad idea to leave it unattended all night. So, of course, he couldn’t accept. 

     Like before, Wyatt walked back the way he normally did, but took a left and looped around to the street behind them. Even though he was heading to less-than-ideal sleeping conditions, it wasn’t enough to completely shake the happy mood that always clung to him after days spent with his best friend. Unfortunately, the elderly neighbors were on their porch that evening to do their damnedest to fix that.

     “What’re you doin’ lurking around here all by yourself, boy?” The old man’s voice made him jump. When he realized who it was, though, he sent a glare to match their own.

     “None of your fucking business, old man,” he spat, gruffly shouldering his backpack and walking briskly past.