Page 48 of Goodbye Note

I waved him off. “Probably couldn’t find yours.”

He shouldered into me, knocking me aside.

“Fuck, don’t do that. I haven’t slept enough, only had one cup of coffee, and I’m way too sober.” I righted myself and shoved my hand into my hair, getting it out of my face. When he didn’t answer, I looked over to find that he wasn’t next to me anymore. I turned around, finding him a few paces behind. “What?”

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” He got serious.

I shrugged, not wanting to sound like a pussy. “Probably just my schedule all fucked up.”

He crossed his arms. “Don’t lie to me.”

“It’s nothing.”

His lip pulled up in a growl that I felt all the way down my spine. “After all the shit we’ve told each other?” Hurt flashed in his eyes.

“I don’t want to sound like a fucking pussy.” I broke the eye contact.

“What kind of bullshit sexist shit is that? I know you’re not, so why do you think it’s okay to call yourself that shit?

“I—I don’t know. It makes me feel like one when I’m like this.” I tried to skate around the truth, but I knew instantly it was the wrong thing to do.

“You’re in the alternative scene. You know that misogynist crap doesn’t fly here. Let alone the toxic masculinity crap. Did you fucking call me a pussy when I opened up about my parents? Did I call you one when you were upset about your breakup?”Varian frowned, and I couldn’t handle that I’d upset him so much.

“Shit, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“You’re not insulting me; you’re perpetuating that crap even when you do it internally. You have to stop that shit at the source, and men have to call each other out for it. This whole community has to do better.” He stalked past me, leaving me speechless.

I had to jog to catch up with him. He wouldn’t stop. I grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. “Don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry.” I didn’t know he cared that much.

A myriad of emotions flickered through the lines of his face while he struggled for words.

“Please speak to me.” Fear iced my lungs, and I couldn’t draw a full breath.

He softened, a little. “You’ve somehow turned into my best friend over the last few months. I’m closer to you than even my brother. It kills me to see you treat yourself that way.”

I jumped at him, wrapping my arms around his neck, hugging him to me. “I don’t have the best opinion of myself.”

“That needs to fucking change. I wish you could see what I see.”

My chest ached. “I wish I could too.” It wasn’t easy to admit.

“No more of that crap. You don’t get to be a misogynistic piece of shit. Nor disparage yourself.” He pulled back, looking me in the eyes, and I already missed the embrace.

I clung to his shirt, not ready to let go. “I’m not trying to be misogynistic. But I get it. It’s like those guys who call everything gay. I hate that fucking shit.”

“Part of changing the world is changing how we speak and what we allow those around us to say.”

I admired him immensely in that moment. He was so much older than his age because of the life he’d lived. So much wiser than anyone else in the scene. “It’s a privilege to have you as my best friend.”

“Now fucking tell me why you aren’t sleeping well?”

“I think it’s because I’m lonely.” There was more to it, but I didn’t want to get into it. “Touch-starved. It’s hard to flip a switch from dating someone who slept over all the time. And it’s not even sexual. It’s everything. Hugs, hand-holding. I miss the stupid little shit, and it’s making me feel more like a pu—” I cut myself off. “An idiot. Less than the other guys because if I said that to any of them, they’d be like ‘go fuck someone,’ but it’s not that.” I looked away when he didn’t speak. “Maybe I’m not even making any sense—sometimes I think about inviting Nicole out for a bit, but fuck, I don’t want to do that.” I snapped my mouth shut so I’d stop rambling.

“You’re not an idiot. We are human. We are pack animals. People need to be touched and to be loved. That’s another reason I hate the masculinity crap. It’s ruining everyone’s mental health, making us pretend we don’t feel anything.”

I pulled him closer, and he didn’t fight it. I pressed my face into the hollow of his throat, inhaling his scent. Like leather and grunge. Sandalwood but also something floral. He’d showered on the bus before they’d tied him up.

“Thanks for talking to me and not bailing,” I muttered against his skin.

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