Oz wanted to say that he loved him again, but aside from being manipulative, it wasn’t relevant. Seth knew. He understood, and he probably even understood what that meant.
He’d said it back when he thought Oz was asleep.
This wasn’t about love. Not really. This was about much bigger, scarier things. The future, and legacy, and what happens when you turn your back on your birth family.
Oz had a whole lot of fantasies about getting to have his own, chosen family once he left. It had never happened.
He’d thought that maybe, just maybe, it might happen with Seth. But that had always been a wild fantasy, not a likely outcome.
This was where they’d always been heading, and it was his own stupid fault for getting too attached to just let Seth go gracefully.
That was what you were supposed to do with people you loved, right? Let them go.
“Okay,” Seth said, still staring down at his pancake. “I appreciate that.”
“You can always come here,” Oz said, not quite ready to give up hope just yet. Maybe Seth would go back for a week and then change his mind.
“I know, but I won’t.” Seth looked up, unshed tears shining in his eyes. “I have to do this like ripping off a bandaid.”
That was probably good advice.
Oz wasn’t sure he was ready to take it, though.
“You don’t have to eat that if you don’t want to,” he said instead, hoping the change of subject might let both of them breathe for a moment.
“Iwantto, but I’m not sure I can,” Seth responded.
The pancake was suddenly a metaphor for the whole situation, which only added to the surreal quality the whole morning had so far.
Oz remembered feeling like this once before, the morning before he left for college and told his parents he was gay.
That had gone almost as well as this was.
At least Seth wasn’t shouting, or crying hysterically, or telling him never to come back.
“I will still be your friend,” Oz said, wanting Seth to know that he’d been serious on Friday night. “No one but you gets to take that away.”
Seth looked up, and then nodded. He still seemed miserable, but Oz hoped that gave him some comfort.
He wanted to offer to go with him—leave his whole life here and follow wherever Seth went—but that wasn’t a solution, either, and insisting that this didn’t have to be over didn’t help anyone.
It did have to be over. It had to be over because Seth had made his choice, and there was nothing more to say.
Respecting him was the least Oz could do.
“I could really use a friend right now,” Seth admitted.
“Then you’ve got one,” Oz promised.
Whatever else happened, he’d always be Seth’s friend.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“I guess this is it,” Oz said. “Sure you don’t want me to come in with you?”
Seth nodded, tucking his hands in his pockets. He’d only brought the clothes on his back with him, so at least he didn’t have any bags to worry about this time.
