Page 20 of Sugar

“He’s autistic,” Piper answered with a shrug. “Smart as a whip and really nerdy. He liked a lot of cool stuff, but he liked it more than most people were willing to listen to him go on and on about it. He had a therapist when he was younger who suggested this shitty therapy that tried to force him into masking. He hated it, and no matter how long my parents forced him to go, it never worked.”

“That sounds like a good thing,” Juno said.

“Oh, it was. When I learned about it, I was pissed. Neither of us ever forgave them for it, but he acted out, and kids noticed. And they were massive assholes.”

Juno winced. He’d had plenty of autistic friends growing up, and he’d seen how vicious people could be. “That sucks.”

“He’s good now. And honestly, he’s been good for a long while. I just couldn’t see it. He could always take care of himself, but we really only had each other growing up. It’s hard to let go.” Piper stood up from the bed and rubbed his sternum with the heel of his palm. Juno wondered if his heart was still racing. “He resents me a little for it. I think that’s why he’s not eager to come back here.”

Juno didn’t know what to say to that. He would have given anything—literally anything—for a brother who loved him that much. But he also knew the grass was always greener, so he understood. He walked up to Piper and held him by the face, stealing a quick kiss.

“I appreciate you. And if I ever say anything that makes you uncomfortable…”

“I’ll straighten my spine and deal with it. I like you as you are,” Piper said, cupping his jaw and drawing a line over Juno’s lower lip with his thumb.

“Or just tell me to stop being an ass.”

Piper smiled, but his only real argument was to shake his head. “Where do you want to eat?”

“You’re letting me choose?” That was a novelty. Juno was never pushy, so the few friends he had were used to doing whatever they wanted. He was just happy to tag along.

Piper’s face softened, and he lifted Juno’s knuckles to his lips. “You choose.” Then he kissed them.

If Juno’s constitution had been any weaker, he would have swooned like a Victorian damsel.

He chose burritos, then waited for Piper to complain before realizing that he was probably used to having the same things over and over because of his brother. Burritos were Juno’s comfort food, which was something he sorely needed right then. He, Miles, and Oliver used to hunt for change when they were kids, then sneak out and buy the two-dollar burritos at Brews and Beans—a little cheap kiosk in a gas station that had long since closed.

He showered off before they left since he didn’t want to go out into public smelling like his own jizz, then dressed in tight jeans and a loose button-up because it was hot already, and it was only going to get hotter. Piper gave him an appreciative look, then held out a hand and kept their fingers tangled on the way to the car.

Juno put the DNA shipping package together as they headed down the street, and he passed it off as Piper drove past the post office drop-box. It hit the metal bin with a loud thud, and his chest tightened a little. In four to six weeks, he might know something.

He closed his right eye and stared at how big the blind spot had gotten—and at how little color he had left. It wasn’t black and white. It wasn’t like he’d seen in the movies or anything like that. Everything was just softer, and hues ran together into one sort of dull chartreuse with different shades of grey and black mixed in.

If he tilted his eye all the way up as far as he could go, he could see some details, but it was still blurred. He held up his phone and tried to read the text, but he could only see pieces of it.

“You okay?” Piper asked.

“Yeah. Tracking my progress,” Juno admitted. He reached down between his feet and picked up the journal Piper had given him. He’d gone with the dark pages—the white made his head ache a bit—and he pulled the cap off the blue metallic marker.

It looked gorgeous against the dark pages.

“You gonna draw me something?”

Juno looked over and laughed. “I can’t draw.”

“I’ve seen your cookies,” Piper said with a scoff.

“Yeah. I trace those, honey. I’m good at design. I can’t sketch for shit, which is probably a good thing, considering,” he waved at his eyes.

Piper licked his lips. “You adding to your list, then?”

“I wanted to start it.”

“Jupiter and Saturn,” Piper said.

Juno wrote them down. “Can you see them from the space station?”

With a small laugh, Piper shook his head. “Not any better than you can see them from Earth.”

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