Page 52 of Dire Straights

He’d told me not to come, but I didn’t care about catching anything. Plus, I knew when I was sick I secretly wanted to be babied. So the least I could do was bring him some food and maybe validate his suffering a bit. And okay,maybeit wasn’t totally a selfless act. I was already feeling snubbed about my birthday, so hanging out with him for a bit, even if he was bedridden, would definitely improve my mood.

I knocked on his door, waiting a while with no response before slowly creaking the door open, figuring he was sleeping heavy or something. To my surprise, the room was completely empty. No Aspen, which was understandable. He was probably still in class or at work. But Ren’s bed was empty. He was probably in the bathroom or something, so I set the food down on his desk and took a seat to wait.

After scrolling on my phone for what felt like a long time, I frowned. I wasn’t trying to invade his privacy or anything, but if he’d been in the bathroom that long he was definitely suffering. Imagining him curled up on the gross floor in there was too much. But when I popped across the hall to check, the bathroom was empty, too.

Trying very pointedly to ignore the flare of anger and frustration I felt bubbling to life in my stomach, I pulled my phone out.

You’re still sick in bed, right?

His answer had my eyes narrowing and my mouth curling into a snarl.

Yeah, sorry. It’s really bad. But I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?

Was he with someone else? Seeing someone behind my back? No, I assured myself. Ren wouldn’t do that. Even if we’d never exactly pinpointed a term for what we were, we’d both agreed not to fuck around with anyone else. And even if he’d gotten bored of me or something and wanted to be with other people, he would definitely tell me… I was pretty sure.

Doubts nagged at me as I stomped back over to his room. Snapping a pic of his empty bed, I sent it over with no context or message. I was pretty sure it wasn’t needed in this case. Even if he wasn’t with someone else, he’d still lied right to my face.

As I made my way across campus, I ran into the last people I wanted to see, Garrison, Ahmet, and O’Conner out in the quad.They were sitting around a picnic table with a small group of girls.

“Holmes!” Garrison spotted me and called for me to come over. They were right in the path I needed to pass through to exit the quad and go home. There was no way for me to avoid them without it being obvious.

Clenching my fist against the side of my thigh for a moment, just to help contain my annoyance, I made my way over.

“I’m kind of busy right now,” I said, attempting to pass by with minimal interaction.

“What are you doing tonight?” Garrison wondered. He was sitting on the table, with his feet planted on the seat part. Annoying.

“I have a project due for a class tomorrow,” I lied. “I’ll probably be up late finishing that.”

“Tsk, tsk,” O’Conner scolded me, his tone obnoxiously mocking. “Too busy hanging out with your butt buddies, huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“You never spend time with the team,” Garrison said. “But O’Conner said he saw you hanging out with that hairdresser kid.”

“You mean Arie Becker,” I pointed out, needlessly. It’s not like they cared about his name or anything about him. Just that he was flamboyant and effeminate. He also happened to be really funny and friendly.

“You’re actually friends with that fag?” O’Conner asked, smirking. I noted that a couple of the girls sitting around them were skeeved out by the harsh wording. I was, too.

“So what if I am? If you have a fucking problem with me, then just say it,” I invited.

“I have a fucking problem getting dressed in a room with anyone who likes dick,” he replied, standing up and getting directly in my face. “Should I be worried, Holmes?”

Like he had anything to worry about. He looked like that ginger kid from Harry Potter on steroids.

“You’re the one obsessed with Arie, you bring him up like every fucking day,” I pointed out. It was barely an exaggeration. “You sure you’re not overcompensating for something?”

“You calling me a fucking fag?” He asked, shoving me back a step. I responded by shoving him back.

“Guys?” Ahmet stood as well, gently wedging himself between us, planting a hand on each of our chests. I’d always considered him the most reasonable and least annoying of the three, even if it was just because he was more of a follower than anything. “You’re kind of scaring the hoes.”

“Whatever,” I spat out, shoving past both of them. “And by the way, the athletic department determines funding for the team based on how well we do. I’m the only one that even placed at the last meet.”

“You got lucky, little fucker,” O’Conner called out after me, but I kept walking. Fucking assholes. I was so tired of having to explain myself to them. I was tired of trying to be a team player.

On the walk home, I got a text from Ren replying to the picture I’d sent.

I can explain. Just don’t freak out.

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