“Hey, Jer,” he says, his voice low and wobbly. I’m frozen as I stare at him, standing in my doorway like old times. Like he hasn’t been pulling away from me. But he had been. He had been and I fuckinghatedit. Until I accepted it. I accepted that I lost his friendship and I bowed out from bothering him anymore. And now he’s here on my doorstep.
“Hey?” I question, wondering why he’s here. He digs the toe of his shoe into the ground, scuffing the tip of it and leaving a black line. His eyes are focused on it as he makes patterns with it and we stand in awkward silence.
“How have you been?”
I can’t stop the sarcastic chuckle that breaks free of my chest, the sound rough and harsh. Raiden flinches, stepping back and balling his hands into the bottom of his shirt and twisting the fabric. His knuckles are white with how tightly he’s gripping it, and I want to reach out and peel his hands away. That’s not my place though, he’s made that abundantly clear.
“Good.” My one word answer doesn’t deter him and if anything, I watch as his spine straightens and he lifts his head. His brown eyes are red rimmed, and I can see the lingering wetness from his tears.
“That’s good.” I want to grab his arms, turn him around and march him right back to the house he came from. Force him to climb the stairs of his front porch and launch himself right in Josh’s arms. Because that’s what he chose: he abandoned our friendship at the first sign of attention from someone else. I refuse to be second best.
“Is there something you needed or…?” His lips downturn, the wetness that I saw before begins to trail down his face in matching rivulets. Two trails of crystals carving their path against his smooth skin. His tongue darts out to lick one of the droplets closest to his mouth, the same thing he used to do with rain droplets. A cannibalistic moment of consuming one's own strength. He’s as strong as the God he was named after.
“I just wanted to talk to you, I guess. But if you’re busy…” He trails off and looks back over his shoulder to his house. Neither of his parent’s cars are in the driveway, so they must be gone tonight too.
I shouldn't let him in. I shouldn’t hold the door open and let him inside when I know at the end of the day he isn’t going to choose me. But my mind and my body are on two opposite wavelengths, and I hold the door open for him. When he brushes past me, kicking off his shoes right past the front door, I’m hit with a scent that is all Raiden. Fresh florals and a hint of sweat, how he used to smell after a long day of dance practice when he would come over right after to show me everything he learned.
He sits on the couch, tucking his legs up close to his body and resting his chin on his knees as he stares blankly at the TV. A rerun of an old sitcom is playing on mute, but I don’t offer to change the channel. He’s not watching it anyway, too focused on what’s going on inside of his head to pay attention to his surroundings.
I’m at war with myself, wanting to sit down beside him and listen to him fill the silence with his words or go back into my room and leave him alone to stew in his own pity until he’s ready to talk.
I take the approach I’m going to kick myself in the ass later for. I sit on the couch, far enough away I can’t feel the heat emanating off his body, but I know he’s there. He’s filling every one of my senses in a way only he can.
We sit in silence, the sound of his breathing matching mine and thetick tick tickof the clock above the TV.
“Ready for the game tomorrow night?” He finally says, breaking the silence. I stretch my legs out in front of me, feeling the pull of my tight muscles from being bunched up on the couch for so long.
“Ready as we’ll ever be.” The team we play tomorrow isn’t a high ranking team, and they also aren’t undefeated. But getting cocky and thinking you can win before you even step on the field is setting you and your teammates up for failure. Even the strongest of men fall due to their pride.
“That’s good. I can’t wait to watch you play. It’s been so long since I’ve been to a game.” His chuckle is self-deprecating and I want to call him out for his own behavior because it washis choice.He was the one who quit the dance team, he was the one who quit coming to games. He never even talked to me about why he was quitting, all I know is I scanned the dance team for him at our first game, and didn’t see him. I panicked, thinking something bad had happened. As soon as the play we were in the middle of was over, I ran over to the sidelines to flag down my mom. My mom explained to me that Ema told her that Raiden quit because he lost his interest in it. Raiden, who made the skies weep with his movements, lost his interest in the one thing that he was most happy doing.
“Last year,” I offer bitterly. Remembering the last game of the season, when he ran on the field. Directly to Josh. He never even looked my way as I walked off towards the locker rooms to change into my gear. I saw him later that night at a party at Derek’s, with Josh’s arms wrapped possessively around him while he was smiling happily. So similar to that first party we went to.
“Yeah, that’s right. Sophie and Jasmine were so mad at me.” He sniffles a little, the tears in his eyes have dried up but his sinuses are running like crazy. He’s always had trouble with arunny nose, that’s one of the reasons his parents never allowed him to have a pet. They were worried it would make his allergies flare and he would be miserable. He used to sit in my room and look up pictures of dogs on the internet, and more than once I had to comfort him as he cried because of how lonely they looked locked up in cages.
That’s the same boy I see sitting in front of me now, the one who cried at the unfairness of life and begged and begged his parents to at least adopt one. Just to help one dog out.
“Come here,” I urged him. Lifting my arm up and resting it across the back of the couch. He scurries over quickly, tucking himself into my side and burrowing into me until he becomes a part of me. My mind reminds me how dumb of an idea this is, to let him get close to me when he’s proven that he doesn’t need me.
“If you want to talk…” I extend the offer awkwardly, not sure where we’re going or what we’re doing. But even when he’s sad, I can’t manage to drag myself away from him.
He shakes his head, the tips of his hair tickling my skin as he whispers gently, “Not right now.”
I take that answer for what it is, and grab the remote from the coffee table beside my arm rest, clicking on the buttons and finding the movie menu on the screen. Raiden watches the TV, his brown eyes focused on the LED lights streaming from it. The sky outside is starting to get dark with the late hour, but he doesn’t mention it so neither do I. I click on the first title I recognize, a romance movie my mom watched on repeat while my dad was away. I think she liked it because it made her sad about fictional things so she could avoid being sad about the real life things going on around her.
“The Best of Me? Isn’t this movie super sad?” He turns his head towards mine, the soft locks of his hair brushing my neck and tickling the sensitive skin there.
“Yeah, my mom used to love watching it. Don’t worry, I havetissues right here.” I pat the coffee table and he smiles at me, not as bright as it used to be, but it's the beginning of one and I'll take what I can get.
The movie starts playing and we both watch in silence until Raiden starts shifting against me. At first it’s subtle, a small movement of his arm. Then his leg. Until he’s folded into a misshapen egg.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, fine,” he answers quickly but still shifts and that’s when I hear it.
“Is that your stomach growling?” His face flushes red and he tries to hide it in the crook of his elbow. “Jesus Christ, I thought a storm was brewing outside with how loud that was.”
“Shut up! I haven’t eaten today.” The way he says it causes a crease in my forehead. I remember seeing him at lunch today in passing, he was walking out of the cafeteria while I was walking in but I don’t remember if he had food in his hands or not.
