Page 50 of Steam

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Aaron says. “I guess maybe he gives a fuck now.”

* * *

They don’t tell Levi. Owen is too intuitive—he’ll notice if everyone is on the same page. But Cash and Trey and Reese and Aaron quit the numbers talk at work. They make an effort to eat meals together—sharing food, suggesting food. They make an effort to include Owen in everything, touching him more, just being with him more.

Owen still steals away. Still comes in with black coffee and not much else.

In a last-ditch effort, Cash moves the three bathroom scales that they own between the six of them, visiting all of their apartments and pushing them under beds where they can be forgotten.

* * *

Owen isn’t stupid. He confronts Reese about it.

“Did somebody hide the fucking scales?”

He can’t tell if Reese looks guilty or neutral. His damned poker face is too good.

“Cash said something about replacing the batteries.”

“In both scales in this apartment?” Owen says, hitching an eyebrow. “Is that a process that takes multiple days?”

“Probably put them somewhere and got distracted,” Reese says, already moving to end the conversation. Definitely guilty, Owen thinks.

“Reese. What’s going on with you guys right now?”

“What’s going on with you?” Trey says, stepping out of Reese’s room and into the hall. It’s rare to see Trey frustrated, and yet here he is—Trey posturing up, stepping a little too close to Owen, insisting that he look Trey in the face. Reese disappears.

“I’m working through some shit,” Owen says, not backing down. “Doesn’t bother you when Aaron does it.”

“Aaron withdraws but he doesn’t do it for months at a time, Owen,” Trey says. “We’re really trying here—but if you won’t talk to anybody, what can we do?”

“You’re trying?” Owen says. “You all are doing just fine. Please—just let me hate myself in peace without hiding my shit and dragging me to lunch. I’ll get it out of my system soon—promise.”

“The fuck do you hate yourself for?”

Owen narrows his eyes and tilts his head as if Trey has asked the dumbest question Owen has heard all year. “You want the long version or the Cliff’s Notes edition, Trey?”

Trey rolls his eyes—can’t stop himself—and Owen holds up a hand to cut him off as Trey opens his mouth to respond.

“No, seriously, it’s fine,” Owen says. “Whatever you guys think you’re doing to help, you can stop. It’s not a big deal. I’m gonna get over it. It’s just been—y’know—moving and all the changes. I’m stressed. We’re all stressed.”

“So come to the gym with us and blow off some steam, Owen,” Trey says, exasperated—and Owen knows Trey’s temper is flaring, knows they’re both barreling towards that territory where they’ll start saying shit they don’t mean. “But this teenage angst bullshit with you skipping meals and punching walls? Come on.”

“No, I know,” Owen says. “Listen—I hate myself. I’m fully on the same page with you here.”

“That’s not what I’m saying --”

“I get it, Trey—the pity party is over. We’re good, ok? We’re fine.”

“This is ridiculous Owen—”

“I agree.”

And he’s shut down and moving on and pushing past Trey to his room.

* * *

Trey has fuckedit up and now Owen will probably never open up to any of them. He tells Reese and Cash about the confrontation over dinner.

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