Barcode Boy

Eventually, the pizza came and while Carter was buzzed down to the lobby, I organized all the papers he handed to me. I honestly wanted to make my own copies of them. I’m sure I could sue and get a ton of money, especially since the feds were clearly trying to cover their own asses by taking down the sources that spilled the truth.

I went and sat in the kitchen, grabbing a rubber band off the counter to tie up my hair since I couldn’t find any normal hair bands. I didn’t expect any of them to belong to him but imagine if he had chicks over who left them behind. Then again, there was no sign of a girl ever being in here.

When Carter returned with the boxes, he gave me a weird look as he stood by the island.

“You put your hair up?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, I’m still not used to it being in my face so much. It randomly makes me itchy.”

The blond chuckled. “That’s fair. It looks nice longer though,” He mumbled and grabbed some plates. “Like, I never imagined you with that length but now that I see it, I like it.”

I chuckled, reaching for one of the slices once the box was open. “Uh, thanks.”

“Wait, before you eat anything let me take your temperature. Are you still cold like last night?” He asked, fishing for something in a drawer.

“Yeah, mainly my hands though. I haven’t really been able to feel my fingers since I showered last night.” I snickered.

Carter scoffed. “That’s not funny, that’s concerning.” He said and waved something in my face. “Here, open.”

I leaned back. “No, what is that?”

“A thermometer, dumbass. Now open,” He laughed.

I did as ordered and Carter placed it under my tongue, standing awkwardly while he stared at it. After it beeped, he took it back and examined it with a concerning expression.

“What?”

“Eh...” He mumbled, and then took his own temperature. When it finally beeped for him, he scratched his head.

“Your body temperature is absolutely fucked.” He suddenly said. I cocked an eyebrow.

“The normal temp for a human is around 98.6. I’m 99.4 cuz I’m always hot but you’re 90.7, and if I remember health class correctly, that’s hypothermic.” Carter warned and waved the thermometer around.

That would explain why I was still freezing and once again, I think we can blame all the drugs. I felt like I needed to start a list of all my new ailments. Sure, I looked fine, but I worried if all of these would somehow kill me off.

“What should I do?”

He sighed. “I mean, it can be dealt with by wearing layers and taking warm showers, but you did all of that yesterday. When I woke up, I saw all the blankets you had—yet you’re still like this.”

He handed me a plate he had made and then started preparing his own, sitting beside me once he was done.

“I mean, eating is always good though, especially since this is hot.” He mused. “And who knows,” He continued as I stuffed my face. “It could just come from not eating for so long. I don’t know for sure, but I’d assume you were at least on IVs. There were so many things in that room.”

I shrugged, continuing to devour my pizza. “Yeah, in that case, at least we could probably solve it. Just gimmie food and I’ll be fine.”

Carter smiled at me as he ate his pizza like a civilized being. “True.” He glanced as I moved onto my second slice in seconds. “I guess it’s good that I got two boxes.”

“Sorry.”

He chuckled. “Nah you’re good.”

“But I mean,” The blond reached over and lifted up my shirt, staring at my stomach. “You don’t look malnourished.”

I smacked his hand, blushing. “Oi, fuck off. You’re causing a draft.”

He chuckled. “My bad. It’s just that you don’t look really different. Sure, both you and your hair grew a few inches, but your body still looks the same. Not that I would mind either way.”

I rubbed my stomach. “Uh, thanks I guess.”

“I just don’t get why you shaved. I swore all throughout high school you complained about having a baby face.”

I laughed. “Yeah, but then I saw how I looked with facial hair and changed my mind. You can rock a beard way better than I can.”

Carter smiled. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Y’know,” I began with my mouth full as I continued eating. “I think my temperature was getting progressively worse from when I woke up last night, till now. And maybe I’m finally at the lowest of the low.”

Carter handed me a napkin. “Oh?”

I nodded and grabbed some more food, but he flicked me in the arm.

“Slow down or you’ll give yourself indigestion,” He laughed. “You look like Kirby.”

I rolled my eyes. “If anyone looks like Kirby, it’s you! Your face turns pink in seconds!”

Carter continued laughing and waved me away.

“But like,” I went on. “I was burning up until we got into the rain, and after being covered by all the rainwater, I got cold. And sure, when I got here I took a shower, but as I tried to go to sleep, I just got colder no matter how many blankets or shirts I grabbed.”

“Yeah...” He frowned at his plate, contemplating. “While you are cooler than the average person, this is peculiar.”

I wiped my mouth after licking food remnants off my fingers. “Yeah, it felt like I was in Antarctica. In my boxers.”

The curly-haired boy snickered. “Hold on, I wanna see something.”

Carter got up and opened up a cabinet, grabbing us some cups of water. He handed me a worn-down mug that read ‘Dunder Mifflin’ on the front, but so much of the paint was scratched off that it looked like ‘Nerf,’ but I still recognized the color scheme at least.

He stood beside me and grabbed my right hand with both of his.

“W-What are you doing?”

“Warming them up—I wanna see something, just give me a second.”

I quietly sat beside him, watching as he rubbed my hand a ton. I was trying my best not to scarf down some more pizza. It was insane how warm he felt to me. It was like sticking my forearm in a hot tub.

Eventually, he let go. “Alright, now pick up that mug. Just use that hand.”

Despite my confusion, I did as I was told. I lifted up the cup, showed it to him, and shrugged. “Now what? You gonna make me some tea or something?”

He chuckled. “I mean, I can if you want. Touch it with your other hand now.”

I swapped hands and the moment I tightened my grip, it fell apart in my hand, melting on impact. I frantically reached over to collect the glass before it landed on the counter.

“Shit, I’m sorry!”

I tried my best to return it to its original stature, and the fact that it was already glass made it way easier. It retained its original pigment, I just couldn’t get the logo right.

“No, it’s fine! That mug is old anyway—I just wanted to see what would happen if your hands were different temperatures!”

I looked at my palms. “Huh...”

“Clearly you can only melt certain things since neither me nor the pizza were affected, and it also depends on the temperature. If we get you to stay warm, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about anything.”

As I sat at the counter, Carter continued to examine me. Looking at my hands and the mug, comparing his temperature to mine, and still trying to lift up my shirt while I was trying to drink my water. I didn’t mind him touching me, especially since he seemed to radiate so much heat, but it was still weird.

“Dude, are you good?”

He sighed. “Yeah, I just... I guess I’m just puzzled. You’re wearing sweats and the heat is on in here, and yet you’re still freezing.” He scratched his beard. “Maybe it’s hypothyroidism.”

I coughed. “Hypo what?”

“It’s when that thing in your neck that makes thyroid hormones that help your organs work, doesn’t do it enough. When it’s underactive you can end up with hypothermia.”

I rubbed my neck. “How the hell do you know all that?”

“Uh, one of my friends always makes me watch hospital shows. Particularly Grey’s Anatomy,” He mumbled. “There’s other diseases or disorders that cause it, but medicines can do it too.”

“Will it kill me?”

Carter pulled out his phone and started scrolling. “If not treated for long enough, yeah. I mean, we still don’t know if that’s really it. And maybe if we monitor your temperature for long enough and give you warm stuff, you’ll go back to normal or maybe even get used to it.”

He showed his screen. “There is something called Thyroxine which I think’ll do the job of restoring the hormones. Then again, hypothermia is one of many side effects.”

I rubbed my hands on my pants. So, what was it all now? Multicolored eyes, hypothermia, glass powers, and hypo-whatever-that-was.

“I mean! I’m not trying to freak you out—I was just thinking. It’s not like you’re forgetful or depressed, and while you were struggling yesterday, you seem fine now.”

He handed me his phone and I scrolled through the symptoms, all of which were unrelated except for temperature.

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s okay,” I said and finally grabbed some more pizza and Carter laughed. “Shut up, I’m hungry. Let me eat.”

“Nah, you’re good. I just forget how much of a messy eater you were.” He smirked.

“Piss off.” I grinned. “But y’know, what happens if I never get warm? If that happens, I’ll always end up destroying stuff.”

“Maybe if you practice on actually forming stuff, you’ll be fine. Without the intention or an idea of what you wanna make, nothing should happen, right?”

“Eh,” I wiped my mouth. “Sounds like a good idea but also seems too good to be true. I’ll give it a shot though.”

“I have a bunch of miscellaneous stuff I don’t need that you could experiment on. And then hey, I wouldn’t have to buy any new cups or glasses,” He joked.

“Sure, why not?”

I continued eating as Carter browsed through his phone. As he did when we were younger, he usually just read techy articles and watched math videos or stuff about robots. It was either that or getting distracted by anything related to video games. Playthroughs, hacks, mods, anything.

“Hey,” I chimed in, breaking the silence. “As I eat, didn’t you say something about Thanksgiving earlier?”

He looked up from his phone. “Hm? Yeah, what about it?”

“Are you going home?”

He nodded. “Yeah, once you left, our families started having dinner together. Sometimes my grandparents would come, sometimes it was just immediate family. The same went for Christmas.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Wednesday. It’s only Monday so we have a few days to pack and prepare?” He explained.

“We?”

“Well, yeah. You’re coming too, right? Your mom and brother are dying to see you again. I’m sure it’d be a nice surprise.”

I got up and placed my dishes in the sink after I finished my last few slices. The thought seemed nice, but I didn’t wanna leave just yet. Sure, I’d have a few days to prepare but...what if everything started all over again? What was even supposed to happen once I got back home?

I was a high school dropout and a fugitive. It was easier to just hide here with Carter, but then again, I missed their faces. My dreams were never enough.

“Uh, yeah sure. How are we getting there?”

“By train—there’s a station nearby that’ll take us to Phili. From then on it won’t take long to get to Chesterbrook. I think it’s at two o’clock or something.” He went back to his phone. “Speaking of that, let me get you a ticket.”

I grabbed a handful of empty wrappers that sat on the counter and melted them. “What about this though?” I asked, showing Carter the glass blob in my hand. “I don’t wanna destroy shit in public.”

“You’ll be fine—you can get in some practice beforehand. And if we fix your temperature, it might not even matter.” He got up. “Alright, we’re booked. Lemme get you more layers.”

I nodded, fiddling with more trash on the counter in an attempt to get the hang of my newfound ‘talent.’ What I really wanted to figure out is what I could and couldn’t melt. Food, no. Carter, no. Door handles, mugs, and...

Holy shit. What about last night?

I dropped the glass cup I made onto the counter and ran into Carter’s room, who had his face in a drawer. He looked up, confused.

“What?”

I looked beside him and there it was. The bottom of his bedframe, or at least what remained of it. Only the left side was completely intact. There were a few marbles and glass shards on the floor where the wood used to be. The blond caught where I was looking.

“Oh shit—has that always been like that?!”

“N-No! I did that last night by mistake! Wait, did you not see it when you got up?”

He laughed. “I mean, I break shit all the time and completely forget about it. Like, there’s a broken drawer in the kitchen that comes right out because I tripped over it once, but I never had the time to fix it.”

He pulled out a sweater and a turtleneck and handed them to me. “One of the couch legs was uneven somehow so I stuck a Lego under it so it wouldn’t wobble.” He chuckled. “I didn’t think much of it.”

I laughed, pondering about what other things in here were broken up. Wherever they were, Carter hid them well.

“Yeah, but now your bed’s uneven.” I took off my sweatshirt and threw on the turtleneck he gave me. Once I wore the sweater too, I felt way better. Still chilly, but better.

“Eh, you’re fine.”

I waved him off and squatted down, collecting the shards since his bare foot was uncomfortably close to all of them. I examined the other end of the bed and tried to replicate the same shape or at least make something similar. I had seen tons of furniture before with random glass additions or pillars. There was no reason why I couldn’t make something like that.

“Dude, you really don’t have to do that—it’s seriously no big deal!” Carter exclaimed, watching over my shoulder.

“Nah, I’ve barely been here for a day and I’ve already messed stuff up. I can’t just sit around knowing that.” My hand started cramping but I tried to ignore it. “Your bed might look like it’s made for a prince after I’m done with it.”

The blond laughed and sat beside me, watching as I tried to get the hang of all this. At least by now, only my hands were cold, and I was starting to get used to it.

When I finished making a little glass pillar, I merged it to the footboard and worked on giving the left side the same treatment. I didn’t want his bed to be lopsided.

Carter leaned on his knees, watching me with a smile. I felt my face heat up.

“What?”

He shrugged, watching as I swung around some liquid glass in between my hands like a baton. “I just think it’s cool is all.” He scooted closer to me and poked the material. “It’s cold.”

I chuckled. “If you distract me, it’s all gonna shatter. It’s not easy to melt part of a bed y’know.”

He grinned. “It’s just funny to me how you were all frantic earlier about getting the hang of this, yet here you are! Making whatever you want!”

I blushed. “Shut up.” I mumbled and swatted at him, dropping half of the glass as a result. “Shit! See you’re distracting me!”

Carter started laughing, despite the fact that he had a ton of glass shards and marbles all over his lap since he decided to sit so damn close to me. I sat a solid ball of glass on the floor before I tried to clean up the excess, but the more I touched him, the more he laughed.

“Stop moving or you’re gonna get cut!” I exclaimed as some of the pieces drifted towards my hands when they were close enough. “What’s so funny?”

“I don’t know!” He beamed, totally out of breath.

“I can fix objects, but I can’t fix you!”

I grabbed everything and returned to my experiment, only for Carter to lean on my shoulder and catch me off guard again.

“Okay, seriously—what are you doing?” I asked, managing to push through and finish repairing the edge of his bed.

The blond sighed. “I dunno. It’s just nice being able to look at you and hang out with you again.” He admitted and sat back up, still smiling.

“O-Oh.”

He rubbed his neck, mumbling. “Sorry if that sounds weird.”

“N-No, you’re fine. It’s fine,” I stammered, dusting myself off as I got to my feet.

“I guess I just miss how stuff used to be,” Carter finished, staring at the window. When the light coming through hit the pillars I made, they reflected little rainbow specs onto the ground.

I put my hands in my pockets. I missed that too. How I was, how he was, how everything was before I fucked myself over.

“It’s just still not the same. Like, I’m happy you’re finally back but it’s like the roles are switched. You used to take care of me non-stop, and while I love returning the favor, it’s odd. I feel like I’m not doing it right,” He sighed, laying on his knees. “I just wish we could pick back up where we left off—like when it was really good.”

I smiled a bit, but I knew that our definitions of good were different. He wanted to relive high school. I wanted to relive that summer. Nonetheless, it would be nice to go back and fix everything. High school grew to become a mess as the years went on, but Carter still lightened the load.

“Yeah,” I scratched my tattoo. “I know what you mean. So much has happened since then and it’s...hard to deal with.” I laughed awkwardly. “Meanwhile I thought all those years asleep would fix me, or at least everything would be magically better when I was released.”

“Fix you?” He looked up at me. “You were never broken.”

I blushed and took my hair down, feeling like he could see too much of me. “Earlier you were talking about more stuff I could melt,” I muttered, trying to change the subject. “Where is exactly is that?”

Carter frowned, looked me over, and then turned back to the window without responding. After a while, I exhaled.

“I’m sorry the old Jean you used to like, who taught you to skateboard, who you was never not laughing, who was y’know, good...is gone.”

He looked up. “N-No, I didn’t mean like that. I just—”

I shrugged. “Even if you didn’t, it doesn’t matter. I kinda miss being blinded by optimism. No major issues, no criminal record for starters.” I chuckled coldly. “I don’t like the new me either. It’s not new and improved. It’s worse. Worse and messy.” I looked off to the side, smiling.

“Dude...”

“Never mind.” I moved towards the door, but he grabbed my hand, still sitting below me.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that!” He insisted. “I didn’t mean it like that, Jean, I promise. Things were just suddenly cut off so I keep wanting to pick up where we left off, but stuff clearly doesn’t work like that!” He examined my fingers. “People change. And that’s okay. I’m not criticizing you.”

I avoided his gaze, knowing my eyes were probably pink, or maybe even blue if that linked with sadness. Even so, Carter stood up and combed my hair out of my face, refusing to focus on anything else.

“Yeah, the new you is different.” He went on. “But it’s not like I don’t like you anymore or nuthin.’ You’re still my best friend.” He laughed, only to realize how close he’d gotten and back up, putting his hands down.

“It’s fine, either way.”

“Is it really?”

I hesitated.

“I was scared you’d cry again.” He mumbled. “I just...” He sighed. “No matter what, I just want you to be yourself. Don’t fake anything. I can’t read your mind.”

I rubbed my neck. “That’s probably a good thing.”

Carter kept his sad expression, fidgeting with his sleeves. Unsure of what to do, I ruffled his curls but the moment I moved, he pulled me into a hug.

“You know I’m here for you.” He said, cradling me.

If this hadn’t already been strung on for so long, I likely would’ve broke down again. Yet, I kept my cool, hugged him back, and managed to smile.

“Thank you.”

By the time the sun had set, Carter and I had finished both boxes of pizza. The mood lightened as the blond continued to stalk me while I melted random objects he would hand me. We sat against his couch, binging stupid shows on Adult Swim.

I made him a ton of cups and glasses, but then I got bored and made some vases and flowers, a screwdriver, and even a little Eiffel tower. It was starting to get fun, aside from my hand cramps and the inability to feel my fingers sometimes.

The layers helped, sure, but my hands? They stayed cold unless Carter was holding them for the most part. It fluctuated. He checked my temperature a few more times and it barely changed. It went up a bit, then went back down—in the end, it was still terrifyingly low.

I was still great at melting stuff by mistake and got a ton of glass shards all over the floor, but to my luck, clean-up was easy. All I really had to do was place my hand near the ground, wave it around like a metal detector, and the pieces would move towards my hands like a magnet.

Handling my ‘superpower’ was exhausting, however, so I started getting hungry again, even after all that pizza. As Carter messed with the TV, I rubbed my hands on my pants and went into the kitchen to sift through his fridge.

I heard him laugh from across the room once he realized I left.

“What are you looking for? Beer?” He asked, organizing his new table decorations.

“You have beer? We’re only twenty!”

He shrugged. “Yep. The beard does the trick. Also, my occasional dark circles from either playing Rocket League or studying too late into the night.”

I chuckled. “Good for you, I guess. I was just snooping for other foods.”

Carter climbed onto the couch. “Don’t stress—there’s nothing in there. I need to go to the store. I know I’ll be too lazy to go out after break and we need train snacks, so I’ll probably go tomorrow.”

“Train snacks?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. Like chips and pretzels and junk.”

I nodded and he stood up, stretching.

“Honestly, I think we should just pack now so we don’t have to do it tomorrow.” He flicked off the TV. “And then we can pass out because despite doing nothing, I’m beat.”

I chuckled and followed him into his room, sitting on his bed as he pulled out a suitcase. “Do you not have stuff at home?”

“There’s a bit of stuff here and there, but not much. To put it in perspective, so much of my shit is here because my dad already took my old room and turned it into an office.”

I laughed.

“So yeah, I’ll be fine for toiletries, but I don’t wanna be naked.”

I shrugged. “I mean, that’s your house though. You can do whatever you want.”

The blond blushed a bit as he dug through laundry baskets and piles of clothes on the floor. “Sure, maybe if I had the house to myself but if you were there too? Hell no!”

I snickered. “You’re acting like I haven’t seen you naked before. Or at least in your boxers.”

He became redder. “Jean! Shut up!”

I laughed some more, watching as he threw clothes all over the place. There were tons of hoodies and plain tees. His wardrobe was seemingly still the same until I saw him toss one of those cold-shoulder shirts to the side.

“Wait—is that a girl’s shirt?” I beamed.

“What?” He grabbed it back. “U-Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“Ooo!” I teased. “You’ve been having chicks over?”

He rolled his eyes, folding up some clothes to fit in his suitcase. “No. I mean, yes, but no. Not in that way. It’s usually just me here or at least Aaron.” He walked over to his dresser. “Sometimes Blair shows up.”

“Blair?”

“Y-Yeah. She’s that girl who I mentioned watched hospital shows. She’s cool.”

I caught his eye and smiled. “Do you like her?”

He chuckled. “Uh, no not really. Didn’t I say I wasn’t on the market?”

I got up and grabbed the shirt, examining it. “Yeah, but that doesn’t instantly mean that you won’t have a crush on anyone.”

The blond stared at me for a while and then shrugged.

“Anyway, is this hers?”

He tossed some socks into his bag. “No. I uh, I really don’t know who’s it was, but it was part of some drunk dare a while back.”

I smirked and he took the shirt from me.

“Stop smiling like that! I know you’re imagining me in it! Stop being weird!”

I laughed. “Sorry, sorry! I do kinda like it though.”

“What? The shirt? You’ll freeze in this.”

I took it back. “So what? It looks nice. I bet I could rock it, say, with some ripped jeans, maybe a flannel too. Give me some chains and I could man it up a little.”

He rolled his eyes and tossed it in the suitcase. “Sure, I guess. What else do you request, your majesty?”

I sat back down on the bed, snickering. “I really just want that, specifically. Anything warm would be good, besides that. Warm and interesting. Plain clothes are the bane of my existence.”

Carter rolled his eyes, playing some music from his phone as he packed. “Sure, but you at least have clothes back at home. I’ll give you like two or three outfits.”

“Works for me,” I exhaled, laying back.

For a while I watched as he scampered around his room, making it even more of a mess. At least the clothes scattered all around were clean.

I dug my face into his pillow, dozing off a little as I listened to the music he played. There was a good variety: Pop, rock, country, rap, you name it—he had it. Eventually, his playlist faded into a ton of indie rock, but then one came on that I recognized.

Like, really recognized.

I always listened to music and more often than not had a beat going in my head. Most songs or bands that Carter was into, I had shared with him, especially if it was rock.

Music often cleared my head, or at least temporarily transferred me to a different lil’ world where I was calm and could function.

As high school went on, my uncle Roger could tell I wasn’t really myself. He was my mom’s brother, and they weren’t fans of each other, especially since he had previously been friends with my dad, but there wasn’t anything bad about him. He was an oddball, sure, but it ran in the family.

Instead of trying to force the words out of me, he gave me a different outlet. He took me to some worn-down warehouse he owned and didn’t have much of a use for anymore, and then gave me a ton of spray paint. Some were old, some were new, and every now and then he’d find a cool color and gift it to me.

He said I could paint whatever I wanted.

It could be my own studio. I could paint, write, or even just stand in there and yell.

“I know you’ve got some art in your blood somewhere,” I remember him saying. “You shouldn’t hold that in.”

To this day, I wonder if he really meant art.

I hated to admit it, even with him gone, but me and my dad were strikingly similar. While my brother got to get all of my mom’s good genes, I got all of Ezekiel Asher’s bad ones.

However, Ezekiel and my uncle were as close as I was with Carter. While they didn’t go as far back as us, they became best friends within the first week of their freshman year of college. Carter and I had fooled around, sure, but I doubt Roger and my dad ever got like that. I had the feeling that Roger could swing either way, but based on what I remembered of my dad, I highly doubt he tried anything.

Coincidentally, they were best friends until my dad disappeared without a trace.

My uncle knew how much of a mess Ezekiel was and probably knew I had some of that crazy in my blood too. Instead of getting into barfights, destroying public property, and cursing people out, he wanted me to release my anger in a healthy way.

So, I would spend hours in there after school without telling anyone where I was. I was kind of excited to see it again and look at all my old art. I couldn’t do anything realistic for the most part, but I was good at abstract art.

And…I painted Carter a lot.

Though, at least he likely wouldn’t be able to recognize it was him. He knew I spraypainted, but I never showed that place to him. Maybe one day I would. I would paint and blast music and sing my heart out, and maybe one day we could indulge in it together. It could be fun, or at least that was my hope.

I played one song in there a ton. It was my favorite.

When I first heard it, I ran to Carter’s house, banged on his door insisting he listen to it, and once outside, I blasted his eardrums. It became our favorite song. Even though we never sung together, we knew all the lyrics.

The words had nothing to do with him, but the music itself just screamed Carter. It was packed with memories for years to come. And it still was, though this time around Carter must’ve thought I was completely asleep because he started singing.

And he never sang around me, or anyone for that matter.

I would sneak around and manage to hear his vocals every now and then, but he didn’t like the sound of his own voice. Meanwhile, he actually sounded amazing but was too embarrassed to acknowledge it. But hearing him sing this of all things made my heart pound.

I sang it all the time, but him? The most he would do is hum along.

But alas, here he was singing our song. And he sounded beautiful. Loud and clear, on point, hell he might’ve even sounded better without the music. His voice drop made him sound even better than before too.

I peeked my eyes open to see his back to me while he danced and folded his clothes. I wanted to get up and join him, despite my drowsiness, or at least sing-along.

I manage to start sweating—a sensation I hadn’t felt since before I got arrested.

Nonetheless, I rolled onto my back and joined his voice with a grin. He seemed too engulfed in the music to notice me, especially since I was trying to sing softly. But then the last chorus came in, loud and full of emotion, and the two of us screamed our hearts out.

He was smooth sailing for a while, swinging a tank top around on his finger until he heard me singing loud and flat alongside him. He jumped and whipped around to me, red-faced.

“Holy shit! How long have you been singing for?!”

I shrugged, laughing. “Eh, maybe only half the time.”

He frantically turned down his phone, almost dropping it. “I-I thought you were asleep!” He squeaked, completely flustered.

I laid on my side, staring at him from across the room. “Eh, I was going in and out. And then I heard ‘To My Enemies,’ and was like ‘holy shit, how can I not sing that?’ Especially after hearing you too.”

Carter tried to hide his face, but I could still see how red his ears were. “Sorry,” He whined.

I chuckled. “Why are you apologizing? I like it when you sing!”

“Y-You do? Why?!”

I yawned. “Cuz you sound good, duh!”

He was at a loss for words, and I just smiled at him from across the room. Eventually, I rolled over to my side of the bed and sighed. “Don’t fret, I’ll leave you alone. But by now you should know how long it takes me to fall asleep.” I laughed “That or how easily I wake up sometimes.”

Carter started tidying up his room after closing his suitcase. He was still flustered, and I waited for him to say something, but all he did was scamper across the floor.

“I really like it when you sing,” I said softly.

He glanced at me, silent.

“What? I’m telling the truth!”

He pushed a laundry basket to the side after putting the clothes away. “S-Shut up, it’s embarrassing…”

“I’m just being honest! You never sing so when you do, I can’t help but compliment you. It’s like being blessed by an angel.”

I caught him rolling his eyes.

“I wish you would sing more often.” I sighed.

“No, I don’t like to.” He snapped.

“Dude, you were having an entire concert when you thought I was sleeping. Clearly you get something out of it, yeah?”

Once his room was clean, he walked towards the bathroom, but before he closed the door, still without responding, I sat up.

“I like your voice a lot, dude. Other people do too, I promise. Even if their opinions don’t matter, I just want you to know that when you sing, it makes me really happy,” I admitted quietly.

He sighed. “T-That sounds really gay.”

“Who gives a fuck?” I scoffed. “Take the damn compliment.”

With that, he closed the door without looking back. I continued to sit there, staring at the light peeking out from the bottom. In a huff, I threw off my sweaters and buried myself in the sheets.

I kinda just wanted to bust into the bathroom and smack him, but that wouldn’t do anything. Why couldn’t he ever just say thank you? This wasn’t even the first time he snapped when it came to singing, but I didn’t get it.

I figured he would’ve grown out of it, or even improved just like his voice did, but no.

When I complimented him, I wasn’t always trying to flirt or come off as gay. I just wanted him to know he was talented, and I appreciated him. It wasn’t until high school when he’d often shoot down my words because it sounded like I had a crush on him.

Though we were lying, we tried to assimilate ourselves into all the other basic white guys who, y’know, were straight and often homophobic. I just hoped that now he would have reverted back to his old self.

I couldn’t be one to talk when it came to being fake, but due to how he acted, I feared his response. What would he even do if I told him I still liked him? For a while, I figured he’d at least understand but now I was starting to feel like he might just cut me off. If not, he’d just try and be nice and deal with me when I was around.

He wouldn’t be happy I was there—he would just put up with me, afraid that I would make a move on him which mirrored how all those stupid guys at our school reacted to anyone who wasn’t straight.

I just refused to believe he could really be that cruel.