“What?”
“What’s going on with you? And don’t even try to tell me you’re fine, I’ve seen rabid dogs with more control,” I cast a quick glance at his thumb still attached to his teeth. His pacing immediately halts, and his shoulders slump forward as he pulls his thumb from his mouth, saliva string and all.
“I just don’t know what I’m doing…” He sounds exasperated, tilting his head to the sky as though the answers lie amongst the stars. “Holly’s great, we have a good time when we’re together–” I can sense the impending ‘but’ before it leaves his mouth. “But I think she wantsmorefrom me…” His voice is low, like it’s some kind of shameful secret he’s spilling. He drops his gaze to the floor, watching the toe of his shoe dig into the dirt.
“Jules–”
“Zan, don’t. I know that makes me weird, or whatever…”
“No. That doesn’t make you weird, it makes you,you.Don’t for one second think you’re ‘less than.’ If anything, it makes you brave,” my words are firm and sure. The way he’s so quick to disparage himself brings with it the memories of his bullies, who once did the same, along with white-hot flashes of anger.
“Pft. I’m a coward, Zan, let’s not pretend otherwise,” he scoffs, belittling himself even further. Without a conscious thought as to where we are, I march over to him, crowding hisspace and backing him up against the nearest wall. Each intake of air presses my chest against his with barely restrained fury at his effortless dismissal.
“Really, Jules?” I hiss through painfully gritted teeth. “Tell me how acowardwould run into a building with a dead body inside, with no care for himself or his safety. Tell me how acowardwould not only have to watch his best friend endure the worst night of his life, but also accept him into his home as a brother.” My eyes bore into his defiant blues, willing him to see himself the way I do. Jules’ eyes grow wide, hopefully from the realisation that the person I see is a complete contrast to the one he feels.
“I… Uh, sorry–”
“No. We don’t apologise for our feelings, that’s not what we do. You’re brave because you don’tcarewhat other people think, so don’t start now. If you don’t want to take it further with Holly, then don’t. You wanna go home and watch some anime instead, I’m game. In fact, Iencourageit.” I see his shoulders relax as he lets a chuckle slip past his lips.He’s back.
“What about the girls?” He asks, looking around.
“They’ve got each other, they’ll be fine.” But because I’m not a total loser, I send Layla a quick text–
Me: Jules has got the shits, soz. Maybe another time.
He’ll thank me one day.
Once we arrived back home–still getting used to calling it that–Jules’ mood had improved significantly, to the point heofferedto make us both a cup of tea. Not wanting to discouragehim, I gathered a few snacks for our anime binge-fest. We had planned what we were going to watch the entire journey home, so I set about separating the Smarties by colour.I don’t care what anyone says, orange ones are superior.
Standing beside Jules, I notice somethingoff.A strange sensation takes hold of my body, but I can’t place it. It’s as foreign and unnatural as itchy teeth.
“Jules, did you just put the milk inbeforethe water?”
“Yeah, why?” I stare at him, completely bewildered.
“Why? What do you mean,why?”
“I put the milk in whilst I was waiting for the kettle to boil, saves time, see?” Just as he screws the lid back onto the carton, the kettle clicks off, signalling it’s ready.
“No, no no no.” I watch as the white, cold liquid turns a muddy brown. It all feels wrong,so wrong.“I can’t drink that, Jules.” Reaching over, I grab the cup with the ‘Z’ on the front and carry it over to the sink.
“What? Why not? It’s still the same, just a different order…” He laughs. I know he’s not laughing at me, but the unsettling feeling is spreading rapidly at the thought of tea leaves stewing in a shallow bath of cold milk.
“It’s not the same…”
“It is! It has the tea bag, water, and milk, just like always.” His nonchalant attitude only serves to spin my dizzying mind faster. I know what he means, but it doesn’t untangle the mess in my head right now.
“IT’S NOT!”
The kitchen falls silent, the only noise comes from the swirl of tea, now circling the drain.
“Is everything okay?” A sleepy Theresa pokes her head around the doorframe, her eyes bouncing between Jules and me.
“Yeah, Mom. Everything’s fine… right, Zan?” His voice is small and concerned. Pressing my palms into the counter, either side of the sink, I take a steadying breath in before answering–
“Yeah, sorry if I disturbed you. I, umm– split the teabag in my cup…” It’s a weak excuse, and I feel like shit for yelling at Jules, but I just need to make it the right way, and then I can investigate exactlywhat the fuck just happened.
Chapter Twelve
