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He continued to stare at me for what felt like forever. Then his hand slipped off my shoulder and dug itself into his pocket.

“I’m sorry.” His eyes filled and spilled over. “I’m sorry, Alvin.”

“Stop.” I choked on a sob.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t what, Dee?”

He looked at me. And I knew. Before he even said it.

“I can’t.” That was all. Two words. After everything.

I stared at him. My entire body felt numb. “You can fuck me.”

His face twisted. “Don’t do this.”

“You can kiss me. You can get jealous. You can put your hands all over me when you’re angry enough.”

“Stop.”

“But you can’t love me?”

“No, I can’t love you, Alvin.”

I nodded slowly. “When we were kids, you always left your window open for me. Even when we were fighting. I’d look up and it was still open, just in case I needed it.”

“Alvin…”

“It didn’t matter how pissed we were at each other that day, I could still climb through that fucking window and know I was gonna be okay because you were there waiting for me.” My throat tightened. I hated that he could still do that to me. Make me feel fourteen years old, standing barefoot between our houses and staring up at his bedroom window like it was the only light on in the whole damn world. “When we leave here, when camp is over, will that window still be open for me?”

He went completely still.

“Tell me!” I shouted at him.

And for a moment, the uncertainty was swept aside. And Dee was the version of him I loved the most again. Scared. Hurting. Mine. Then it was gone.

“No.”

The word hit harder than any of the punches I’d taken last week. I swallowed.

“No, Alvin. It’s not fucking open anymore, okay? It can’t be!” He kept going. “Stop standing outside my goddamn house looking up at me like I’m suddenly gonna change my mind about us. I’m not. I. Can’t.”

My chest felt hollow. “Dee…”

“It’s fucking closed!” he shouted before adding more softly, “It’s closed. It has to be.”

I couldn’t breathe right. He looked furious now. Not at me. At himself.

“You keep coming back to something that isn’t there anymore, trying to force me into someone I can’t be.”

I pushed out a laugh but it sounded pathetic. “You and I have a different definition of can’t. Here’s another one, fuckface. Maybe one we can actually agree on. Coward. You’re a fucking coward.”

His eyes flicked to the side. He knew it was fucking true, and he still wasn’t gonna do anything about it.

“Cool.” I nodded slowly and backed away from him. He finally looked at me again. I wished he hadn’t. Because there was guilt there. And I didn’t want his fucking guilt. I wanted him. I rubbed at my mouth and tasted blood. “When did you close it?”

“What?”