Page 19 of Crybaby
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Russian saying. Work is not so urgent, will not run off. Still here on Monday.”
“Fine.” It wasn’t like he was being productive anyway.
“Barbara, Frank, Keith, go to happy hour. You want?”
Jason groaned for ten full seconds.
Sasha laughed. “Is joke! I know you don’t want. Let’s go, is my turn to choose movie.”
“Not another Russian drama, for the love of God.”
“My turn to choose, you not complain.”
Urgh, fuck my life.
**********
Sasha obviously thought Jason needed cheering up, because by the time he arrived at Jason’s, he was carrying a few bags of the zesty ranch popcorn he loved.
“You trying to butter me up for something?” Jason asked suspiciously as Sasha let himself in with his own key.
“Yes, so you not be cranky.”
“I’ve never been cranky one day in mylife. I am adelight, please and thank you.”
Sasha laughed, shaking his head.
Sasha ended up choosing some Disney documentary about a family of bears—a mom and two cubs, to be precise. Jason thought he was in the clear—the movie wasn’t bad, and not tragic or anything, so it caught him by complete surprise when he heard a sniffle from beside him. He turned to see Sasha crying, those big dollop tears running down his face as if someone had shot one of the cubs in the face onscreen.
What was even happening? How? At bears? Fucking…bears? Was Jason getting a boner while watching a mama bear teach her kids how to fish because his stupid lug of a friend decided it was an appropriate thing to cry about?
Jason tried not to squirm, he really did, but he’d worn sweatpants and his situation was going to become obvious any second now. Damn him for not having throw pillows to cover himself with.
Everybody, he decided frantically, should have throw pillows.
“Why you moving so much?” Sasha complained, sniffling, although he was luckily engrossed enough in the movie that he only spared Jason a glance.
“I’m just…cold,” Jason improvised, getting up to go get a blanket.
“Cold?” Sasha called after him incredulously. “Is not cold.”
Jason stood in his bedroom, clutching a blanket and willing his erection to disappear. Why was his life so miserable? Why him?
He grabbed a box of tissues on his way back to the living room. Apparently, a fucking bear documentary necessitated tissues.
Jason sat beside Sasha, blanket firmly on his lap. Luckily, Sasha was engrossed in the movie again.
“Think little cub is going to die,” Sasha said forlornly.
Jason glanced at the screen. The cubs seemed to be frolicking in a meadow, no death in sight, but what did Jason know? “Here, tissues.”
“Thanks.” Sasha took a couple, blowing his nose noisily before going to grab a few more.
Jason couldn’t help himself. He really fucking couldn’t help himself. “Here, let me do it.”
Sasha looked at him questioningly but didn’t resist when Jason plucked a few tissues and took Sasha’s chin gently in his hand, turning his face slightly so he could dab at the damp cheeks, drying the thin and vulnerable skin under his eyes tenderly.
