hit you where you can hide it, but when Simon lost it, man he lost it big time. And that summer things

were worse than ever. There were nights when I lay awake listening to the steady humming of cicadas

outside, skin covered with brand-new bruises, wondering if I’d live to be seventeen. If it hadn’t been for

Mom, I would have run away years ago. But I couldn’t leave her behind. I wonder how my life would

have turned out had I had the courage and cold-bloodedness to just split. You don’t know how often I

wish I would have.

I rub my tired eyes as I sit down at my desk and hesitate a moment before I turn on the little lamp on

it. As expected, it’s way too bright when I do, and everything seems darker now outside the window. I

grab a book and turn on my old laptop, because now that I’m more or less awake, I might as well work

on my literature assignment. I glance around the room while the computer starts up. My eyes come to

rest on Rizzo’s illustrated book on Berlin, and my stomach tightens with a strange yearning. I have so

many mixed emotions when it comes to leaving. I accepted the scholarship, but just between us, I still

don’t really see myself going. Logically, I know that it doesn’t make much of a difference if I’m at

Woodhaven or across the Atlantic; Mom would still be alone, with no-one to look after her but a

detached, overworked social worker. It would be more expensive to give her the usual call every night

to check if she’s taken her meds, that’s for sure. I know she really wants me to go and take this chance.

She wouldn’t be Mom if she didn’t. But I just feel horrible about it all. I’ve been feeling so restless

lately, like I’m waiting for something bad to happen any minute. And I’m not even the kind of person to

buy into this whole foreboding shit. And then I sometimes ache for someone to tell me it’s all bullshit,

and Mom’s gonna be fine, and I’m gonna be fine, and there’s no point in worrying myself sick. And I

ache for that person to be Rizzo, and then I have to hate myself for being majorly pathetic. Welcome to

how my mind works at 5 am.

A little *ping* noise startles me and I stare at the computer screen. I exhale with relief and a sudden

feeling of warmth spreads through me. A chat window has popped up - it’s Casey.

“Hey there, Sleepless!”

I can’t help but smile as I swiftly type a reply: “You’re one to talk, Awake-at-ungodly-hour.”

“Art assignment. Just got back from lame attempt to take pictures of statues in dark park. Teeth still

chattering. Status of ass: frozen off.”

I chuckle to myself. “Now that’s a shame. I liked that ass.”

There’s a little pause and I impatiently wait for a reply. I’m still mildly shocked when it comes. Just

four little words, but they make me swallow hard. Repeatedly.

“I miss you, James.”

* * *

Eleven hours later we sit at what used to be our “usual table” at Cafe Plato, and I’m happy to report that

Casey’s nice little ass is, in fact, still there. Hallelujah. The other good news is that we both look equally

tired, so I don’t have to feel too bad about my whole Dracula getup - pale face, dark shades underneath

my eyes. Feeling strangely self-conscious, I stare at my hand resting beside my steaming coffee mug,

noticing how the veins on the back of it are showing. I think I might have lost some weight.

“You look good, James,” Casey smiles, studying me with kind eyes. “I like your hair a little longer.”

I wince and look up at him from underneath some strands of hair. “I look terrible. And I really need

to get it cut.”

“Don’t you dare.”

He, on the other hand, is wearing his hair really short now. It makes him look more mature, and

brings out the brilliant blue of his eyes more. I want to tell him, but somehow the words won’t come. So

I just sit there like an idiot, not knowing what to say or do. Awkward.

Just as the silence starts to get really uncomfortable, he suddenly reaches over and takes my hand in

his. I’m taken by surprise by this move, but his fingers are warm and wonderfully familiar on mine, so I

don’t pull away.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately. I feel like such an ass,” he says softly.

“No, it’s okay. Really. I’ve been pretty busy myself.”

“Well,” he clears his throat, “I wasn’t that busy.” He looks out the window for a moment before his

gaze finds mine again. “I just… I needed that space, for a while. It was tough, getting over everything.

Getting over you.” He pauses briefly. “And I’m not saying that I completely am. Over you, that is. I

guess this sort of thing just takes a little more time.”

I swallow. “Guess so.”

He takes a sip of his cappuccino, eyeing me over the brim of the cup. “But I miss our friendship,

James. More than I can say. I don’t think there’s anyone who knows me better than you do. And I miss

talking, and just hanging out. I miss all of it.” He shrugs. “I don’t know, even though things will

probably continue to be a little weird between us for a while, I’d take ‘weird with you’ over being

completely without you anytime. Does that make sense?”

“Strangely enough, it does.” I try to smile, but it ends up rather crooked. I’m not sure how I feel

about this. It’s so very good to see him, but it still hurts somehow. I’m torn all over again. Part of me

feels the same way - I never wanted to lose him as a friend. If I can just get over feeling so awkward, I

know it would be awesome to hang out again. Because I’ve been missing him too, like crazy. I wish I

could get myself to admit as much, but somehow I just can’t. It takes me a moment to realize that

there’s also a part of me that’s actually still mad with him. For ever getting me to give up Rizzo. Which

was my idea and my choice, not his. He never asked me to do it. It was my doing, mine alone. So how

can I be mad because of it? How schizo is that?

“What’s on your mind?” He looks at me intently, and I may just be squirming a bit in my seat.

“James, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Sure,” is my quick reply. A little too quick, possibly. I sigh a little, trying to beat all the

confused emotions into something that makes enough sense to talk about it. “I guess I just need to get

used to this again, is all.”

He nods, and he’s looking a little insecure all of a sudden. “I understand. If you need more time, then

I…”

I grab his arm instinctively as he already moves to get up. “No! No, stay.”

The smile I get for that warms my heart somehow, and I’m starting to feel more relaxed as he sits

back down.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

“For what?”

“For bearing with me. Not just now - through it all.”

I clear my throat uneasily, and smirk at him. “Well, yeah. You can be a bit of an idiot on occasion.”

He laughs. “That makes two of us then.”

I grin. “So it would seem.”

He looks at me with sparkling eyes, then he reaches over. “Come here, you bastard.” And he pulls

me into a hug, and I let him. And then I hug him back. Because I love the scent of his skin, and the

warmth, and it just feels like being… home. And something cold inside of me seems to vanish into thin

air.

After that, we change the subject and start to talk about this and that like we always have, and

suddenly the conversation comes easy. We tell each other about school projects, I get to be snarky about

the lameness of some of my reporters, and he almost pisses himself laughing when I tell him about

Anna kidnapping me for lesbian movie night. He mentions Leo a lot, I notice. They seem to be getting

along pretty well when they work on art projects, and I’m surprised to be glad for him at last. The only