“We can figure something out,” he repeats.
“I don’t know when I’m leaving. End of the week, maybe. Probably earlier, I don’t know.” I curse that it’s only mid-week and pickups are usually Fridays–so I can have two whole daysof being awkward with the new family who decided to take a chance on a teenager. I don’t know who thought that shit rule up but I hope they choke on a bag of dicks.
“Friday?” he breathes out the word like a punch to the gut and I shrug again.
“It’s fine.”
“You’ve only been here a few months.”
“It happens.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will you always be there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why are you letting this happen?” he finally snaps and I lose my shit.
“Why amIletting this happen?” My tone drops and I can hear the dark, menacing tone shifting in. Poking his chest, I push him backward. “You think I want this to happen? You think Iwantto leave? You think I want to leave when I finally started to make friends somewhere, when I was finally learning something that made me feel powerful, when I finally had a home I didn’t feel like I had to watch over my shoulder every goddamn minute? This isn’t fun for me. Not at all, but I’ve gone through it enough times to know that if they’re sending me back, there’s nothing I can do to change it.I wasn’t what they wanted,okay? I know that, and I’d rather not bask in it.” My chest aches with every breath. It’s a familiar hurt now, having been moved around at least seven times. It’s… It changes you.
“But…” Ty starts to say but there’s a loaded, heavy pause between us as he swallows whatever sentence he was going to say and shakes his head quickly, biting the inside of his cheek. “So Friday.”
“Maybe. I just…I never know when they might come. It’s not unusual for them to come the next day after the foster guardianshave called and started the process. There’s that saving kindness at least.”
It’s one of the few kindnesses actually. They don’t make me hang out with the people who have actively cut me from their lives.
“So it could be tomorrow?” he asks, his eyebrows pulling together and his mouth dropping slightly in shock. Is there sadness too?
Nah, that’s probably just me being hopeful.
It’d be nice to be missed, maybe.
“Probably.”
“Maldita sea. Esto es... ¿Qué se supone que debo hacer?”he mutters under his breath quickly in Spanish and I wish so badly I knew what he was saying.
“What? What did you say?” I whisper into the darkness, hoping that he’ll give me this one thing. Moving closer, I bite my lip and wait.
“I said, ‘Damn it. This is… What am I supposed to do?’”he says breathlessly and his arms drop to his sides.
I say the words to him, knowing that it means more to me–this friendship or maybe could’ve been something more if we’d had time–than him.
“You keep going. You don’t need me, no one does. It’s…just life.” I shrug again, well aware that I’m tryingso fucking hardnot to make it seem like a big deal, when inside it feels monumental.
“Fuck,” Ty sighs.
“Yeah,” I agree, nodding my head. It fucking sucks.
“Come here.” His arms wrap around me and he pulls me in close. Is this really happening? My heart’s beating like crazy.
Then, like icing on a cake and making me swoon, he rests his head on top of mine and holds me tighter, his muscles flexing under my hands.
It’s nice, being in his arms. Okay, I’m trying to be cool, but really I’m freaking out because,oh my god.
It’s like the rest of the world falls away. He smells fucking incredible. And oddly comforting; like dirt and sweat, but not in a bad way. In a guy way that makes you want to wrap up in his sweatshirt to be wrapped in him.
