Page 22 of Pippin & Nacho

Fuck, that was the first time I’d ever told him that or said the words out loud. He knew my need for him, but he had no idea how much. If he left me, I wouldn’t survive it. Fuck, that was one secret I should’ve kept. It was too much pressure. He would feel the need to stay when he didn’t want to. I couldn’t handle him staying, even if he hated me. Fuck. How would I know if he—

“What do you mean?”

I tried to move away, but Nate wouldn’t let me. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“What. Do. You. Mean, Sam?”

“Ugh… I’m not as happy as you think I am. All my mental health issues over the years have taken their toll on me. That conversion therapy… they break you, Nate. They make you feel worthless, like you’re nothing. Then they claim to build you back up through God and prayer, but it only makes you feel worse. I left there after four months like I was missing pieces of me, missing a part of my soul.”

“Fuck… Sam…”

“I… sometimes wonder if the world would be better off without me. No one would care if I was gone… except maybe for you. When you came into my life, you brought me so much happiness and love that I cling to life to keep you in it. See? I’m a fucking mess. Now that I’ve told you… you’re going to stay even if you don’t want to because you’ll feel guilty. I won’t know if you’re staying for me or out of obligation.”

Nate let me go and ran a hand through his thick curls. “Fuck me, Sam. I had no idea you had thoughts like that. I mean, I wondered, but you’d never said anything.”

“Please don’t make me see a doctor!” My voice was nearly shrill as my stomach grew nauseous. It was hard to breathe, and my mouth dried out. Suddenly, I couldn’t get air into my lungs.

Nate grabbed my face again and stared into my eyes. “Shh… you’re safe. Just breathe. Deep breaths.” My lungs suddenly hurt as I gasped. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, then another, as I tried to mimic him. “Hold it. 1… 2… 3… Now let it out.”

Once I felt calm enough to speak, I looked away, though he still held onto me. “See how much work I am?”

“Do you really believe I’d walk away from my best friend and someone I love because he struggles?”

I did believe that. It was so deeply ingrained in me, keeping my feelings for him tightly sealed. All those nights he held me, soothed me… I wanted to tell him the truth. When he held my hand or wrote me a sticky note and put it on the bathroom mirror, I was desperate to say something. Only my fears kept my words under lock and key. Even now, after telling me his feelings—

“Answer me,” he said gently.

“Don’t you ever get tired of my issues and getting me to remember so many things, sometimes? It’s not just that, but I blank out sometimes, trying to reach out for an elusive memory. One minute my mind is all over the fucking place, and the next there’s nothing. It doesn’t happen all the time, but I know my brain is completely messed up. I’m sure it’s because of them. I don’t think those assholes knew what they were doing when they zapped my brain, or maybe they didn’t give a shit.”

“That’s not your fault, Sam.”

“Don’t you get tired?” I insisted.

Nate sighed and nodded. “Sometimes. But I know enough that it’s a normal reaction. We all can get tired of each other sometimes. That doesn’t mean I’ll leave you and walk away… or love you any less.”

“You can’t know that.”

“No one knows the future, Sam. But I haven’t left you yet, have I? We lived on the streets for two damn years, and we took care of each other, not once leaving when it would’ve been easier to do so.”

Nate has been gone for hours. I huddle in our little tent under the overpass. The cars rolling over concrete are loud and constant, like tinnitus—so loud, so distracting. I try to read one of the two books I own to keep myself preoccupied and keep the fears away that he won’t come back. Instead, I block out my ears with my hands. It helps a little.

He promised. He promised.

Those words revolve around in my head in a loop because Nate always keeps his promises. But there will be a day he’ll grow tired of taking care of me. We live on the streets because I’m too much damn work. I couldn’t even do the right thing in foster care, getting hit for always forgetting to do my chores.

It’s fall, and the days are getting colder. Soon, we’ll need to find another place—a warmer place. The shelters take us in on really cold days, but we can’t stay there forever.

Right when I’m pulling the sleeping bag over my shoulders, the flap of our tent opens. I look up to find Nate with a massive smile on his face. He smells of cooked food and grease, reminding me of how hungry I am. My stomach growls loudly, making Nate laugh.

“Here,” he says and thrusts a styrofoam container at me. I open it to find a hamburger loaded with only lettuce, cheese, and no condiments, just the way I like it. On the side is a pile of salted fries. The smell of cooked meat hits me first, and I drool from hunger.

“Oh, god, that looks so good. Thank you.”

“It might be a little cold, but it’s still good.”

I take a bite of the burger, and my eyes roll up into my head, groaning. Fuck, that’s delicious. We don’t always have the luxury of eating fresh food. The shelters try, but the food isn’t the best. I usually force myself to stomach food I hate out of desperate hunger.

After I take another bite, I hand it to Nate so he can eat some. He shakes his head, still smiling, as he sits next to me on the other sleeping bag.

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