I stopped in front of the closed door of my bedroom, every inch of my skin prickling. Beyond this door was a hallway, and at its end was another door, and behind that door was ...
Lucas.
Lucas, who was in pain. Lucas, who was lonely. Lucas, who wouldn’t even accept a bloody bun without passively commenting on whether he was deserving of it. I held my phone in both hands, all but pressing it into my chest like a pastor with their bible. Like a child with her doll. Like a monumental idiot with his phone.
Lucas:what are the odds lol
Armand:Considerably better than what’s been happening so far.
Lucas:fair
I fisted a hand in my hair and made two more rounds of the bedroom, my thumb trembling over the screen as I carefully tapped out the words:Do
you
Don’t be such a damn coward, Demetrio!
want
I had to stop and gnaw at my knuckles for a time before I could continue,to step out into the living room?
I sent it. Then dropped into a crouch and hugged myself, realizing in horror that I still hadn’t gotten dressed today—I was in my pants and a T-shirt. But just as I was starting to scramble for a pair of jeans, Lucas’s response came.
Lucas:I’m sorry if this is selfish but I kinda don’t want to be seen right now? I know you’re leaving soon and it’s dumb that we haven’t met but I’m still feeling raw.
Lucas:is that ok do you hate me
I stood to my feet again and collapsed onto the bed, my body gone all but liquid in relief. There was a hoarse echo of disappointment as well, but mostly I felt strangely proud of Lucas that he was willing to make that admission. I was even more strangely proud of myself for having apparently made him feel comfortable enough to make that admission.
Armand:Not in the slightest.
Armand:That is I don’t hate you in the slightest. It is very OJ.
Armand:*ok bollocks
Lucas:can we keep talking though?
I grinned at my phone despite myself and sent a quickyes. Then followed that up with aplease. And then, in a moment of outright audacity, I asked if he might see his way to sending me a picture of himself.
Lucas:I look better in person. Or I will eventually FML
Armand:FML?
Lucas:oh god you ARE an old man! or do we blame this on brits not understanding american slang? bc that happens too
My body locked up in horror. I had spent this entire time assuming Lucas and I were close in age, but I had no reason to believe that—didn’t Americans move out on their own at absurdly young ages? Like Skyler? Like Skyler,who was Lucas’s friend.But Lucas had referred to him as a teenager, which meant he was likely older, but howmucholder? Was he joking about the “old man” or was this where it all went to utter shite?
Armand:I am 28 as of last September.
Armand:Please tell me you are beagle.
Armand:*ladle
Armand:*lacerated
Armand:* L E G A L I’m so sorry
Lucas:WHAT IS YOUR AUTOCORRECT
