《Interpersonal Chemistry》 botch At first there was silence, which was followed by a ringing. It escalated until it became piercing and unbearable. Instinctively, Mitch reached for the back of his head while the rest of his body assumed the fetal position. As far as he could tell, he was on the floor. Not the padding around the ring, but the concrete floor itself, roughly 10¡ä from the ring itself. When his vision returned, the overhead lights blinded him again, but he lacked the coordination to shield his eyes from them. Voices began to cut through the shrill noise in his head, and he sort of made out things like ambulance, get back, and holy shit were uttered ad nauseum. ¡°I¡¯m OK,¡± Mitch groaned. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m OK.¡± ¡°Yeah dude?¡± A recognizable voice came from somewhere above him. ¡°It¡¯s Jodie. You with me, Mitch?¡± ¡°Hey Jodie.¡± He glanced upwards, and vaguely made out familiar purple of her hair. ¡°I¡¯m OK, really.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t move,¡± Jodie warned. ¡°You took a big spill from the top rope. Ambulance is on its way, we¡¯re gonna get you out of here.¡± It wasn¡¯t until he was lifted onto the stretcher that Mitch felt anything, but once the EMTs shifted him from his position on the floor, a searing pain consumed his shoulder and arm. His head throbbed. The breath left his lungs. His vision went dark again.
Unsurprisingly, he tested positive for a mild concussion, and Mitch handled that news as well as anyone could. But then the doctor diagnosed him with a torn rotator cuff, and that proved to be much more difficult to remain upbeat about. Though not so severe that it required surgery, he¡¯d still need to take a few weeks off from any physical activity that involved his right arm; being left-handed was a rare silver lining, rather than an inconvenience. When a nurse outfitted him for a sling, the fog which plagued him at last lifted, and he became acutely aware of just how undressed he was and how strange he looked in his facepaint and wrestling gear and how rank he probably smelled; the impact was far more agonizing than any concrete floor could hope to deliver. But they made no mention about it, which left him to wonder whether something even stranger drifted into the ER that night. A written prescription for oxycotin was handed over, along with discharge instructions and a mention about making adjustments to the sling once he had access to a shirt. He thanked them, hardly hearing a word they said as he invested every bit of focus into not fixating on the 4¡åx5¡å sheet of white bond paper in his hand; in the end, he stuffed it into the flimsy plastic bag that contained his prosthetic ears and his dog collar, normal wrestling stuff. Christ, he probably looked like he just stumbled out of a BDSM club. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Enough time lapsed that he was granted permission to walk around on his own, and he met up with Jodie in the waiting room. He flashed a tired smile and she was already on her feet before he got any words out. After a grey hoodie was placed over his bare shoulders (who it belonged to was as good as anyone¡¯s guess, but he assumed that it¡¯d been taken from another roster member among the chaos), she presented a wad of dollar bills once his modesty was sufficiently defended. Guilt gnawed at him for taking her away from the show, being the sole reason that she was away during a live taping. ¡°Jodie, you don¡¯t have to-¡± Mitch began to protest as he looked over the money, but Jodie rolled her eyes and forced it into his hand. ¡°It probably won¡¯t cover the entire co-pay, but,¡± she shrugged. ¡°Everyone pooled together. Just take it.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Mitch conceded, despite the nagging concerns. He knew damn well that the money was hers alone, but stood at an impasse; if he called her out, she would throw up further walls due to her stubbornness. It was late, he was too worn down to make an attempt. ¡°That spill was gnarly,¡± Jodie talked as they made their way over to check-out. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re going to be able to get back home tonight. It¡¯s a long ride, and the Tri-State crew already took off.¡± ¡°So what am I supposed to do?¡± Mitch¡¯s eyebrows knit. ¡°Crash at my place?¡± offered Jodie. He openly grimaced at the idea, and in exchange she bristled. ¡°OK well, for starters, it¡¯s after midnight. Greenwich is several hours away.¡± She counted on her fingers as she listed off points. ¡°You can¡¯t drive like this, and if you could, your car¡¯s held together with shit like duct tape, hopes, and prayers.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t argue with that,¡± Mitch agreed with a half-hearted laugh, which was short lived. His face fell as realization settled in regards to other matters that he needed to address. ¡°Fuck, I gotta call Calvin. FUCK, Jodie, where¡¯s my-¡° ¡°Dude, chill. Here.¡± She held up his backpack, which he hastily unzipped and proceeded to rifle through. Its contents were tossed haphazardly onto the floor, until he reached his phone. She frowned at him and started to collect the scattered items. ¡°You think he¡¯s gonna be up?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t know.¡± Mitch stared at the screen, his thumb hoovering over the contact info. ¡°Shit, I don¡¯t want to wake him if he isn¡¯t.¡± ¡°OK, but you almost¡­man, I don¡¯t want to say ¡®died¡¯, but-¡± Jodie gestured as she trailed off. ¡°You coulda been hurt real bad, y¡¯know. You ARE hurt real bad. Your significant other should probably know about that.¡± Frowning, Mitch lowered his phone to his side. ¡°I¡¯ll wait until I¡¯m outside.¡± no worries For the remainder of the time in the check-out line, he ignored Jodie¡¯s blatant glares. After paying, he finally broke down with an exasperated, ¡°What?!¡± ¡°I need a cigarette,¡± Jodie grumbled, then spun around and put several steps between them. She was already through the sliding glass doors before he processed the words. ¡°Hold on.¡± Mitch quickened his pace to catch up, then quietly watched while she fumbled with her lighter. A chill in the air signaled summer¡¯s near conclusion, and he shivered. ¡°Jodie, c¡¯mon.¡± She eyed him while taking a long drag, then exhaled smoke. ¡°You gonna call him?¡± She responded with some detachment, but Mitch knew better, he could taste the contempt which radiated off of her in waves. ¡°I-¡± Mitch swallowed and glanced at his screen again, once more swept up in this ongoing tension between his best friend and his boyfriend. The delicate truce they established some time ago would remain uneasy at best. He nodded. ¡°Yeah.¡± He pressed the phone icon, then moved to put some distance between himself and Jodie. Several rings passed until it picked up. ¡°Hi,¡± came a creaky voice through the speaker, still thick from sleep. ¡°Hey Calv,¡± Mitch squeaked out during a subdued yawn. ¡°Sorry to be calling so late.¡± ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°I uh, there was an accident. During my match, I fell and I landed on my head.¡± After a moment of silence, he continued. ¡°But I just got out of the hospital. My shoulder¡¯s messed up, I¡¯m in a sling right now, but I¡¯m OK.¡± ¡°Jesus, Mitch,¡± came the response that followed another pause. ¡°Like I said, I¡¯m alright!¡± Mitch repeated, the words now spilling out faster. When he heard the deep sigh, several visuals accompanied it: a hand running through hair, a pinched bridge of the nose, an indent appearing on a cheek that was being bit. His heart thundered in his ears. ¡°You know that what you do is dangerous, right?¡± Calvin impassively remarked. ¡°I¡¯ve told you this at least a hundred times. And for what?¡± ¡°I¡­I know that. But accidents happen, and-¡° Calvin cut him off. ¡°What are you going to do?¡± Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡°Jodie said that I could stay with her.¡± ¡°And you said you¡¯re fine?¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± He stared down at the sidewalk¡¯s crack below his feet, specifically at an ancient piece of gum embedded in it, and ignored the way that his face flushed. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine.¡± ¡°Cool. So I have a meeting first thing in the morning. Can we talk later?¡± ¡°Sure.¡± ¡°Great. Later, babe.¡± And before Mitch could complete the phrase ¡°love you¡±, the call disconnected. He let the buzzing drone on for a few seconds before finally lowering the phone. ¡°How¡¯d it go?¡± Jodie¡¯s voice rolled in gently like seafoam on the shore, its characteristic sharpness absent. ¡°He¡¯s pissed.¡± Mitch closed his eyes and braced himself for his friend¡¯s usual tirade, about what an asshole Calvin was and how he had no right to be angry after this and that and the other thing, and blah blah blah. Instead, she touched his good arm. ¡°Hey, let¡¯s get going.¡± She suggested, lightly tugging the loose hoodie sleeve. ¡°Alright.¡± Putting up no resistance, he allowed her to guide him away; though in the moment, he hoped that spot of Earth would swallow him whole.
¡°So,¡± Jodie started once they were in her car, then paused to adjust the radio dial. ¡°I let everyone know that you¡¯re not dead. I also let ¡¯em know to not bother you right now.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± Mitch rested his head against the passenger side window and watched the streetlights pass by. ¡°I really appreciate this, Jodie. You know that, right?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡± Jodie took a final drag from her cigarette before flicking the butt to the road. ¡°You hungry? We can¡¯t exactly do Denny¡¯s since you¡¯re half naked. I think Taco Bell¡¯s drive thru still open?¡± He yawned and shook his head. ¡°Nah. At this point, I just wanna sleep.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± Aside from whatever alt rock played on the radio, silence hung heavy for rest of the ride. Something else loitered about, nameless and unpleasant as it wound his guts into a tight coil, and his suspicion of its existence was confirmed when they finally pulled into Jodie¡¯s driveway. She killed the engine, inhaled sharply, and her hands grasped at the air. ¡°I just¡­can I say something?¡± Mitch grimaced. ¡°I guess.¡± ¡°You¡¯re all fucked up and Calvin like, doesn¡¯t care. Am I wrong?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that he doesn¡¯t care-¡° ¡°Bro.¡± She placed her forehead against the steering wheel, clearly perturbed and about to hit a wall. ¡°Goddammit, you¡¯re so stupid. Lemme ask: did he even offer to come get you? Did he figure out a way for you to get home?¡± ¡°Well, no. But. It¡¯s super late, Jodie. I kinda got myself into this, and he¡¯s got work super early. And I told him that you offered me a place to stay. I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll figure it out tomorrow.¡± Mitch¡¯s voice cracked a little, and he rubbed his eyes. ¡°Can we not do this right now? Please?¡± ¡°Fine. Fine.¡± Raising her hands in surrender, and with a small smile she forfeit the argument. ¡°I¡¯m just worried, dude.¡± ¡°I know.¡± His smile matched hers in uncertainty. Without another word, Jodie exited her side of the car, and moments later opened the passenger door. After she helped Mitch out of his seat, he pulled her into a sidehug. ¡°Thank you,¡± he murmured with his nose buried in her hair. ¡°No worries.¡± She affirmatively patted his back in exchange. The conversation was far from over, he knew that, but he¡¯d at least bought himself a few hours of contemplation. anytime Save for a nightlight in the kitchen, the house was totally dark when they entered it. Jodie mentioned that her roommate should already be in bed, so they ought to keep it down. After groping around in the dark for a few seconds, she hit the living room¡¯s light switch while promising to make up the sleeper sofa, but found it already occupied. ¡°Aw shit, sorry Ingrid!¡± She yelped. ¡°It¡¯s cool!¡± The couch¡¯s occupant threw an arm over her head, and Jodie hurried to turn the light off. ¡°Sooo.¡± Motioning for Mitch to follow her, she explained that Ingrid was crashing for the next few days while her bathroom was being renovated, then apologized about it slipping her mind. ¡°You wanna just do this like old times and share my bed?¡± ¡°Oh dang, we going high school style?¡± Mitch joked. ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s fine.¡± ¡°And college? And that time that I was homeless for a hot minute? And then that time that you were between jobs for another minute?¡± She started to count off of her fingers. Realization dawned on Mitch, and he mused out loud, ¡°Honestly, aside from Calvin, I think I¡¯ve slept next to you more than anyone that I¡¯ve dated.¡± ¡°Two gaaays, one beddd!¡± she sing-songed on the way to her room, whatever concerns about everyone else¡¯s sleep schedule long since gone out the window. Shutting the door behind them, she then unceremoniously tossed Mitch¡¯s backpack onto a chair in the corner of the room that was already covered laundry. ¡°By the way, you still have your gear on. And stuff all over your face.¡± After he grabbed baby wipes and underwear from out of his backpack, Mitch set up shop in the bathroom. He studied himself in the mirror before dragging a wipe across the now-smeared facepaint, but his eyes stayed fix on the bruises along his neck and shoulders. The doctor said that had he landed mere centimeters north, he¡¯d be paralyzed. While scrubbing more stubborn spots of paint, he couldn¡¯t help but imagine how that conversation with Calvin would have went, and hastily willed that hypothetical out of his head. No doubt, he¡¯d be dumped were that the case; he already skated on thin ice by merely existing. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. With the last traces of paint gone, Zevon the werewolf vanished as well. Now all that was left was an unkempt human Mitch Calvert, with his shaggy blonde hair, his hawk nose, and too many imperfections that he¡¯d rather not be alone to dwell upon. At least Zevon was a monster, so he had excuses for being hairy and scraggly and covered in weird scars. Undressing was a Herculaneum task, and he barely had the energy to pull up the pair of boxer-briefs, but Mitch managed to overcome the odds with no grace whatsoever. He cursed at himself for forgetting a toothbrush, and helped himself to some mouthwash that belonged to one of the house¡¯s other occupants. When he returned to Jodie¡¯s bedroom, an obscene amount of pillows were stacked up on what he assumed was his side of the bed. ¡°Do you think that might be a bit much?¡± he asked. ¡°You¡¯re a side sleeper, and right now you can¡¯t do that,¡± She pointed out. Was it weird for friends to know those details about one another? Maybe the accusations about being co-dependent weren¡¯t too far off base. Wrestling gear dropped somewhere within range of the backpack, and Mitch settled into the bed. Multiple attempts were made at getting comfortable, and once he stopped squirming, Jodie turned off the bedside¡¯s lamp. After several minutes of quiet, he punctured it with a deep breath. ¡°They gave a prescription,¡± he revealed. ¡°It¡¯s a written one, but. Y¡¯know.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± Jodie acknowledged, and the energy in the room turned sour. Mitch could physically feel the way that she weighed out the next few words. ¡°What are you going to do with it?¡± ¡°I gotta get rid of it. Like, obviously.¡± He chuckled softly. Sadly. ¡°Is it in the bag?¡± ¡°The plastic one with the papers and stuff. I shoved it towards the bottom.¡± While Mitch continued on with his admission of contraband, Jodie turned the light back on, rolled out of the bed, and rummaged through the bag. ¡°Do you want some weed or something? To get you through the night?¡± ¡°I really would, yes.¡± Not even a second later, a vape pen was tossed in his direction and landed on his chest. ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°Anytime.¡± As Mitch took a hit, he spotted a small piece of paper of held between her fingers. His eyes widened when she popped the entire thing into her mouth, thoroughly chewed, and swallowed it. ¡°Jesus, Jodie.¡± For the last time that evening, the lamp turned off. Jodie rolled onto her stomach, and responded with a muffled, ¡°Night dude.¡± "easy does it" Even with the assistance of a shitton of weed, sleep did not come easy for Mitch. Had he not been entombed in pillows, he would have retrieved his phone to alleviate the boredom. Being alone with his thoughts sharpened his anxiety to a fine point, and that caused his mind to veer into sketchy territory. Did anyone ignore Jodie¡¯s warning and reach out to him? Did he occupy the corner of anyone¡¯s thoughts? Was Calvin awake? If he was, was he worried at all? Were there any messages waiting for him? What if he didn¡¯t tell Jodie about the prescription? He¡¯d dealt with excruciating pain before, he could probably handle this. But what if he couldn¡¯t? Could he tell the doctor that he lost the prescription and get another one? Could he- Mitch ran his free hand down his face, murmuring ¡°easy does it, easy does it, easy does it¡± over and over again until his thoughts weren¡¯t so fixated. He came close to waking Jodie up to discuss it, but she¡¯d already done so much for him. Eventually, he fell into something of a slumber, but it certainly wasn¡¯t restful. When he woke up, his head pounded and eyes burned. ¡°Twitter wishes you well,¡± came Jodie¡¯s greeting from the other side of the bed. ¡°Tha¡¯s¡¯nice.¡± Mitch closed his eyes again. ¡°Arin asked if it was OK to cut a promo on what happened last night. You cool with that?¡± ¡°Sounds good.¡± ¡°They apologized like a billion times now.¡± She waved her phone in front of his face with the text conversation pulled up, and Mitch swatted her arm away. ¡°Asked if you needed anything.¡± ¡°Tell them I¡¯m fine, and that it¡¯s OK. Shit happens.¡± Mitch waved dismissively; Arin, better known as Lagoon Goon, ranked among the top 5 sensitive bleeding hearts that he¡¯d ever met, and he¡¯d need to make a special effort to assure them that there were no hard feelings. ¡°Anyway, can you hand me my stuff?¡± The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Yup.¡± As she passed off his bag, she asked, ¡°By the way, what do you want for breakfast?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t care. Bagels?¡± He retrieved his phone, but the battery died at some point during the night. ¡°Dammit. Hey Jodie, can you help me out?¡± ¡°On it.¡± Once the phone was plugged in, she walked to the door. ¡°I think we got bagels. I¡¯ll go check.¡± Somehow, Mitch found the self-restraint to only check on his phone¡¯s progress every 30 seconds or so. It took 5 minutes for him to give up on that, and move onto trying to get dressed. He undid the sling and managed to get a t-shirt halfway on before getting stuck. ¡°Bruh.¡± Jodie¡¯s voice dripped with pity. ¡°Don¡¯t laugh,¡± begged Mitch. The smell of toasted bagels wafted, making his stomach grumble. He was so sore and hungry and frustrated, and sleep deprived on top of all of that. ¡°This sucks.¡± ¡°It does,¡± Jodie agreed, and held a bagel half up to his mouth so that he could take a bite. Once he got one, she set the bagel down on the nightstand and instructed that he hold still. With their powers combined (and plenty of yelling and swearing), Mitch was back in his t-shirt and sling, and outside of his ego, experienced minimal damage in the process. The phone powered on in the nick of time, enough to distract him from yet again calling Jodie ¡°a fucker¡±, and also from -yet again- being called ¡°a motherfucker¡±. As promised, an overwhelming amount of well-wishes awaited him, and he had trouble grasping the scale; people that he didn¡¯t even know, like blue checkmarks and whatnot, somehow knew Zevon, and by proxy, him? Inconceivable. He was also shocked to see how much of the roster blatantly ignored Jodie¡¯s request that he not be bothered, and tears welled up. Hell, Arin alone sent at least 20 messages. ¡°You weren¡¯t kidding, huh? About Twitter?¡± ¡°Oh yeah. It¡¯s wild, given that you¡¯re an absolute bitch.¡± She playfully nudged him. ¡°But you might wanna avoid going through the tag right now. There¡¯s a few gifs of the accident making the rounds. It¡¯s¡­hard to watch. Mitch wanted to believe that he could handle it, but ultimately knew that she was probably right in her assessment. Instead, he scrolled through the texts, seeking something in particular. Something that, he quickly realized, wasn¡¯t there. His mouth went dry and stomach turned to knots as he combed through the messages a second time, but there was nothing from Calvin other than an exchange that took place before the show yesterday, just dull couple stuff about groceries and bill payments. Trying his best to feign indifference, he mentioned nothing to Jodie and took another bite of the bagel. It was almost impossible to choke down. dropped Calvin didn¡¯t get in touch until the evening. Before then, Mitch spent his day fretting, napping, and aimlessly scrolling on social media platforms. At one point, he painstakingly got undressed and showered, sometimes poking at the tender areas out of curiosity; it came as no surprise that they still hurt. The most exciting moment occurred when Ingrid stopped by the room to chat for a while, her candid attitude refreshing when compared to the swaths of compliments and sympathy that he no longer had the energy to endure. She asked to see his bruises, which he proudly displayed, and earned a delighted ¡°Yuck!¡± When the call came, his pulse quickened at seeing the name on the screen. ¡°Hi!¡± He chirped, thankful that Jodie was out fetching their dinner. ¡°How¡¯re you holding up?¡± came Calvin¡¯s voice through the other end, and Mitch couldn¡¯t gauge the mood. ¡°Painful,¡± he answered honestly. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s a hazard of the job, y¡¯know?¡± ¡°Right.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t uh¡­think I can drive right now. The doctor doesn¡¯t advise it.¡± Mitch continued to talk to avoid gaps in the conversation. ¡°Luckily it was my right arm, so I¡¯m still pretty functional, but I don¡¯t think that I can get back home on my own.¡± He hoped that would have prompted some kind of reaction, something supportive, but all he got was a distant ¡°Mhm.¡± ¡°I guess I could leave my car at Jodie¡¯s and take a train back? I think The Amtrak goes to down New Haven, maybe you could grab me from the station?¡± ¡°Well,¡± Calvin started, then stalled. It was a tone that Mitch had grown increasingly familiar with over the last few years, and his blood froze. ¡°Mitch.¡± Like the night before, white noise filled his head; he panicked, worried that his brain was swelling or bleeding, and that the doctor missed it, and maybe he should return to the ER just to be safe. His limbs went numb in the meanwhile. Everything was wrong, so wrong. ¡°Yeah?¡± His teeth sunk into the mucosa of his cheek, and he gripped the fabric of his shirt as tightly as he could, knuckles going white. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Calvin spoke again. ¡°I just-¡° Mitch didn¡¯t know if he was saying ¡°no no no no no¡± either internally or under his breath, but regardless, the mantra tore through his skull with the force of a bullet while Calvin gave the annual spiel about how ¡°this isn¡¯t working anymore¡±. Usually this happened face-to-face, and Mitch could argue in favor of handling their issues like adults, that it wasn¡¯t fair to do this when Calvin didn¡¯t ever communicate his grievances in the first place. How the hell was he supposed to read his mind?! They¡¯d talk about going therapy. They¡¯d spend a night apart, then they¡¯d fuck next day. They¡¯d be OK for a while, and Mitch could put off things like figuring out getting his own health insurance for a little while longer. It always sucked in person. This was so, SO much worse. During a stretch of strained silence, Jodie appeared with several Chinese takeout containers in her arms. Mitch tried to turn away from her, but it was no use: she already saw his face, which surely gave away the situation unfolding. ¡°Hey, I¡­I think I¡¯m gonna go,¡± Mitch¡¯s voice cracked; like fissures forming in the earth¡¯s crust, he knew that he was moments away from all of his insides spilling out. If Calvin said anything in response to that, it didn¡¯t register. Nothing did. The call disconnected, and the phone dropped onto the carpet. top three ¡°He¡¯s such an asshole!¡± Jodie declared between mouthfuls of fried rice. They sprawled out on top of her floral duvet and watched Spice World while eating, but the volume was lowered each time that she ranted. ¡°He¡¯s on the top three list of biggest assholes I know.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s in the number one spot?¡± Mitch poked at his own food with no interest in it, pushing around a water chestnut with the prongs of his fork. ¡°Toby.¡± ¡°Wow!¡± Mitch laughed. ¡°You said that with absolutely no hesitation!¡± ¡°You have a type!¡± Spearing a piece of pork, she examined it with disdain before shoving it into her mouth. ¡°And apparently, I like to introduce them to you! ¡®Hey shitty boys! Here¡¯s my very dumb, very gay friend with abysmal self-esteem issues. Have at ¡®im!¡¯.¡± She set her fork down and put her head in her hands. ¡°Dude, maybe I¡¯m the number one asshole that I know.¡± ¡°You¡¯re my number one asshole.¡± That statement got her to look back up, and she shot him a withering glare. ¡°REALLY?¡± Pivoting, she put her feet against Mitch¡¯s torso and pushed him towards the edge of the mattress. ¡°Me? It isn¡¯t Toby?!¡± ¡°It¡¯s definitely Toby.¡± He laughed even harder, and Jodie stopped. ¡°Aside from all that crying earlier, you¡¯re actually taking this pretty well. Do you need anything, like ice cream?¡± ¡°I.¡± Pursing his lips, Mitch gave it some thought. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It hasn¡¯t fully sunk in? But at the same time, I could kinda feel this coming.¡± ¡°You said you wouldn¡¯t try to fix this the next time it happened.¡± She lifted her fork again, pointing it directly at him, her teeth gnashing as she spoke. ¡°You told me to hold you to that.¡± ¡°I know, I know.¡± Mitch raised his free hand in surrender, and she lowered her arm. ¡°Part of me is weirdly relieved, because I¡¯m too tired to keep fighting for us anymore. I¡¯ve been so desperate to make the past 5 years mean something, and it didn¡¯t matter. Goes out with a whimper instead of a bang. I dunno. It sucks.¡± ¡°He never deserved the effort.¡± Somehow, Mitch knew the next part before she even said it, and he braced himself. ¡°Especially after he cheated on you. WITH TOBY.¡± Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°Fuckin¡¯ Toby,¡± sighed Mitch. ¡°FUCKIN¡¯ TOBY!¡± They both giggled in unison at the outburst, but it was short lived. Jodie¡¯s eyes flicked down at her phone, then back up at Mitch. ¡°Speaking of Tobes, he texted me earlier. Guess he got word about what happened to you, and wanted to check in.¡± ¡°Did you tell him anything?¡± Mitch turned his attention back to the movie, pretending to be unaffected at the mention of his other ex¡¯s name. ¡°Hell no!¡± She frowned. ¡°We don¡¯t talk anymore, so it was weird. I think he still follows the promotion on Twitter. I should block his ass.¡± ¡°It¡¯s OK if you do.¡± Mitch grabbed the remote and turned the volume up a few notches. ¡°Like, talk to him or tell him about me. I don¡¯t really care.¡± ¡°You¡¯re so fucked up.¡± Taking back the remote, Jodie turned the volume down once more. Her face twisted in hesitation, which meant bad news. Jodie typically didn¡¯t tip-toe, but over time she¡¯d been working on tactfulness. So a pause meant that Jodie was attempting a valiant effort at employing sensitivity rather than letting the first thought fly out of her mouth. It meant that whatever she was about to say was heavier than she knew how to express. ¡°Look, we gotta talk for real, though. Did you ever find another sponsor? Because I reaaally think you should.¡± ¡°No,¡± Mitch admitted, sinking down against the headboard. ¡°I haven¡¯t had the time. And I mean, Toby never like¡­cut me off or anything. I could still talk to him if I needed to, he was actually really good at being supportive and giving advice and-¡± ¡°HE¡¯S YOUR EX. THAT FUCKED YOUR OTHER NOW EX. Oh my god, I¡¯m going to gouge my own eyes out. You are the dumbest smart person that I know.¡± ¡°Look, it made sense at the time! We were good friends after it ended, and he¡¯d been through it too and I think he was really trying to help, y¡¯know?¡± As Mitch continued, Jodie groaned. ¡°And how was I supposed to know that he and Calvin had been fucking all over the apartment for several months¡­goddammit, I really am dumb, huh?¡± ¡°YES!¡± Jodie threw her hands up. ¡°YOU REALLY ARE.¡± rubble Once Spice World ended, another movie followed, and then another. Not even 15 minutes in to their latest viewing, Jodie failed to suppress her yawns. ¡°Hey, go to sleep,¡± Mitch nudged her. ¡°¡¯M fine,¡± Jodie swatted at him, and sunk further into the mattress. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s been forever since we¡¯ve hung out like this.¡± ¡°Yeah, but you¡¯re tired.¡± This exchange went on for far too long, until Mitch snatched the remote away and held it out of Jodie¡¯s reach. She pouted while being haphazardly tucked in by Mitch¡¯s functioning arm, but passed out before he even turned the light off. Unlike her, Mitch found himself unable to sleep, but thankfully he had his phone this time. He sent an email to his editor, which briefly touched upon the chaos he¡¯d been plummeted into; a part of him worried that this could result in the loss of yet another columnist position, but he just couldn¡¯t bring himself to care. Multiple messages were drafted and ready to be fired off to Calvin, only to end up being deleted. On Facebook, he saw that Calvin wasted no time in changing his relationship status change to single, and Mitch¡¯s immediate reaction was to deactivate his own account. He cried until he just barely passed out, only to wake up before REM kicked in, and then repeated this cycle so much that he lost count. In a small way, he was thankful for being miles away from his now-ex (a thought he couldn¡¯t process yet, since it made his heart feel as though it was physically dissolving). Being apart meant that he wasn¡¯t at the base of ground zero, staring at the surrounding rubble in a daze. Presently, his best friend kept him safe and sheltered in both a physical and emotional sense, and he appreciated his small fortune. Yet, he yearned to be in a familiar environment, even if it killed him, if for no other reason than for a moment of privacy. He wouldn¡¯t dare complain, but being in the house that Jodie¡¯s abulea had passed away in less than a year ago was uncomfortable; there were still traces of the woman everywhere, but at least Jodie had overcome her grief enough to take down the numerous crucifixes that once adorned all of the bedroom walls. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. (However, she hadn¡¯t removed the very cool velvet Jesus painting, which now stared at Mitch in the darkness from across the room.) Also, all of his shit was back in Connecticut, which he¡¯d eventually need but had no clue how to go about collecting. At the bare minimum, he had a few day¡¯s supply on hand of various medications, so his life wasn¡¯t in jeopardy. But no matter what, he couldn¡¯t ask for Jodie¡¯s help with this one; not only because of the extraordinary generosity that she already demonstrated, but also because he had no guarantee that she wouldn¡¯t disembowel Calvin on sight. It¡¯d be nice to have clean clothes, as well as his laptop. And if he got ahold of his camera and guitar, they could both be pawned off to help keep him afloat for a bit. When feeling helpless got old, he shifted his thoughts towards what he had control over. His work was backed up onto a cloud network, so he could technically write articles on his phone even if it was sub-optimal. He briefly entertained the idea of getting more dates booked, only to be struck by the ridiculousness of that scheme when he remembered the injury which occurred a little over 24 hours ago. ¡°Goddammit,¡± he hissed, pressing the heel of his palm into his eyes in frustration. Immediately, he whispered ¡°sorry¡± in velvet Jesus¡¯ direction. For a distraction, he finally replied to all of the well-wishes that he¡¯d been tagged in. The sheer volume remained inconceivable, but it meant that Jodie¡¯s hard work and investments were at last paying off. Ever since she became her father¡¯s business partner, she took charge of modernizing his wrestling school¡¯s marketing and operations. They had an online presence now, which up until then was non-existent, and she secured professional equipment to livestream, rather than rely on shoddy DVD sales. Two years later, enrollment shot through the roof, and her pet project, Monster Mash Wrestling, gathered a decent cult following. But in Mitch¡¯s microcosm, the temporary high from the ego boost drastically plummeted as he found himself completely unprepared to handle the attention. Anxiety churned as he glanced through notifications, and he stared in disbelief at a message from Toby, of all people. His hand began to tremble ever-so-slightly. ¡°Uh. No.¡± Mitch powered his phone down and slammed it on top of the nightstand. It didn¡¯t matter how desperate he was to pour out emotions to a familiar face -one that knew him, the real him, and not just Zevon- there were no circumstances that Toby could be that person. seasoned vet The soft glow of morning light illuminated the edges of the curtains, and Mitch was still awake. He found that he wasn¡¯t even tired, just numb in mind, body, and soul. Maybe he¡¯d be OK. Maybe he already accepted this foregone conclusion so long ago that now that the shockwaves passed, he¡¯d take some time to decompress and then everything would be fine. There were a lot of positives to take away from this, he was sure of it. ¡°Hey stud,¡± Jodie croaked, interrupting his thoughts. ¡°Morning,¡± Mitch replied. ¡°Can you hand me my meds? They¡¯re on the nightstand.¡± She gestured in their general direction, and he obliged, handing her a blister package of estrogen tablets and an orange vial of anti-depressants. ¡°Thanks.¡± ¡°Do you need water?¡± he asked. ¡°Like hell I do! I ain¡¯t no bitch,¡± Jodie asserted before taking a pill out from each container and swallowed them. After, she put them down next to her side of the bed and asked, ¡°Dumb question, but how are you doing right now?¡± ¡°I¡¯m alright,¡± he absently nodded. Everything was static and nothing felt real. Jodie probably got that, though. ¡°Great. I need to head over to the school today. You wanna tag along? Get out of my dead grandma¡¯s place?¡± Unsurprisingly, she was already up and getting dressed, constantly in a state of motion. Pulling a fistful of hair into a ponytail, she simultaneously slipped on a pair of black Vans. ¡°I think everyone might wanna see that you¡¯re not, y¡¯know. Dead.¡± ¡°That might be nice.¡± Mitch was not nearly as hurried, and languidly stretched his good arm above his head. ¡°Things have been super busy, so Dad hired a new trainer. And I think he¡¯s onboard with being in Monster Mash? I¡¯m meeting with him later.¡± While she gave the briefing, she tossed Mitch¡¯s jeans in his direction, but they landed on the floor a few feet in front of him. ¡°Hurry up, dude!¡± If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Who is it? Do I know him?¡± With one foot, he dragged the crumpled pile of jeans towards himself, then maneuvered pulling them up and buttoning them without the help of his right hand. Beaming with pride, he declared, ¡°Hey, I think I¡¯m getting good at this!¡± ¡°That¡¯s super neat,¡± Jodie responded sardonically, then continued in a much more excited tone. ¡°So, obviously don¡¯t tell anyone yet, but it¡¯s Avi.¡± ¡°Wait, Avi? Avi Sher?¡± Mitch asked for clarification, only to realize how stupid he sounded. There was only one Avi in their sphere that she could have been referencing, but in Mitch¡¯s defense, this wasn¡¯t someone that you casually approached with a job offer for your small business. Avi was a well-seasoned industry veteran of nearly 20 years, seeming to be everywhere all at once, but definitely never in Monument, Massachusetts. He popped up on national television sometimes and had a Wikipedia article, and every big name wrestler had pictures with him on their Instagram with captions like ¡°this guy¡¯s the best!¡°. The idea of working with him was something on everyone¡¯s bucket list, sure, but personally Mitch filed that under being a pipe dream and left it alone otherwise. ¡°Hasn¡¯t he been in Mexico, or¡­maybe somewhere else in Central America?¡± ¡°His most recent tour was in the Caribbean. Anyway, Dad and him go way back, I guess. They met up recently in Santo Domingo and had a few matches.¡± She continued to explain as they migrated to her car. The transition from indoors to the outdoors was blinding, and Mitch instinctively shielded his eyes. ¡°Anyway, Avi mentioned possibly coming back to the States on a more full-time basis, so Dad offered him a job at the school. And like, you know Dad. He¡¯s a persuasive sonuvabitch when he wants something.¡° ¡°Yeah, but-¡± Mitch struggled with how to respond, opening his mouth a few times only to close it. ¡°Damn. That¡¯s¡­¡± ¡°I know.¡± Jodie¡¯s giddiness and lack of cynicism made it seem as though she¡¯d been swapped out for an alternate dimension version of herself. This was obviously great news for the school, but an even bigger deal for her as a promoter, since she was in desperate need of a big name draw to offer. Someone like Avi Sher could fulfill that role. And if nothing else, Jodie¡¯s enthusiasm was downright infectious. For a moment, the issues that Mitch struggled with melted away on her behalf. He matched her nervous smile, and she broke into a wide grin. edges Monument Wrestling Academy was barely located in Monument itself, straddling the border of the neighboring city of Wickburg. Formerly warehouse on the Nashua River, it sat nestled in a quiet, unassuming industrial park, which was zoned for almost everything that didn¡¯t involve things like construction or blasting. When they scouted for the location, Jodie and her father had argued incessantly; he wanted to set up downtown off of Mechanic St, Monument¡¯s heaviest foot traffic area due to all of the shops and restaurants, but Jodie insisted that they be closer to the commuter rail while stretching their dollar on square footage in a less ¡°desirable¡± part of the city. In the end she won by reminding him that the business loans were in her name, and eventually he conceded that she made the right decision. Jodie parked the car in front of the unassuming beige building, finished her cigarette, and stomped the butt into the ground. With an iced coffee in hand, she parted a small crowd of students that were already loitering by the entrance. It took almost no time for Mitch to be surrounded by his peers, and he stayed intentionally elusive while fielding questions about his current state. Off to the side, Jodie loudly cleared her throat and that drew everyone¡¯s attention away from him. ¡°Come on, kids.¡± She held the door open long enough for the person behind her to take possession of it, and so on and so forth. They all funneled into the lobby, which functioned as both a place for reception and a showroom, exhibiting framed vintage posters and matchcards, as well as glass display cases of titles and trophies won by Jodie¡¯s father and various alum. There were other relics as well, mostly from fellow Caribbean wrestlers, colorful masks and various costume pieces, autographed photos and so on. Jodie¡¯s father, Victor, painstakingly collected this memorabilia to honor the greats from his region of the world, which according to him were too often snubbed. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Mitch waited until everyone else had gone on ahead before he followed suit, lingering along the edges of the group. Once inside, he made a beeline for Jodie¡¯s office to escape just how out of place he felt. Compared to the lobby, the office was rather dim and dingy. The only source of natural light came through a single narrow window that was better suited for a basement; for some reason the architect elected to focus on a wall of interior windows instead, which separated the room from the short hall that led to both the lobby and the training area. More than anything, Jodie wanted to smoke cigarettes in there so that she could ¡°feel like a surly detective in a noir film¡±, but Victor forbid it. Jodie stood in front of a large mounted white board with a marker in her hand. There was a bracket drawn on it, which she studied. ¡°Obviously you can¡¯t be a contender for the title now,¡± she plainly stated without looking over at him. A line was drawn through his name, and Lagoon Goon¡¯s was moved forward. ¡°This sucks.¡± He didn¡¯t respond, instead taking a seat on the worn leather sofa that was next to the door. From the corner of his eye, he could see students in the training area that prepared to spar in the ring. As if on cue, his shoulder throbbed, and he resisted the urge to rub it. Instead of contending with the physical pain, he checked his phone to indulge in emotional self harm and re-read messages from Calvin about getting in contact later so they could figure out how Mitch could collect his things. A mere 12 hours had passed since he¡¯d been dumped, the body wasn¡¯t even cold yet and Calvin was all business as usual. And now a line crossed through his name on the board, which shouldn¡¯t hurt as badly as it did, but it did nevertheless. He exhaled and threw his head back. Waves of alienation now breached his shores, and he feared that the eroded concrete jetties were insufficient for the approaching storm surge. familiarity A soft knock came from behind Mitch, which pulled him out of his head. He turned towards the origin of the sound and did a quick doubletake. In the doorway stood a handsome man that was about as broad as the space he occupied, bespectacled and with a neat beard. His shirt was a size or two too small, and Mitch thought to himself that if this guy so much as coughed, it¡¯d be torn to shreds. ¡°Uh, hi there,¡± Mitch gave a small wave, since Jodie either hadn¡¯t heard the knock or was too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice. He acted nonchalant, despite being he very aware of the visitor¡¯s identity. They¡¯d never met until now, but it didn¡¯t matter; play it cool as he may, Mitch was an indie wrestler so he knew Avi Sher. ¡°What happened to your arm, dude?¡± Avi asked, as if they did know one another. His voice much softer than whatever Mitch had anticipated. ¡°I-¡± Mitch tensed up, totally caught off guard. ¡°Torn rotator cuff. Happened during a match the other night.¡± Avi gave a low whistle, and it made Mitch more desperate to vanish. The reaction got old, as was delivering the abstract, and he wondered at what point in his life sympathy equated to shame and suffocation. Was it when he¡¯d immigrated to the United States as a child? When he first came out to his friends and family about being gay? Or maybe when he had to confess that he¡¯d been abusing painkillers and needed help? ¡°Are you Avi?¡± Jodie -the defacto savior of Mitch¡¯s entire well being- spoke up, affording him the opportunity to stop discussing himself. Avi smiled brightly. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m looking for Jodie. I take it you¡¯re-¡± ¡°Jodie,¡± she replied and held a hand out, which Avi stepped forward and shook. ¡°So I have some paperwork for you to fill out. Are you cool with Mitch hanging out on the couch, or do you want me to boot him or¡­¡± She trailed off and pursed her lips in thought, the gears in her head violently grinding while words were forced through her filter. ¡°He¡¯s kind of going through some shit right now, but can also leave.¡± If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Mitch made a face at her. ¡°Nah, it¡¯s cool. We were just talking about his match from the other night.¡± Avi looked over his shoulder, still smiling. There was that familiarity again; it wasn¡¯t unsettling, but Mitch¡¯s wariness came naturally. He slid over to one side of the couch so that Avi could have a seat, and Jodie handed him a clipboard with some forms on it. While Jodie and Avi had their discussion, Mitch folded his arms across his chest and pretended not to eavesdrop, but it was tough. To start, this guy smelled like an entire Lush catalogue, which drew attention whether intentional or not. And then there was Jodie, the best bullshit artist that Mitch ever met, working the full force of her magic. She talked enough shop so that she appeared to be knowledgeable, but her gift was character analysis, and that made her an effective carny. It never ceased to amaze him how little Jodie actually knew of ¡°the business¡±, historically speaking, or that she did not remotely care about that lack of knowledge. She only got into this a few years prior, after she met Victor and learned that he was a professional wrestler. But having a background as a theater kid, holding both a BS in psychology and a MBA, and possessing a decent understanding of how to use search engines, made her appear competent. ¡°So we have a ton of stuff to go over, but my dad isn¡¯t here to take you through your duties. I can give you a tour of the place, though,¡± Jodie offered. ¡°Sounds good.¡± They both got up to leave, and before Avi followed Jodie out of the room, he paused in the doorway. Turning to Mitch, he gently said, ¡°Hey man, good luck with your recovery. I¡¯ve been there, it goes by fast.¡± ¡°He lives at the house, you can talk to him more about it then,¡± Jodie called behind her. ¡°Oh!¡± exclaimed Avi. ¡°Well in that case, see you later, roomie!¡± Mitch blinked, and for the sake of politeness managed to blurt a ¡°Ye-yeah. Later!¡± But they had both already left the room, and in confusion he mumbled, ¡°Roomie?¡± After letting go of a breath that he didn¡¯t know he¡¯d been holding onto, Mitch stared into space and tried to process all of¡­that. As he did, his phone vibrated. He completely forgot about it, as well as his entire nightmare situation, for that short duration. And if he could not focus on it for 5 minutes, god willing, he may be able to pull through after all. errand boy Mitch stashed his debit card back into his wallet after Jodie loudly declared ¡°your money¡¯s no good here!¡± in the checkout line at the grocery store. ¡°I¡¯m his sugar daddy,¡± she stated matter-of-factly to the cashier, who laughed in response. ¡°Don¡¯t humor her,¡± Mitch warily advised as he gathered up as many plastic bags as he could with his good arm. They were supposed to grab a few remaining items for a party that Jodie was throwing for her dad; unsurprisingly, the shopping trip got out of hand. The extra streamers and variety of noise makers were overkill, even if Jodie¡¯s dad leaned towards eccentricity, but it was his birthday and Jodie was determined to celebrate in an appropriate fashion. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t push yourself so hard,¡± she chastised while they walked past the automatic doors and into the parking lot. ¡°I can manage a few bags.¡± Mitch lifted them to show that he wasn¡¯t experiencing any discomfort. She took the bags away when they reached the car. ¡°I¡¯m not a sickly Victorian child that won¡¯t survive the winter, Jo. Lemme help.¡± Jodie tilted her head and tsk¡¯d, saying ¡°You kind of are, though,¡± then deposited everything into the trunk. Once they were buckled up, she continued in a much more sincere tone. ¡°Look, you¡¯ve been through a lot over the past few days¡­¡± Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Sure, but I¡¯m not helpless. I can, y¡¯know, pitch in for groceries or whatever,¡± he huffed. ¡°You¡¯re providing a roof over my head right now.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not out of altruism, I¡¯ve been trying to get you to move back up here for years now. So, thanks Calvin, I guess.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sleeping in your bed because there¡¯s no room at the inn. Let me do something. Anything.¡± ¡°Mitchell-¡± Jodie started to speak while backing out of the parking spot, but was cut off by a speeding car. Slamming on the brakes, she shouted obscenities while the other driver honked their horn. A minute full of grumbling passed before she turned her attention back to Mitch. ¡°ANYWAY,¡± she bellowed, still fuming, then her voice lowered. ¡°I dunno. What were we talking about? How useless you are?¡± ¡°Something like that,¡± he shook his head and grinned. ¡°If you¡¯re dealing with a complex, be my errand boy for a bit.¡± ¡°Uh huh. Sure,¡± he deadpanned, drowning out her redundant answer since that was already his designated status. Instead, he ignored her in favor of revisiting recent texts from Calvin; they devolved into passive aggressive complaints about Mitch¡¯s belongings still being at the loft, despite the whole ¡®not being able to drive for several weeks¡¯ thing. Unsurprisingly, his ex couldn¡¯t seem to wrap his head around the fact that most people in their age group didn¡¯t have a trust fund to fall back on, which meant that they couldn¡¯t just afford to hire movers on a whim. ¡°Stop reading texts from him,¡± Jodie spoke up, and Mitch went wide eyed in surprise. ¡°How could you tell?¡± He pulled his phone close to his body. ¡°You have this look on your face like you¡¯re about to cry and shit all at once.¡± ¡°Keep your eyes on the road,¡± grumbled Mitch as he checked his face in the side mirror. She was right, of course, and he frowned. please On the ride back home, Jodie thought out loud as she went over mental checklists. Victor wasn¡¯t due to be home until the next evening, so she had plenty of time to decorate the school and catch anything else that they may have missed. ¡°I kinda want to make this a welcome party for Avi as well,¡± Jodie mentioned. ¡°Should I get him his own cake? Like grab a fancy cupcake from the overpriced bakery downtown? What flavors do you think he likes?¡± ¡°No idea,¡± Mitch shrugged with his good shoulder, not liking where this was headed. ¡°Well, could you find out? For me?¡± The insistence in her voice and her furrowed brow suggested that she was entirely serious with the request. ¡°What? No, I barely know the guy,¡± scoffed Mitch. ¡°Also, that¡¯s kind of gay.¡± ¡°So get to know him, Mitch,¡± Jodie tonematched with a scoff of her own, forcing Mitch into an internal debate about whether or not he should open the car door and eject himself onto Rt. 2. Maybe he wouldn¡¯t die. ¡°And I¡¯m sorry, ¡®kind of gay¡¯? Do you no longer suck dick? I didn¡¯t get that memo.¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s the real reason that Calvin broke up with me.¡± He snorted. ¡°Iunno. There¡¯s no way to casually get that sorta information without alerting the other person that something¡¯s up.¡± Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Just figure it out? Please?¡± After a few more pleases, Mitch surrendered to the pressure and promised to find a way to bring it up. She smiled smugly, all cat with a canary, then changed the topic when they crossed into the Frenchtown neighborhood. ¡°How do you pronounce that?¡± she asked and pointed to various street signs that¡¯d been presumably named after former residents of Monument; those surnames painted on metal were some people¡¯s only remaining legacy on this mortal coil. ¡°It¡¯s Quebecois, not ¡®real¡¯ French,¡± he half-jokingly reminded her, and obliged. The little exercise gave him a chance to revisit something he rarely used these days, but still felt nostalgic for, a bit like visiting home. ¡°Y¡¯know,¡± he started as Jodie¡¯s house came into view, a modest duplex amongst several tiny single families and towering triple deckers. ¡°I wonder if I¡¯ll eventually forget how to speak it. Like after my mom and my uncle pass away, and there isn¡¯t anyone left in my life to hold a conversation with.¡± She parked in the driveway, then offered, ¡°I heard there¡¯s a French-speaking mass at St. Jude¡¯s. Maybe check that out sometime?¡± ¡°Eh, I don¡¯t think that the Catholic church would be too interested in having me around.¡± ¡°Why¡¯s that? Didn¡¯t you just say that you stopped sucking dick?¡± ¡°Shit, you¡¯re right! I¡¯m reformed now!¡± Mitch shouted, making Jodie snicker; however, the sound of a door slamming drew her attention elsewhere, and her eyes shifted up to the rearview mirror. ¡°Guess it¡¯s hunk o¡¯clock.¡± Unbuckling her seatbelt, she exited the car, and Mitch¡¯s head swiveled backwards when she shouted, ¡°Aviii!¡± manners Watching the two of them converse for a bit, Mitch conspired about how he could slip away unnoticed. Were the temperature not sweltering, he may have waited it out in the car until Avi had moved on. What were the fucking chances that he¡¯d show up just after they did! Mitch slammed the back of his head against the headrest and ran a hand through his hair, which already accumulated beads of sweat. Nearly 30 years on this planet and he still hadn¡¯t mastered the basics of social interaction. Avi wasn¡¯t intimidating per se, although yes, the list of his accolades were vast and enviable. They just¡­hadn¡¯t talked much yet, despite living under the same roof for the past few days, which Mitch knew was weird. In the back of his mind, he still operated under the delusion that he¡¯d be going home any day now, to recuperate in peace; under that premise, this wasn¡¯t someone that he needed to get too familiar until much later, possibly never. Or at least, over time, when they¡¯d maybe interact at the school or at shows! Gradually! Not all at once! Except, for the foreseeable future, Jodie¡¯s house was home. And Avi was certainly affable, leaving Mitch with no sane reason to continue to avoid him other than an unhealthy fear of new people. Mitch inhaled, then exhaled, reminded himself to not be shitty, and left the safe haven of the car. Since the discussion remained steadfast, Jodie animated as usual and Avi smiling and nodding along (his teeth surprisingly white and even, odd for a wrestler, maybe they were fake?), Mitch held onto the hope that his presence would go unnoticed. But then a cheerful ¡°Hey man!¡± from Avi dashed those hopes entirely, and Mitch swallowed hard. ¡°Oh, hi,¡± he forced himself to make eye contact and willed the corners of his mouth upwards, anything to appear normal, thoughts screaming the entire time ¡®don¡¯t be shitty don¡¯t be shitty don¡¯tbeshitty¡¯. Counting down the seconds, he waited until 7 or 8 had passed before turning to Jodie. ¡°Pop the trunk?¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Her eyebrows knit, replacing the horribly deranged expression brought on by the pleasure she was getting out of Mitch¡¯s discomfort. ¡°Oh, right.¡± She pressed a button on the key, and the trunk door unlatched. After grabbing a few bags, Mitch instinctively recoiled when a hand gently brushed against his sleeve. ¡°Want some help with those?¡± came Avi¡¯s voice from behind him. Before Mitch could decline the offer, -he wasn¡¯t an invalid, after all- Jodie answered on his behalf. ¡°That¡¯d be great!¡± She chimed in, and Mitch deflated a little. ¡°Yeah, thanks,¡± he mustered as much sincerity as possible, agitated with himself for taking everything so personally. Judging by the elbow pressed to his ribs once Avi¡¯s back was turned, he wasn¡¯t the only one that felt that way. ¡°You¡¯re being a bitch,¡± Jodie growled in Mitch¡¯s ear. ¡°Yeah, I know,¡± Mitch whispered back. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°OK well¡­stop it,¡± she firmly stated, not a request but a demand. Though he was tempted to explain his headspace, it¡¯d only serve as further lamenting. And really, who wanted to participate in that extended pity party? Not him. He was so sick of his own shit. Instead, he broke away from Jodie and hurried to catch up to Avi, who held the front door open. ¡°After you,¡± Avi gestured. ¡°Uh, you didn¡¯t have to do that,¡± Mitch hesitated before stepping through the doorway, catching sight of several tote bags in Avi¡¯s grasp that definitely didn¡¯t belong to Jodie, making the guilt even stronger. ¡°It¡¯s called manners, Mitch. Get some,¡± Jodie quipped as she brushed past them both. ¡°I have some! And look who¡¯s talking, baby girl!¡± Mitch indignantly snapped back, then looked helplessly at Avi; Avi, meanwhile, stood there with crinkled eyes and puffed cheeks and his mouth formed a tight line, struggling to hold back a laugh. At least someone was amused by this fucking buffoonery. ¡°I promise, I totally have manners. Thank you for getting the door and the groceries. And dealing with¡­all of this.¡± ¡°You¡¯re very welcome,¡± grinned Avi, and Mitch mirrored the expression back at him; he was oblivious that he¡¯d been so unguarded until well after they went inside, and he could feel that the muscles of his face had stretched. appetite They hadn¡¯t even reached the kitchen when Jodie shouted ¡°Mitch, can you put these away? I gotta hit the bathroom!¡±, then proceeded to rush up the stairs. ¡°So¡­¡± Mitch wracked his brain to make conversation while they both emptied out their respective bags. Truth be told, Jodie¡¯s accusation about him not having manners wasn¡¯t entirely unfounded; he wasn¡¯t intentionally rude, but idle chatter didn¡¯t come naturally for him. It made him seem obtuse, and perhaps the time arrived to improve upon that. And at the very least, he didn¡¯t leave his groceries for other people to put away. He pulled out a pair of colorful number shaped candles, examined them, then cleared his throat. ¡°You settling in alright?¡± ¡°Yeah, actually!¡± Avi looked up from one of his totes with a package in his hand, and a language written on it that Mitch didn¡¯t recognize. ¡°Kind of reminds me of a boarding house that I stayed at in Japan.¡± Mitch froze, unsure how to follow along. The most recent years of his life were spent around Calvin¡¯s WASP friends and being forced to hear about their ¡®Eat, Pray, Love¡¯ inspired journeys. Reflexively, his walls went up and he was ready to feign indifference altogether; but Avi didn¡¯t expand any further, just quietly poked around the cabinets in a bid to gain familiarity with the kitchen¡¯s layout. And Mitch was more interested about a wrestler¡¯s career path than a Manhattan socialite¡¯s slum tour through Mumbai. He could do this. ¡°How long were you in Japan for?¡± he asked to follow up. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°A little over three years.¡± After glancing over a few magnets and photographs on the fridge door, Avi opened it and slid a few cartons inside. He rummaged for a bit, then paused and turned to Mitch. ¡°Any chance I could get a hand here?¡± ¡°Sure. With what?¡± Mitch abandoned the plastic grocery bag he that he worked through and wandered over. Avi had moved to the side, allowing Mitch to peer into the fridge. The total lack of organization eluded him. An empty pizza box sat on top of old moldy Tupperware containers that were haphazardly strewn about. Mitch indiscriminately yanked them out, and dropped the collection of filth into the trashbin. ¡°Sorry, this is. Wow.¡± ¡°It¡¯s cool,¡± Avi insisted, waving his hand dismissively. ¡°Just didn¡¯t want to misplace anything.¡± ¡°I mean, four people under one roof, guess it¡¯s bound to happen.¡± No wait, he didn¡¯t want to incriminate himself, he had no participation in this other than an abandoned container of fried rice. ¡°Not that I¡¯ve uh, really been in here lately.¡± ¡°What, the kitchen?¡± ¡°Yeah, I dunno. Not much of an appetite these days?¡± He regretted answering honestly when Avi gave him a quizzical glance. Squirming in place, he further explained, ¡°It¡¯ll come back. Soon, hopefully. I¡¯m just¡­dealing with some stuff.¡± Not that he owed an explanation to anyone. He already lied to Jodie about eating numerous time, and which she started calling him out on. ¡°Your shoulder¡¯s not gonna recover well if you don¡¯t eat,¡± Avi advised, and Mitch bristled at this unsolicited statement. He nearly blurted out that his shoulder wasn¡¯t the reason why he hadn¡¯t eaten in a week, but refrained. Because no one, especially not someone that he just met, needed to be burdened with his bullshit. Instead, he let out an indifferent, ¡°Oh. Right.¡± you do you ¡°Sorry, like, I¡¯m not trying to intrude. You do you, obviously.¡± With some space now cleared out in the fridge, Avi resumed putting his groceries away. ¡°But I went to school for physiotherapy. So come see me if you want help with recovery.¡± ¡°Do you charge a copay?¡± joked Mitch. ¡°Nah, just pay me in coffee,¡± Avi laughed. ¡°Full disclosure: I don¡¯t have a doctorate or anything. Never actually finished the degree, much to the chagrin of my parents. But I came close!¡± ¡°What happened?¡± Mitch immediately regretted asking, unsure if this was crossing into too personal of a territory. He was about to take it back and apologize, but Avi shot him a hapless smile. ¡°Wrestling happened,¡± he answered. ¡°Oh. That was a dumb question, huh?¡± Rubbing the back of his neck, Mitch moved away from the fridge to give Avi more space. ¡°Nah. I had the choice to finish graduate school, or go to Japan. Break my spirit, or break my body. Went with the latter. Ironic, given my initial career choice.¡± The way that Avi spoke about such a life-alerting decision was so casual that Mitch felt stupid for not reaching the same conclusion during his senior year in college; at the time, he nearly fell into a drug-induced coma, and in retrospect should have taken time off. It was a miracle that he graduated at all. He was pulled out of his bullshit reverie when Avi asked, ¡°Hey, could you pass me that bag of fake cheese that¡¯s on the counter? I think that should be it for refrigerated stuff.¡± ¡°Fake cheese?¡± Mitch turned to the counter on his right and spotted the dairy free bag of ¡®shreds¡¯. Handing it over to Avi, he raced to take advantage of this opening. ¡°Uh, so you know about the party tomorrow, right?¡± ¡°For Victor¡¯s birthday? Yeah, Jodie told me.¡± The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Cool. She wanted to know if you had like, any dietary restrictions or¡­¡± Mitch coughed. ¡°If, y¡¯know, there was a preference for chocolate or vanilla or whatever? She¡¯s trying to poll everyone for cake flavor, I guess.¡± After the bag of cheese-like shreds were put away, Avi shut the fridge door and faced Mitch, looking all apologetic yet again. ¡°Well, I really don¡¯t wanna be one of those guys, but I¡¯m vegan. So don¡¯t let my opinions on cake be a limiting factor.¡± ¡°Oh, word,¡± Mitch gave several quick nods. ¡°I¡¯ve always been sorta interested in going vegan, but I struggle a lot with the recipes. What¡¯s that soy chunk stuff called¡­¡± ¡°TVP?¡± ¡°Yeah, that! Can¡¯t get it to work how it¡¯s supposed to.¡± ¡°Well, if you need a cooking sherpa, I can be that,¡± offered Avi. ¡°That¡¯d be great, actually!¡± Mitch exclaimed, then, suddenly very aware of himself, coughed and lowered his voice by an octave. ¡°And, for what it¡¯s worth, I¡¯m sure there¡¯s other vegans that¡¯ll be there. At the party, that is. So, we can make something happen.¡± ¡°Well, alright,¡± shrugged Avi. ¡°Put me down for vanilla.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll let her know.¡± Riding high off of this victory while simultaneously at his bandwidth limit for social interaction, Mitch double checked the rest of Jodie¡¯s bags to determine if anything else was perishable; the rest was either cupboard or party supplies, and with no further reason to hang around the kitchen, his objectives were met. ¡°Guess¡­I¡¯ll see you around then.¡± He nearly smacked himself for being so abrupt. One adjustment at a time. ¡°Oh! Later, man!¡± Avi gave a small wave, and didn¡¯t appear to be offended in the slightest. Relief washed over Mitch, and he retreated to the sanctity of Jodie¡¯s bedroom, collapsing onto the bed while his eyes raised to the ceiling as he zoned out. Moments later, the door creaked open, and the light scent of perfume confirmed her presence. ¡°You survived, huh?¡± she teased, and the mattress slightly dipped where she sat down on its edge. ¡°Barely,¡± Mitch closed his eyes. ¡°He¡¯s vegan, and he likes vanilla.¡± ¡°You¡¯re the best!¡± Crawling until she was parallel with him, Jodie grabbed his chin and held his face while planting a vivacious kiss on his cheek. He was positive that a lipstick print was left behind. ¡°This party¡¯s gonna be great. Gonna kill so many birds with one stone. Love that for me.¡± ¡°Also, you have to put away the rest of your groceries.¡± He cracked open one eye, and burst out laughing at the way her face scrunched in disgust. ¡°I take it back, you¡¯re the worst thing that¡¯s ever happened to me personally.¡± She flicked the side of his head before departing, presumably to pick up where he left off. so official Victor Delgado, aka Ladr¨®n de Tumbas, was a household name in Santo Domingo, particularly where he grew up in the barrio San Carlos. Or, so he said. It was difficult to tell when he was either embellishing or just being evasive, and that drove Jodie up a wall. When they first met, she had to double-check Wikipedia about his birthday, and even that held no certainty. Her grandmother assured her of his age several times, and considering that she was a devout Catholic, Jodie had to assume that she was telling the truth. So, as Mitch watched a banner being strung up with Happy 50th Birthday! printed on it, the barrage of aggravated texts from Jodie were all the more delightful. Apparently, Victor insisted that it was his 45th birthday, not his 50th, and Mitch wanted more than anything to be in that car to bear witness to Jodie¡¯s suffering. ¡°Looks good, guys,¡± he told the two students, both members of his stable Bad Moon Rising, while they worked together to straighten out the banner. ¡°You¡¯re so official with that clipboard!¡± said one of them, a petite brunette woman with a pixie cut. She slid down the ladder without any regard to OSHA compliance, then bounded over to Mitch. Her real name was Sara, but she preferred to be called by her character¡¯s name, Sandy. Prying the clipboard out of Mitch¡¯s hand, and Sandy studied it intensely. ¡°Thanks? I guess?¡± Mitch¡¯s nose wrinkled, and his head swung up as the other half of the pair, Louis, approached with a much more subtle rhythm, unconcerned with timeframes or schedules. Louis took a quick glance over Sandy¡¯s shoulder, which was his default stance since due to being a giant, then turned his attention to Mitch. ¡°How long do we have to get the rest done?¡± he rumbled. ¡°Judging from the last text, 45 minutes tops.¡± Booting up his phone, Mitch confirmed the timestamp. ¡°Jodie just left the McDonald¡¯s on the Pike.¡± ¡°Cool,¡± nodded Louis, stepping aside as Sandy shoved the clipboard back at Mitch. ¡°Well, we¡¯re basically finished, anyway.¡± She gestured to the warehouse-turned-wrestling school, and at the other students that also completed their assigned tasks. The decorations transformed the enormous room into something that vaguely resembled an event space, instead of an indoor skate park with its graffiti and posters and countless stickers on every available square inch. Jodie offered it as a venue for rental, and potential clients either loved or loathed the appearance; its only other consistent use outside of wrestling was practice for the local roller derby team on Wednesday nights, which Jodie gave them a steep discount on since she¡¯d been a derby girl in the past. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Changing the subject, Sandy asked, ¡°So, when do you think you¡¯ll get cleared to wrestle again?¡± ¡°Dunno,¡± Mitch answered. ¡°I have a follow-up at the end of September to see how healed I am. So if all goes well, hopefully I can start training-¡± ¡°Think you¡¯ll be good for Graveyard?¡± ¡°I-¡± Mitch sighed. The Graveyard Smash was Monster Mash¡¯s biggest event, which took place the weekend before Halloween. This year, it was going to be hosted at an actual sleepaway camp, and was nearly sold out. If he had beaten Lagoon Goon instead of getting injured, he would have advanced to the semi-finals, and potentially clinched the number one contender position. That meant a main event title match at Graveyard Smash. Beating back self-flagellation that broke the surface tension and began to bubble, he replied with, ¡°God I hope so.¡± ¡°At the very least, we¡¯ll get the tag titles,¡± Sandy nudged Louis. ¡°Still gotta get through Coven,¡± Louis reminded her, but she spun on her heel and wandered away, already chatting excitedly with someone else that walked by. Shrugging, he clasped a meaty hand on Mitch¡¯s good shoulder and squeezed lightly. ¡°Y¡¯know we¡¯re here for you, brotha.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± Mitch smiled sheepishly, and waited until Louis had taken off before exhaling. Warmth crept into his cheeks, and he didn¡¯t know how he could be one week removed from a relationship and already be so pathetically touch starved. Then again -now that he was paying it any mind- even prior to the breakup, it¡¯d been a good while since Calvin bestowed physical affection. And, then again, Mitch spent the better half of the year not in any position to be a recipient of such intimacy. ¡°Goddammit,¡± he muttered under his breath, and ran his hand down his face. derail But there was no time to let himself derail, not when Jodie was dependent on him to keep everything on the track. Arin, the Lagoon Goon, beckoned him over to check out the way that they had spread out the snacks, while also taking the opportunity to sneak in several apologies about the botched move that had caused the injury; Mitch reassured that there was no bad blood whatsoever. However, he¡¯d barely been able to share the sentiment before someone else needed him, so he pulled Arin into a quick sidehug before rushing over to put out another fire, one that involved the balloons. ¡°Maaan,¡± Mitch grimaced as he stared up at the ceiling of the former warehouse, and where the majority of the balloons had floated up towards. There were a few people on the balcony catwalk that tried their luck at grabbing any ribbons that drifted nearby, but to no avail. ¡°C¡¯mon guys, be careful!¡± he shouted, but was mostly ignored. ¡°Oof, those aren¡¯t coming down, huh?¡± came a now increasingly familiar voice from Mitch¡¯s right side, but not so familiar that he could keep himself from jumping slightly due to being startled. He turned his head and stared wide-eyed at Avi, who definitely wasn¡¯t supposed to be there yet. ¡°Sorry man, didn¡¯t mean to scare you!¡± Avi¡¯s eyes crinkled as he offered an apologetic smile. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it¡°Uh, it¡¯s¡­it¡¯s cool,¡± Mitch nodded fervently, biting back the urge to blurt out that Avi was early. ¡°So what brings you here?¡± ¡°The party for Victor,¡± Avi half-laughed, which, duh. ¡°I¡¯m kind of a ¡®if I don¡¯t get there 20 minutes early, I¡¯m late¡¯ guy. And-¡± his eyes flickered up towards the banner, which had (and welcome Avi!) scrawled in Sharpie under the word ¡®Birthday¡¯; Jodie had added that final touch the night before. He looked back at Mitch, and his mouth now formed a hard line. ¡°I¡¯m guessing that I¡¯m not supposed to be here, huh?¡± ¡°No, but I think that if you come back in a few minutes and act surprised, it¡¯ll be fine. Maybe just pull your car around back?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± agreed Avi, his body coiled and ready to sprint off. ¡°Should I wait for a specific time or signal or something?¡± ¡°I can text you when they¡¯re here,¡± Mitch suggested. ¡°Oh! That¡¯s good. What¡¯s your number?¡± Avi pulled his phone out and typed in the numbers as Mitch recited them. Seconds later, he felt a buzz in his pocket. ¡°I sent you a text so that you have mine. Alright, I¡¯m off!¡± ¡°See you in a bit,¡± Mitch waved him away, barely paying any real attention as he checked to see if it was indeed a text from him, and not another string of curses from Jodie. His lock screen lit up, and sure enough, a number that he didn¡¯t recognize had sent him a smiley face, and along with that a ¡®hey it¡¯s avi¡¯, followed by some flashing ellipses and then a ¡®lemme know if u have any particular emojis u want me to use for ur name¡¯. ¡°The fuck?¡± Mitch muttered under his breath and quietly chuckled. surprise A final sweep was taken around the warehouse before Mitch informed everyone of the time and advised that they all hide behind the ring. The lights were turned off, and he waited by the switches. According to Jodie¡¯s most recent message, they¡¯d just gotten off of Route 2, meaning they¡¯d be arriving at any second. A text was sent to Avi, telling him to come back around front, and in response Mitch received a thumbs up emoji. As if on cue, a loud conversation between two people could be heard from outside, accompanied by the sound of footsteps and crunching gravel. The noises faded as they moved further away towards the front of the building, then were drowned out by the door¡¯s welcome chime. ¡°Hello? Anyone here?!¡± Victor¡¯s voice boomed from all the way in the lobby, making a few of the students giggle from where they were concealed. Others shushed in response, and Mitch, unable to do anything from his position, rolled his eyes and hoped that they¡¯d all get themselves under control. ¡°Mitch was at the front desk earlier,¡± Jodie explained, and Mitch hit his forehead against the doorway in realization that he¡¯d forgotten to lock up before taking his place. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s in the bathr-¡± she stopped in the middle of the sentence when the door chimed again, and her voice switched cadence, all high pitched and saccharine. ¡°Aviii!¡± Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Victor¡¯s raspy voice parroted the tone, either genuine in his sentiment or teasing Jodie for her debatable faux enthusiasm. Mitch could never tell, but their similar mannerisms always delighted him. Apparently, it had the same effect on Avi, and his laughter echoed throughout the building. He¡¯d started to greet them, but was cut off by Victor asking Jodie, ¡°Isn¡¯t he so handsome? I fell in love when I first saw him. Hired him for his looks, y¡¯know.¡± ¡°Jesus Christ,¡± Jodie groaned. ¡°Language, Jojo. Abuela¡¯d be disappointed.¡± Their voices drew closer, and Mitch¡¯s fingers began to twitch as they hovered over the switch. ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake, Dad,¡± she sniped back. ¡°C¡¯mon, we have weeks worth of stuff to plan out, since you decided to take a vacation.¡± ¡°Hey now, that was no vacation! That was all work! Avi can vouch for me, right?¡± Vision fully adjusted to the dark, Mitch could make out Jodie¡¯s form as she stepped through the doorway that lead into the training part of the building. ¡°Where is everyo-¡± Victor had started say, but before he could finish, Mitch turned the lights on and the roster jumped out from behind the ring, unanimously shouting ¡°SURPRISE!¡± after party ¡°Oh my god, I can¡¯t believe this!¡± Victor repeated several times over as he gawked around the room and took in students, alumni, and roster members alike. He also made sure to point out to everyone that it certainly wasn¡¯t his 50th birthday, and each mention of it, the number seemed to dwindle further and further, until he reached Mitch. ¡°Happy 40th birthday, Victor,¡± Mitch offered before Victor could even start. ¡°My sweet, sweet boy! Thank you!¡± An arm was thrown around Mitch and, as was tradition now, a kiss was planted on each of his cheeks. He¡¯d always found it endearing. Victor had started doing it when he learned that Mitch was a fellow immigrant, albeit from a different part of the world; it was an example of one of the measures he¡¯d taken to try to make him feel more at home. Although Valence hadn¡¯t been home in nearly two decades, being taken in by Jodie¡¯s family alongside her had, more or less, become the new definition of that. ¡°Glad that you get it, unlike a certain someone.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± smiled Mitch. The hug was released, but Victor¡¯s hand hovered above Mitch¡¯s right bicep. ¡°So tell me about this. Jodie said you got hurt. And¡­some other stuff.¡± Brow furrowed, Victor¡¯s tone turned serious, and Mitch held it together long enough to keep himself from squirming. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about it later. It¡¯s your birthday, and, like. C¡¯mon. A party¡¯s not the best place for it,¡± Mitch waved it off, and thankfully, Victor put no protest. ¡°Later,¡± he agreed, loosening his grasp. ¡°At the after party?¡± ¡°There¡¯s an after party?¡± laughed Mitch. ¡°We are the after party,¡± Victor broke into a wide grin, then heartily laughed back. Once he settled down, he offered, ¡°I¡¯m gonna go get a beer. You want one?¡± ¡°All set, but thanks,¡± replied Mitch, getting progressively more distracted by Jodie looming nearby at the edge of his peripheral. When Victor departed, she sidled up to him. ¡°Hey, sorry that I forgot to lock the front door,¡± he apologized before she could say anything. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, you did great.¡± She reached up and ruffled his hair, and his face scrunched as she did. ¡°Y¡¯know, I give you a lot of shit, but I really appreciate all of your help this past week. This,¡± her hand motioned to the room, ¡°means a lot to me. Like I¡¯m sure it does to Dad as well, but I really wanted to do this for him.¡± ¡°I gotcha,¡± he smiled. ¡°Just sorry I couldn¡¯t do more. Like be a decent errand boy or whatever.¡± ¡°Come help me bring the cake out, and we¡¯ll call it square on your servitude.¡± Tugging at his shirt sleeve, he put up no resistance while she led them both towards the small kitchen that was on the other side of the building. As she dug through the fridge, cursing about the overwhelming amount of half-empty water bottles and old takeout containers, she asked, ¡°Remind me again why I made you errand boy?¡± ¡°Payment for shelter.¡± He held back from pointing out the irony of her gripes, considering the state of the fridge back at the house. Instead, he busied himself by gathering paper plates and cutlery from various cabinets, because that much could be managed. ¡°That tracks.¡± Some of the containers were yanked out and slammed onto the counter with a huff. ¡°So listen, forget what I said a moment ago. I do need to ask you for another favor.¡± ¡°Oh? What¡¯s that?¡± Mitch couldn¡¯t even pretend to be surprised. ¡°Ingrid can¡¯t do commentary this week. Would you be comfortable with giving it a shot?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± Mitch swallowed hard. ¡°I¡¯ve never done it. You sure you want me to?¡± ¡°You¡¯re familiar enough with a mic,¡± she retorted. ¡°Besides, I want you involved. Fans have taken a shine to you recently, and frankly, it¡¯d be stupid to not capitalize on that. Besides, I don¡¯t need you to do play-by-plays, just be Zevon and talk mad shit about everyone that he doesn¡¯t like or whatever.¡± ¡°Alright.¡± Guess that wouldn¡¯t be too hard,¡± he warily agreed. A large sheetcake was at last produced and she turned around, her face lighting up when she spotted Mitch holding the diningware. ¡°Aw, so helpful!¡± ¡°I know, I¡¯m the best,¡± he teased. ¡°By the way, Victor called me his ¡®sweet, sweet boy¡¯. Sounds like he wants me.¡± ¡°Great,¡± Jodie rolled her eyes and deadpanned. With her hip, she shut the fridge door, head shaking a little as she passed by Mitch. She was just about to leave the room, then stopped in the doorway and turned around. ¡°Aw shit, could you grab Avi¡¯s cupcake for me? Since you¡¯re the best and all that?¡± She requested, taking off before Mitch could protest. ¡°For fuck¡¯s¡­I only have the one hand!¡± Everything he was holding was set down onto the flimsy folding table which graced the corner of the room, and he grabbed the elaborately packaged dessert from off of the fridge¡¯s top shelf. It took a minute, but with some finagling, he managed to carry all of the items and headed into the training area. just guessing ¡°Dad!¡± Jodie shouted, her voice echoing in the wide open room. ¡°C¡¯mon over here!¡± ¡°Little busy, Jojo!¡± Victor shouted back from where he stood by the beer. As far as Mitch could tell, he was playing some sort of makeshift bartender role with the homebrew beer that Jodie had brought. ¡°Are you checking IDs?¡± Mitch asked incredulously as he walked past the small gathering. ¡°This is a reputable establishment, Mitchell!¡± Victor retorted, then squeezed past the crowd and caught up to him. ¡°Did you know that the drinking age in the Dominican is 18? These poor kiddos.¡± ¡°You can buy wine in France when you¡¯re 16,¡± mused Mitch. ¡°Too bad for you, huh? Came over here and had to wait an extra 5 years!¡± He gave Mitch¡¯s back a hard slap. ¡°Oh, I remember being so pissed when I first came here at 19 and found that out. Not that I couldn¡¯t get it, but¡­¡± His head whipped around, and his voice lowered to a whisper, ¡°We can discuss that at the after party.¡± Mitch snorted as Victor tossed him a wink. ¡°Alright,¡± he conceded, and Mitch slowed his pace to crawl while Victor rushed to meet Jodie. Hanging back, he set the diningware on the table that the snacks had been arranged onto. He half listened to the speech that Jodie was giving, more of an affectionate roast than anything else, and the other half of his attention was on the cupcake that he¡¯d been placed in charge of. Not interested in being the gentrified confection¡¯s assigned ward, he considered also putting it down and walking away. As the scales heavily tipped towards going through with abandonment, a chorus of ¡®Happy birthday to you¡­¡¯ interrupted his thoughts. ¡°Sweet party,¡± came a voice -yet again- from behind him, with an accompanying hand on his left shoulder; this time, he didn¡¯t jump, which merited being self-congratulatory. ¡°Jodie knows how to throw ¡¯em.¡± Mitch didn¡¯t even have to look to know it was Avi, but he considered that whole manners thing and did anyway to acknowledge him. Then, he lit up in recognition as he realized that he could be freed from his duties. ¡°Oh! Hey, this is for you.¡± The cupcake box, pinned by the sling between his right hand and his body, was fumbled with as he attempted to present it. ¡°I can-¡± Avi laughed. He reached towards the box, getting his fingers on it. ¡°No! No, it¡¯s-¡± Mitch instinctively wrenched away. ¡°It¡¯s fine, I-¡° ¡°It¡¯s cool, dude. Got it, see?¡± The container was removed before Mitch even noticed that it was gone; but for whatever reason, he stood there hunched and tense, ready to bolt away. Thankfully, he caught himself as Avi was focused on opening the box, and he willed himself to loosen up. ¡°Oh wow, did you actually go out and get a vegan cupcake for me?¡± You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. ¡°Well uh¡­Jodie did, actually,¡± Mitch impulsively lied, then mentally smacked himself for being so profoundly weird when it came to his instincts. Of course he¡¯d been the one to go to the stupid hipster bakery and paid out of pocket for an overpriced vegan dessert. He¡¯d been earning his damn keep, after all! ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to thank her,¡± nodded Avi, and the stress melted out of Mitch, draining to the floor and congealing into a sickly puddle and leaving him clammy; if he lifted his shoe, it¡¯d probably make an awful squelching noise from the metaphorical manifestation of his non-existent ego. Affirmation was simply something that he did not want under any circumstance, but fuck if he could figure out why; it didn¡¯t make him feel good to have it, not did he feel any better when he was denied it, either. The few people that were aware of his tendency to behave this way had let him know that it was weird, which only made it all the more impossible to bring up. Applause erupted when the song ended, and as Avi took a break from delicately extracting the cupcake from its packaging to join in, Mitch took the opportunity to study his face for the fleeting few seconds. He wondered if his neurosis was just as transparent with someone that hardly knew him. There was no way that he didn¡¯t come across as a total freak, but how was he supposed to fix that at 29 years old? ¡°This is so nice!¡± Flimsy cardboard defeated at last, Avi looked over and beamed. There wasn¡¯t a hint of reproach in his expression or body language, so maybe Mitch¡¯s awful reaction or minor deception weren¡¯t so obvious. At the very least, they weren¡¯t about to signal the end of the world. ¡°Yeah,¡± Mitch agreed, quickly looking away. ¡°I think it¡¯s from somewhere that¡¯s pretty close to the house. ¡®Frosting¡¯ or something like that?¡± ¡°Oooh! Does it have chalkboards everywhere, and a logo with a big ¡®X¡¯ in it?¡± ¡°You know the place?¡± asked Mitch with a raised eyebrow. ¡°Nah, just guessing. They¡¯re all the same,¡± Avi flashed a smile before putting the cupcake to his mouth and taking a bite. Despite exercising caution, he still got crumbs in his beard, which he wiped away. After swallowing, he remarked, ¡°But this is great. Wanna try?¡± ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± Mitch shook his head. ¡°Thanks, though.¡± Avi shrugged, then wandered off in Jodie¡¯s direction, and Mitch backed away even further, to the outskirts of the crowd that¡¯d popped up all around. His nerves, jittery and swollen, were only mildly calmed the further he got from other people. Victor spoke loudly, thanking everyone for coming, and for Jodie putting the entire thing together, but Mitch barely paid heard it as his hearing faded in and out. Eventually, he ended up back in the kitchen, and slumped onto the grubby loveseat that had been jammed in there. ¡°What the fuck,¡± he grumbled as he rubbed his eyes, frustrated that he couldn¡¯t keep his shit together for more than a few minutes at a time. It¡¯d been a good day, surrounded by friends that he assumed cared about him, or at least tolerated him. There wasn¡¯t any feasible reason to become overwhelmed so quickly, so heavily. Yet, all that he wanted to do was cry. He couldn¡¯t pinpoint the trigger, so he chalked it up to just needing a little solitude to gather himself. demands The universe, however, was seemingly unfinished with peddling its confusing agenda and vague demands. Mitch¡¯s pocket vibrated, and he pulled his phone out. He didn¡¯t even need to unlock it to see that the message was from Calvin, and that it was a demand -not a request- that he come get his stuff by the end of the week, or it¡¯d be tossed out. He threw his back and choked out a laugh, though it was more of a cough from the way that his throat tightened. He weighed his options. Realistically, it wouldn¡¯t be the worst thing if his meager possessions were thrown away. Sure, it wouldn¡¯t be sustainable to keep using Jodie¡¯s laptop for work, but that could be said for everything else currently going on in his life. He¡¯d miss the guitar that he¡¯d bought for himself as a teenager with the money from his first paycheck. He¡¯d grieve over the small mementos given to him by his mother, mostly letters and photographs he¡¯d kept putting off on digitizing, but that sort of stuff could be found in his uncle¡¯s attic as well. Cendre, the worn stuffed rabbit he¡¯d had since he was born, had probably already been put into the trash, anyway; Calvin always thought it was tacky and disgusting, even if he didn¡¯t use those exact words. Although irreplaceable, it may be the price to pay to never have to interact with his ex again. Except, he had to sort out the health insurance situation. That was enough to push him over the edge, and tears began to well up. ¡°C¡¯mon, not now,¡± he whined, and threw his arm over his face. The locker rooms were nearby, he could possibly lock himself in one of the bathroom stalls there and not risk anyone seeing him like this. Just because his life had blown apart into shrapnel didn¡¯t mean that anyone else needed to be subjected to it. Especially at a birthday party, of all places. The creak of the kitchen door ripped him right out of his self-flagellation. His head snapped so fast that, for a moment, it was as disorienting as whiplash. There stood Avi, perhaps the last person that he wanted to see, effectively still nothing more than a stranger, with the doorknob in his grasp and appearing to transition from surprise to gentle concern. Mitch desperately wanted to scream at him to leave, unleash his anguish and fury on literally anyone instead of continuing to bottle it up, but bit his tongue. He didn¡¯t have the energy, and no one deserved to be on the receiving end of that. And it wasn¡¯t that he was angry at Avi, or that he didn¡¯t want to deal with him. Avi represented everything that he wasn¡¯t, and he didn¡¯t want to face his own antithesis at such a low point. ¡°Jodie wanted me to tell you to grab the ice cream from the freezer,¡± he started to explain, but then stopped. ¡°Are you¡­are you OK?¡± ¡°Does it look like I¡¯m-¡± Mitch snapped, then took a deep breath to shut up. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that was¡­¡± Avi shook his head. ¡°Uh, you know what? Lemme just grab the stuff, I¡¯ll leave you alone.¡± Though those were the exact words that Mitch thought that he wanted to hear, his insides sharply twisted. It was he as though was drowning, despite boats full of people that were passing by, moving on without him and leaving tidal waves in their wake. Leaving him to die. Yet, here he was, doing nothing to signal his location, or that he needed help. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. When Avi¡¯s back faced him, he blurted out, ¡°My boyfriend broke up with me.¡± Avi¡¯s head swiveled away from the freezer, the surprised expression back in full force. ¡°Oh shit, I¡¯m so sorry.¡± Mitch¡¯s mouth hung open slightly, shocked that he¡¯d said anything at all. He¡¯d hoped that Avi would resume his errand, but they just stared at one another. ¡°He¡¯s-¡± words tumbled out again of their own accord, faster than he could reel them back in. ¡°He did it the day after I got injured¡­¡± Trailing off, Mitch clutched his right arm, either to illustrate his point or to try to force himself to stop talking. ¡°I gotta get my stuff back, like, soon, really soon, or he¡¯s gonna-¡± Another laugh was huffed out, wet and thick, as though there was water in his lungs; but the dam had sprung a leak, and the water was flooding out. He let go of his arm, dropped his head into his hand, and tugged at his hair. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m doing. I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°How far away does he live?¡± Avi¡¯s voice gently broke through the static that was building in Mitch¡¯s ears. ¡°Southern Connecticut. Uh, like three-ish hours from here?¡± ¡°OK. Do you just need a ride to get your stuff?¡± asked Avi. Mitch blinked, then looked up in disbelief. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Because of your rotator cuff? I¡¯m assuming you can¡¯t drive, right?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Mitch warily responded, too confused to ask why Avi was still staring him. ¡°So¡­I can drive you?¡± Avi spoke as if he was saying the most obvious thing in the entire world, like he was giving away the answer to 2+2. ¡°Wait, what? Why?¡± Mitch¡¯s face scrunched. ¡°Iunno, we¡¯re roommates?¡± Rubbing the back of his neck, Avi sighed. ¡°And we work at the same place, I assume we¡¯re gonna have to get used to one another.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a three hour drive,¡± Mitch reiterated. ¡°That¡¯s one way. Six hour round trip.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± nodded Avi, a bit too enthusiastically for Mitch¡¯s liking. ¡°That¡¯s fine?!¡± ¡°Yeah man, it is!¡± For the first time since they met, Avi dropped the pleasantries and sounded exasperated. ¡°Look, if you don¡¯t want a ride, just say so. But it seems like you could use a break from¡­dunno, whatever you¡¯re going through.¡± ¡°Yes, but! You barely know me!¡± Mitch exclaimed, feeling the hysterics slip out; his bottom lip trembled and he began to curl inward. Avi¡¯s face softened. He walked away from the fridge and strode across the room, then gingerly sat down on the loveseat next to him. They sat in silence for a few seconds, and Mitch sniffed. ¡°I don¡¯t have any ulterior motives, if that¡¯s the concern,¡± Avi softly spoke. ¡°Aside the aforementioned ¡®we live and work together¡¯ thing. And maybe I want to get on my boss¡¯ good side to avoid paying rent for the foreseeable future. Point is, I¡¯m not gonna go all serial killer on you or whatever.¡± ¡°That sounds like something a serial killer would say,¡± Mitch joked, and he prayed that it stuck the landing; he exhaled when Avi grinned. ¡°Fair, fair. But I don¡¯t think they target people that they know, especially not the ones that they live with. So that should disqualify me.¡± ¡°OK.¡± Mitch nodded. ¡°If you¡¯re actually fine with driving six hours to lend a hand to someone that you barely know, I¡¯d really appreciate it. I¡¯ll even give you gas money.¡± ¡°Great, just let me know when. My schedule¡¯s pretty open until next week.¡± After lightly patting Mitch¡¯s back, Avi then got up and returned to the freezer. ¡°Is Saturday fine? Or is that too soon or-¡± ¡°Saturday¡¯s perfect. Lemme know if you have any bands that you¡¯d want for the road trip playlist.¡± Cartons of ice cream retrieved and juggled, Avi took his leave, repeating ¡°Saturday¡± under his breath then shutting the door behind him and leaving Mitch to stare vacantly into space. your nerves ¡°Should I do the facepaint?¡± Mitch asked Louis, who was in the process of applying his own makeup in the congested locker room. ¡°Like they¡¯re just hearing my voice, right?¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± Louis stared into the mirror, focused on a spot he¡¯d missed. Dipping the cheap sponge into a compact of grey creme, he gingerly blotted it onto his cheek. ¡°Camera sometimes focuses on commentary, doesn¡¯t it? Like in between matches?¡± ¡°Shit, you¡¯re right.¡± Mitch frowned. ¡°Might help you get into character, too,¡± suggested Louis. ¡°Since like, y¡¯know. Your nerves.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡­¡± Mitch sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t even like to watch my own matches. Or listen to my own voice. I recorded an album with my old band, and I never listened to it.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not unusual. Lots of people are like that.¡± The sponge was set down, and Louis closely examined his face for any further mistakes. After a minute or two, he hummed satisfactorily, then turned to Mitch. ¡°You want me to do yours?¡± ¡°Yeah, please!¡± Grinning, Mitch put his hand up his forehead and lifted his bangs out of the way. ¡°Sandy¡¯s gonna be upset that you didn¡¯t go to her first,¡± warned Louis while he grabbed a fresh sponge and swiped the white paint, then brought it to Mitch¡¯s nose and gently traced down the bridge with it. ¡°I know, but¡­she¡¯s busy preparing for her match. And you¡¯re better at it.¡± It was the honest truth; Louis¡¯ hands were the steadiest Mitch had ever seen, which made sense given that he did vinyl graphics and screen printing, and maybe the occasional bout of graffiti. But it may have also been a shameless attempt at flattery, not that he¡¯d ever admit it. ¡°She¡¯ll be fine. I¡¯ll take her out to a cafe later or something.¡± ¡°She doesn¡¯t need caffeine,¡± Louis chuckled. One hand rested at Mitch¡¯s chin, manipulating his head and tilting it here and there, while the other painted. ¡°C¡¯mon, frappuccinos barely have any coffee in them. It¡¯s all sugar,¡± he joked. ¡°Oh, even better!¡± Smirking, Louis ran the applicator along Mitch¡¯s cheeks. ¡°Hey, gonna need you to close your mouth for a little bit.¡± ¡°Alright.¡± Mitch did as he was told, letting Louis work in peace, trying not to fixate too much on the thick fingers at his jaw. Despite the chaos that was around them in the locker room as everyone rushed to get ready, being in the position where he didn¡¯t have any control whatsoever had a calming effect. ¡°By the way, did you bring your ears or collar or anything like that?¡± The sponge made contact with his lips, and he parted them slightly. Louis paused, then pointed out, ¡°Y¡¯know, most people dislike eating paint.¡± You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ¡°I¡¯ll deal with the taste. I prefer having even coverage,¡± Mitch lied, because there wasn¡¯t a chance in hell that he was going to be honest with his tag team partner about Pavlovian responses. ¡°And no, I don¡¯t have any of my gear. And I¡¯m sorry that I¡¯m still talking.¡± Louis snorted. ¡°It¡¯s your face, not mine,¡± he remarked. ¡°I have extra ears on me that you can borrow.¡± Mitch¡¯s mouth opened again, but he was interrupted before he could say anything. ¡°Just nod if you want them.¡± He enthusiastically nodded. Louis rummaged through his bag, then pulled the spare pair out and handed them over. While the prosthetic ears were being applied, Mitch half paid attention to the usual locker room speech that Nathan, aka Yours Truly, gave to the others as they also put on their finishing touches. Being an alum, and one of the first students to graduate from Monument Wrestling Academy, he¡¯d more or less been forced into the role of locker room leader, but he¡¯d embraced it. He had a natural charisma that promoters adored him for, and a presence so massive that it commanded attention. It was impossible to not be in awe of him, at 6¡ä tall with a slick black pompadour that added at least another solid two inches. Much like Louis, it wouldn¡¯t be surprising if he¡¯d gotten signed somewhere bigger in the near future, despite Nathan¡¯s vehement denial that he had no interest going somewhere that he¡¯d have to sign his life away. (In private, he¡¯d disclosed that there was, at one point, some interest in him by bigger companies; but there had also been comments made about his ¡®shape¡¯, which had left him discouraged to pursue it any further. Jodie was ready to drive down to Stamford that day and rip a millionaire¡¯s head off with her bare hands.) But Mitch had heard this speech time and time again for the past two-ish years, and it was meant mostly for the newer students and roster members. The bones of it were mostly ¡°don¡¯t be shitty and let¡¯s have a great show¡±. At the very least, it felt good to be part of something where ¡°don¡¯t be an asshole¡± was the code lived by. He¡¯d been to other promotions where that wasn¡¯t the case, taking off as soon as he¡¯d gotten his envelope with $25 in it -not even enough to cover the cost of gas- because he wasn¡¯t sure if some of the other guys that¡¯d casually tossed slurs around were going to come after him if he stuck around any longer. ¡°And Mitch,¡± Nathan¡¯s voice cut through Mitch¡¯s thoughts. His head whipped up and he looked over to where Nathan was standing at the center of the room. ¡°Good luck tonight, man! You got this!¡± There was a big cheesy thumbs up and everything. ¡°Oh, uh. Thanks. Thanks, man,¡± Mitch returned a much more tepid thumb, fighting the urge to curl in on himself as everyone else repeated the sentiment. And, oh great, there was a round of applause and everything. He looked into the mirror instead of around him, painted up and ready. The bomber jacket wasn¡¯t necessary, nor was the collar, since he wasn¡¯t actively feuding with anyone so there he didn¡¯t have an ID tag with an opponent¡¯s name imprinted on it; the employees at the local pet store must be relieved that he hadn¡¯t been around for some time to buy one. He certainly wouldn¡¯t have any need for the mouthguard with the sharp teeth printed on it, on account of needing to talk. He could do this, he knew he could. All he had to do was portray the character he¡¯d been regularly playing for the past year. The accessories didn¡¯t make Zevon. Mitch made Zevon. He nodded, ready as ever, then sought out a trash bin to dry heave into. almost showtime Pushing away from the makeshift vanity, he took a deep breath, exhaled, and strode off with a confidence that he did not truly possess. With each step he took towards the commentary table, his limbs grew heavier and heavier; but Louis had taken the time to seal the facepaint, so even if he sweat profusely from either the heat or the building or anxiety getting the better of him, nothing would budge. Since it was a taping and not a huge event, the audience consisted mostly of students that had yet to make their debuts, and regulars that were a patchwork of friends and families, along with a few local wrestling fans that¡¯d been there since the first show. There was some relief that it wouldn¡¯t be streaming live, so if he botched too badly, it could be edited in post production. ¡°Going full Zevon, huh?¡± Rod, the play-by-play commentator, greeted. His black suit and tie were a stark contrast to Mitch¡¯s threadbare T. Rex shirt and worn jeans with holes in the knees. ¡°It¡¯s what Jodie wanted me to do,¡± Mitch explained, worried that maybe this wouldn¡¯t be a good idea after all. Who had the intense yearning to deal with an unhinged asshole for several hours? ¡°Should be fun.¡± Rod shifted through his papers, and he slid a legal pad and pen in front of Mitch¡¯s seat. ¡°Ingrid¡¯s usually snarky anyway. I reckon you¡¯ll just cuss a more than her?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll try not to,¡± promised Mitch, not wanting to compromise the integrity of Rod¡¯s work; he¡¯d been doing this for over a decade, although with the way that he broadcasted, he may as well come straight from the 1950s. At that moment, Mitch had never been more thankful for having someone so experienced show him the ropes. They went over the card, Rod offering pointers on the various competitors and things that he had observed during his time in Grindhouse Pro, such as flourishes, passive mannerisms, and even projections for what was about to happen. ¡°You could probably take this with you when you¡¯re back in the ring,¡± Rod stated matter-of-factly. ¡°Not gonna lie, I will,¡± Mitch rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. ¡°For now, though, if you¡¯re being Zevon, be Zevon. You don¡¯t really need to call the action, but you do need to be biased. Go on tangents. Get mean. You¡¯re here to be entertaining, and maybe a little informative on occasion.¡± Rod continued to offer pointers, and Mitch hastily scribbled them onto the legal pad. ¡°But if I start calling action, you let me do that; I¡¯ll throw out a hand gesture if I need you to stop talking. And that¡¯s how we¡¯ll work together. Got all that?¡± This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Easy enough, I think?¡± Mitch shrugged with his left arm. ¡°You¡¯ll get the hang of it,¡± Rod assured him. ¡°Initially, it¡¯ll be clunky. That¡¯s fine.¡± ¡°Cool.¡± Mitch re-read his notes several times, then cleared his throat and glanced over. ¡°Uh, this might be a weird question but¡­can I ask what it¡¯s like calling one of my matches?¡± Sharply inhaling through his nose, Rod looked Mitch up and down. His face bore no expression, and Mitch wondered how well he played poker. ¡°How about I tell you after we¡¯re done here?¡± ¡°Oh. Yeah, that¡¯s fine!¡± Mitch kept his eyes glued to the paper, berating himself for the stupid question. He hoped that the anxiety that was bursting out of his skin wasn¡¯t radioactive, because he was sure that he was positively cancerous right there and then. The lights flicked off and on, signifying that it was 5 minutes until the tapes rolled. People scurried into place, and it was surreal to witness the action all around, but not taking any part in it. Jodie¡¯s stress could be felt across the room, growing more potent as she crossed over to check on Mitch. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me! Go do your girlboss things,¡± Mitch tried to nonchalantly wave her off, but she frowned at him. ¡°Did I force you into this? Are you ready? Am I a bad friend?¡± she asked, her tone frantic. ¡°Jo, don¡¯t do this right now. We¡¯re only going to amplify one another¡¯s bullshit,¡± Mitch pleaded, taking her hand into his and squeezing it. ¡°I¡¯ll be alright. Please go away.¡± ¡°OK,¡± she agreed, taking a few steps, only to stop and look back with huge puppy dog eyes. ¡°Oh my god,¡± Mitch murmured, then shouted. ¡°I¡¯m gonna do great! Fuck off already!¡± ¡°There we go! That¡¯s the spirit!¡± exclaimed Jodie, and she cheerfully skipped away. Mitch blinked a few times. ¡°DId you¡­did you just fucking neg me?¡± He huffed a laugh. ¡°You bitch.¡± ¡°Love you!¡± Jodie blew him a kiss, which was caught and he shoved it into his mouth. ¡°By the way,¡± Rod nudged Mitch to get his attention as he mocked chewed. ¡°I¡¯m sure you know this, but the camera will show us first.¡± ¡°Right.¡± Mitch resisted the urge to scrub his face, and instead scratched his scalp and messed with his own hair. ¡°How do I look?¡± ¡°Rabid,¡± Rod flatly responded. ¡°Typical, then. Good.¡± Mitch beamed, and could see Rod trying, and failing, to hold back a smirk. The lights flickered on and off again for the 1 minute warning, and he drummed his fingers against the table. ¡°Almost showtime.¡± ¡°Just breathe,¡± advised Rod. ¡°You¡¯ve cut promos before, you got this.¡± confidence A camera operator settled in front of them and held their fingers out for countdown. Mitch attempted to swallow, but his mouth was dry; he hadn¡¯t even noticed that his leg was bouncing until Rod reached under the table and placed a hand on his knee. ¡°Sorry,¡± he whispered in shame. Rod tilted his head towards him, but kept focus on the camera in front of them, and Mitch took the cue to stare into the lens. An ¡°OK¡± hand signal was flashed by the camera operator, and Rod¡¯s face shifted from casual indifference to a split grin, full broadcaster caricature. The man was either the paradigm of professionalism, or a cartoon character come to life. ¡°Good evening, ghosts, ghouls, and goblins at home, and welcome to another episode of Grindhouse Pro Wrestling! We have a stacked card for you tonight as we march forward towards The Graveyard Smash. As always, I¡¯m your host, Rod Snarling, and tonight I¡¯m joined by-¡± Rod¡¯s glance drifted to Mitch, and he gestured towards him. ¡°Zevon, of Bad Moon Rising! Zevon, how are you tonight? Last we saw you, you took a rather nasty spill.¡± Mitch turned to him and cleared his throat once more, trying his damnedest to channel Zevon outside of the ring. The sudden awareness of how ridiculous he must look with the facepaint on weighed heavy on him, and the makeup started to itch. ¡°Rod!¡± he rasped in the wrong pitch, and held back from externally flinching. ¡°What¡¯s going on, buddy? How am I? Couldn¡¯t be better!¡± Stretching his left arm, he waved it around in an exaggerated manner and hoped that it would compensate for any expediencies in his demeanor. Not that it mattered. Despite Jodie¡¯s insistence, no one was tuning in to catch Zevon make an ass of himself. ¡°That¡¯s great to hear! Any idea how long you¡¯ll be out of action?¡± Rod¡¯s upper lip had a subtle curl to it, either an attempt at appearing interested, or an attempt at holding back laughter. If he knew Rod better, getting him to corpse would be a fun endeavor. ¡°Well, it should take a full moon or two to fully heal up, I think Lagoon Goon dipped their claws in some silver before our match, the cheap bastard! But I¡¯ll be back sooner rather than later!¡± He looked directly into the camera and pointed. ¡°And then I¡¯m coming for that title!¡± This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°Alright, we¡¯ll talk more about that later. However, right now, let¡¯s kick it over to our announcer, Desdemona!¡± The buttons for both mics were muted by Rod, and in a hushed tone, he said, ¡°More confidence, but stick to that. And be sure to drink water.¡± ¡°Can do.¡± A nearby waterbottle was cracked open and Mitch took a sip, his heart jackhammering in his ribcage. The sensation reminded him of the first time that he stepped out of the curtain to a crowd of no more than 30 people. Scanning the room, he sought Jodie out and eventually spotted her by the sound guy, wearing a headset as she monitored the audio levels. Seeming to sense that she was being watched, her head lifted and she looked over, and gave him an enthusiastic wave and a thumbs up. A few seconds later, a text from her came through that said ¡®you¡¯re doing great <3¡® The mics were unmuted, and Mitch was careful to take Rod¡¯s advise to heart. He snarled at the likes of the vampire stable Coven, provoking Yours Truly to saunter over and threaten to put him through the announcement table, and resulting in the two getting into a shouting match. As the matches progressed, he felt more at ease about calling the occasional move, until it verged on effortless; he tried not to come across as too excited, but Rod gestured in a way that encouraged the minor theatrics, so Mitch leaned into it. At the brief midshow intermission, he inquired if he should dial it back, and Rod rubbed his chin. ¡°If you were doing this every week as an commentator, I¡¯d say yes, absolutely. But you¡¯re supposed to be your character, and in that vein, you¡¯re doing fine for your first venture.¡± ¡°I did college radio for a while, so it¡¯s not exactly an uncharted territory for me. Just. Didn¡¯t have such an audience.¡± That time, he didn¡¯t hold back a grimace after the words were spoken. Why did he disclose that, he wondered. No one cared, especially not a person that had an education and a career in this. ¡°Ah. That explains it a lot,¡± Rod nodded to himself. Mitch couldn¡¯t read the guy for the life of him, but he assumed that if it was supposed to derogatory, it would have been framed in a much harsher way. So he took at not as a compliment, but as a cut-and-dry neutral assessment. He could live with that. If all else failed and it turned out that everyone thought that he sucked at this, he¡¯d just never do it again. And maybe change his character. And maybe never wrestle here ever again. Or anywhere, even. That was clearly the best option. tides turned The show resumed, and several more matches passed before the main event. It was between Lagoon Goon, who Mitch went feral on as soon as they emerged, and Sandy, who was determined to avenge him. Jodie had granted her the opportunity after an excessive amount of pleading, despite Mitch and Louis¡¯ protests. During her entrance, she pointed finger guns at him from the ring while she was hoisted up on Louis¡¯ shoulder; while it was touching, for the first time since the injury, it sank in how much he missed being up there with the two of them. ¡°Bit of a mismatch on paper,¡± Rod commented somewhere between his real voice and his broadcaster voice, and Mitch blinked a few times as his brain absorbed that the sentiment was genuine. Lagoon Good practically towered over Sandy¡¯s petite 5¡¯ frame, and was twice as wide as her. They locked up, and Sandy¡¯s arms trembled as she tried to hold her own, but she ended up mercilessly thrown down onto the mat. She attempted a few bodychecks, but Goon did not budge. ¡°Quit trying to show off, Sandy!¡± Mitch shouted into his microphone, aggravated that she¡¯d already thrown out the strategy he and Louis had helped her with and was falling for every attempt that Goon made to rile her up. Eventually, Louis started to pound the mat, and the audience clapped along to the rhythm that he had set; this seemed to be the wake-up call that she needed, and the focus was shifted towards the speed advantage that she¡¯d possessed. For a few minutes, she stayed clear of the canvas and continued to use the ropes and posts as she went on the offense, desperately scrambling to get as many crossbodies and senton variations in before Lagoon Goon wisened up to her strategy. Her final maneuver was a missile dropkick to the other corner of the ring, which earned a raucous applause. Mitch stood up, hand clutching his own hair as he turned to Rod in disbelief and yelled, ¡°When the fuck did she learn Coast-to-Coast?!¡± If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. However, it wasn¡¯t a surprise when the tides turned, and Sandy could not get the win; once Lagoon Goon got a hold of their opponent and started a devastating sequence of tiger suplexes, the match was as good as over. Sandy only ever had a handful of singles matches, and Lagoon Goon had more years experience under their belt. Yet, though she¡¯d given it her all, she¡¯d gotten pinned, the bell rang, and the referee had raised Lagoon Goon¡¯s arm in victory. Sandy lay on the mat, breathing heavily and arm draped over her eyes, and Mitch excused himself from the commentary table to rush over to join Louis in checking on her. ¡°Hey kiddo,¡± he knelt down and moved her arm, tutting softly when he saw the tears of frustration she was hiding. ¡°You did great.¡± ¡°I wanted to win for you,¡± she whimpered, not maintaining eye contact. ¡°Goon¡¯s really tough,¡± he smiled, and smoothed out her hair. ¡°You¡¯ll get ¡¯em next time, though.¡± ¡°Uh, hey,¡± Louis tapped Mitch between the shoulder blades to get his attention. ¡°They¡¯re chanting your name, dude.¡± Mitch¡¯s face scrunched in confusion, and his eyes went wide as he finally caught onto the loud ZE-VON ZE-VON ZE-VON that had erupted around the room. Always the heel, he¡¯d never gotten that sort of reaction before, but now wasn¡¯t the time to relish in it. ¡°Let¡¯s get her up,¡± he mouthed at Louis, who slipped his hands beneath her back and hooked them under her armpits. She was limp as he moved her, but she managed to stand on her own once she was set on her feet. With his good arm, Mitch lifted her¡¯s into the air, and the chants immediately turned to SAN-DY SAN-DY SAN-DY. Though she was still crying, the corners of her mouth crept upwards until she broke out into giggle. Wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm, she looked back and forth between Louis and Mitch, and hugged them both. Boisterous applause broke out, and alternating chants of Sandy¡¯s name and BAD MOON RI-SING, along with claps, followed. ¡°What the fuck? Are we finally over?¡± Mitch wondered out loud in their huddle. ¡°Think so,¡± Louis muttered, equally baffled. try ¡°What a show!¡± Jodie collapsed into her office chair, while Mitch fully sprawled out onto the old couch. Pay envelopes had been dispensed, the building had been cleaned up, and aside a few roster members that were still deciding where they wanted to go drinking, everyone else had cleared out. ¡°That it was.¡± Mitch distantly responded while he mulled over Rod¡¯s parting words. The gist of it was that his transitional moves still needed some work, and that he often came across as more frantic than intended. If he could somehow tap into that energy with purpose, it¡¯d give him more control over both himself and his opponents, making him a much more dominant competitor in the long run. ¡®Don¡¯t ever let them know that you actually know what you¡¯re doing,¡¯ was Rod¡¯s final comment before taking off. ¡°By the way,¡± said Jodie, ¡°Sandy did a fantastic job. I know that you were apprehensive about having her going one on one with Goon, but¡­¡± ¡°She¡¯s improved a lot,¡± Mitch acknowledged. ¡°I¡¯m really proud of her. In retrospect, Arin¡¯s probably the best person to go against if you¡¯re newer. But that size discrepancy, y¡¯know? It¡¯s a total mismatch on paper.¡± ¡°Baby bird¡¯s gotta fly some day,¡± Jodie replied with nonchalance. ¡°She wanted it real bad. I wouldn¡¯t have booked it if I thought she couldn¡¯t handle it, but she did. It¡¯s gonna make her a better wrestler.¡± ¡°Yeah, I know,¡± Mitch softly exhaled. ¡°Thanks for like, ignoring my anxiety on that one.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve had an extremely shitty two weeks, my dude. Figured that might have something to do with it.¡± ¡°God, don¡¯t remind me,¡± Mitch scoffed, and was about to comment on how grateful he was for it to be over, then remembered that he¡¯d put off informing Jodie about the upcoming trip. Last thing he needed was her involvement, since she already had too much going on and he didn¡¯t want her commentary going into it. ¡°By the way, did I tell you that I¡¯m getting my stuff tomorrow?¡± ¡°Wait, no? What? How?!¡± Jodie sat up straight and leaned on her elbows. ¡°Is he bringing it up here? Am I going to get to cut him?¡± Out of nowhere, she produced a box cutter and slid the blade out in a fluid motion. ¡°No, I¡­where the hell did that come from?!¡± Mitch lurched forward in surprise. ¡°Oh, I found it earlier and was already playing with it under the desk.¡± She set the box cutter down on the desk. ¡°Anyway, you were saying?¡± ¡°ANYWAY,¡± Mitch rolled his eyes and laid back again, staring at the ceiling. ¡°Avi offered me a ride, actually? He walked in on me freaking out about a text that Calv sent, and like.¡± Eyes darted back over to Jodie and he tried to gauge her reaction. ¡°Offered?¡± ¡°Was he just trying to get you to shut up?¡± She folded her hands under her chin and grinned. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. ¡°Oh god.¡± He smacked the side of his head. ¡°Probably, huh? Should I tell him not to?¡± ¡°Dude, I¡¯m kidding!¡± Her face dropped. ¡°I think he actually might be a super nice guy. Dad¡¯s known him for well over a decade, and so far has only ever said good things. Sometimes people are just cool, and I get that¡¯s a very scary concept to you-¡° ¡°A little, yes! The past few years haven¡¯t been ideal on that front!¡± Mitch glared at her, already drained by this exchange. ¡°But Avi seems OK! He wouldn¡¯t be living with us if he wasn¡¯t!¡± Jodie rubbed her temples. ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± ¡°I hate this game,¡± grumbled Mitch. ¡°Sure, fine. What?¡± ¡°This might just be you being, well, you.¡± There was a sharp inhale, then a pause. ¡°But why did you lie about the cupcake?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Mitch scratched his facial hair, then let out an audible, ¡°Aw, fuck.¡± ¡°It¡¯s weird, even for you.¡± She shrugged. ¡°I didn¡¯t blow your cover or anything when he thanked me.¡± ¡°You were the one that wanted to do it for him! So, I dunno, I figured you deserved the credit.¡± ¡°You went and got it, and paid for it. You can accept gratitude for once, Mitch,¡± she countered. ¡°I just said that he was giving me a ride! I was talking about how wonderful he is or whatever. Why am I being interrogated?¡± He slapped a hand over his face and dragged it down, smearing the paint he¡¯d yet to clean off. This conversation was inevitable, he¡¯d already seen it coming from over a mile away. ¡°Because you¡¯re still so abrasive. I know shit¡¯s presently a waking nightmare for you, and I don¡¯t need you to get buddy-buddy with him or suck his dick. I need you to try, Mitch!¡± ¡°I am!¡± Mitch shouted, then shrank back and rolled onto his side to face away from her. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± His voice softened. ¡°I am trying, I promise.¡± The office chair creaked, and wheels rumbled across the concrete floor. ¡°Move your feet,¡± her voice came from above him, and he complied. She took a seat on the couch, grabbed his legs, and resettled them on top of her knees. ¡°I know, I¡¯m sorry, too. Shit¡¯s fucked, and I¡¯m gonna help you best that I can.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Mitch mumbled into his shirt sleeve. ¡°But I need you to help me as well.¡± There was a light sting at his ankle as she played with some of the leg hair there, but he didn¡¯t mind. ¡°And that means not making the very renowned guy that I just hired think he¡¯s gotta tiptoe around your grumpy ass. Especially not while I¡¯m opening another business in a few months. I can¡¯t have that, dude. I¡¯m just about at the end of my rope here.¡± ¡°Did he say that?¡± He barely lifted his head from off of the cushion it rested on, but was still able to meet her gaze. ¡°Not in so many words, but that¡¯s the vibe that I¡¯m starting to get?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to make him feel like that.¡± Mitch frowned. ¡°I told him that you¡¯re super awkward at first, which you are. He seemed to get it. But the cupcake is such a thing fits into your weird sad boy cycle, and maybe let¡¯s stop that before it gets bad?¡± She pat his calf a few times. ¡°So do me a solid, and be a doll on your car ride. Get him to talk about himself. Make him feel at home. Can you do that for me?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± resigned Mitch. ¡°Yes, I can do that for you.¡± ¡°Like, if you gotta LARP it out, pretend that he¡¯s a well paying client and you¡¯re a high end escort-¡° ¡°I¡¯M NOT SUCKING HIS DICK FOR YOU!¡± Mitch lifted his leg and started to kick her. ¡°What is wrong with you?!¡± ¡°No, but hear me out!¡± Jodie cackled, barely shielding herself from the blows. ¡°Escorts don¡¯t necessarily have sex with the client! It could be like Pretty Woman! You might even fall in love!¡± ¡°I¡¯m gonna make him quit, and then I¡¯m gonna burn this entire building down to the ground. With you inside of it.¡± ¡°Aw, but you¡¯d look so good in that little spandex outfit that Julia wears! With the thigh highs and everything!¡± ¡°No duh,¡± Mitch grumbled. ¡°Anyway, wanna watch Pretty Woman tonight?¡± Jodie asked, and Mitch sighed. ¡°A little, yes,¡± he begrudgingly admitted. unknown path The fact that Mitch had gotten any sleep at all was nothing short of a miracle. He was almost positive that it was his body¡¯s response to the stress that had threatened to actually kill him if he didn¡¯t settle down. His heart was already faulty enough, after all; two open-heart surgeries and an ugly ass scar down his sternum were proof of that. But he was awake well before the alarm went off, and was careful to avoid waking Jodie as he went about getting ready for the day. Unfortunately, the bathroom was occupied before he could get to it, so he waited on the top step of the stairwell and messed around with his phone. Thus far, Calvin hadn¡¯t tried to change the time they¡¯d agreed upon, which was a genuine surprise. Not that he needed to be present; if anything, it¡¯d be preferable if they didn¡¯t see one another at all. He still wasn¡¯t sure how to avoid having Avi getting involved with any of this, short of attempting to convince him that his ex was Actual Satan. While he strategized, Estrella, the ragdoll cat that Jodie had inherited from her grandmother, rubbed up against Mitch¡¯s side and squeaked. ¡°Hey there,¡± Mitch held his knuckles out and allowed her to brush against them. ¡°You hungry?¡± Estrella squeaked in response, so Mitch slowly stood and the cat perked up, alternating between purrs and frantic chirps. But before he¡¯d even taken a step downstairs, the door to the bathroom swung open; the shower must have stopped running while he was paying attention to Estrella. In the doorway stood Avi with steam pouring out from behind him and a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp, and beads of water trailed down his bare chest. ¡°Oh, hey!¡± he greeted cheerfully, and Mitch opted to look down and stare at Estrella instead. ¡°I just gotta get dressed, and then we can go. Wait, did you eat already?¡± ¡°It¡¯s cool, take your time, gotta feed the cat,¡± Mitch spoke simultaneously. Then, once the words registered, he answered the question with, ¡°No, but I¡¯m not hungry.¡± ¡°Well, I just got back from a run and I¡¯m starving.¡± Avi walked towards his bedroom, then paused to ask. ¡°Do you mind if we grab something on the way?¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Mitch agreed, desperate to move on from this situation, scuttled into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. As much as he wanted to get in and out of Connecticut as soon as possible, finally be able to move on with his life, he wasn¡¯t about to make such demands with the person that was doing him a selfless favor. He took a leak, then brushed his teeth and applied deodorant and, after some debate, splashed on some cologne. Not that he was trying to make himself appealing, especially not for Calvin (if anything, it¡¯d be smarter to be as unpalatable as possible); but Avi was about to be stuck in the car with him for six hours, so it seemed like the courteous thing to do. At the very least, he¡¯d taken a shower right before going to bed, and the new clothing he¡¯d picked up while out shopping with Jodie was freshly laundered, so he knew that he wasn¡¯t rancid. He was presentable, even. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! When he was at last satisfied with his preening, Mitch followed the impatient cat downstairs, to where her food dishes were located. On the way to the kitchen, he¡¯d had a rare encounter with Mia, Victor¡¯s girlfriend¡¯s daughter and the 4th member of this half of the duplex. The two exchanged brief pleasantries: he inquired about how college was going, and she asked about his arm. Once she¡¯d taken her leave to head over to one of her jobs, Mitch savored the fact that he¡¯d been able to complete a normal human interaction with minimal awkwardness. With any luck, he could survive the long car ride ahead. A fresh can of wet food was opened and a fork was retrieved from the drawer, and half of its contents were scooped into one dish. As Estrella scarfed that down, Mitch poured some kibble into the other dish, then gently scratched the base of her tail, causing her rear end to lift up like a wave¡¯s crest. Wanting to do his damnedest to be thoughtful, he¡¯d started to dig through the cabinets for a bag of coffee to make a pot while he waited. Alas, footsteps that could be heard from the dining room distracted him from his mission, and Avi surfacing with a tight tank top and chino shorts didn¡¯t exactly help him focus any better. ¡°Has the cat always been here?¡± Avi asked, his eyes glued to the ragdoll and was clearly amused by her presence. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen it before!¡± ¡°Yeah, Estrella¡¯s just shy. That¡¯s all.¡± It was the truth. The poor cat had always been skittish, and everyone had assumed that it was due to the same genetic defect that made her cross-eyed and unable to meow. However, Estrella seemed to have taken her previous owner¡¯s passing just as hard as Victor and Jodie were, eventually escalating to a point where Jodie needed to take her to the vet and get a prescription for an appetite stimulant when she¡¯d stopped eating. When Mitch visited for those few weeks, partially to keep an eye on Jodie but also because it was yet another never-ending rough patch with Calvin, he¡¯d become the unfortunate participant in the spectacle of trying to pill a cat. In retrospect, if he¡¯d just faced down the inevitable and called it off then, he could have moved up here sooner and even had his own room instead of making do with sharing Jodie¡¯s bed. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Toby and Calvin still would have slept together, but at least Mitch wouldn¡¯t have been cheated on, so that wouldn¡¯t be dangling over his head every waking moment. And. He could have gotten clean sooner. Should have, could have, would have. Who the fuck actually knew for certain. Instead, he did what he always did, and returned to the familiar the moment that the opportunity presented itself. It had always been safer to take the path that was well-tread, because he could handle getting hurt when he could anticipate and brace for it. The unknown path had almost cost him everyone and everything that he¡¯d ever loved. The unknown path had nearly gotten him killed. Now, the only risks that he took were in the ring, and even that confidence had been shaken. ¡°She?¡± asked Avi, dragging Mitch right out of his spiraling thoughts and back into the present. ¡°She,¡± Mitch confirmed, curious how Avi could tell, then concluded that the name was feminine sounding. ¡°Well, she¡¯s very cute,¡± Avi spoke as though he was addressing a small girl showing off a new dress; unlike a small girl, Estrella simply continued to chow down. Her tail flicked, and Mitch wondered if that was anything. ¡°I¡¯m sure she appreciates the compliment,¡± Mitch softly chuckled. ¡°I sure hope so,¡± Avi commented with a gentle tone and bright smile. ¡°Anyway, ready to hit the road?¡± ¡°I think¡­¡± Mitch paused, abandoning the coffee endeavor altogether in favor of gathering himself. ¡°As ready as I¡¯ll ever be.¡± rearviewmirror ¡°Alrighty then. Shall we?¡± Avi gestured towards the front door with keys in hand, and Mitch took the cue, making his way outside and towards Avi¡¯s Honda Fit. There were two beeps, and Avi called out from the front porch, ¡°It should be open now!¡± The door handle was tugged, and Mitch opened the door and unceremoniously dropped down into the passenger seat. It was much cleaner than his, or even Jodie¡¯s car, without a single napkin or fast food bag strewn about the floor. The back driver¡¯s side door was opened, and Avi poked his head in. ¡°I¡¯m just gonna lower the backseat so that there¡¯s more trunk space. Is this gonna be big enough to transport everything? I didn¡¯t even think to ask.¡± ¡°It¡¯ll be fine,¡± Mitch confirmed. ¡°I don¡¯t have a lot of stuff to begin with.¡± ¡°Cool, me neither.¡± The backrests were laid flush with the seats, and Avi hopped into the driver¡¯s seat. ¡°Being a nomad sort of does that to you. Makes you re-evaluate possessions.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Mitch barked out a quick laugh. ¡°It¡¯s less that, and more-¡± he caught himself he could finish the sentence. ¡°More what?¡± Avi buckled up and smiled, seeming genuine in his inquisitiveness. Mitch swallowed hard. ¡°My ex. He¡¯s¡­very particular about how he likes things. And a lot of my things, he didn¡¯t like.¡± Avi¡¯s face scrunched. ¡°Well that sucks!¡± Mitch, completely taken aback by the reaction, cracked up. ¡°It kind of did, yeah!¡± ¡°So let¡¯s go get your shit so you don¡¯t have to throw it away ever again!¡± Looking into the mirror, Avi put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway. ¡°Sounds good,¡± Mitch grinned despite himself. It was the first time that he didn¡¯t get a pitiful tsk or a sympathetic spiel about being ¡°valid¡± or whatever. It was the first time that he wasn¡¯t getting the kid-glove treatment when it came to Calvin¡¯s bullshit. God, was it ever refreshing. ¡°Anyway, food. I¡¯m fine with just Starbucks, if there¡¯s one around. Unless you want¡­what is it you¡¯re all crazy for out here? Dunkin Donuts, right?¡± He made a face. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡°That¡¯s so many syllables, just call it Dunks.¡± ¡°Thanks for the tip, I¡¯m trying to blend in,¡± winked Avi. ¡°Can you tell I haven¡¯t been in this area for a while?¡± ¡°I believe in you,¡± Mitch snorted. ¡°But yeah, there¡¯s a Starbucks like 5 minutes away at Whitney Field, off of Route 2. And uh,¡± he looked down at his hands. ¡°This one¡¯s on me.¡± ¡°That¡¯s awfully generous. I promise I won¡¯t get too many shots of espresso.¡± ¡°Hey, whatever you gotta do to get through Connecticut.¡± ¡°Oh, fair. I don¡¯t miss riding the bus from Boston to Hartford to New York during a tour.¡± They turned off of Mechanic Street and onto Commercial Road, passing a Home Depot and a decrepit mall that was somehow still open. ¡°And that was before smartphones were so readily available.¡± ¡°Oof, must¡¯ve been rough.¡± His response was mostly a joke, but he couldn¡¯t tell if Avi got that. ¡°Truly, the Dark Ages¡±, Avi nodded sagely with a firm jaw for dramatic effect, but his face reverted back to its genial demeanor within seconds. ¡°Oh, but speaking of smartphones, we need a playlist! We can load stuff up before we get on the highway.¡± ¡°Sure, I guess?¡± ¡°What do you want to listen to? Like not to brag, but I have Spotify Premium. Ads? No way. Not for this guy.¡± He pointed a thumb at himself and gave an exaggerated nod. ¡°Nah man,¡± Mitch giggled at the absurdity of the statement. ¡°You¡¯re driving, you pick the tunes. It¡¯s only fair.¡± ¡°I listen to my own music all of the time,¡± Avi gave a dismissive wave. ¡°Besides, we¡¯re heading into what I gotta assume is the least fun way to spend a Saturday. So you should get to do something that¡¯ll make it at least a little better.¡± He turned into the parking lot and pulled into an open space. ¡°OK, but I can¡¯t really think of anything other than like ¡®mopey man music¡¯ at the moment? That¡¯s kind of been my headspace, and it doesn¡¯t make for, y¡¯know, fun car rides,¡± Mitch kept his voice low as they entered Starbucks, not wanting to alert anyone to his pathetic plight. ¡°What kind of mopey? Indie? Emo?¡± His massive arms folded across his chest as he studied the menu that was above them, his head titled as though he was processing every bit of information the world had to offer. ¡°Grunge? Iunno, like Pearl Jam?¡± ¡°Pearl Jam¡¯s fine,¡± assured Avi. ¡°I¡¯m from Washington, y¡¯know. I can dig Eddie¡¯s dulcet tones from time to time.¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­huh? Don¡¯t know why, but I thought of you as a California guy?¡± Scratching at his facial hair, Mitch wasn¡¯t sure how he¡¯d built up that image in his head, or why he¡¯d even shared it. ¡°You¡¯re not far from the mark. I¡¯m originally from Santa Barbara, but my family moved to Everett when I was a kid.¡± As Avi explained, the cashier beckoned them forward and he placed his order. He then turned to Mitch and asked, ¡°You hungry yet?¡± ¡°No,¡± Mitch shook his head, pulled out his debit card, and waited for the prompt to appear on the pinpad. ¡°But I¡¯ll have a grande iced coffee, black.¡± ¡°And this apple,¡± Avi grabbed one from the basket that was next to the register. It was passed to Mitch after they stepped away. ¡°Wait, why am I in charge of this?¡± he asked, his eyebrows scrunched as he turned it in his hand and examined it. ¡°In case you get hungry later,¡± Avi beamed with an earnestness that Mitch could only envy. be real ¡°Did you make me pay for something that I won¡¯t-¡± Mitch sighed and opted to change the subject instead of dwelling on an annoyance. ¡°OK. Anyway, like I was saying, all I can think about recently is ¡®Rearviewmirror¡¯, and I don¡¯t wanna be requesting moody shit like that while I internally freak out about my ex. Does that make any sense?¡± ¡°Would you prefer to freak out externally? I won¡¯t judge.¡± Avi¡¯s hands lifted, as if to demonstrate that he was unarmed. ¡°Fuck no!¡± Mitch sputtered loudly, then shrunk again. ¡°No, it¡¯s fine, honest.¡± He ran a hand down his face. ¡°Just play whatever? Uh, 80s pop? You ever see ¡®Pretty Woman¡¯? ¡®Cause I watched it with Jodie last night, and I never noticed how hard the soundtrack goes.¡± ¡°I haven¡¯t, but I¡¯m totally down with 80s music.¡± Their order was collected by Avi, and he held the door open for Mitch as well. When they got back into the car, Avi requested Calvin¡¯s address, and Mitch recited for hopefully the last time in his life. The auxiliary cable was inserted into its port while Avi typed for a few seconds, and Natalie Cole¡¯s vocals accompanied by trumpets played through the speakers. After taking a bite of his breakfast burrito, he asked, ¡°Hey, so can I be real for a moment?¡± ¡°If you want?¡± The engine was started as Mitch replied, and they were mobile before he could even process what he¡¯d agreed to. A fleeting moment of panic struck him like a bolt of lightening when the idea of Avi getting a little too real had manifested, and he wouldn¡¯t be able to escape the moving vehicle now that it was merging onto the highway. ¡°I totally thought that you and Jodie were together when we first met,¡± was how Avi followed up with his question after what must have been the world¡¯s longest pause, and his tone was apologetic. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°You¡¯re not the first person to say that.¡± Mitch¡¯s nose wrinkled. ¡°It¡¯s fine. We¡¯re super close, but we¡¯re both pretty goddamn gay.¡± ¡°Yeah, I picked up on that. The former thing, that is. Oh wow, I¡¯m gonna shut up now.¡± Avi took a sip of his drink while Mitch uproariously cackled. ¡°Like I said, it¡¯s fine!¡± He wiped a few stray tears away and clutched his ribcage as it started to burn from the contracting muscles. ¡°Fuck, you¡¯re not gonna hate crime me, are you?¡± ¡°No! Oh my god!¡± A little bit of Avi¡¯s drink sprayed on the steering wheel due to quickly releasing the straw. ¡°Why would you even say that?¡± He asked while trying to wipe away the stray iced latte drops with his hand. For a moment, Mitch felt a pang of guilt, until Avi followed up with, ¡°I¡¯m a brown person, dude! I¡¯m not hatecriming anyone! The police would take your word over mine like, so SO fast!¡± ¡°Holy shit!¡± Mitch struggled to catch his breath, and Avi joined in with the laughter. ¡°I can¡¯t do this right now, I¡¯m driving!¡± Avi shouted between gulping for air. ¡°I was so worried for a moment!¡± Sliding further down in his seat, Mitch nursed his side. ¡°Not about the hate crime thing, but¡­¡± The sentence was left hanging, since it would be impossible to finish without getting into some kindred spirit type of garbage that Mitch wasn¡¯t interested in. The other option would be to refer to Avi as sardonic or something in that vein, which could be misinterpreted as an insult when it wasn¡¯t meant to be. Best to keep his mouth shut, he decided. ¡°How do you think I¡¯ve survived being friends with Victor for all of these years?¡± Rubbing one of his eyes, Avi let out a deep exhale then readjusted his glasses. ¡°That¡¯s totally fair. I just¡­¡± Mitch decompressed as he mulled the next words over, but came up blank. ¡°Dunno what I thought, honest.¡± ¡°It¡¯s cool,¡± Avi glanced over at him from the corner of his eye. ¡°Whatever you thought.¡± For some reason, that didn¡¯t make Mitch feel any better. A minute or two passed in silence, neither companionable nor awkward, just the tail end of ¡®Fame¡¯ by David Bowie fading out and the slight rumbling and rattling that were standard characteristics of an older vehicle. so fun ¡°Hey, I¡¯m,¡± Mitch coughed to break up the droning white noise that had permeated the vacant space in the car. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure I thanked you earlier, but I sincerely appreciate this. You didn¡¯t have to, especially after I was being a twat.¡± He winced as he recalled the conversation from the birthday party. ¡°ESPECIALLY the whole ¡®you don¡¯t know me¡® garbage. That¡­was shitty.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mention it,¡± Avi gently replied, then followed up with. ¡°I sort of panic offered-¡° ¡°UGH, I knew it!¡± Mitch¡¯s head slammed back against the seat. ¡°BUT,¡± Avi held up a finger, ¡°I was sincere about the notion of getting used to one another. And I got free Starbucks. So ultimately, I don¡¯t regret offering.¡± ¡°If you say so.¡± The sullen mood that Mitch had been plunged into was barely contained. ¡°I do!¡± exclaimed Avi; his flustered state was a direct contrast to Mitch¡¯s petulance. Taking a breath and dropping his shoulders, Avi¡¯s features rearranged back into their typical amiable demeanor. ¡°That being said,¡± he started slowly, redirecting the climate with such subtlety that it almost went undetected. ¡°Aside from the fact that you have a busted shoulder, your ex dumped you, and you¡¯re emulating Eddie Vedder¡¯s wails, let¡¯s hear about you. You know I¡¯m from Washington, but what about you? Are you from around here, or-?¡± ¡°No, not exactly. I¡¯m originally from France,¡± Mitch started to explain. ¡°Wait, what?¡± Avi¡¯s head shook as he did a doubletake. ¡°Valence, specifically. I moved over here when I was about¡­11.¡± That sounded right, although he may have been 10 or 12. There was a block of memory from his childhood that was more or less a blur, but he wasn¡¯t about to expand upon that. ¡°From France?¡± ¡°Yes, from France.¡± Mitch nodded. ¡°And then I lived in Burlington for a while with my Uncle and his wife.¡± ¡°Where¡¯s that? Is that Vermont?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°And where¡¯s Valence, specifically?¡± ¡°The southeastern corner, close to Italy and Switzerland.¡± Avi gave a low whistle. ¡°That¡¯s wild, man.¡± ¡°Is it? I¡¯ve never really given it much thought?¡± He fully expected further questioning, and braced himself to explain why he¡¯d ended up in the US, but Avi bypassed it and asked, ¡°So do you like New England? Like you obviously stuck around.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Mitch blinked and changed gears, and the tension that¡¯d accumulated due to talking about himself began to drain. ¡°I¡¯m sort of ambivalent. I¡¯ve stayed because life happened the way that it did, and Jodie¡¯s here. Parts of it are nice. The foliage¡¯s pretty in the fall.¡± Mitch¡¯s head lolled to the side and he stared at Avi. ¡°What about you? Pacific Northwest to here? That¡¯s gotta be underwhelming.¡± Avi¡¯s lips pursed, but he kept a neutral expression. ¡°Honestly? I¡¯m barely ever home. Don¡¯t get me wrong, it¡¯s beautiful out there, and as an outdoors guy, it can¡¯t be beat, but staying in one place too long¡­¡± He paused, his brow furrowing then relaxed. ¡°I get cagey? There¡¯s so much world to see, y¡¯know? Like I¡¯ve never been to Valence!¡± If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°Beautiful city. Not much in ways of wrestling, though. Last I checked, anyway,¡± Mitch commented, pleased with himself when Avi broke into a smile. ¡°I¡¯ve never been to Everett, for what it¡¯s worth. Or Washington state, for that matter. Always wanted to go.¡± ¡°Everett and Seattle and that whole area used to be much cooler. Now it¡¯s just expensive. It¡¯s a significant part of the reason that I¡¯m never too desperate to head back, because I¡¯m not too hot on the idea of paying those rent prices. Even if the views are spectacular.¡± He let out a sigh. ¡°Miss having mountains in the backyard, though.¡± ¡°There¡¯s an overrated hill some 20 minutes from the house, if you ever need a nature hit.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that, Wachusett?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the one. We¡¯re actually about to pass it.¡± He glanced out the window and at I-190¡¯s signage for the Wachusett Mountain. To the north, the lone mountain came into view, towering over the surrounding forest. ¡°There¡¯s where I¡¯ve been doing my runs in the morning. It¡¯s¡­¡± Avi¡¯s mouth formed a line. ¡°It¡¯s, y¡¯know, nice!¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to defend it to me. I grew up at the foot of the Alps. But it is better than nothing.¡± Mitch refrained from cracking up as Avi¡¯s face collapsed into what appeared to be relief, like he was concerned with offending the county¡¯s most prominent geographic feature. ¡°Wait until it gets closer to winter. There¡¯s a ski resort up there, and they have a radio jingle that simply will not leave your head.¡± ¡°Oh yeah, I¡¯ve seen the chairlifts!¡± Avi lit up. ¡°Hey, out of curiosity, do you ski at all?¡± ¡°Not so much these recent years, but I used to.¡± ¡°I snowboard. Try to get a good run in at least once a year, but it gets harder and harder to carve out the time. Might make an effort since I won¡¯t be anywhere tropical, and there¡¯s a place close enough.¡± ¡°Be warned, snow out here isn¡¯t like the west coast. It¡¯s wet and dense. Icy, even.¡± ¡°You ever go skiing out west?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been to Aspen a few times with my ex.¡± Referring to Calvin in such a way was still alien, and the phrase ¡®my ex¡¯ did not make an easy departure from his mouth, clinging to his tongue and teeth like caramel before being forcefully ejected. ¡°Lucky you! I keep meaning to go, but never do.¡± ¡°Although he was always a little more interested in how he looked in the gear and drinking in a hot tub than actually getting out onto the slopes.¡± Mitch rolled his eyes, recalling the constant complaints about Colorado¡¯s thin air and the freezing temperature in the mountains. ¡°He sounds so fun,¡± Avi flatly stated. ¡°That¡¯s the word for him alright,¡± Mitch snorted and rested his head against the window, closing his eyes for a short while as he shoved the bitterness down as far as he could. Avi didn¡¯t speak up, and Mitch was thankful that the conversation didn¡¯t drag on any further; however, he did start humming along as Roxette¡¯s ¡®It Must Have Been Love¡¯ started playing, the noises getting more high pitched as it reached the vocal portion. It was a Herculaneum task to not burst into a fit of giggles, but Avi must have noticed that he was vibrating in the passenger side seat. ¡°What?! I like this song!¡± declared Avi with some indignation. ¡°I¡¯m not judging!¡± Mitch insisted. ¡°Roxette fucks pretty hard.¡± ¡°Do you want me to change it?¡± Fingers were already on the phone and hoovering over the forward arrow. ¡°What? Why?¡± Mitch raised an eyebrow in confusion. ¡°Didn¡¯t know if it hits too close to home,¡± Avi¡¯s fingers drummed the steering wheel, the sincerity that dripped off of him nearly killing Mitch where he sat. Never had he met someone so unwilling to be offensive, even by accident. ¡°Oh? Why¡¯s that, because¡­¡± he waited a few seconds until it reached the chorus, then belted out along with it, ¡°IT MUST HAVE BEEN LOVE, BUT IT¡¯S OOOVER NOW?¡° ¡°I¡¯M DRIVING!¡± Avi reminded, as his body clenched and he started shaking with glee, but Mitch didn¡¯t stop. ¡°IT MUST¡¯VE BEEN GOOD-¡° ¡°BUT I LOST IT SOMEHOW!¡± Avi joined in, and together, they finished the chorus, then mumbled through the second verse. The sing-along continued well into Worcester¡¯s city limits, a half hour come and gone since they¡¯d left Monument, but it was as though no time had passed at all. the spiral They had made good time, right until reaching the ever present slowdown that was the Mass Pike merger. ¡°How is there traffic on a Saturday?¡± complained Mitch. ¡°This was always my least favorite part of staying over Jodie¡¯s after a Grindhouse taping. It¡¯s always like this, no matter the time of day.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t know why, this is superb,¡± Avi quipped. Yet, they were still in motion, albeit slow going. For some reason, it was around this part of the trip that Mitch had assumed would be the most insufferable, with someone that he¡¯d barely known in stop-and-go traffic. But it went by without any hiccups as Avi inquired about how to pronounce ¡°Worcester¡±, which Mitch, with sadistic glee, forced him to attempt to say the city¡¯s name. Before he¡¯d even realized it, Connecticut¡¯s border was crossed over. By then they were in a deep conversation about such riveting topics of the British spelling of things, and the sentiment of ¡®fuck Britain, actually¡¯, and then soccer. Avi asked if he should refer to it as ¡®football¡¯, and Mitch stuck his tongue out at the very notion. ¡°Who actually gives a shit?¡± Mitch responded dismissively. ¡°The fuckin¡¯ Brits?¡± ¡°Presumably?¡± The befuddlement that Avi was experiencing was on full display, and Mitch wondered if he should ease up just a little. At least, it was a consideration that¡¯d been exercised until they¡¯d made a third coffee stop when they¡¯d gotten past New Haven. All bets were off after that. ¡°Well you said that you¡¯re paying!¡± Avi defended himself when the teasing resumed. ¡°I¡¯m cashing in on that. Connecticut¡¯s hard to drive through, man.¡± ¡°Oh? Am I not enough to keep you awake? Do I not entertain you?¡± Hand to his own chest, Mitch gasped and feigned insult. ¡°You¡¯re something, alright.¡± Plucking the debit card out from Mitch¡¯s fingers, he handed it over to the cashier. ¡°Aren¡¯t vegans all about clean eating? How does caffeine figure into that?¡± The inquiry was genuine, even though he¡¯d yet to wipe the shit-eating grin off of his face. ¡°I mean, that¡¯s part of it, if you¡¯re doing it for dietary reasons.¡± The card was handed back to Mitch. ¡°My dad¡¯s Hindu, and my mom¡¯s a hippie, so I grew up in a vegetarian household. When I got older, just seemed like the next logical step.¡± ¡°Huh,¡± nodded Mitch thoughtfully. ¡°So caffeine is alright?¡± ¡°Caffeine is considered ¡®tamasic¡¯, er, bad to my dad. But not to me,¡± Avi teased back. ¡°So y¡¯know, I can certainly partake in a variety of substances.¡± ¡°Oh do you?!¡± Mitch barely kept from shouting in the parking lot. ¡°You know that Mass is recreational now, right?¡± ¡°A small part of the reason that I took the job,¡± snickered Avi once they were back at the car; whether or not he was being serious was difficult to assess. ¡°Jodie¡¯s gonna love that. What sucks is that the closest dispensary is in Worcester.¡± You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. ¡°Oh, you mean Wor-chest-er?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t you mention wanting to blend in?¡± ¡°Changed my mind. I want everyone here to know that I¡¯m better than them. Starbucks rules, Dunks drools. Go¡­¡± he paused. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s the team everyone here hates?¡± ¡°The Yankees,¡± deadpanned Mitch. ¡°Go Yankees!¡± Avi lifted an arm in the air as he made this brave declaration. ¡°Real heel shit right there.¡± Mitch shook his head as Avi disappeared into the driver¡¯s side seat. Reaching down, he touched the handle to the car¡¯s door, but hesitated when he realized that he couldn¡¯t get a grasp on it, then fell transfixed by the way that his fingers trembled. The awareness that he was within an hour of seeing Calvin fell upon him like a sack of bricks, and this awakening cognizance was accompanied by nausea and panic. Of all places to be on the verge of a breakdown, a small rest stop with an acquaintance that he was getting along well with was fitting. ¡°Wait, I-¡± he began to speak up, but his tongue was too heavy in his mouth and he choked on the words. ¡°You-¡± Avi, having just sat down but hadn¡¯t shut the door yet, stood back up and folded his arms across the hood of the car. His tone shifted to surprise, and he blurted out, ¡°Oh fuck, are you OK?¡± ¡°I-¡± Mitch pat his pocket then reached into it. ¡°I¡¯m real sorry, I gotta be gross. I need a butt.¡± A cigarette was produced and brought to his lips, but then it dawned that he¡¯d forgotten a lighter. Running a hand through hair, he tugged hard at the strands. ¡°Goddammit,¡± he grumbled, angry and ashamed that the spiral hit so swiftly and effectively, that he probably looked like a fucking junkie that was having an episode; his inner voice made fast work of reminding him that he was -in fact- exactly that, and in the moment there was no strength to combat the horrible words that his own mind assailed him with. ¡°Hey, what do you need?¡± Avi had come over, close enough so that no one else could overhear. He lightly touched Mitch¡¯s back, and Mitch flinched away from him. ¡°A lighter. Just,¡± Mitch attempted to retrieve his wallet, but Avi had already sprinted back to the store. It felt like he was gone for an hour, but Mitch checked his phone, and it¡¯d only been a little over a minute. ¡°Here.¡± A newly purchased neon green Bic lighter was produced, and after some fumbling and several clk clk clks later, Avi managed to get the flame lit and held it under the cigarette that dangled between Mitch¡¯s lips. A deep inhale was taken, and Mitch was sure to blow away from Avi. Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes, and silence hung heavy. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Mitch mumbled around the filter. ¡°Thought I could keep it together? Didn¡¯t think it¡¯d be like this.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Avi was quiet, in that way that was sympathetic, but when things were awkward and there wasn¡¯t much else to say. And for some intangible reason, that stung. ¡°I¡¯d quit smoking a while back, but. Like right now it¡¯s doing this or¡­¡± Mitch took a drag, shutting himself up, trying to avoid saying something unscrupulous. Not wanting to show his hand so soon. Not wanting to cause someone to regret doing a kind act, just because he¡¯d lost all semblance of control once upon a time and was still dealing with the fallout and the shockwaves on occasion. ¡°Other vices,¡± he settled on, and Avi nodded. A few more drags were taken, and Mitch dropped the cigarette to the pavement and stepped on it to snub it out. Were he in a better state of mind, he¡¯d discard it in the trash rather than choose to litter, but his vision was blurry and tinnitus rang loudly in his skull, making it throb. The rumbling of the cars on the nearby the highway and the fumes from oil and gasoline that¡¯d saturated into the lot further heightened the disorientation, and Mitch surrendered to the reality that there¡¯d be no responsible decision making now. ¡°You good?¡± Avi asked. ¡°Should be,¡± Mitch said, his voice feeling disembodied. ¡°Do you need anything else from the store?¡± ¡°No.¡± He pulled the car door handle and climbed back inside. There was no further conversation held until they¡¯d left and were miles away. ammunition Avi adjusted the rearview mirror and cleared his throat, drawing Mitch out of his own spiraling thoughts. ¡°Hey, so,¡± he started in that fragile tone, the one that Mitch absolutely loathed, made of crystal and would shatter if you so much as looked at it wrong. But then the cadence kicked up as he continued. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, and it¡¯s probably not much, but I think this is easily one of the most¡­¡± he stretched an arm out and grasped at the empty air, as though he was seeking to pull words from the ether itself. ¡°This blows. I don¡¯t know the details, but I can tell that it¡¯s miserable. And you¡¯re doing something that¡¯s either really courageous or really stupid, and I don¡¯t envy what you¡¯re going through even a little bit.¡± Mitch remained silent, chewing on the inside of his cheek and glancing over at the clock. He forced out a shaky, ¡°thanks¡±, but nothing else. ¡°Of course.¡± There was a smile on Avi¡¯s face, but its deference almost caused Mitch to burst into tears. For the remainder of the trip, the words exchanged were non-committal, a far cry from the topics they¡¯d delved into earlier. As soon as signs for Greenwich began springing up, Mitch¡¯s leg bounced without restraint. He knew he¡¯d have to address his concerns, and after some consideration, he unceremoniously blurted out, ¡°Don¡¯t come up to the loft with me. Stay in the car.¡± Avi¡¯s head tilted in his direction. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to need help getting everything downstairs?¡± If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°I¡¯m not paying you to help me move stuff, just the gas for the ride,¡± Mitch responded distantly, but his bottom lip quivered despite his attempt to remain frigid. ¡°OK, so¡­¡± started Avi. ¡°That¡¯s well and good. You have a bad shoulder, though. And like, I promise these aren¡¯t just TV muscles? I can handle a few boxes.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t-¡± Mitch¡¯s voice started to escalate, in a way that he was bracing for a fight. But Avi just looked confused, and this wasn¡¯t a confrontation that merited hostility. Sagging in the seat, he could feel the protective varnish stripping away due to the three hours they were enclosed together. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to meet him. Or¡­or see me around him, alright?¡± He squeezed his eyes shut. ¡°I don¡¯t want him to have more ammunition, I just. I need to get in and out of there as quick as I can.¡± ¡°Dude, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you can¡¯t do this part on your own. Unless you¡¯re gonna try to get him to help you get stuff into the car, and in which case, uh¡­we¡¯re meeting regardless. Sorry.¡± ¡°Fuck me,¡± Mitch choked out, unable to hide the anguish any longer. ¡°Another person being there could make things awkward?¡± offered Avi. ¡°I don¡¯t mind falling on that grenade.¡± All Mitch wanted was to tug at the steering wheel, and beg to head back to Monument; forget having closure, he could become a ghost and never interact with Calvin again. His ego was practically non-existent on a regular day, but the last two weeks had left him raw and half-dead. The idea of having someone see the final blow be delivered live and in living color, and then the vultures pick at his corpse¡¯s entrails, was a step too far, even for him. But he was also much too exhausted to protest, and they were now mere blocks away. Put an end to this, throw his body into the Hudson River; who cared and what did it matter? So he responded with a meek ¡°OK¡± and clung to his own shirtsleeve, fingers nearly ripping the fabric from the tension. overcast ¡°It¡¯s up here on the right,¡± Mitch instructed after Avi had turned down the road that his old apartment building was on. They drove past several parks that abutted the bay, and Avi gave a low whistle. ¡°Wow, you were right across from the ocean, huh?¡± he asked. ¡°Yeah, views are pretty good,¡± admitted Mitch. He didn¡¯t want to say that there was any merit to be had here, but what option did he have? Lie, and have Avi see it 5 minutes later for himself? No need for that. ¡°Pull into this garage.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Avi nodded, putting his blinker on. Part of Mitch was annoyed that it was such a beautiful September day, with mild temperature, blue skies and large cumulus clouds above. It didn¡¯t match at all what he was feeling. He begrudgingly accepted that not everything needed to be doom and gloom, and he may as well treat this as what it was: a new beginning. But a little overcast gray would have been nice, if simply for effect. At the entryway of the garage, Avi stopped at the gate. A gentleman in a neatly pressed uniform requested Avi¡¯s information and which resident he was visiting, but ceased questioning when he spotted Mitch. ¡°Hey Hector,¡± Mitch greeted. Hector perked up, and commented that it¡¯d been a while since he¡¯d seen him. Wincing, Mitch informed him that this would actually be the last time. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m so sorry to hear that!¡± Hector frowned. Goodbyes were exchanged, Avi was handed a badge for parking, and the gate was lifted for him to drive into the garage. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°God, this is so weird,¡± lamented Mitch. ¡°What is?¡± Avi asked while he followed signs and sought out the guest parking spot that he¡¯d been assigned. ¡°I¡¯ve seen Hector almost every day for over 2 years. Now I¡¯m probably never going to see him again. You ever think about that? Final farewells?¡± Avi¡¯s lips pursed. ¡°In retrospect, of course. I¡¯ve had a few friends that have died. That last interaction tends to replay for a long while after, and never really goes away.¡± ¡°Fuck, that¡¯s morbid,¡± Mitch commented, and Avi chuckled softly. ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to bring up sad shit.¡± ¡°Sorry for making it sad,¡± Avi retorted while putting the car into park. ¡°And I know that wasn¡¯t the intent. Just. Never gave it much thought otherwise, that¡¯s all.¡± ¡°You¡¯re good,¡± Mitch waved him off with a smile. The engine was killed, and then it was silent. Remaining slumped, Mitch stared out the window at the concrete walls all around them, ignoring the way that Avi fidgeted and kept glancing over at him. There was some stretching with accompanying sighs, followed by a few coughs as well, and Mitch wanted to snap at him and tell him to shut the fuck up, but refrained. Even if his anxiety was at critical mass, nothing had been done to warrant a verbal lashing. ¡°So we doing this?¡± Avi finally asked. ¡°No, we live here now,¡± Mitch flatly replied, rubbing his temples. ¡°Give me a second,¡± he mumbled, and hesitantly pulled his phone out of his pocket. The conversation with Calvin was selected, and he sent a reply saying that he was there and that someone was with him to help move the stuff out. He then followed that up with a request to please please not be a total dick. ¡®Ok.¡¯ was all Mitch got back, and he groaned aloud. threshold ¡°Everything alright?¡± inquired Avi, but he had the decency to wear an expression that communicated the self-awareness of what a dumb question that was. ¡°Fantastic. Let¡¯s get this over with.¡± The seatbelt was unbuckled without issue, but the passenger side door was still a challenge with his limited range of motion. ¡°Do you want some hel-¡± Avi had started to ask. ¡°No, I¡¯m fine,¡± Mitch cut him off. A few more attempts and a bit of pivoting later, he successfully got the door open. Once he was freed from the confines, he led Avi to where the elevators were, and pressed the button for the 12th floor. Aside from the whirring of machinery, it was uncomfortably quiet for the ride up; he managed to puncture it by asking, ¡°So are you regretting this yet?¡± without making any effort to hide the cynicism. ¡°I think at this point, morbid curiosity is outweighing any discomfort,¡± Avi answered, making Mitch bark out a laugh in surprise. He grinned ear-to-ear, whatever semblance of a grip on his sanity clearly slipping. ¡°You know what? Same!¡± The elevator chimed to alert them that the floor was reached, and the doors opened. The moment they stepped off, a shiver went down Mitch¡¯s spine, making its way to his gut, pooling there and then solidifying. He stood fixed in place, feet glued to the ornate red carpet runner that lined the hallway. ¡°Just kidding!¡± He declared with a tremor in his voice. ¡°I hate this and I don¡¯t want to be here.¡± ¡°I mean¡­¡± Avi rubbed his beard as he visibly ran some mental calculations. ¡°If you can¡¯t do this, we can go? You know that¡¯s an option, right?¡± Mitch blinked at him. The thought had crossed his mind over a countless times since Avi had made the offer in the first place, but never in a million years would he have considered bailing and wasting someone¡¯s time like that. Not now, not when they¡¯d gotten this far. ¡°Might never get your things back, but. It is an option, regardless.¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Oh no it¡¯s not! We just drove 3 hours through Connecticut to get here,¡± Mitch countered, marching forward despite his body¡¯s protests. Whether it was pure vitriol that spurred him on, or the new concept of having a choice in the matter, he couldn¡¯t tell. But Avi¡¯s merciful words clung to him, both adding fuel to the fire while also giving him the strength to walk over the burning coals ahead. Regardless, he wasn¡¯t going to try to decode his bad brain and the spite urges that it tended to produce during moments like this, where fight or flight responses were provoked. ¡°I¡¯ve taken on opponents twice my size, I can handle my twink ex. I¡¯m getting my shit. Now.¡± A set of keys was yanked out of his pocket, and he sought out the one for the apartment. ¡°God, it¡¯s gonna suck if he changed the lock already,¡± he mused as he stood in front of door 05. ¡°Would he do that?¡± Avi¡¯s brows knit in concern. Much to Mitch¡¯s surprise, the key still worked. ¡°He did it a few times when we were together, so.¡± Mitch grimaced, turning the handle, and somehow kept it together when he caught the ¡°what the fuck¡± that Avi had muttered. Initially, he contemplated an attempt at sneaking in and seeing how much stuff they could grab before being noticed. But there he was, at the very last stretch of this godforsaken trial. He was going to walk through Hell¡¯s threshold with the scarce amount of pride that he¡¯d managed to cling to, and he was going to make both his arrival and his exit known. ¡°I¡¯m here!¡± he announced, voice far more timid than he¡¯d wanted it to be. Oh well. There was no response, which suited him fine. The door swung open into the kitchen, and he gestured for Avi to follow. alien Though he¡¯d only been gone for a little over two weeks, the loft already felt alien, if not outright hostile. The interior was mostly black and white and chrome, sterile without much trace of personality. There were a large few paintings that¡¯d been hung up, likely worth thousands of dollars, but they had minimal brushstrokes and barely any color; Mitch never gave them much consideration until now, but he hated them. It was nothing like Jodie¡¯s place, a patchwork of various knickknacks and mementos, each item large and small alike holding some sentimental value. There were no tan and orange crochet throws that dated back from the 1970s strewn across the back of the hideous olive sofa, nor were there tiles on the kitchen walls with various fruits and vegetables that¡¯d been hand painted onto them. There were no mushroom shaped ceramic canisters, or a jungle¡¯s worth of houseplants, or even a velvet Jesus. The warmth he¡¯d grown accustomed to in a short period was absent, and the cold here was blinding. ¡°Oh no, your arm,¡± came Calvin¡¯s voice from across the room, smooth as a serpent about to offer a forbidden apple. He approached them with an infuriating placidity, as though he hadn¡¯t been the root cause as to why Mitch¡¯s entire life had been upended. ¡°Yup,¡± Mitch kept it curt, and with each step that Calvin took towards him, the fingers of his left hand curled into a tight fist and pressed so hard that his nails dug into the palm. The instinct to make jokes at his own expense was overwhelming, as was the urge to scream about what he¡¯d gone through and how being abandoned had been nothing short of devastating, but instead he kept his feet anchored to his spot and said nothing. Calvin circled him only once, observing and making god-only-knew what type of judgment, before settling in front of him and Avi. He smelled great, Mitch noted, and his dark hair was pulled up into a loose bun, exposing high cheek bones and a long throat and flawless olive skin that¡¯d made Mitch a weak man once upon a time. Even now, seeing his face and this proximity between them, caused a cacophony of emotions to surface and threaten to spill over. He thought he¡¯d steeled himself well enough in preparation, but the way that his body went rigid and his eyes prickled made it clear that his efforts were for nothing. There were no man-made barriers that could prevent the storm surge of a hurricane, and all that he could do was hope that the erosion left in its wake would be minimal and easy to recover. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°So who¡¯s your friend? I don¡¯t believe we¡¯ve met,¡± Calvin extended a hand to Avi, a Cartier watch adorning his slender wrist; casual house wear, Mitch internally scoffed. ¡°Don¡¯t-¡± Mitch spoke up, but was cut off. ¡°Avi,¡± Avi took the hand and shook it, much to Mitch¡¯s chagrin. He should have asked Louis to help out with this task instead, someone capable of being cold and frightening when needed. Or maybe he could have taken advantage of Nate¡¯s large stature and even bigger heart, although he would have gotten an earful later from Jodie about leading him on. Again. ¡°I take it you¡¯re one of his wrestler friends?¡± Calvin commented, the subtle barb not lost on Mitch. ¡°I am!¡± Avi smiled brightly, and Mitch prayed that he hadn¡¯t picked up on the insinuation. ¡°We¡¯re roommates, actually. Just moved in not too long ago.¡± ¡°Oh, at Jodie¡¯s? Was there room at the inn?¡± As Calvin spoke, Mitch couldn¡¯t tell if his brain was leaking out of his ear canal or not. He hadn¡¯t come for chit chat, and he had to remind himself that Calvin had dumped him over the phone, the night after his injury. He hadn¡¯t done anything whatsoever to be of any assistance. They weren¡¯t together anymore. He wasn¡¯t entitled to anything in his life. His blood boiled over when Calvin asked, ¡°How is Jodie, by the way?¡± ¡°She¡¯s great. Where¡¯s- Calv, where¡¯s my stuff?¡± Mitch¡¯s teeth gnashed; he was done with pleasantries. ¡°Living room,¡± Calvin hitched a thumb over his shoulder, and Mitch practically bolted in that direction. ¡°But it was a long drive, yeah? Can I offer you something to drink?¡± ¡°No,¡± Mitch gritted out. He spotted several plastic totes stacked up, with items that¡¯d been haphazardly tossed into them. Truth be told, he was amazed that any effort was put into gathering them up at all, but he knew that it was more of a testament to Calvin¡¯s irritation than anything else. A wave of relief washed over him as he spotted a few familiar things, but he didn¡¯t dare show any emotion over it. Wordlessly, Avi grabbed two of the totes, and wasted no time in heading back to the door with them. ¡°Do you need a hand?¡± Calvin stopped him and asked before he exited. ¡°Nope, all set!¡± Avi answered, then disappeared into the hallway. The moment that he was gone, a wave of dread washed over Mitch as he stood in the livingroom, alone with Calvin. pressure ¡°Mitch,¡± Calvin eventually spoke up in a tone that suggested that he was annoyed at being ignored. ¡°What?¡± mumbled Mitch, throat already raw though nothing had happened yet. He kept his gaze focused out the window and on the bay. It was his favorite part of living here. Several minutes passed in silence, until Mitch closed his eyes and sighed. ¡°Calvin, what?¡± ¡°You look like hell,¡± Calvin stated plainly, padding over until they were standing side by side. Something inside of Mitch unclenched; he wasn¡¯t necessarily at ease, but at least the facade in the form of hollow banter had been dropped. ¡°Wonder why that is,¡± Mitch responded dryly. ¡°I don¡¯t hate you,¡± Calvin¡¯s voice was unnerving in its gentleness. He reached out and touched Mitch¡¯s left arm, and Mitch wrenched away from him. ¡°I don¡¯t care about how you feel!¡± snapped Mitch. ¡°Spent enough time doing that. Years and years of it.¡± ¡°C¡¯mon, don¡¯t be that way.¡± The hand was persistent, until Mitch at last yielded and allowed it to make contact. He tensed as fingers rubbed his bicep. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware of how badly you were hurt. I¡¯m so sorry about that, I-¡± Calvin went quiet for a moment. ¡°You know many times I¡¯ve said that what you do is dangerous, and I was at the end of my rope with how reckless-¡° ¡°Oh my god, fucking spare me this!¡± Mitch once again moved away, and turned so that they could face one another. ¡°Look, I know nothing turns you on more than a wounded animal, or a good ¡®I told you so¡¯ moment so I¡¯m sure that you¡¯re harder than a diamond right now with this one-two punch combo.¡± Calvin shrugged, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. ¡°Maybe a little.¡± ¡°But!¡± Mitch held up a finger, pissed off that the response caused a laugh to push its way up his throat, and he swallowed it down. Years ago he¡¯d found that sort of thing to be charming, and unfortunately a part of him still did. ¡°Actually, no, you know what? What I do might come with its risks, but it¡¯s much better than being strung out on pills and coke and¡­and who knows what else, OK?¡± He¡¯d begun to falter, but the momentum had built and he needed to take advantage of it before he stalled out. ¡°And¡­and at least I get support from people up there. You know, the ones that you write off as ¡®degenerates¡¯ or whatever. They¡¯ve done more than you ever had to get me clean and healthy.¡± By the end of the tirade, Mitch¡¯s breathing was heavy and his chest had started to heave. He would have killed for a cigarette right then, and the irony was not lost on him that he¡¯d just sputtered out that part regarding health. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Would hitting me make you feel better?¡± Calvin asked as out of left field, casually as he would for the TV remote to be handed over, or for a glass of wine. ¡°What the fuck?!¡± Mitch¡¯s eyes went wide while Calvin crowded into his space, as if he was presenting an actual opportunity to strike. ¡°I¡¯m wondering that if I¡¯ve messed you up as badly as you claim that I have, perhaps it¡¯d make you feel better to throw a punch.¡± The green of Calvin¡¯s eyes was the only thing in Mitch¡¯s field of vision. His jaw clenched so tightly that he could feel the pressure build and shoot through his teeth, and he was certain they¡¯d start to crack at any moment. There was a part of him, the one that was primal and deep seated, buried under many layers at his very core and having never once seen the light of day, that was ignited by the prospect of unleashing pent up aggression in a physical manner. It was impossible to tell if it had existed before Calvin had come into his life, but years weathering constant storms had eroded him down into a version of himself that was either an entirely new composition, or had been there the entire time but was never meant to be unearthed. The trick was finding a way to stabilize the pressure and hopefully keep it from erupting altogether. His hand shook, quaking just as the earth does when a volcano explodes. There was another part of him that wanted so badly to grab Calvin¡¯s face and kiss him, and try to fix this as he¡¯d done so many times in the past. That made him even angrier, that somewhere he continued to harbor a gratuitous amount of love in his heart, regardless of how brittle and twisted it¡¯d become. Because it was love, even in this perverted form. He loved this petulant man-child, and all of his wit and charm and naivety, but he also couldn¡¯t stomach living like this any longer. Now he¡¯d have to accept that there was nothing to show for the 5 years that they spent together, other than addiction -pre-existing but greatly exacerbated- and a batch of trauma that he¡¯d eventually have to contend with. For all he knew, this was like every other time that Calvin had gotten bored and was seeking to more or less spice things up for a short while, so that he could get lavished with attention and compliance. However, his guts relayed to him that this felt entirely different from before, and that Calvin was sincere in being done. Ultimately, there¡¯d be no way to ever be sure, and the truth would never be revealed. Really, what Mitch had suspected for some time was that there was another person on the side. The tension of the last year had compromised his ability to be intimate, and he could barely remember the last time he¡¯d gotten fully hard without it leading to more anguish and anxiety. Instead of support, he¡¯d been the recipient of snide remarks, sometimes outright mockery. So he wasn¡¯t itching to stick around and find out if someone more functional had taken his place in that department. It wasn¡¯t even his fault, he had to remind himself. But that was a conversation between the two of them that would never take place. And that, if nothing else, was why he needed to get out of this. ¡°No, it wouldn¡¯t,¡± Mitch answered at last, partially lying, his entire body deflating when the words exited his mouth. Something bitter lingered on his tongue, and he questioned if it was a physical embodiment of disappointment, or nothing more than acid reflux from all of the compounded stress. Regardless, it dissipated the very second that Avi resurfaced. stagnant ¡°Everything should fit in the car!¡± Avi cheerfully confirmed with a clap of his hands. ¡°That¡¯s great.¡± Mitch used the interruption to take a step backwards, and nodded when Avi mouthed ¡®are you OK?¡¯ at him. More bins were taken, this time three of them, leaving only one more trip until they could take off. While he waited for Avi to leave, he savored the warmth from sunlight that poured in through the window wall; this time it was enjoyable, unlike the countless days of he¡¯d been strung out, simultaneously cooking and shivering on the sofa. The sensation of sweat-drenched skin and body hair ripping away from the black leather -pulling like a strip of Velcro- remained imprinted in his cells. Once he and Calvin were alone again, frost returned to permeated the room. Mitch gathered himself, looked Calvin in the eye, and said, ¡°Look, I need one last favor.¡± Calvin ignored him, opting to remark, ¡°He¡¯s pretty cute. Are you two a thing?¡± ¡°No. I barely know him. He¡¯s just¡­nice. Really nice.¡± Mitch shook his head, and ignored the pang of guilt that prickled somewhere in his digestive track, right around where the esophagus and stomach met. Avi had gone out of his way to be known for the duration of this roadtrip, and even prior to that, ever since he had moved into the house. In hindsight, that morning Mitch had revealed a few key things about himself that he¡¯d never told anyone before, not even Jodie. They were probably friends by now, or at least on a fast track to getting there. But Calvin didn¡¯t need that information, so Mitch snapped his fingers and continued with, ¡°Focus, please. It¡¯s important.¡± Which one of them the demand was intended for was beyond him. ¡°That¡¯s awfully bold,¡± scoffed Calvin, but the way that the corner of his lip curled meant that he was amused. Mitch decided that he could manage this hurdle. ¡°I need health insurance, at least until I know this is healed,¡± he gestured to his right arm. ¡°I don¡¯t get it through my job since I¡¯m a contractor, and it could be considered a pre-existing condition if I try to switch now, so I¡¯d rather not deal with that. Can I just like, iunno, pay you to keep me on yours? And then I can owe you a favor, or I can fuck off forever, whichever you prefer.¡± Calvin¡¯s face practically split open ¡°Oh, I would have taken care of it regardless, you know that I love a charity case!¡± Mitch glowered, and Calvin eased up on the theatrics. ¡°I¡¯m kidding. Your words, remember? You¡¯re the one that said that I like to ¡®fuck wounded animals¡¯.¡± ¡°That is so not what I said,¡± deadpanned Mitch. ¡°But in exchange for a favor?¡± Calvin continued as though he hadn¡¯t heard the counter. ¡°Sure, Mitch. You got it. Don¡¯t know what I¡¯ll ever need from you, but I¡¯m game for that.¡± Without a doubt, the nausea and discomfort that Mitch was experiencing was not unlike what it¡¯d be like after signing a deal with the devil. Now that he was thinking about it, that favor certainly should have been allowing Calvin to keep landing lowblows without taking him up on the offer to slap the shit out of him. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. ¡°Cool. Thanks. I mean it,¡± Mitch kept it earnest, but still dialed down the relief. He¡¯d almost hoped that the request would have been declined, because the idea of being attached any longer than necessary couldn¡¯t be good in the long run. But he was hedging a bet that Calvin would get bored sooner rather than later and forget the favor owed altogether. And besides, it was as Calvin had said: what could he possibly ever need from him? ¡°Look, I¡¯d rather we not hate one another.¡± When Calvin spoke again, it was with such sincerity that sounded almost vulnerable. Mitch, taken aback, stared blankly at him, his rabbit heart hammering as he stood there prepared to sprint for the door. ¡°I know that¡¯s a tall ask, and you probably don¡¯t believe me when I say that I still lo-¡° ¡°You can¡¯t,¡± Mitch stopped him before he could finish the word, his body on the verge of seizing up. Last thing he needed was to go into cardiac arrest and be taken out on a stretcher, instead of on his terms, on his own two feet. ¡°You can¡¯t say that. Not now.¡± ¡°I had to do this, we¡¯re not healthy for one another. We¡¯ve become stagnant.¡± Blinking a few times, Mitch¡¯s brain went into overtime to put the pieces together. That term was a newer one that Calvin had picked up ever since he¡¯d gone on some zany spirit quest to try to solve the ¡®what does it all mean¡¯ conundrum that every person with unearned wealth eventually found themselves faced with. Mitch had tuned it out a while back because he had stuff like student loans to worry about. ¡°Oh my god, it¡¯s that goddamn yoga instructor, isn¡¯t it?¡± His eyes had already been fixed on the front entryway in the kitchen, and there he spotted a pair of tennis shoes that belonged to neither of them. ¡°That wackjob, right? The meditation guy? Am I in a movie? This happens in movies.¡± ¡°He¡¯s a spiritual guide, Mitch,¡± Calvin clarified, like he¡¯d done so many times when he¡¯d mention the man¡¯s name in the past, and Mitch had reduced it to ¡®yoga guy¡¯. ¡°And maybe if you respected that-¡° ¡°No way, babe. Good for you for being a stereotype and bagging hot ass yoga guy, be sure to tell me all about the crystals that he recommends he shoves up your butt for detoxing or whatever,¡± Mitch grinned with delight, making no effort to stand his ground as Calvin shoved him away. And when Avi resurfaced, it only made Mitch that more amped up for the upcoming car ride back. He¡¯d probably burst into tears about the entire experience, but at the very least, it was going to be worth a good laugh. He hoped for that, anyway. If it was Jodie, she¡¯d just fume and scream for the entire 3 hour road trip, and then for the next week after that. Maybe even an entire month. But Avi, with his laid back demeanor, would probably just be entertained and laugh along with Mitch, and he actually looked forward to that. It felt good, in a way that a lot of things hadn¡¯t lately. To not be reminded of the weight that had repeatedly threatened to crush him. He couldn¡¯t even remember why he¡¯d been so intimidated or even annoyed by Avi in the first place, and the guilt over it would be overwhelming had there been any room for it. ¡°Last trip?¡± Avi asked, and Mitch walked over to where the pile had dwindled down and grabbed his guitar case, then slung it over his back.¡±Yup,¡± Mitch nodded, feeling more sure of himself than he¡¯d been in recent memory. Every step still was like walking barefoot on broken glass, but he could take solace that for once he hadn¡¯t been the one to put the glass there and it wasn¡¯t about him. And that was an incredibly rare feat, to not take on the mantle of blame. The other stages of grief would be free to come as they pleased, but at least this portion that he¡¯d been fighting uphill with was overcome and slain. The final few totes were gathered up, and Mitch told Avi that he¡¯d meet him downstairs. unsustainable ¡°Can we not be mad at one another?¡± Calvin begged after Avi left, taking Mitch¡¯s hand into his own and linking their fingers together. It was so unfair, to be put into the position where he was on the offense, despite having no agency in the matter. If there was a victim here it wasn¡¯t Calvin, despite his insistence otherwise, and Mitch had to continue running that mantra over and over in his thoughts. He reconsidered the health insurance thing, wondering if he could just feel it out or rely on Avi¡¯s previous experience to tell him that he was good, but Jodie was going to demand a doctor¡¯s note before she allowed him back in the ring. ¡°I¡¯m not mad,¡± Mitch lied. ¡°Hurt, yes, But.¡± He swallowed, knowing that he would be the villain in how this story would be told, but needing to minimize as much impact as possible. Last thing that he wanted was for Calvin to tell people that he was ¡®aggressive¡¯ and that ¡®it was probably due to the wrestling¡¯ or whatever other bullshit that he might conjure to gain sympathy points. It didn¡¯t even matter, he wouldn¡¯t ever interact with that social circle once this was dead and buried, but Calvin did not deserve the satisfaction. He wondered if this could be an attempt at getting him to try to plead his case, but that wouldn¡¯t be happening, either. ¡°I think you¡¯re right. We stagnated, and if this is what you feel is the best course of action¡­¡± he trailed off, his throat tightening. Logically, all of this tracked. He prepared himself for this moment. Emotionally, however, he wanted to kick Hot Yoga Guy out of his apartment, throw Calvin onto their bed, and just give in. Take the path of least resistance. Not find out what happened when he went out that door for the last time and into the hallway, leaving this life behind forever. Figure out how to tell Jodie that he had messed up yet again, but this time it would be fine, and then 6 months later try to figure out how to approach her when it inevitably blew up because that was how the cycle went. They¡¯d been happy, once, him and Calvin. Never a sure thing, but happy. They must have been. No, this had to be it. Definitive. It couldn¡¯t presumably be forever, it had to be permanent. And that was terrifying. That was the equivalent of staring into the void, to cross the ocean without earplugs and daring to listen to the siren¡¯s song. It was all so unknown, but there he stood, a shell of what he used to be: angry and constantly on the verge of drowning. However, his hands were on the shackles which bound him, and they were about to unlock. So there could be no turning back, only the ordeal of moving forward. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Also, his dick was out of order. There was no bedroom fantasy to fulfill where he could tough it out and fuck through the pain. Blurry memories from months -years- prior rose out of the murky depths, vague in their shape but dangerous nevertheless, and he shuddered as they lingered in his peripheral vision. They were going to kill him if he didn¡¯t take the chance to escape now. ¡°Then so be it,¡± he finished the thought, the compulsion to stay and fight gone when the words left his mouth. He had his stuff. He knew full well that this was unsustainable, had ultimately known it since the early days of when they had hooked up. And eventually, he prayed, the agony would settle down. He would look at a picture of the two of them that he had saved and meant delete, and would wonder why he had ever been so desperate to stay together. Selfishly, stupidly, he had never sorted out any kind of plan B, figuring they would be doing this dance forever; relationships were meant to be all work, were they not? It was what he¡¯d been told most of his life. It was what TV and movies and books proclaimed, that you had to have some kind of antagonistic chemistry with the person that you loved. Perhaps it would simply be better to never love at all, were that the case. ¡°I¡¯m gonna go,¡± he announced with no triumph whatsoever. No fanfare. No big fuck you. And though he didn¡¯t want it, he allowed a kiss on the cheek from Calvin. His stomach churned. This was a mistake. He should fight back. Love was about fighting. They could do this. They could work it out. ¡°Take care of yourself,¡± Calvin smiled, and Mitch could have sworn that it was forlorn. He quelled the shivers that threatened to burst from out of his core. There was another man in his bedroom, and he wanted to stay and make a scene, except it was no longer his domain. He was an unwelcome guest. He wanted to leave. He wanted out. He didn¡¯t want to cry anymore, for fuck¡¯s sake. He didn¡¯t want the isolation and loneliness that had become a daily occurrence in his own home. It sucked. Everything about this was a constant and waking nightmare. He wasn¡¯t living. He was just killing time. ¡°You too,¡± Mitch responded, his voice watery, and he sniffed quietly. Turning heel, one last look was taken around, at the sanitized lack of personality contained within the stark white walls. Three hours away, there was a home. There were people that loved him and never made him feel less than human. That was where he was needed and where he needed to be. Down in the garage waited Avi, who had committed one of the greatest acts of kindness for him after they had only recently met. An entire car that wasn¡¯t his was packed full of all of his stuff, and he hadn¡¯t even been the one to pack it. That, he concluded, sounded far better than hanging around somewhere that he had never felt that he had belonged. whimper A deep breath was taken, and the temptation to look back at Calvin was suppressed. He undid the key from his keyring and set it down on the counter, fingers curling tightly around it before releasing it from his grasp altogether. As he stepped out and shut the door behind him, the surrealness of the situation left him lightheaded. It was done at last, unceremonious at best. A whimper, not the bang that he had imagined all this time and that he had wanted. Wanted the last 5 years, or the last 2 weeks, or at least the last 3 hours, to be worth either fighting for or against. Didn¡¯t matter the result, he wanted a fight, a chance to unleash all of the righteous fury and unfathomable sorrow; show the world that he had tried, even if he had failed in the end. Were he not carrying the guitar case, he would have slid down the adjacent wall and started sobbing right there in the hall. Instead he wiped his eyes with his forearm and held it there, until small white grains of light flickered behind his eyelids. When he lowered it and his vision cleared, he saw Avi standing at the elevators with the totes on the floor. ¡°Hey,¡± Avi gave a small wave, staying put as though he was waiting to be approached. No sudden moves. Mitch liked that. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Hey,¡± Mitch didn¡¯t even have the energy to return a tired smile. ¡°Give me that,¡± he urged. Mitch allowed him to take the guitar case without any protest, and watched as he slung the strap across his own broad shoulders. The down button was pressed on the metal panel, and he picked up the remaining totes while they waited. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna ask how you¡¯re doing, because that¡¯d be rude.¡± Avi spoke slowly, his words curated with intent. In a way, it reminded Mitch of the way that he wrestled, without a single move wasted. ¡°But if you ever wanted to talk, I¡¯ve been told that I¡¯m a great listener.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Mitch mumbled, genuinely appreciative of the gesture and hoping the sentiment came across as such. The elevator chimed, and the doors opened up. ¡°After you.¡± Avi¡¯s head tilted in the direction of the elevator¡¯s interior, and Mitch put up no argument. Avi followed behind, and the doors closed. ¡°So,¡± Mitch leaned up against the back wall, too lethargic to readjust as the handrail dug into his lower back. ¡°He cheated on me with a hot yoga guy.¡± Avi¡¯s head whipped towards Mitch, bewilderment all over his face, and he exclaimed, ¡°Doesn¡¯t that only happen in the movies?!¡± ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I said,¡± Mitch grinned despite himself. ¡°Pardon my language, but fuck that guy, huh?¡± scoffed Avi. ¡°Yeah,¡± Mitch¡¯s voice cracked. It was as though the pressure increased with every floor that passed on the descent to the garage; if there was a canary with them, he wondered if it would be dead by now. ¡°Fuck that guy.¡± partially broken Seconds after Avi had pulled into the driveway, Jodie was outside and hurrying towards the car. ¡°How¡¯d it go?¡± she asked after opening Mitch¡¯s door and pulling him into a hug before he was stable on both feet. ¡°Oh, it was great. We¡¯re back together,¡± he teased, and she lightly cuffed the side of his head. ¡°Don¡¯t even joke about that,¡± she growled. ¡°I¡¯d kill you.¡± ¡°No no, it¡¯s done. It¡¯s done,¡± he affirmed. Her hand went to his cheek and slid up until long nails affectionately scratched at his scalp. ¡°I¡¯m proud of you,¡± she whispered, then released him. ¡°Y¡¯know? Me too, a little,¡± he whispered back, and she broke into a wide smile. Within the blink of an eye she was gone again, hovering around the trunk where Avi was grabbing totes. Although Mitch couldn¡¯t hear what she was saying to him in hushed tones, he saw the way that his cheeks lifted and eyes crinkled as she talked, his amiable nature radiating out in waves. The fact that he had the energy to be so pleasant after such a long day, after everything that¡¯d transpired, warmed Mitch¡¯s cold dead heart and filled him with both an insurmountable amount of guilt and somehow even more gratitude. ¡°C¡¯mere, you¡¯re family now,¡± Jodie¡¯s voice pulled Mitch from out of his thoughts with about the same force that Avi had been dragged into a hug of his own. A helpless look was shot at Mitch, and Mitch simply shook his head in response. For a moment, he wondered what it was like to be Jodie: so casual with affection, and how freeing that must be. ¡°Alright,¡± she said, ¡°Dinner¡¯s on me tonight. Avi, you pick the place.¡± Some protest was put up from Avi as he tried to assert that it wasn¡¯t necessary, but Jodie refused to hear it. Totes were grabbed, and between two people with fully functioning arms, moving them took much less time. Mitch waited until they were done before grabbing the guitar case, and as he shut the trunk, Avi appeared. ¡°Did we get everything?¡± he asked. ¡°Yup, you guys crushed it.¡± He latched the trunk then turned to Avi. Before he opened his mouth, he paused to admire the sunset that¡¯d bled across the sky like oversaturated watercolors; a beautiful conclusion to a harrowing day. ¡°I don¡¯t even know how to thank you for doing this,¡± he said honestly. ¡°Or how to even begin apologizing for being, y¡¯know¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Avi held up a hand. ¡°Don¡¯t do that to yourself, man. I get it. I¡¯d be a wreck too if I was going through that.¡± ¡°Thanks.¡± Mitch ducked his head. ¡°It means a lot, that¡¯s all.¡± ¡°Hey, you tolerated several hours worth of pop and 90s boy bands. I mean, I know that I said that it was something cheerful, but really I just wanted to listen to the Backstreet Boys,¡± Avi admitted, and Mitch laughed. ¡°That was fun, though!¡± insisted Mitch. ¡°I¡­¡± His voice wavered, and he swallowed. ¡°You spun the worst day into something not awful, and. And you don¡¯t really know me much, you didn¡¯t have to do this at all.¡± His voice croaked, and the pressure began to build behind his eyes for at least the tenth time that day. ¡°Fuck, dude.¡± ¡°You¡¯re from Valence, which is very old and doesn¡¯t have much for wrestling going on. You play guitar, and you used to ski. You take your coffee black, and somehow you¡¯re very sarcastic while you simultaneously wear your heart on your sleeve. And you have like at least 15 flannel shirts.¡± As Avi listed off traits, Mitch¡¯s eyes went wide. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°Well you don¡¯t have to call me out like that,¡± he winced. ¡°And how did you know about the flannels?¡± ¡°I¡¯m from Washington, I know a flannel guy when I see one,¡± Avi chuckled. ¡°And only one or two of the totes had lids. Which like, sorry to creep, but it looked like flannel tote had some wrestling gear in it? The fabric looked very cool, like all kinds of mesh and wild spandex prints. Did you have another character before Zevon?¡± ¡°That¡¯s not right, my only wrestling gear is-¡± Mitch leapt back as he put a few pieces together in his head, and his face burned like a furnace in the dead of winter. ¡°Oh my god,¡± he muttered, and covered his eyes. ¡°Yeah, no. It¡¯s gear alright. I-¡± Two of his fingers parted so that he could give Avi a once over and make a final assessment. It was now safe to assume that he was probably cool and wouldn¡¯t be lobbing slurs at any point. May as well put it all out there. ¡°I did burlesque for a little while, like in college. I¡¯d completely forgotten that I still had anything left over from that.¡± ¡°Huh! Really?¡± Avi¡¯s head tilted as he appeared to consider this. ¡°That¡¯s awesome! I could never be brave enough to do that! Was it fun?¡± ¡°Actually, it was?¡± Mitch rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact like the plague. ¡°Iunno, it¡¯s basically wrestling with less fighting and more singing.¡± ¡°Yeah, and taking your clothes off!¡± countered Avi. ¡°Oh c¡¯mon, we do that in wrestling, too.¡± Mitch countered back. ¡°But not in a sexy way! Or with any coordination, for that matter!¡± ¡°Psh, speak for yourself,¡± Mitch brushed him off jokingly, and Avi giggled. ¡°Maybe my stock would go up if I started doing that instead of just going out half naked in my gear,¡± he speculated. ¡°I¡¯ve been giving it away from the get go this entire time.¡± ¡°Fuck man, and you¡¯ve been doing this for almost 20 years? Amateur hour over here.¡± Mitch held a hand to his mouth, pantomiming as if he was addressing an imaginary audience, and making Avi laugh harder. Once he settled down, he motioned to the guitar. ¡°By the way, do you want me to take that?¡± ¡°No, I think I can manage an acoustic guitar,¡± Mitch batted him away. ¡°I¡¯m only partially broken.¡± ¡°Alright, alright!¡± Avi yielded. They stood in silence for another minute, both captivated by the hues of scarlet and violet and indigo that¡¯d enveloped the sky. ¡°Y¡¯know,¡± he cleared his throat, and Mitch turned his gaze towards him. ¡°I gotta admit, I¡¯ve always wanted to learn how to play guitar.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t exactly use it right now, but I could teach you,¡± Mitch offered. ¡°It¡¯s left-handed, so you¡¯ll have to flip it. And I might be a bit rusty. Calvin used to get annoyed when I played at home, so I just kind of¡­didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°Trade vegan secrets for guitar lessons? Sounds like a fair deal.¡± They walked towards the front door, Avi letting Mitch take the lead. ¡°And physical therapy?¡± Mitch craned his neck and waggled his eyebrows. ¡°No dice on that, my price is still coffee.¡± ¡°Well in that case, I¡¯m still very broken, please carry my extremely cumbersome acoustic guitar.¡± He allowed the strap to slide off of his shoulder, and Avi caught it before it could touch the ground. ¡°Wow, I had no idea that both of your shoulders are injured! Maybe we should try to find another sling for you, and then both of your arms can be immobilized!¡± ¡°That¡¯s not even funny,¡± pouted Mitch, the very idea upsetting to him. ¡°I think I¡¯d rather die. The fact that I¡¯m going to be stuck in this for at least two more weeks sucks so bad.¡± ¡°You could walk around like some messed up flightless bird with their useless little wings,¡± Avi continued, distressing Mitch further. ¡°Eating would be rough, since you don¡¯t have a beak.¡± ¡°Are you Jodie now?¡± Mitch groaned. ¡°I will give you actual money to shut up.¡± ¡°How exactly are you gonna get your wallet with your two broken arms?¡± The door was opened for Mitch, and he couldn¡¯t tell if it was a courtesy or to drive the point home, but he assumed it was both. ¡°What the hell are you two going on about?¡± Jodie asked from the kitchen, and they looked at one another and grinned. prized possession Eventually, a Thai restaurant was selected, and Jodie placed the order for the three of them. Mitch tried to ignore her withering glare when he said that he was only interested in a side of white rice, and eventually reached a compromise by getting some red curry sauce as well. Most of the totes were stacked next to the couch, with the exception of the ones that contained clothing, which were brought up to Jodie¡¯s room. Somehow, she¡¯d exercised enough restraint to not ask about or trash talk Calvin; instead, she informed them both of the progress being made to get ready for the brewery¡¯s opening while they ate around the coffee table and half paid attention to some awful horror film that played on the TV. ¡°It should be after Graveyard Smash. Mid November, I wanna say.¡± she noted. ¡°That¡¯s not too stressful?¡± pressed Mitch, incredulous that this endeavor had been less about being a business owner and more about burying herself in work to avoid grief. ¡°Of course it is!¡± Jodie threw her arms wide open. ¡°But you know me. If I¡¯m not doing a million things at once, I will cease to function. And besides, that¡¯s what co-owners are for. I¡¯ll do the behind the scenes stuff, and they handle the initial whirlwind of PR and whatnot.¡± ¡°Do you ever take a vacation?¡± Avi asked between mouthfuls of pad kee mao. ¡°Never! But! I¡¯m going with Dad to Santo Domingo this Christmas!¡± she responded enthusiastically. ¡°Gonna meet a whole lotta family that I didn¡¯t even know existed. Apparently I¡¯ve got like 50 cousins or something wack like that.¡± ¡°Is it your first time going?¡± Avi set his fork down, giving her undivided attention. ¡°It is!¡± confirmed Jodie. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°But you¡¯re mostly going to get drunk on the beach,¡± Mitch smirked. ¡°That is also true!¡± Jodie nodded. ¡°Ideally, I¡¯ll be blacked out for a week, which will keep any awkward interaction down to a minimum. It¡¯s a shame that Mitch refuses to come and pretend to be my boyfriend so that everyone can see what a good Christian girl I am.¡± ¡°I get fucked up when I meet like, one new person,¡± he scoffed, then added, ¡°And how would that work when I¡¯m clearly your dad¡¯s boyfriend?¡± ¡°Oh, you and Victor?¡± Avi perked up, ¡°Because I¡¯m pretty sure that Victor wants me.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t come for my man, Avi,¡± warned Mitch. ¡°Are you both done? Because he¡¯s right next door, y¡¯all can go sleep over there,¡± Jodie deadpanned, her thumb hitched in the direction of Victor¡¯s half of their duplex. ¡°I¡¯m sure his girlfriend would be stoked.¡± ¡°Nora¡¯s cool with it, I¡¯m sure,¡± Mitch said dismissively, glad that Jodie was to his right so that she couldn¡¯t punch that arm. She did, however, wad up a napkin and throw it at the side of his face. ¡°Gonna start charging you both rent,¡± she sulked, much to both Mitch¡¯s and Avi¡¯s amusement and dismay.
Later, while Jodie and Avi were fully engaged in conversation about the school, Mitch excused himself to scrape his untouched rice into the trash, and retreated into Jodie¡¯s bedroom. He dug through the totes that were set down by the laundry chair, until he¡¯d come across his most prized possession: a gray plush rabbit, lumpier in some parts than others and nearly worn down to the stuffing. ¡°Hi Cendre.¡± His voice trembled, and he turned the stuffed animal over to determine if it¡¯d remained undamaged. After he was satisfied with his examination, he kissed the top of its head between the floppy ears and held it close to his chest. With his knees at risk of buckling, he collapsed onto the bed then crawled under the covers. Burying his face in the matted fabric, he allowed hot tears to freely spill and be absorbed into the little rabbit¡¯s body. A sob tore out of his throat that was followed by another, but was muffled so that no one else could hear him. This needed to get purged out of him once and for all, and the last thing that he wanted was witness to his shame, or the consolation that inevitably accompanied that. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he murmured between hiccups, although to whom the intended recipient that statement was for was anyone¡¯s guess. "the goods" At some point he must have fallen asleep, for when he awoke the room was pitch black. His head pounded, and he rolled onto his side to assume the fetal position. It wasn¡¯t numbness that coursed through his veins, but something more akin to white noise that periodically got reception from a station; disorientation tinged with vague familiarity. A medically induced coma would have been a much kinder way to endure this, instead of being forced to process the grief head on. The door opened and light flooded in from the hallway, but he remained still. Footsteps crossed the room, and something was placed next to his head on the nightstand. ¡°You awake?¡± Jodie whispered. ¡°Yeah,¡± croaked Mitch. She moved to the other side of the mattress and lifted the cover of the duvet, then slid underneath it. They lay in a companionable silence for a while, until she asked, ¡°Do you need a hug?¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m alright,¡± he answered. ¡°I um¡­¡± he trailed off and held up Cendre, wiggling it back and forth to make the arms flop about. ¡°I got him back.¡± ¡°Oh shit! I want a snuggle buddy!¡± Leaping out of bed, she turned the lamp on then grabbed the pink Care Bear from off of the dresser; it was a gift that Mitch had given to her well over a decade ago during a rather trying episode in her life, and he had included a note with it that said ¡®Look, she¡¯s a girl and she¡¯s gay, just like you!¡¯. To that day, Jodie still claimed it was the nicest thing that anyone had ever done for her. While she retrieved the bear, Mitch stared vacantly ahead, until something red in his peripheral vision caught his eye. ¡°Why¡¯d you put this here?¡± Mitch reached out and picked up the apple on the nightstand. ¡°Huh? Oh, Avi said that he didn¡¯t want you to forget about that.¡± She returned to the bed and turned the lamp off. ¡°I told him to not get his hopes up.¡± ¡°Well maybe I¡¯ll eat it then,¡± Mitch indignantly retorted. ¡°Good! I wish you would!¡± Jodie snapped back. ¡°Fine!¡± The apple was brought to his mouth, and he sunk his teeth into it. The smell was nauseating, his esophagus fought to choke it down, and his stomach was on the verge of rejecting it, but he¡¯d managed a successful bite. ¡°Did you just eat out of spite? Is that all it took?¡± marveled Jodie. ¡°Barely,¡± Mitch deflated. ¡°I regret to report that food¡¯s still very unappetizing.¡± Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡°Aw, hun,¡± she tutted. ¡°It¡¯s not gonna be like this forever. It¡¯ll get easier.¡± Setting the apple back on the nightstand, Mitch couldn¡¯t help but be bitterly disappointed that he couldn¡¯t handle another bite. ¡°I really hope so,¡± he sighed in defeat.
The next few days would be uneventful to most people, but Mitch was relieved by the first taste of normalcy since the injury. He was able to work on his own laptop instead of constantly borrowing Jodie¡¯s, he dressed in his own wardrobe instead of the few emergency garments that he¡¯d picked up from Target, and the first follow up appointment for his rotator cuff went well. It still hurt when the doctor moved it, but apparently he was exactly where he needed to be for healing. A text was sent to Avi saying that he¡¯d been cleared to start PT, and Avi responded with a coffee cup emoji. ¡°Dork,¡± Mitch muttered under his breath, but couldn¡¯t hold back the smile that crept onto his face. ¡°What¡¯s got you all goofy?¡± asked Jodie once Mitch was buckled up and they¡¯d departed from the patient discharge area. ¡°Nothing,¡± his head shot up, and he felt like a deer that¡¯d had lights flashed at it. ¡°Hey, could we stop by Starbucks before we go home?¡± No questions were asked, but he¡¯d been the recipient of a gnarly side-eye when he deviated from his usual order; however, he grabbed a caramel Frappucino for Jodie, and whatever possible comments she would have mustered appeared to be placated by this tribute. It wasn¡¯t until he¡¯d been dropped off at the house and he saw the blue Honda Fit in the driveway that it dawned on him that he didn¡¯t even check to see if Avi would even be there. Or if he¡¯d actually be available to start that day. But the coffee could be considered future payment, and certainly it wouldn¡¯t go to waste. This wasn¡¯t something worth stressing over, he decided. Avi was nowhere to be found downstairs, which again, did not merit fretting about. Mitch shoved aside various clutter that was strewn about the kitchen table and placed the coffee on the newly cleared spot, then picked it back up when he worried that the condensation would form a ring on the wooden surface. Agitated and wanting to be rid of the drink, he wandered upstairs and until he was outside of Avi¡¯s door. His knuckles rapped against the solid wood, and again, he raked himself over the coals for acting without any forethought. This probably could have been handled with a text, he didn¡¯t have to deliver it personally. ¡°Hello?¡± Avi¡¯s voice called out. ¡°Uh. It¡¯s. It¡¯s Mitch.¡± Mitch squirmed as he recognized that he was so far out of his element. ¡°I have uh-¡± his tongue was heavy, which was bizarre. It was as though he was back at square one, and there wasn¡¯t any reason for that. ¡°The goods?¡± was what he settled on, then began to panic when there wasn¡¯t an immediate reaction. ¡°Oh!¡± Avi laughed, and a wave of relief washed over Mitch. ¡°Give me a second, OK?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Mitch nodded, trying to keep from fidgeting as he waited. He wasn¡¯t trying to snoop on purpose, but he was certain that he could hear Avi talking, concluding with a soft ¡®OK, love you. Talk to you later.¡¯. The door swung open, and Mitch recoiled as far away from it as possible. Avi appeared from the other side and gasped, happily exclaiming, ¡°My co-pay!¡± ¡°If you¡¯re busy, we don¡¯t- we don¡¯t gotta do this right now.¡± Mitch handed it over, trying to calm down. A sip was taken, and Avi flashed a grin. ¡°No, I¡¯m good to go if you are. Wanna go hang out in the living room?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Mitch gave several hard nods. ¡°Cool.¡± Avi smiled and shut the door, then gestured for Mitch to lead the way. defense mechanisms Avi followed Mitch down the stairs, then disappeared into the kitchen. Initially, Mitch was puzzled by this and hung out in the foyer as he waited for Avi; perhaps he¡¯d misheard the suggestion. Second later, Avi reappeared with a wooden chair and asked, ¡°So, it¡¯s only a partial tear, right?¡± He brought it into the living room with him and placed it in the middle of the area rug. ¡°Sit here.¡± ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Mitch complied, keeping still as Avi touched his shoulder. ¡°The doctor said I was lucky that it wasn¡¯t worse.¡± ¡°For sure.¡± Grazing the buckles, Avi informed Mitch that he was going to take the sling off and explained the agenda, which was light range of motion exercises and isometric strengthening. ¡°This one¡¯s gonna be the most painful session, but we¡¯ll also be doing the least, so it¡¯ll be disheartening. But you¡¯ll get a massage out of it, which is nice.¡± ¡°Well shit, all that for the price of an iced coffee?¡± He nearly made a comment about being more than fine with pain, but elected not to. It was yet to be determined if that kind of humor would fly, and Mitch didn¡¯t want to push his luck. ¡°Best bang for your buck, huh?¡± Once the sling was off, Avi gently pressed his fingers into the tendon, and Mitch hissed. ¡°Tell me if it¡¯s too much, though.¡± ¡°You¡¯re good,¡± Mitch urged him on. ¡°I can handle it.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not about ¡®handling it¡¯,¡± snorted Avi, his thumb rubbing slow circles against the shoulder. Chuckling, he added, ¡°Besides, anything going in that direction would cost way more than a coffee.¡± ¡°Ah. Heh,¡± Mitch kept his gaze fixed firmly at his feet, mouth dry and unable to come up with a quip in exchange. ¡°I¡¯m totally kidding,¡± Avi clarified while he continued to knead away. ¡°No, I got that.¡± He tensed up, frustrated that words were not coming along naturally, like they had been up until now. It was as though all of the progress he¡¯d made in behaving like a normal human being, and beginnings of actually kindling a friendship, were yet again rendered inaccessible. Except this time he did not want it to be that way, those defense mechanisms were no longer necessary. Avi had proven that he did not need to be held at arm¡¯s length, but the tide had swept in quickly and washed Mitch far from the shore and back out to sea. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Humming, Avi¡¯s other hand reached under Mitch¡¯s arm, and he announced that they were going to begin the stretches. Despite the promises of being gentle, every bit of movement still burned. ¡°Typical frozen shoulder,¡± Avi commented. ¡°Remember, say something if this hurts too much.¡± ¡°But we didn¡¯t establish a safe word.¡± Mitch squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to brute force his way back to dry land. ¡°Ha. My bad.¡± Avi¡¯s voice was light and nonchalant, and Mitch loosened up when the tone or mood hadn¡¯t changed regardless of the innuendo that¡¯d been unceremoniously dropped. ¡°Anyway, I don¡¯t have any exercise bands, so.¡± He held a hand up at about shoulder height in front of Mitch. ¡°For now, I want you to lift your arm and push against this.¡± ¡°Oh? We locking up?¡± joked Mitch, and at a glacier¡¯s pace he was at last able to place his hand against Avi¡¯s, lining the palms up as neatly as he could. While his fingers were longer, Avi¡¯s were so much stronger looking, much like the rest of him. A cannonball in human form. ¡°Well we¡¯re not dancing,¡± Avi retorted. ¡°I mean, sort of. You know what, why not? It¡¯s kind of a back and forth thing. You take the lead.¡± He nodded firmly. ¡°There¡¯s no music.¡± Mitch looked up, and began to apply weak pressure to Avi¡¯s palm. It didn¡¯t budge. And even though he didn¡¯t think that Avi was flexed at all, his forearm and bicep were still massive in comparison to his own. ¡°You want me to sing Backstreet Boys again?¡± suggested Avi. ¡°Because I will.¡± ¡°That¡¯s alright,¡± Mitch shook his head, and forced himself to look anywhere other than at the arm. He was already self-conscious enough, and the envy that he experienced around Avi was already potent enough. Then, a thought came to him. ¡°Hey, do you think after this is healed, you could help me try to put on some muscle?¡± Avi lit up. ¡°Yeah man! Part of my job is personal training. You could actually get started on leg stuff today, if you wanted. Maybe a few core exercises as well. But for now, keep pushing my hand.¡± ¡°Right.¡± He gave another attempt; still weak, still painful. ¡°Tell you what,¡± continued Avi. ¡°You let me use you as a pet project, I¡¯ll waive the copay. I¡¯d like to have some concrete evidence to show Victor and Jodie that I¡¯m worth keeping around.¡± ¡°Sure, go ahead and use me.¡± That made Avi crack up, and in the same moment, Mitch reached the point that he couldn¡¯t push anymore. ¡°I don¡¯t think you have to worry about them, though. They both really like you.¡± ¡°That¡¯s well and good, but I¡¯ve never had a trainer job at a school. And I really gotta make an effort to keep this one.¡± His voice dropped slightly, tinged with an actual seriousness to it, then switched back to the usual easy going disposition. ¡°Anyway, I think we¡¯re done for today. Sit tight,¡± he pat Mitch¡¯s knee then stood up and hitched a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. ¡°I¡¯m gonna go grab an ice pack for you.¡± placate Sit tight Mitch did, zoning out as his brain made a feeble attempt at processing whatever they had discussed for the last 15 minutes. A slight tremble had overtaken his body, presumably due to the ongoing combination of no sleep and no food. He took steady breaths to ground himself from the lightheadedness that had been a recent nuisance. Avi returned with a glass of water in one hand and an icepack in the other. The ice pack was applied to his shoulder, but Avi¡¯s hand stayed on it. ¡°I can hold that,¡± Mitch informed him, but regretted speaking up; his palms were hot and tingling from the energy he had exerted earlier, and the temperature contrast from the ice burned. While the intense cold gave him something to focus on, which he needed, the symptoms lingered in the background ¡°Great. Got you this, too.¡± Avi set the glass down on the side table. ¡°There¡¯s electrolyte powder in it, but it doesn¡¯t have any taste. Figured you could use the nutrients.¡± Mitch frowned. ¡°I¡¯m not doing this on purpose,¡± he mumbled. ¡°I didn¡¯t say you were,¡± Avi raised both of his hands, as though he was trying to placate a wild animal. ¡°But I can¡¯t train you until you start eating. That¡¯s the deal. Until then, copay¡¯s still on.¡± ¡°Fuck!¡± spat Mitch. He let go of the icepack, grabbed the glass and took a sip. The texture was both gritty and slimy, and there was an odor that did not agree with him, but he swallowed it regardless. Though he wanted nothing more than to drink it all in one gulp and slam the glass down, his body wouldn¡¯t allow for that, so he continued to sip until the amount had visibly decreased. ¡°I hate this!¡± He lamented, temporarily forgetting who was present and the restraint that he had been exercising up until then. His head hung low as let out a pitiful, ¡°I fucking hate this so much! I don¡¯t want to be like this anymore.¡± Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. He barely noticed that the glass that was taken away, or that ice pack was readjusted on his shoulder, or that Avi had crouched down in front of him. ¡°Hey man,¡± Avi¡¯s voice was soft. ¡°What?¡± Mitch sniffed, unwilling to look at him. ¡°You did great today. We¡¯ll do more stretches tomorrow, OK? But I¡¯m gonna reattach the sling now.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t even do anything,¡± Mitch let out a self deprecating laugh. ¡°You did so much,¡± Avi insisted as he put the straps and buckles in place. ¡°I promise, you were great.¡± ¡°If you say so.¡± Everything was clipped and tightened, and Mitch tested it by trying to wiggle his arm, but it hardly budged. ¡°I do.¡± Avi stood back up and stretched, while Mitch continued to keep his head low, determined to only focus on the way that his insides churned from the neglect they were going through. ¡°So,¡± Avi¡¯s voice transitioned from assurance to something more familiar and amiable. Mitch looked up enough to see a small bit of his hip exposed from the way that his ill-fitting shirt rode up, and immediately resumed staring at the floor. ¡°I¡¯ve got a shift at the school this afternoon. You wanna tag along and hang out with everyone?¡± ¡°No, I¡­I¡¯ve gotta finish writing this article I¡¯ve been stuck on. Deadline¡¯s tomorrow,¡± Mitch stuttered, needing solitude or fresh air or something to clear his head. ¡°Alright. Well, I¡¯ll catch you later, then?¡± ¡°Later. Yeah.¡± He waited until Avi had left the room before he rubbed his aching chest, silently praying that there were antacids somewhere in the house. alternate Mitch wandered around downtown Monument, enjoying the fresh air. Earlier, he had met up with Nate at Edmund¡¯s Diner for a late breakfast, which was long overdue. It wasn¡¯t that Mitch didn¡¯t want to hang out, and he was remorseful about dodging several requests to get together since he now lived in the area; up until that morning he didn¡¯t have the energy to interact with anyone that he didn¡¯t live with. Guilt gnawed at him for waiting until the last possible second to agree to something since Nate had his family¡¯s bakery to help run, but Nate had enthusiastically agreed to it and even let Mitch pick the place. And. Well. It was nice that someone actively wanted to spend time with him. He had been such a miserable sack of human garbage lately, but Nate always acted like he was the most interesting person in the room. Was it a crime to indulge in that? For the first time in weeks, Mitch ate something that resembled a meal. Although it was nothing more than half of a fried egg and a piece of dry white toast, his nausea hadn¡¯t been triggered and his stomach didn¡¯t lurch after he had swallowed it, so that was considered to be a huge win. He made a joke about being a cheap date, and the self deprecation seemed to go right over Nate¡¯s head. They spent most of the time catching up, since it had been ages. Nate lovingly talked about the three legged pitbull mix that he had recently adopted and a vintage Suzuki motorcycle he spent the past few months restoring. Forever self conscious about his passions, he was apprehensive to show pictures of either until Mitch had coaxed him into it. Naturally, conversation had drifted to how Mitch was doing, and Mitch didn¡¯t have an answer outside of ¡°alive¡±. He confessed that he didn¡¯t quite know what to do with his life at the moment, since up until last month, so much of his energy had been devoted to maintaining something that was broken beyond repair. Cutting through a small park off of Main St, he walked across the grass and over to a bench, and took a seat. The conversation from breakfast was ruminated over, and although Nate¡¯s advice was simple enough, Mitch was gobsmacked that he had never thought of it for himself. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Why not make a list?¡± Nate asked before they¡¯d exchanged goodbyes. ¡°Or two of them, even: a ¡®to-do¡¯ and a ¡®wants¡¯, and alternate between them.¡± So Mitch threw his head back and stared at a maple tree¡¯s crown above him, and the dappled light that filtered through it. The first thing that he wanted was to check out the record store he¡¯d spotted on the way over, but wouldn¡¯t be open for another 20 minutes. Since there was time to kill, he pulled out his phone and determined the first thing that he needed to do, which was find a therapist and to help him get his shit under control.
Armed with a paper bag full of used vinyls, Mitch returned home with a spring in his step. It had been so long since he last went crate diving, and he terribly missed the sense of adventure that went along with it: the musty smells, the ancient gig posters with the split fountain screen printing adorning the walls, the stacks of unorganized records that formed precarious mountains. The funk he had been in kept him away and uninterested from so many things that he was once passionate about, and this reintegration exercise felt like a huge success. Fortunately, the bulk of his collection was safe at his uncle¡¯s, since Calvin had made a fuss about the older records with the worn spines and how unattractive they were. He would have to grab them next time that he visited, but getting up to Burlington was a whole ordeal. Among his purchases was a curiosity that he couldn¡¯t pass up: a 7¡å Backstreet Boys single from 1997. It was only $5, it wasn¡¯t beat to hell, and he figured that it could be used as a small token of his gratitude for the car ride to Connecticut and the physical therapy that Avi had been providing. He thought about simply texting a photo of it as a goof, but the surprise would be much more fun. When the duplex came into view, he picked up the pace and built up enough momentum that he was able to clear the steps on the front porch. Presumably, the energy he was experiencing was from getting actual calories into his body, because he couldn¡¯t recall the last time that he was this invigorated. He opened the door, practically bursting into the foyer, and immediately headed for the living room where Jodie had allowed him to set up his turntable. As he drew closer, ambient new-age music got louder, and his nose wrinkled. this very normal situation ¡°Who¡¯s-¡± he muttered, then turned the corner and stood frozen in the doorway. The last thing he¡¯d anticipated was Avi, dressed only in gym shorts with his ass in the air and face pressed to the ground, and light sheen of sweat built up on his skin. On the TV was a woman in spandex, doing the same pose from a studio with soft lighting and wooden floors and a few houseplants. As soon as Mitch woke up from the world¡¯s fastest blackout, he spun around, ready to bolt away. ¡°Hey man!¡± came Avi¡¯s voice. ¡°I¡¯m almost done. Jodie said I could do yoga in here, since there¡¯s more room to stretch out.¡± ¡°Great! I¡¯m-¡± Mitch squeaked. ¡°I was just gonna. I was gonna play some records. I went to the store and¡­¡± He was suddenly dizzy, and wondered if he should eat more. ¡°Get anything good?¡± Avi asked nonchalantly. ¡°Just some psychobilly. The Cramps, Tiger Army¡­¡± Mitch attempted to recall what he¡¯d bought. ¡°Actually, uh¡­¡± he rustled through the bag, and his fingers grazed the 7¡å. ¡°Got you something, too.¡± ¡°Wait, for real?¡± Avi looked up from where he was folded in half on the mat with a genuinely surprised expression. ¡°Yeah,¡± Mitch cleared his throat, but couldn¡¯t shake the anxiety that surged with no warning. This was stupid. This was so, so stupid. He should have just sent the picture and not. Done this. ¡°It¡¯s dumb, but I found this, and I¡­¡± he swallowed, not saying ¡®thought of you¡¯, that was much too familiar. ¡°I didn¡¯t even know that this existed?¡± The 7¡å was pulled out and held up. Languidly, Avi came up off of the mat and rolled his shoulders, then put his glasses on and walked over to where Mitch was transfixed. He was apprehensive to extend his arm and reveal what he¡¯d bought, an acute sensation of deja vu bringing about paralysis; he didn¡¯t do the whole casual gift giving thing that much, not when he¡¯d gotten used to the courteous indifference of previous recipients. But he let Avi take it from him, kept his eyes trained to the ground while his face heated up. He braced himself for a polite ¡®oh, thanks¡¯ and the sting of internal embarrassment that would follow. Instead, he got, ¡°Holy shit! Is this a tiny Backstreet Boys record? This is amazing!¡± Mitch¡¯s head shot up, and he couldn¡¯t determine if the delight on Avi¡¯s face was sincere, but it didn¡¯t seem to be otherwise. ¡°It¡¯s a 45,¡± Mitch slowly began to explain as Avi turned it over and examined it. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°I don¡¯t know what that is,¡± Avi flashed a grin. ¡°A single. There¡¯s only two songs on it,¡± Mitch held up two fingers and continued. ¡°I don¡¯t even think this was ever sold anywhere? It¡¯s most likely a promotional item that the record label sent out to stations.¡± ¡°How do you know all this?¡± marveled Avi. ¡°Iunno, I like music? I considered majoring in it, but didn¡¯t think I could really make a career out of it,¡± shrugged Mitch. ¡°I¡¯m more surprised that you don¡¯t know anything about vinyls, given that you¡¯re a Washington guy and you¡¯ve got that hipster haircut.¡± ¡°Lay off the haircut, brotha,¡± Avi¡¯s face scrunched and he reached up to adjust his hair. ¡°Takes a lot of effort to look this good. And goddamn does it get unruly when I don¡¯t keep up on it.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t explain your vinyl illiteracy,¡± teased Mitch. ¡°Anyway, you wanna check this out?¡± ¡°We just went over it,¡± Avi groaned. ¡°I don¡¯t have a record player!¡± ¡°You can use mine, I can show you how,¡± Mitch tried to hide the tremor in his voice. ¡°If you wanted.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s do it!¡± Avi handed it back, and Mitch, getting progressively more lightheaded, placed it onto the turntable¡¯s spindle and dropped the needle. The on button for the speakers was pressed, and the distortion effects for ¡®Larger Than Life¡¯ played through them. Avi¡¯s enthusiasm was that of a child on Christmas morning, not showcasing any concern that he was barely dressed as he jammed out to 90s boy band music. Sure, they were both wrestlers, being half naked was nothing new. Mitch had been around plenty of fit guys in his life in various states of dress. This wasn¡¯t new. He was fine with this very normal situation, that wasn¡¯t even a situation. Mitch was so wrapped up in the Not Situation that he nearly missed how his phone vibrated. The number on the caller ID wasn¡¯t one that he had saved, but it was one that he called earlier. He slipped out of the room and answered it. ¡°Hello?¡± he greeted. ¡°Hi, is this Mitchell Calvert?¡± the voice on the other line asked, and he confirmed that it was. They exchanged pleasantries, and then voice proceeded to inform him that it was a therapist¡¯s office in Wickburg that was returning his message, and that a rare first time patient appointment had become available for the following week. ¡°It¡¯s usually about a month before we can get someone new booked,¡± the receptionist informed him. ¡°I¡¯ll take it!¡± Mitch exclaimed. He split his attention between the music and Avi while he confirmed the appointment¡¯s time and date. As he was hanging up, the front door opened, and Jodie came through it with armloads of grocery bags. ¡°Is there a party going on?¡± she asked as she passed by him in the hall, her brow furrowed in confusion. ¡°No? Yes?¡± Mitch followed her into the kitchen. ¡°Hey, I made an appointment. I¡¯m gonna see a brain wrangler.¡± ¡°Hell yes, dude! I¡¯m proud of you!¡± she shouted over the music. ¡°And,¡± he picked at his stubble. ¡°I ate breakfast. It wasn¡¯t much, though-¡± he started to say, but was cut off by being pulled into a bear hug. ¡°Dude, you dropped everything,¡± he laughed as a bottle of seltzer rolled towards him and hit his foot. ¡°Don¡¯t care,¡± she murmured. ¡°But yeah, the eggs are probably fucked now.¡± fret Before the set of tapings scheduled in the evening, Mitch treated Sandy to some anime movie that he was unfamiliar with. While they waited in the concessions line, she explained that Studio Ghibli was Japan¡¯s version of Disney ¡°but better¡±, and he took her word for it. ¡°Still can¡¯t believe that you¡¯ve never heard of Spirited Away,¡± she teased. Story of his life, being unfamiliar with most trends and pop culture that did not fit into his immediate interests. Sometimes he felt like a true acclimated American, but most times he was acutely aware of his clueless foreigner status. What he anticipated was a cute and colorful cartoon; what he was not able to brace for were the themes of love and acceptance and perseverance, and the borderline hysterics he experienced towards the end. He covered his mouth to keep any noises from escaping, and scrubbed a hand down his face before the credits rolled to keep from looking any more disheveled than usual. When Sandy asked if he liked it, she was merciful enough to hand a napkin over without making any other comments in regards to the crying. He nodded, and said that he loved it while he wiped his eyes. Unfortunately, making extracurricular plans distracted Mitch from focusing on other priorities. He promised Jodie that he would do photography for the tapings, since he could manage a camera with one arm and he needed to be involved somehow before he lost his mind. But he hadn¡¯t done anything resembling a photoshoot in almost a year, and as a result he did not think to check the battery until they were at the school and in the thick of preparation. ¡°Of course!¡± He slapped himself upside the head and explained the situation to Jodie. She laughed, told him to not worry about it since they were too close to showtime to do anything about it. Regardless, he fretted. ¡°Everyone! Listen up!¡± Jodie shouted to the scattered roster as they were in various states of ready for another set of tapings. The music playing over the PA system was promptly turned off, the chattering died down, and Nathan ushered everyone to gather into a group near her. ¡°I wanted to go over a few things before we get into it tonight.¡± As expected, she talked about the Monster Mash tournament, how the finals were going to be taped that night. The winner would be granted a Full Moon title match the Graveyard Smash, which was about a month and a half away. Maya -aka The Dark Lord and current champion- shouted from the back, ¡°Good luck! This title¡¯s never coming off of me!¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Nervous laughter broke out, but as far as anyone could tell her declaration may as well have been the gospel truth. She won the title at the last Graveyard Smash, and so far not a single person on the roster managed to figure out how to dethrone her. Even Victor had gone one-on-one against her, and she picked him apart clean. All of this was especially impressive considering that she was still on the newer side of wrestling, starting just before Mitch did; the general agreement was that she must be a savant. Once the group settled down again, Jodie continued, saying that the Half-Moon tag titles would also be on the line at Graveyard Smash, much to the dismay of the current tag team champions The Court. Wil and Gianna -aka Puck and Mab- secured those titles only a few months back, and made several unsubtle indications that they were willing to fight dirty to retain them. ¡°We¡¯re also 90% sold out of our tickets, so this is a big deal,¡± she informed them. ¡°And I want you guys to be proud of that. You¡¯ve all worked super hard, and I know that the months leading up to this have been extremely stressful, but it¡¯s going to pay off.¡± After a small pause for some hollering, she gave a few more updates. There would be one last day of taping in mid-October, but there were only a few matches scheduled since the main focus would be on vignettes and promos. ¡°If anyone wants to go to the campsite to do filming, let me know and we can arrange a day to bring equipment over there and get it all done at once¡±, she noted. She then praised Avi for his work ethic and integration into the Monument Wrestling Academy family, and forced him to join her at the helm so that, in her own words, ¡°everyone can gawk at you¡±. From there, he thanked everyone for accepting him, and went over the upcoming class schedule, clarifying that it would be posted on the office door so no one had to memorize it. In the most characteristic humble Avi way, he emphasized his gratitude for the patience extended to him since he was still getting the hang of things. On a final note as the room¡¯s energy shifted into pre-show anxiety, guaranteeing that only a few people were even paying attention anymore, he reminded everyone that personal training with him was always an option, but it needed to be arranged ahead of time and it was first come, first serve. ¡°OK, that¡¯s it. Go get ready, do the stuff that Nate will say that you gotta do right before the show,¡± Jodie dismissed the crowd, and with the exception of Avi and Mitch, they all dispersed. "Dont start." Jodie turned to Avi and exclaimed, ¡°That went well!¡± As they conversed, Mitch snuck over until he was at Jodie¡¯s side. He waited until there was a lull before asking, ¡°Is there any way that I can help out tonight? Since, y¡¯know, the camera thing.¡± ¡°Dude, just take it easy,¡± Jodie tried to bat him away, but he remained anchored to his spot. ¡°Enjoy the show!¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m serious, Jo. I don¡¯t wanna just sit around,¡± he protested. Being tangent to the meeting but not a part of it left him with a hollow sensation in his chest, and its existence was loathsome. As a defense mechanism, he generally avoided consuming anything related to wrestling since the last thing that he needed was grief compounded with more grief. The one-off stint of doing commentary, while in many ways helpful, caused a yearning that was more damaging than it was encouraging; that may have been due to the stress brought on by Calvin, but he did not yet possess the bandwidth to dissect it. ¡°You won¡¯t let me be with Louis and Sandy, so there¡¯s gotta be something?¡± ¡°I mean, you can go out with them, but you can¡¯t hang around ringside,¡± she clarified. Her face showed signs of straining, which indicated that she was doing her best to be both sensitive and simultaneously firm on a stance. ¡°But other than that, we¡¯re actually pretty good tonight.¡± ¡°You can hang out with me?¡± offered Avi with an overabundance of amiability, as though he was attempting to mediate. ¡°I¡¯m not doing anything tonight, either. Be my date?¡± ¡°Oh, uh.¡± Mitch¡¯s fingers twitched. His hand strayed from his side and ready to rub the back of his neck until it was raw. The word ¡®date¡¯ amplified in his ears, ricocheting off of the walls of his skull. It wasn¡¯t literal, Mitch reminded himself. Avi just talked like that. However, the logic did nothing to drop the rate at which his pulse accelerated. ¡°Maybe. I was going to go check with my guys first and see if they want me to do stuff with them for their entrance. But probably, yeah. I could do that, if Jodie just wants me to be on standby. We can hang out.¡± ¡°OK. I¡¯ll be around,¡± Avi waved him off, and Mitch gave a small wave of his own. He continued to stare in the direction that Avi walked away until there was a sharp tug at his shirtsleeve, the pull so hard and sudden that it yanked his shirt collar and made him gag. He didn¡¯t need to look to confirm that it was from Jodie. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°Wh-what are you doing?¡± Mitch asked. ¡°We¡¯re going into the office right now.¡± Jodie continued to pull, dragging him down the small hallway and practically kicking the door down when she got to it. ¡°Dad, out,¡± she demanded. Victor got up from his desk without any argument, yelping out a startled, ¡°I¡¯m going! I¡¯m going!¡± ¡°Jodie, what the fuck?!¡± Mitch shouted, watching her shut and lock the door behind them. ¡°No, you ¡®what the fuck¡¯!¡± she hissed back. ¡°What is going on with you?¡± ¡°Whaddya mean?!¡± Mitch swung his left arm out in exasperation, then pointed his thumb at his chest. ¡°I¡¯m doing what you want, I¡¯m not getting involved with the show!¡± ¡°Are you flirting with him? Why are you flirting with him?¡± Her eyes narrowed. ¡°Victor?¡± Mitch half joked, half panicked. ¡°No, idiot!¡± She slapped her own forehead, causing the numerous silver bangles around her wrist to jangle from the force. ¡°Avi!¡± ¡°I¡¯m not flirting with Avi!¡± Mitch blurted out. ¡°I don¡¯t even- why would you say that?!¡± ¡°I have functioning eyes and ears, dude. I see the way that you stare at him when he¡¯s not looking. I heard you guys a week ago in the living room, and in general around the house. You,¡± her index finger dug into his sternum, below his thumb, ¡°don¡¯t ever talk like that with anyone, unless you¡¯re trying to get laid.¡± ¡°Iunno Jo, it¡¯s banter I guess! He¡¯s easy to talk to? It¡¯s not flirting!¡± Mitch insisted, biting back the urge to explain that he couldn¡¯t get laid even if he wanted to. He would rather deal with the heat from an argument and risk burn marks than to throw a bucket of ice on a topic to drive a point home. Sure, it would redirect Jodie¡¯s fury away from him, but the idea of shining a light on his most intimate source of shame was not something he could yet bear. ¡°Oh, talk about safewords isn¡¯t flirting? Dancing isn¡¯t flirting?¡± she raised an eyebrow at him. ¡°The giggling wasn¡¯t flirting? You being a breathless dumbass isn¡¯t flirting?¡± ¡°How did you hear any of that? I thought you were out! Is the house bugged?¡± He backed up to get out of her range, uncomfortable with whatever it was that she was seeing that he could not. ¡°Dude, I came back. You didn¡¯t hear me, on account of the flirting.¡± She glared, her eyes like daggers. ¡°I said ¡®hi¡¯ to him while he got you an ice pack. You can ask.¡± ¡°He. He¡­he started it, not me!¡± Mitch exclaimed, tugging at his hair as he could sense the panic rising to the surface, threatening to overtake the eroded storm-surge barriers that he failed to maintain. ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything, OK? Why are you bothering me about this, don¡¯t you have shit to run?¡± ¡°Mitch,¡± her tone went from accusatory to delicate, and Mitch was about ready to explode when he caught on. The briefing may as well be over, he heard the words before she spoke them. ¡°Don¡¯t start,¡± he gritted. ¡°You just got out of a really bad situation, and¡­¡± she sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. ¡°You know what? This time, I¡¯ll just cut to the chase. I¡¯d prefer if you didn¡¯t attempt to fuck our roommate and my employee.¡± ragged ¡°I¡¯m not gonna-¡± The followup words could not be dislodged from his throat. ¡°Fuck you!¡± was all he managed, his chest tightening once the words were spat. ¡°Why would you say that? Why the fuck would you say that?!¡± ¡°Because you explicitly told me to warn you when you start doing this!¡± she snapped back, and his face fell; were he a dog, his tail would be between his legs. ¡°Because I¡¯ve been witness to this multiple times before? I know how you get, just before you realize how badly you want someone. You telegraph real hard.¡± She sharply inhaled through her nose, exhaled through her mouth, then took a step forward and crowded into his space. As he stood frozen, she reached up and smoothed some of his hair, then cupped his cheek. The instinct to lean into the touch was strong, but he staved it off. ¡°Just stay in here for a bit and cool off. For me?¡± She pleaded. ¡°And we can talk about this later?¡± Were he able to drive -technically he could- he would have stolen Jodie¡¯s car and taken off. But then go where? To a bar, where he¡¯d be unable to drink due to lack of supervision? Back home, where signs of Avi had gradually sprung up everywhere? To Toby¡¯s, which was looking more and more like the inevitable option every day that passed and the loneliness became that much stronger, messing with whatever willpower reserves that he hadn¡¯t yet drained. So his eyes squeezed shut and gave a hard nod, unceremoniously dropping onto the sofa while Jodie left the room. His breathing was ragged as he tried to deny the points that she made, but she was two for two with these assessments. The only consolation that he clung to was that she typically waited a while before saying something, and at that point he was always in much too deep. Perhaps this time she was just bypassing the 100% certainty factor; by addressing sooner rather than later, Mitch could prepare better, possibly even take matters into his own hand and quell this before it became a wildfire run rampant, scorching countless acres in its wake. Of course, he considered that this thing which he was content to avoid could be nothing more than a byproduct. For all he knew, the amalgamation of all of his strained emotions could simply be manifesting as desire in strange places. Wouldn¡¯t be the first time. That seemed realistic, he decided. And it wasn¡¯t as though he could act on it, on account of what was presently out of order. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Besides, there wasn¡¯t anything inherently wrong with being attracted to someone. Mitch had handled being Louis¡¯ tag team partner for a year and a half, despite the occasional passing fantasy of getting mercilessly railed by him. And Avi certainly was attractive, how could he not appreciate the way that he always smelled like spearmint? Or how his ass belonged in a museum for preservation? Or the full lips and soft smiles that so often graced them? It was biological, no more or less. ¡°Oh my god I¡¯m fucked.¡± He ran a hand down his face and went completely horizontal on the safe, body deflating as though all of his bones had been removed. An undetermined amount of time passed as he stayed in that position, and he cursed himself for having left his phone in the locker room. However, there wasn¡¯t a snowball¡¯s chance in hell that he would leave the office to go find it, he wasn¡¯t ready to show his face in public, or give Jodie the satisfaction of being right. And god forbid he bumped into Avi. He would rather die. Eventually, the office door opened, and Louis¡¯ head poked in. ¡°Hey man,¡± he greeted warmly, his long hair damp and the smell of cheap shampoo indicating that his match was already over. ¡°Hey Loulou,¡± Mitch responded without bothering to mask the wariness. ¡°You uh, wanna skedaddle?¡± Mitch went to open his mouth, but before he could, Louis continued with, ¡°Jodie said it was cool.¡± ¡°So she asked you,¡± Mitch deadpanned. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m just the messenger. And maybe cabbie.¡± It wasn¡¯t the first time that Louis had been the designated middle man during their spats, and it wouldn¡¯t be the last. Mitch elected to be thankful for the courtesy and not drag him down any further, only requesting that his phone be retrieved before they leave. Louis, being the good friend that he was, obliged with haste. ¡°Alright.¡± With his phone back in his possession, Mitch stood up and stretched. His bones were denser than usual, aching from either depression or gravity or some pathetic combination of both. ¡°Take me home?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take ya home alright,¡± Louis kidded, full of faux insinuation as he put his arm around Mitch¡¯s back, careful to avoid the bad shoulder. Though the gesture was small, the suffocating weight became bearable due to it. Mitch laughed and allowed himself to be pulled into the side hug, grateful that Louis¡¯ orbit was a familiar comfort that he could always rely on even when everything else fell apart. long time no see (update on things) Hey everyone, long time no see. I''m really sorry that I kind of disappeared for a bit without explanation. Last April, I ended up having to tackle not one, but two family emergencies that happened literally within hours of one another. The first thing resolved itself well! The second was an unexpected death on my spouse''s side of the family. That has been much, MUCH harder to deal with. The bulk of time and energy during these last few months have been devoted to grieving, combing through the estate (neither of which is something that we''re too familiar with), and being supportive of my spouse. It''s all so frustrating and shitty and unfair. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Anyway, head and heart have been feeling a little better recently, and today I finally the spoons to log on finally type this up. My plan is to get some new updates posted today, and resume the Mon Weds Fri schedule next week (provided that NOTHING ELSE HAPPENS BETWEEN NOW AND THEN). All my best, Jack haplessly The GPS directed Jodie and Mitch to a large purple Victorian house with yellow time in Wickburg, which sat on a steep hill and overlooked the city. Jodie double checked the address to make sure that they were at the right location, and muttered something about being in a residential neighborhood. ¡°There¡¯s a sign out front with a bunch of doctor names,¡± Mitch pointed. ¡°This is definitely the place.¡± ¡°This is a therapist¡¯s office?¡± Craning her neck, Jodie looked in the direction that Mitch gestured towards. ¡°Wild.¡± ¡°Y¡¯know, if my next follow up goes well, I won¡¯t need you for rides anymore.¡± He wiggled the fingers of his right hand, beyond ready to be free of the damn sling once and for all. The minor bits of freedom he experienced when Avi worked on his shoulder was the only thing that kept him sane. ¡°I would have wanted to be here for you anyway. Like, to pick you up.¡± Jodie touched his forearm and squeezed. ¡°The first therapy session is rough.¡± ¡°So I¡¯ve heard,¡± Mitch chuckled. ¡°You usually talk about your parents,¡± she continued. ¡°And cry a bunch.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t know how many tears I have left at this point. Maybe that¡¯s why I¡¯m doing it now.¡± The back of Mitch¡¯s head made contact with the headrest. ¡°Feels safe. Like I got nothing else to lose.¡± ¡°Oh, you¡¯ve got more tears. Trust me.¡± She patted him, then let go altogether. ¡°Ready?¡± ¡°No man, but.¡± He sighed. ¡°Also, yeah.¡± ¡°Love you, broski. Get that brain meat calibrated. I¡¯ll be back to pick you up in an hour.¡± He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door while she talked. ¡°Love you, too.¡± The door was shut with haste, and Mitch scrambled away from the car. All of that was exactly why he wanted to do this on his own, but Jodie insisted on tagging along. It wasn¡¯t as though he didn¡¯t appreciate the ride, or her support and kind-ish words, or everything else for that matter because goddamn if she wasn¡¯t the best friend and best moral compass that a walking disaster could ask for. But the fight from a few nights back still went unaddressed, and he wanted to be alone on the way over to determine whatever needed to be discussed during this introductory session. Despite the fact that this was necessary (and had been for his entire life, probably?), a thick layer of fog blanketed his brain and permeated all of its crevices. And as his hand made contact with the front door¡¯s handle, he could barely recall why he was even here. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Still, he pushed forward, only pausing to examine a piece of paper that was taped to the front door¡¯s window. On it was a list of names and corresponding numbers, which included Dr. Ann Moirow, his new therapist. The foyer that he stepped foot into smelled of old wood and varnish, with a large staircase and a long narrow hall behind that. ¡°Hello?¡± Someone from his left spoke up, and his head turned in their direction. Towards the back of a large room, a person sitting behind a desk flashed a polite smile. ¡°Do you have an appointment?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Mitch cleared his throat and walked over, introducing himself. A clipboard was handed over, and the receptionist explained what to fill out on the new patient check-in form, as well as requesting a copy of his ID and health insurance card. He took a seat on a shabby velvet sofa and jotted down the pertinent info, took back his cards while handing back the clipboard, then alternated between staring vacantly at the fishtank in the corner and some generic art prints of abstract shapes and colors. The topics he prepared for today still remained elusive. ¡°Mitchell?¡± A new voice cut through the haze that enveloped him. ¡°Huh?¡± He stood up out of instinct, and immediately felt ridiculous for doing so. On the bottom of the stairwell stood an older woman, thin with loose curly auburn hair, large glasses, and a gingham jumper dress that would have been at home in the 1970s. She reminded him of his favorite literature teacher in high school. ¡°Uh, Mitch is fine,¡± he clarified. ¡°I¡¯m Ann.¡± She extended her hand, and he moved forward to shake it. So far, he remained in uncharted waters; the small amount of planning he made in the last 10 minutes was annihilated due to the unexpected wrench of addressing a doctor by their first name. ¡°Are you ready to start?¡± She asked. ¡°Ready as I¡¯ll ever be,¡± he smiled haplessly, then followed her up the stairs and into a small room at the top of them. An overstuffed blue wingback chair was offered to him, and he waited until Ann was in her office chair before sitting down himself. She took a legal pad and pen from off of the desk and explained that she would be taking notes. Mitch¡¯s eyes drifted to the cream and tan antique wallpaper, visually tracing the patterns on them while she said his name and the date aloud and continued to jot. ¡°So.¡± She placed the pad on her lap and lightly slapped the top of it with her palm. Mitch¡¯s leg bounced as he waited for the next words out of her mouth. ¡°Let¡¯s go over you a little bit. What brings you in here?¡± Her words were steady: sounding carefully curated, yet natural. He anticipated someone much more neutral, clinical, but she had a kind smile and warm eyes and smelled faintly like cinnamon. Or maybe it was whatever was wafting from the chipped teacup on her desk. ¡°Uh, well,¡± Mitch readjusted in his seat. ¡°I¡¯m. I¡¯m 29,¡± he stuttered. ¡°I just got out of a 5 year relationship that was¡­¡± His cheeks puffed up, and then he exhaled. ¡°Bad? Really bad? And my life¡¯s¡­¡± he trailed off, grasping for words. ¡°I¡¯m in a weird place. Awful place? Like it¡¯s not awful, OK? I¡¯m safe, I have a roof over my head.¡± She nodded along thoughtfully, already starting to write. And although he thought that the well of tears was tapped, his eyes began to water and his chest ached so badly that the pain seeped into his ribcage. ¡°I¡¯m actually so lucky, y¡¯know? But this has all been a really, really long time coming.¡± brain mush The tissue that Mitch clutched for the past 45 minutes was discarded in the wastebin by the front door, which was nearly full of many other tissues and a few paper water cups as well. He lingered on the front steps and fidgeted with the edges of the appointment card that Ann gave him. From where he stood, the bumper of Jodie¡¯s car was visible, but he needed another minute to collect himself before he saw anyone. Stray tears were wiped away, and the cigarette that he pulled out was put away when he spotted the ¡®No Smoking¡¯ sign on the property. He was numb, but in a way that was nebulous; neither good nor bad, but the polar opposite of how he usually coped via shutting down. This time, it was as if ancient amber was unearthed from his core and heated up, somehow managing to turn back into sap, then was flushed from his system. He was dazed and hollow, and unsure what to make of it. But his legs moved of their own accord, towards the car to where Jodie was waiting. As soon as he was inside and buckled up, the density of the air increased tenfold. Jodie waited for a short stretch, then quietly said, ¡°Hey.¡± ¡°Hi,¡± he greeted back, throat still raw. His eyesight was fixed out the window and on nothing in particular. All of his limbs, even the arm in the sling, were as rigid as cooked pasta that sagged in a strainer. Something was placed in his lap, but it took a moment for it to register that anything was there at all. His attention drifted to it, and he spotted the familiar gray fabric. ¡°Thought you might want an old friend,¡± Jodie suggested. Mitch put a hand on top of Cendre¡¯s head, then pulled the stuffed rabbit into a tight hug. Shifting into drive, Jodie waited until when they reached the end of the street before she asked, ¡°You alright?¡± Mitch let the question swirl and clink around in his head like ice in a glass of whiskey before answering with, ¡°Yes? No?¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Yeah,¡± nodded Jodie. ¡°You were right, though.¡± His tongue grew heavy and throat went dry. ¡°About?¡± A right turn was taken onto another side road as she attempted to navigate her way back onto the main road. ¡°I cried a bunch about my parents,¡± he burst out laughing, disregarding the inappropriate timing. ¡°Fuckin¡¯ told you!¡± She slapped the steering wheel in triumph, although the victory was bittersweet. Still, Mitch appreciated the bit of normality where he could get it. ¡°Or like, my mom, rather,¡± he continued. ¡°Can¡¯t exactly cry about someone that hasn¡¯t been around for 25 out of 29 years.¡± The tension percolated between them the moment he made that quip, and he could physically feel Jodie shoving words through a fine mesh filter. ¡°Oh my god, just say it,¡± he urged. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Please.¡± ¡°I mean, he¡¯s been a little preoccupied.¡± She left it at that. ¡°Well maybe he shouldn¡¯t have fled his fuckin¡¯ country when he had an arrest warrant!¡± His jaw clenched, and the urge to slam strike the dashboard was barely contained. ¡°I get why, OK! I¡¯ve made peace with it. But then he went and knocked up my mom! If he didn¡¯t, we¡¯d both be less-¡± He blew a raspberry, too riled up to form full sentences. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s cool and all that he made a¡­what¡¯s the phrase?¡± ¡°Made an honest woman out of her?¡± ¡°That¡¯s so gross,¡± he grimaced. ¡°But like. Wait no, I just went through this in therapy, with my therapist. I¡¯m not rehashing this right now.¡± ¡°You brought it up!¡± She retorted with grand indignation. ¡°You get a pass for first time post-therapy brain mush, but you brought it up! Don¡¯t get upset at me!¡± ¡°Look, I got mush! Don¡¯t encourage it further!¡± he shouted, and weakly shoved at her shoulder. She made no effort to defend herself. ¡°So uh.¡± Her fingers drummed against the wheel. ¡°You like your therapist? ¡®Cause I know you¡¯ve never done this, like as a grown up. And sometimes it takes a few sessions to feel it out, but it¡¯s like any other relationship, y¡¯know?¡± Mitch glanced over at her, the concern simmering below her cool veneer. He was constantly wary of anyone new that came into his life, but he had been the one to seek out Ann and not the other way around. And although it¡¯d only been one session, her warmth radiated within him after leaving her office. He smiled, and after careful consideration, responded with, ¡°I think I do, yeah.¡± elevator pitch By the grace of god or some higher power, Mitch was granted freedom from the sling. He was never itchier in his entire life than right then, and nearly scratched his forearm raw after he left the hospital. ¡°We should celebrate!¡± Jodie declared that evening as Mitch listened to a Black Rebel Motorcycle Club album in the living room, her legs stretched across his lap as she painted his fingernails. She paused her work to pluck the joint from his fingers and took a hit. ¡°Wanna get a pizza?¡± asked Mitch. ¡°I think I could try a slice of cheese without getting nauseous.¡± ¡°No, like¡­¡± She sat up. ¡°Let¡¯s go away for a weekend, before shit gets crazy here.¡± ¡°It¡¯s already crazy?¡± Mitch¡¯s face scrunched. ¡°Graveyard Smash is like¡­what, in a month, dude?¡± ¡°Oh c¡¯mon, when was the last time we went somewhere? For fun?¡± She groaned. ¡°Look, you¡¯ve survived the past month, our friendship survived the last 5 years despite Calvin¡¯s best efforts. The leaves are gonna be changing soon, maybe I wanna get some work done in a different location, somewhere with fresh air¡­¡± He finally caught on as she continued her list, but out of amusement allowed her to continue. When the joint was returned, he kept his fingers spread as far apart as possible due to wet polish. ¡°Lake house? You know that you can just say ¡®lake house¡¯, right? You don¡¯t need to play coy.¡± ¡°Yes! Of course I mean the lake house. Let¡¯s go to Pisgah Lake. It should be peak foliage between the end of September and beginning of October, and we can go do edibles in the middle of the woods. Your uncle still has the place, right?¡± ¡°He does,¡± Mitch confirmed. ¡°Usually he and Marie go on the weekends around this time of year, but I can check and see when it¡¯s free. He keeps trying to get me to use it, anyway. Calvin was never a huge fan of the woods, though.¡± This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°We can go revisit where we first met! I can get the heebie jeebies from remotely being near where I grew up!¡± While Jodie prodded, Mitch kept the joint between his lips and drafted a text to his uncle, amazed that he was capable of such a level of coordination. Joining the calamity was the sound of footsteps from the stairwell, and his head tilted in the direction of the sound. Seconds later, Avi was in the doorway, but his presence didn¡¯t stop Jodie from her listing. ¡°Hey, no sling!¡± Avi cheerfully exclaimed, and took a seat next to Mitch on the couch. ¡°Doctor said my recovery is going super well,¡± Mitch responded with a smile and set the phone down on his lap. He readjusted to accommodate Avi¡¯s wide frame, but despite that they were pressed shoulder to shoulder. ¡°I reckon that¡¯s probably thanks to you.¡± ¡°I reckon,¡± Avi smiled back, that smile growing brighter as Mitch handed him the joint which he¡¯d been keeping out of Jodie¡¯s reach. ¡°Oh my god, you¡¯re a lifesaver,¡± he gasped. Heat crept into Mitch¡¯s cheeks, and his fingertips burned as Avi¡¯s brushed against them, like the world¡¯s tiniest lightning storm was happening in the living room. He hoped that it wasn¡¯t as transparent as it felt. ¡°Avi!¡± Jodie spoke up and poked Avi¡¯s side with her foot while he inhaled. ¡°You ever been to Vermont?¡± ¡°No, can¡¯t say I have,¡± he answered. ¡°Heard it¡¯s real pretty, though.¡± A response from Roland came through with a few dates listed that the house would be available. ¡°We should be good for next weekend, if we wanted it,¡± Mitch interrupted, then apologized for doing so. ¡°There¡¯s no filming that weekend,¡± she pursed her lips in thought. ¡°Yo Avi, wanna come experience the majesty of nature with us?¡± ¡°My uncle and aunt have a lake house,¡± Mitch explained. The words tumbled out and his pulse pounded as though he was making an elevator pitch. ¡°It¡¯s nice. There¡¯s mountains nearby, you¡¯d like it a lot.¡± ¡°Well, yes, I¡¯d love to go, but¡­¡± Avi trailed off and grimaced. ¡°If you had classes scheduled, Nate or my dad can take over,¡± Jodie piped up. ¡°Nate owes me a big time favor that I gotta cash in on.¡± ¡°No, I don¡¯t, actually. Took that weekend off.¡± Avi sighed and urgently rubbed his jeans like he was trying to wipe them dry. The tension in Avi¡¯s body was palpable where his and Mitch¡¯s arms made contact. ¡°Well, I meant to bring this up sooner. My girlfriend¡¯s flying out that weekend.¡± Mitch stiffened, instantly sobering up. Girlfriend. Girlfriend. still sucks Mitch¡¯s brain hit the ground and splattered into a million chunks. If he reached up and touched the side of his face, he might find blood gushing out of his ear. Of course were that the case, present company would probably alert him about it. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s cool!¡± Jodie nodded. ¡°Where¡¯s she coming out from?¡± ¡°Tacoma,¡± Avi answered. ¡°The lake?¡± Jodie asked. ¡°No, that¡¯s Tahoe,¡± giggled Avi. ¡°Tacoma. Washington state.¡± ¡°Fuck, I¡¯m so high,¡± she squealed and closed her eyes, the sunk further into the couch cushions. ¡°Sorry. Carry on.¡± ¡°But yeah, I¡¯m maybe trying to get her to consider moving out this way, since I¡¯m going to be around here for the foreseeable future. Really wanna sell her on it, y¡¯know.¡± Avi¡¯s head hung low, his easy going demeanor waning like the tide. ¡°Well,¡± Mitch cleared his throat, desperate to appear to be the embodiment of stable and not on the verge of fracturing. ¡°Vermont in its full Fall glory is certainly the way to do that. People travel across the world to see the foliage change.¡± ¡°And like, Mitch and I can totally clear out if you guys wanted space. Also there¡¯s a fireplace. And a hot tub,¡± added Jodie. ¡°And a canoe? There¡¯s a canoe, right?¡± ¡°Think so. And they put a fireplace in the master bedroom, too,¡± Mitch mentioned, the words continuing to freely spill from his mouth. He needed to find the valve to shut it off and stop talking forever. ¡°Fuck, that¡¯s romantic,¡± Jodie whistled. ¡°You could treat it like a B&B. But sometimes Mitch and I will be around and on an irresponsible amount of edibles. Which you both may also partake in, if you wanted. That can be a sweet benefit.¡± ¡°That all sounds fantastic!¡± Avi was all smiles once more. ¡°I was trying to figure out what we could do, and the best I could come up with was apple picking. That was the other thing that I wanted to ask you guys about, I needed some more ideas.¡± ¡°There¡¯s an orchard right nearby!¡± Jodie sing-songed. ¡°You can still do that! And there¡¯s plenty of cider places as well that are super good.¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°Great! I¡¯m sold!¡± Avi fully perked up, and Mitch needed to escape from where he was trapped on the middle seat. While the word ¡°girlfriend¡± still attempted to absorb itself into the shitty goo that made up the remains of his rotted brain meat, Avi grabbed his arm and softly asked, ¡°Hey, are you really OK with this? If it¡¯s your family¡¯s place and you guys were just planning on going up and having a good time, I don¡¯t want to intrude.¡± ¡°Of course! Why wouldn¡¯t I be OK? It¡¯ll be great,¡± Mitch asserted. ¡°If your girlfriend¡¯s anything like you, she¡¯ll love it.¡± ¡°You¡¯re the best. I appreciate this so much.¡± The hand squeezed, and despite it being in his best interest to not acknowledge it, Mitch turned towards Avi and saw those enormous brown eyes staring at him; cheeks lifted, plush lips curled around stupid perfect probably fake teeth, the most sincere -goddammit, tender- expression that anyone had given him. More sincere than any boyfriend that ever dropped an ¡®I love you¡¯ after fucking. It was as though a huge icicle that¡¯d been dangling from a gutter drain dropped, impaling him in the guts but not instantly killing him. ¡°Sure man, you got it,¡± Mitch numbly responded, patting Avi¡¯s knee with as much strict friendly casualness as he could muster before swatting Jodie¡¯s legs off of his lap. He stood up, excused himself, and went out onto the front porch. Limply dropping onto the steps, he pulled out a pack of American Spirits and tapped out a cigarette, rotating it between his fingers then slipped it between his lips. For the fleeting second he wanted to challenge his failing willpower and reconsidered lighting it and, but ultimately surrendered. Leaning back, he rested on his palms and stared up at the half moon overhead. At least he could relish in being able to put weight onto his right arm for the first time in over a month. The ¡®I love you¡® that he heard while eavesdropping suddenly made sense; he hoped that Avi was talking to a family member, but somewhere in his subconscious he always knew that was not the case. Good people like Avi weren¡¯t single, nor should they be. The emptiness Mitch spent the last few days adjusting to began to fill up with a sort of sediment that was neither alien nor familiar; it simply was. He couldn¡¯t say for sure how much time passed when Jodie came out to join him; judging from how close the cigarette burnt down to the filter, about 10 minutes. ¡°Can I get one of those?¡± she asked, and wordlessly he handed her the entire pack. They sat in a companionable silence, both of them focused on the night sky. ¡°Guess there¡¯s no problem now,¡± Mitch finally commented as he snubbed the filter into the thick glass ashtray that lived out on the steps. ¡°Mitch,¡± Jodie gave him a pitiful side glance, but he shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Never thought I had a chance, anyway.¡± White paint flakes from the steps loosened and wedged under his fingernails; he examined before wiping them away on his jeans. ¡°Not the first time I liked someone that wasn¡¯t an option. You know that.¡± An arm was thrown around his shoulders, and he allowed himself to be pulled down enough so that Jodie could place a kiss on the top of his head. Smoke from her cigarette wafted up into his nostrils, but he didn¡¯t bother to adjust his position. ¡°Still sucks,¡± she remarked. ¡°Still sucks,¡± he agreed. nothing at all For the week and a half leading up to the lake house trip, Jodie put so much effort into pointing out every single tree around Monument that changed color. Her enthusiasm was palpable when the temperature dipped into the low 50s, not only for the long weekend ahead, but because she could begin to wear her ¡°normal wardrobe¡±. Mitch agreed since most of his clothes were jeans and long sleeves, and he always preferred to have a few layers on. Sometimes Avi shook his head and declared that they were out of their minds, but stopped when Jodie called him out for consuming pumpkin spice lattes like they were water. Grocery shopping was handled the night before they headed up to Pisgah Lake, and Jodie and Mitch departed from Monument on Friday morning to get a good view of the foliage during the drive. It was particularly splendid past Vermont¡¯s southern border, and the Green Mountain range that welcomed them was blanketed in a vibrant patchwork quilt of reds and yellows, oranges and purples. ¡°Missed this,¡± Mitch commented, eyes fixed on the road but able to admire the sweeping vista of mountains and valleys when the highway crested. ¡°What? Driving, or-¡± Jodie gestured with both arms. ¡°This?¡± ¡°Both,¡± nodded Mitch. ¡°Thanks for letting me take the wheel.¡± ¡°Wasn¡¯t gonna go up in your car,¡± Jodie scoffed. ¡°She¡¯s a duct tape death trap.¡± ¡°You leave Beatrice alone,¡± chastised Mitch. ¡°I mean you¡¯re right, but don¡¯t be rude.¡± It was good though, to get onto open roads and away from the noise and congestion of Monument and Wickburg. The freedom to drive was also a gift in and of itself, which had a deeper psychological impact on Mitch than he realized. Back in France, having a car didn¡¯t matter due to the renowned public transit systems, but that was not the case here and he couldn¡¯t escape when he needed solitude. The independence would have been a blessing when he was dumped, but he also wondered if he would have just driven his car straight into the Nashua River. And although he was grateful for the ride from Avi, he simultaneously wished that it never happened because he let his guard down. They would have eventually gotten along well enough without being forced into contact for over 6 hours, but he could have kept some of the more vulnerable content locked away. Now there was a bond he couldn¡¯t ignore, and through that opening the Spartans were able to slip past the walls. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Mitch was left with¡­feelings. Feelings were complex and tangled and something that he was ill-equipped to handle in his present state. After Calvin, all that remained with the burnt-out shell of a man. It was too early to want anything since all of his energy went into getting to the end of the day without collapsing in on himself. The cherry on top was being forced to contend with the fact that he was dumber than a Trojan. Still, he stewed. Not anywhere in that 6 hour car ride had a girlfriend been mentioned, nor in the last few weeks that they were practically inseparable. Not even hinted at! It irked Mitch, and he was confused as to how she never came up once. They hashed out relationship stuff constantly; so how did Avi spend all that time omitting that he himself was in one, but opened up about so much other stuff? Maybe he had an inflated sense of self importance, assuming that of course Mitch would be attracted to him, and didn¡¯t want to deflect that attention. No, that wasn¡¯t right. According to Ann, Mitch spent the last 5 years in a relationship with a textbook egomaniac. He assumed that by now he could recognize one, and Avi was nothing like Calvin. Realistically, Avi was just being polite and did not want to brag. That made him somehow nicer than he already was, which annoyed Mitch even more. He didn¡¯t need to be handled with kid gloves, he could deal with being happy on behalf of someone and their good fortune. Not that he was entitled to information, it was just odd to not be granted access to something that he freely gave early on. ¡°What¡¯cha thinking about?¡± asked Jodie, dragging Mitch from his thoughts. Taking a quick glance in the rear view mirror, he noted that his jaw was firm and brow completely furrowed. ¡°Nothing.¡± He shook his head, rearranging his face into a mask of nonchalance. ¡°Nothing at all.¡± gripe It had been years since Mitch pulled onto the old dirt and gravel road that wound on and on to reach the house. When he was a kid, he swore that it was several kilometers long, but realistically it was only a hundred meters from end to end. They passed through an overgrown patch of big bluestem grass, and the tips brushed against the windows and doors of the car. He pulled into the carport with a solar panel on its roof, a recent addition to the property he noted. ¡°Is that a fire pit?!¡± Jodie excitedly pointed to the round concrete structure and wooden Adirondack chairs that surrounded it. She launched herself out of the car and conducted an examination before taking a seat in a chair. Meanwhile Mitch collected bags of groceries from the back seat. ¡°Yeah, that was put in a while back,¡± Mitch explained, guilt needling under his skin for not inviting her here while he was with Calvin. Not that he¡¯d been around much, either; Calvin detested anything rural and the cell signal was abysmal, so the log cabin was effectively not an option. ¡°Roland told me about it when it was getting done,¡± he continued. ¡°He and Marie give their best, by the way.¡± ¡°Oh, tell them I said ¡®hi¡¯!¡± She was all smiles, relaxed and aglow in a way that he hadn¡¯t seen her in forever. ¡°We should definitely have a fire tonight.¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Mitch agreed, and he tilted his head towards the full firewood rack that was attached to the house. ¡°Looks like we got plenty of wood, so we don¡¯t have to run to town for a bundle.¡± ¡°Fuckin¡¯ sweet,¡± Jodie remarked, then languidly stood back up and returned to the car for the remainder of the grocery bags, as well as her luggage. While she did that, Mitch fished through his pockets and sought out the key to the house, then inserted it into the lock once he found it. Catching up to him before he got the door open, Jodie said, ¡°I¡¯m surprised that you didn¡¯t bring the guitar.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not gonna be the Wonderwall guy, you know that.¡± His face twisted in disgust. ¡°Especially if a new person¡¯s around. That¡¯s the worst first impression.¡± ¡°Yeah, but maybe Avi wanted to play for her,¡± Jodie pointed out, and Mitch instinctively bristled; however, he caught himself and was mindful about his vow of refusal to dislike someone that he hadn¡¯t even met. He was going to give her an honest shot, because she was probably wonderful if Avi loved her. Hell, if all went well they were going to become best friends, until one day -years later- over glasses of wine he would confess that he wanted her man the entire time. She¡¯d be outraged by the betrayal (despite always suspecting it), and demand that he leave her house. For whatever reason, he imagined this would all take place at a villa in Martha¡¯s Vineyard. The ocean would be raging, for a storm would be rolling in, and he would be forced to wander the streets in a downpour. Stolen story; please report. That fantasy seemed plausible and definitely not deranged at all. ¡°Avi¡¯s not quite there yet,¡± he lied. Avi was competent enough that he could manage something simple like ¡®Love Me Do¡¯ by The Beatles, if he prepared in advance. Unlike Mitch with his stretches, Avi actually practiced every day in his spare time. ¡°If you say so,¡± Jodie brushed him off, likely suspecting that the statement was bullshit. ¡°I¡¯m gonna go snoop around and see what¡¯s changed here.¡± With that declaration, she left him to put away the rest of the groceries. Typical. ¡°It¡¯s mostly the same, from what I¡¯ve been told¡± Mitch called out. ¡°Love this. It¡¯s like a fuckin¡¯ LL Bean catalogue,¡± she responded. ¡°When I think ¡®white people that vacation in Vermont¡¯, it¡¯s this place for sure.¡± ¡°That¡¯s probably where Marie got most of her inspiration.¡± Mitch checked the tags of the plaid curtain and valence set that adorned the window above the sink, which confirmed this to be was the case. He then resumed putting the rest of the perishables in the fridge and basked in nostalgia brought on by the log cabin¡¯s white pine interior¡¯s smell and feel, appreciative that not much changed. On the farmhouse table was a piece stationary with a moose illustration as a header, and the cursive handwriting on it distinctly belonged to his aunt. It was a greeting, along with a few small updates to the property. Apparently, a black bear was spotted a few times, so they needed to be careful with the outdoor trash bins. Another trip was taken back to the car so that he could gather his luggage. He unzipped his overnight bag to double check if he packed his camera, and was relieved that it was nestled between layers of clothing. Hopefully, his interest in photography would be rekindled by the setting. As he pulled the zipper close, he spotted a dark purple knit hat underneath the camera. Jodie made it for him as a Christmas gift years back, and he unearthed it when he was going through his belongings, deciding to bring it along since the nights were bound to be cold. He put it on then resumed closing the bag and brought it inside. Dropping it off at the bottom of the stairs, he went to find where Jodie wandered off to. The search wasn¡¯t a long one, because as he suspected, she was on the three season porch that faced the lake. ¡°This is so beautiful,¡± she commented when Mitch joined her at the window. The lake was tranquil, its only disturbance was a pair of loons that paddled across the otherwise glassy surface. All around it were firey swamp maples and yellow birches, framed by the bright blue sky above. Their eyes met in the reflection of the window, and she sighed heavily. ¡°I wish coming here wasn¡¯t such a, iunno, thing for me.¡± ¡°Just don¡¯t post anything on Instagram until we¡¯re gone?¡± suggested Mitch. ¡°Or wherever she¡¯s stalking you now.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not gonna, but¡­¡± she trailed off and frowned, then rubbed the side of her face. ¡°Wish she¡¯d stop trying to contact me, y¡¯know? It¡¯s exhausting to be so vigilant. But like, also this trip ain¡¯t about her.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Mitch nodded. ¡°Don¡¯t let me bitch about it the whole time, OK?¡± she requested. ¡°I¡¯m here to enjoy myself, not gripe.¡± ¡°I mean, you can gripe if you want-¡± he started to say, but she shot him a look and he shut up. Sighing, he slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. ¡°Shitty mom club for life, right?¡± ¡°You know it, brother,¡± she leaned in and laughed. worlds saddest boy ¡°Heh. Well, wanna go see if there¡¯s any old person games to play? Pretty sure there¡¯s some dominoes or Cribbage. There¡¯s at least gotta be a deck of cards,¡± Mitch offered so that they didn¡¯t dwell on the subject any further. ¡°You think that old Nintendo is still around?¡± Jodie perked up. ¡°Don¡¯t see why it wouldn¡¯t be. I¡¯ll go check the TV upstairs, it¡¯d be in there I think.¡± He released her and went upstairs to where his old room was. It had been converted into a den with a daybed and a loveseat, but the decor remained mostly the same. His old skis were mounted to the wall in an X shape, since surely they did not fit anymore. On a large bookcase along the back wall was a variety of paperback novels, DVDs, and knick knacks, so he searched there. A clear plastic container took up most of the bottom shelf, and in it was the NES and two controllers; numerous grey cartridges covered in dust were lined up next to it. Gathering everything up, he returned downstairs and announced ¡°Good news!¡± to Jodie while dropping it all onto the coffee table. ¡°Why did you even have any of this?¡± Jodie crossed over into the living room and glanced over everything. She picked up the copy of River City Ransom and stared at the artwork. ¡°I never asked, but I always thought that it was kind of funny that you did. Even I had a Playstation, and we were dirt poor.¡± ¡°Roland picked it up at an antique shop after I moved here. He was worried that we wouldn¡¯t bond or that I would get bored when we were down here, but saw this and remembered one of his roommates at grad school had one.¡± Mitch took the console out of the bin and put it in front of the TV. ¡°So he knew the games and we could play together. I think it ended up being like $20 for everything.¡± ¡°Deal of the century,¡± Jodie remarked. ¡°You and I got a ton of use out of it.¡± ¡°Hey! We can try to beat level 57 of Bubble Bobble.¡± Cables and controllers were untangled, and unsurprisingly it appeared as though nothing had been touched in the last decade. He paused, then craned his neck backwards to look at Jodie and asked, ¡°How has it almost been 20 years since we met?¡± The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Oh god, don¡¯t say that!¡± gasped Jodie. ¡°Our friendship is almost old enough to buy smokes now.¡± ¡°Speaking of which-¡± Reaching into the breast pocket of his flannel, he grabbed and presented a pre-rolled joint. ¡°Get this going.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t have to tell me twice!¡± It was plucked from his fingers, and Jodie plopped onto the leather sofa. As Mitch worked on getting everything set up, a lighter clicked twice before there was a familiar crackling and the stench of burnt paper and weed wafted over. ¡°Is it alright if we do this in the house?¡± she inquired. ¡°Maybe crack that first,¡± Mitch tilted his head towards the window behind her, and she hurried to comply. ¡°Pretty sure Roland and Marie used to get high in here, though. One of the neighbors they¡¯re friendly with grows pot. So as long as we¡¯re courteous and air the place out before we leave, it should be fine.¡± The joint was held in front of his face, and he took it. ¡°Nice hat, by the way,¡± Jodie commented in between coughs. ¡°Thanks. A real sweet babe made it for me,¡± he snickered and took a hit. ¡°She sounds hot.¡± Sliding off of the couch, Jodie took a seat next to Mitch and toyed with one of the controllers, pressing the buttons although the console wasn¡¯t on. ¡°On the topic of sweet babes, when¡¯s Avi supposed to get here?¡± Mitch resisted the immediate urge to check his phone and see if there were any texts. ¡°Flight was supposed to get in around 2, so¡­dunno, between 4 and 5, if they don¡¯t stop anywhere? I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll get an update if they get lost.¡± ¡°Do we know the girlfriend¡¯s name?¡± ¡°Nope.¡± Mitch popped the ¡®p¡¯. ¡°You gonna be cool?¡± she asked incredulously. ¡°Cooler than a cucumber,¡± he assured her. ¡°I would have called this off if I wasn¡¯t otherwise.¡± ¡°That¡¯s bullshit,¡± she shook her head, and he softly chuckled. ¡°No really, I got this. Having a crush doesn¡¯t even mean anything.¡± He paused, then exhaled. ¡°I¡¯m kind of an expert in having them by now. No big deal.¡± Jodie tutted. ¡°World¡¯s saddest boy, this one.¡± ¡°Shut the fuck up,¡± Mitch shoved her, then hit the power button. ¡°Let¡¯s get our asses whooped in Bubble Bobble.¡± mancrush Around 6pm came the sound of tires crunching over gravel while headlights pierced through the kitchen windows. Jodie elbowed Mitch and used the knife she was cutting cucumbers up with to point in the direction, stating the obvious that it ¡°must be them¡±. Reaching over to switches next to the door, Mitch flicked on the porchlight despite Jodie retracting her statement. ¡°Could also be murderers!¡± she yelped. ¡°The Honda Fit with Mass plates says otherwise.¡± Mitch rolled his eyes and added lemon juice to the rest of the ingredients that were already in the food processor. After attaching the lid, he pressed the ¡®on¡¯ button and briefly observed the hummus take form before turning his attention to the outdoors. The sun had started to go down, but it wasn¡¯t quite dark yet so he could still see well enough. Avi stepped out of the car, his arms in the air as he stretched. He was talking, the cadence of his voice uplifting as usual, but Mitch couldn¡¯t make out what he was saying. Another door opened then shut, and someone came around from the passenger side to where Avi stood. He reached an arm out to her and pulled her in by the waist and close to him. With his other arm, he tucked some of her long wavy hair behind her ear, and kissed the side of her head. She was beautiful. Mitch could see that much. He turned the processor off and moved away from the window, electing to focus on finding a spatula. There was a knock -which was stupid, Jodie¡¯s car was obviously out front as well- and then the handle turned and the door was cracked opened. ¡°Hello!¡± Avi poked his head in before opening it the rest of the way, stepping into the kitchen while Jodie and Mitch overlapped their greetings. The woman stepped in behind him and stood by his side, her eyes on the rustic furnishings. Taking her hand into his, Avi extended his other hand towards Mitch and Jodie. ¡°So, Charlie, these are my roommates slash coworkers slash friends, Mitch and Jodie. Guys, this is Charlie, my girlfriend.¡± ¡°It¡¯s so great to finally meet you both!¡± She exclaimed in delight, and hands were eagerly shook. First was Jodie¡¯s, and she expressed her gratitude for finally getting Avi to return to stateside; Jodie clarified that it was Victor responsible for that, but that she couldn¡¯t be happier to have him as part of the Monument Wrestling Academy family. Next was Mitch, who she had a particularly bright smile for, throwing him off guard. ¡°I have heard so much about you. Thank you for taking him in and being his friend!¡± Christ, she was one of those effortlessly gorgeous kinds of people. Her eyes were a vibrant shade of blue, her honey colored hair had a shine to it that shampoo companies would kill to have as a model for their products, and she had the most charming dimples he¡¯d ever seen on anyone. ¡°Good things, I hope?¡± Mitch settled on responding with, deciding that a witty comment about how he¡¯d never heard anything about her would not be appropriate at all. ¡°Oh my god, yes! I¡¯m pretty sure he has a mancrush on you,¡± she mock-whispered, earning a whiny ¡°oh c¡¯mon!¡± from Avi; but Mitch barely caught any of the exchange because the only thing he heard was white noise. He nodded along, sometimes hearing something like ¡°guitar¡± or ¡°record¡±, but otherwise not paying any attention at all to whatever potential compliments she was lavishing. Eventually, she moved on to talk to Jodie, and Mitch slumped a bit when the attention was off of him. ¡°Hey,¡± Avi¡¯s hand rested on Mitch¡¯s between his shoulderblades, and he jolted back to full alertness. ¡°What¡¯re we making?¡± ¡°Hummus. And a veggie platter,¡± Mitch answered, on the verge of bursting into shivers. He needed to get it together and fast. ¡°Excellent!¡± Avi sounded pleased, giving a heavier pat before moving on, accepting a cucumber slice from Jodie. ¡°By the way, where should we put our stuff?¡± Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°I can show you,¡± Mitch waved towards the direction of the stairs. ¡°Alright. Babe, wanna go see our room?¡± asked Avi, but Charlie had already sidled up to Jodie and was helping arrange the vegetables on a platter while the two of them giggled. ¡°Jodie can give me the tour later,¡± Charlie beamed, and Avi shrugged as Jodie shooed him and Mitch away. Blinking furiously, Mitch couldn¡¯t believe the speed at which Jodie worked to turn on the charm. He didn¡¯t know whether he should kiss her for that, or try to kill her in her sleep for putting him in this position. Instead of fixating, he picked up Charlie¡¯s luggage from the bench next to the door and led Avi up the stairs. He was caught off guard when he noticed that several of his landscape photographs were framed and hung up along the stairwell; somehow, he failed to see them when he grabbed the Nintendo. ¡°I took those,¡± he said out loud, mostly talking to himself. ¡°Really?¡± Avi stayed on the stairs and examined them for a minute. ¡°These are so good. Is there anything you can¡¯t do? What other secret talents do you have?¡± ¡°Nothing else, really? I¡¯m not even that good.¡± Mitch¡¯s face burned, and he changed the subject. ¡°Uh, the master bedroom is just down this hall.¡± Eventually, Avi picked up the pace and joined Mitch in the bedroom. A few things were shown off, namely the new fireplace and the private bathroom, and Avi laid back on the bed. ¡°Holy shit, is this memory foam?¡± he asked, letting out a pleased groan. ¡°No idea? Probably. They¡¯d mentioned upgrades, so that¡¯d make sense.¡± Mitch sat down on the mattress¡¯ edge, wiggling in place a few times. ¡°I think you¡¯re right.¡± ¡°This is incredible.¡± Avi rolled so that he was on his side and propped himself up on his elbow, looking at Mitch with that earnest expression that was the emotional equivalent of taking several chops to the chest. ¡°Dude, I seriously cannot thank you enough for all of this.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mention it,¡± Mitch waved him off. ¡°I used to bring friends up here all of the time, but it¡¯s been a while. Nice to be back.¡± ¡°No, like¡­¡± Avi trailed off, rolling onto his back again with his arms folded behind his head and he stared up at the ceiling. His tone dropped to something far more quiet and somber, and his eyes occasionally flicked to the door, as though he was concerned with being overheard or someone coming in. ¡°Between you and me, I was kind of in deep shit. Charlie wasn¡¯t exactly thrilled when I proposed the idea of going away with other people since we don¡¯t see one another too much, but it was either this, being holed up in my room at the house, or staying at a cheap hotel because I¡¯m broke and can¡¯t afford anything better.¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad to have helped.¡± Mitch nodded a little too eagerly. ¡°You guys¡¯ll have fun. Jodie and I will stay out of your hair.¡± ¡°No, that¡¯s not necessary. I mean like, we¡¯ll go out tomorrow for a bit. I already looked into a few things to do, we¡¯ll get some lunch and do date stuff, but,¡± He ran a hand through his hair, appearing more tense than Mitch had ever seen him. ¡°I want her to get to know you guys. It¡¯s more incentive for her to move out here, if there¡¯s people that she likes. And she¡¯s already taken a shine to Jodie, which was alarmingly fast.¡± ¡°It sure was,¡± deadpanned Mitch, then he softened. ¡°But really, you guys should spend whatever time together that you have to, we won¡¯t be offended. Like that¡¯ll probably win her over more than hanging out with us.¡± Avi¡¯s mouth formed a hard line, clearly mulling something over, but it transitioned to a small smile and he finally conceded with ¡°I guess, yeah.¡± ¡°Alright, well that¡¯s settled.¡± Standing up, Mitch stretched then asked. ¡°You want a tour of the place?¡± ¡°Aw man, I gotta leave this bed?¡± Avi fully starfished, although how he was able to spread his legs while wearing skinny jeans was beyond Mitch. ¡°No?¡± Mitch was about to leave him there, when fingers grazed his forearm as he walked by and he stopped. ¡°You can keep doing this, but I¡¯m gonna go. ¡° ¡°Just kidding. Be a bro and help me up?¡± The option to ignore the request still seemed like the most reasonable one, but Mitch gave in. He grabbed hold of Avi¡¯s wrist, and let himself be used for leverage. Eventually, Avi was able to free himself from the world¡¯s most comfortable imprisonment. ¡°You just saved my life, I think,¡± he joked. ¡°From what? A fate worse than death?¡± Mitch joked back. ¡°Ready?¡± Avi insisted that he was, so Mitch led the way, shutting the door behind them and putting the room, its weekend occupants, and whatever Avi¡¯s private concerns that had briefly surfaced were, as far from his mind as possible. harmless fantasies Mitch lost track of how many times he¡¯d yawned, but if he were to hazard a guess, the count was somewhere in the upper 20s. Taking a copper pan from off the hanging pot rack, he placed it on a burner and twisted the knob below. After a few clicks, there was the briefest whiff of gas, and then a flame came to life. A small butter patty melted in the pan, and then the eggs he¡¯d beaten minutes before were poured on top of it. Gradually his appetite was returning, but he was still a long way off from it being fully restored. As the egg began to firm up, he added a scoop of the hummus that he made last night to the center of it, then folded it over with a spatula. A small part of him was still buzzing over Avi having declared that it was the best hummus he¡¯d ever eaten, but that may have been a hyperbolic statement since they were all buzzed. Flustered promises were stammered out by Mitch about writing down the recipe when he was a little less high, and he went to bed feeling triumphant because he didn¡¯t have to sleep next to Jodie for the first time in over a month. And because Avi liked his hummus. And because Avi shared secrets with him earlier. It may have been a dumb crush, but he was on vacation, he was allowed to indulge in harmless fantasies. And then reality came crashing down later, when he heard Charlie moan in the master bedroom, followed by shushing and giggles. It only went on for just under an hour -not that he was counting- but it managed to keep him up for the rest of the night. He argued with himself that it was due to REM being interrupted, and hell, he hadn¡¯t gotten a full night¡¯s sleep in how long? However, he still refused to harbor any ill-will towards Charlie, despite the burning envy; she was quick witted and charming, genuinely inquisitive, and heavy on the compliments. When they sat around the fire pit, she alternated between holding a deep conversation with Jodie about the questionable ethics of the beauty industry, and sitting on Avi¡¯s lap, showering him with physical affection. Really, who wouldn¡¯t, given the option? So whatever happened in the master bedroom was to be expected. But Mitch took consolation in the fact that he¡¯d gotten a rare bit of solitude, even if his eyes burned and his vision was blurred. Another yawn surfaced, this one loud accompanied with a croak, and his spine popped as he stretched. The ugly cacophonous noises that his body made caused him to miss that someone joined him in the kitchen. ¡°Morning!¡± Avi chirped, reaching by Mitch¡¯s head to grab one of the coffee mugs -Mitch¡¯s favorite one, actually, handmade and imperfect with leaf imprints on the outside- that dangled from the bottom of a shelf. Mitch nodded, attention on the eggs and not to the mussed up chestnut hair. Or to the fact that Avi was only in gray sweatpants, which rode low enough to expose the trail of hair past his naval and the v lines of his hips; at the very least, he had the good sense to wait until Avi was at the opposite side of the kitchen and getting water to fill the coffee maker with before ogling. There was no discretion whatsoever in the open gawking as Avi leaned over the sink. The food was definitely getting overcooked, but Mitch simply did not care. ¡°You gonna want some of this?¡± Avi asked without looking over. ¡°Sure,¡± Mitch¡¯s voice came out gruff, and he cleared his throat. ¡°That¡¯d be great, thank you.¡± More water was added to the coffee maker, and it whirred to life. Avi turned back around to face Mitch, and leaned against the wall next to the counter with his arms folded across his chest. As far as Mitch could tell, he wasn¡¯t wearing underwear, and that realization lead to him hastily spinning back around so that he could keep a strict focus on cooking. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°Have I already thanked you yet for inviting me here?¡± asked Avi. ¡°Because you really are a lifesaver.¡± ¡°No, don¡¯t think so,¡± Mitch halfheartedly teased. The coffee maker gurgled loudly, saving Mitch from saying anything further, since he was yet again on the cusp of making some god awful comment that would get him in trouble; after dancing on the edge of that particular knife for the last 12 hours, it was only a matter of when. Slipping the spatula under the eggs, he plated it, and struggled with being suspended between ravenousness and no interest whatsoever in eating. ¡°Uh,¡± he pointed to the fridge with the spatula still in hand, and said, ¡°Grabbed some oatmilk from the store for you, if you wanted to use that for creamer.¡± ¡°Oh my god, I could actually kiss you!¡± Avi exclaimed, and Mitch dropped the silverware he took out of the drawer, wincing at the loud clatter it made when it landed on the countertop. It was far too early for this, he decided as he took a seat at the table and shoveled a fork full of egg into his mouth. Unsurprisingly, it was rubbery and on the verge of being burnt. From the corner of his eye he watched Avi putter around the kitchen and make himself at home. Another mug was retrieved, and both were filled. ¡°You like yours black, right?¡± Avi asked before setting it down in front of him. ¡°Mhm hm,¡± Mitch responded, casting his glance upwards, expecting to meet Avi¡¯s eyes, but Avi¡¯s attention was elsewhere; his line of sight was fixed towards the three season porch in the back. ¡°Wow,¡± Avi uttered. ¡°You see that sunrise?¡± ¡°No.¡± Shaking his head, Mitch craned his neck to try to see what Avi was looking at, but felt from where he was seated it was impossible. ¡°What time is it?¡± ¡°Quarter to 7,¡± answered Avi. Pursing his lips, Mitch couldn¡¯t remember the last time that he was up at this hour for leisure. ¡°I¡¯m gonna drink my coffee out there. Wanna join me?¡± ¡°Alright.¡± He picked up the plate and mug from off of the table, and ambled through the living room and onto the porch. Avi already made himself comfortable on the wooden swing chair, a remnant left over from before it was a fully enclosed room. ¡°Man, I used to love sitting there,¡± Mitch commented as he went to take a seat on a wicker chair in the corner that faced the interior of the house and not the lake. ¡°Shit, sorry,¡± apologized Avi, and he slid to one end. ¡°No, take it,¡± Mitch chuckled low. ¡°You¡¯re a guest.¡± ¡°Well there¡¯s plenty of room,¡± Avi looked confused as he glanced down at the cushion and then back at Mitch. There was expectancy on his face, and Mitch did not have the heart to decline the offer. Placing the plate and mug on the closest side table, he sat on the far end of the swing. He settled in and fretted about the space he was taking up, but then scarlet of the breaking daylight began to bleed into the window and his discomfort was silenced. ¡°Oh,¡± Mitch whispered, enraptured by the shades of purple, tangerine, and amber, and the way that they reflected off of the lake. Mist rose off of the water, obscuring the surrounding forest, which was nothing more than a pitch black mass in those early hours. Aside from the occasional sip of coffee, it was silent for a stretch. ¡°So I know that I¡¯ve thanked you a few times¡­¡± Avi broke stillness. ¡°Oh, have you?¡± Mitch grinned. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡­¡± His neck ducked, head hanging low. ¡°I don¡¯t know, man. I haven¡¯t gone out with friends for a weekend in, what, literal decades?¡± He huffed a laugh. ¡°I¡¯m never in one place for more than a day or two. And I¡¯ve had so much on my mind for the longest time. This is really helping to clear it.¡± Mitch swallowed hard. ¡°Y¡¯know, I¡¯m really flattered that you consider us, uh¡­¡± He looked down at his hands. ¡°Me, as a friend. That¡¯s nice to hear.¡± ¡°Of course I do.¡± One of Avi¡¯s arms draped across the back of the swing and grazed Mitch¡¯s shoulder, which he couldn¡¯t stop himself in time from leaning into the contact. ¡°You guys took me in. You invited me to your family¡¯s ideal Vermont cabin, fuck dude.¡± His other hand scrubbed down his face. ¡°This all means so, so much.¡± Insides beginning to vibrate, Mitch tried to settle himself before saying, ¡°Well, if you ever needed to talk, I¡¯m-¡± He was stuttering. Squeezing his eyes shut, he ruminated on the depth of the word ¡®friend¡¯, how he needed to cherish that and not fuck it up catastrophically. ¡°Here. I¡¯m here to listen to you. Anytime.¡± ¡°I appreciate that,¡± Avi smiled demurely, hand traveling from Mitch¡¯s shoulder to the base of his neck, and then it was withdrawn altogether. Mitch, despite burning up, hoped that Avi would continue talking. But he said nothing further, only continuing to take sips of his coffee as he stared ahead. acceptance in due time After Charlie woke up and Avi made them both breakfast, they left for their date and promised to bring black plenty of apples and cider. When they were outside, Mitch watched from the window and heard her gasp about how pretty it was while she pointed at the trees. So far, whatever plan Avi formulated seemed to be working; despite that Avi wasn¡¯t looking at him, Mitch gave a little thumbs up as a means of distributing thoughts and prayers or good energy. He couldn¡¯t imagine being so far away from a significant other so consistently, and judging from the sparse conversation on the topic last night, she did not harbor much enthusiasm about leaving Washington. It was an obvious tightrope situation, but she appeared to adore Avi, and hopefully they would work it out. Yet, something nagged at the back of his mind; without a doubt, there were words that went unspoken, and the underlying tension below Avi¡¯s demeanor when they were alone in the master bedroom did not go unnoticed. If anything, it¡¯d been gestating. But it also wasn¡¯t worth dwelling on, because he knew that he would see issues that might not exist. So instead he retrieved the camera and announced to Jodie -who set up shop at the table with several stacks of paperwork- that he was going out. She waved him off without looking up from what she was reviewing, which was fine, since he didn¡¯t want any attention drawn to the fact that he was slowly getting back into old hobbies. Eventually he¡¯d be fine with talking about it, but as of now it remained a more sensitive topic. The reminders that he lost interest in roughly every last passion he once held was still raw and felt like a colossal failure, even though Ann insisted otherwise. He wished that he could take some comfort in her assessment that other people went through it, but that information left him sore as well. There would be no winning this struggle and no way to rush it, just acceptance in due time. He stepped outside and took a deep inhale of the fresh air, letting it settle deep down in his lungs. Everything was cool and crisp, his favorite kind of weather, and he was grateful for the warmth that the hat provided. He wanted to ask if Jodie could make him a matching scarf, but years had passed since she gave him the hat and he didn¡¯t know if she had another skein of yarn in that color. Or still knitted, for that matter. Turning the camera on, he descended a stone staircase behind the house to get onto the lake¡¯s shore. The water¡¯s gentle lapping grew louder the closer he got. Setting foot on the small beach, smooth pebbles and sand crunched underfoot every step that he took. To his left, a wooden dock would sometimes sway, and it brought on memories of when he and Jodie were teens and would sit there for hours, talking bullshit out of earshot of the adults. It was the place that he first admitted out loud to anyone that he thought more about kissing boys than girls, under the light of the moon and stars, 15 and in possession of a few nips she¡¯d stolen from her mom, scared witless that his best friend would abandon him the moment the words accidentally tumbled from his mouth. But it was that, or continue to let it burn him up inside until one day he¡¯d spontaneously combust and be reduced to ash. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Years later, he retold that story to Jodie, and she was aghast at 15 year old Mitch¡¯s assumptions. Then she hugged him tightly, but only after a good whack upside the head. He pointed the camera at the end of the dock, imagining them both sitting there half of a lifetime ago, and took the shot. Sure, an empty dock on a fall day was a photography cliche, but he needed a warmup and it felt right to do. A few more shots were taken before moving on, focusing on the lake¡¯s glassy water and the tree¡¯s vivid colors until he was interrupted by rustling that came from the adjacent woods. He turned to look, and spotted a lone doe that was frozen in place. ¡°Hi there,¡± whispered Mitch, and he was able to get some pictures before she disappeared into the thicket. The canoe upon its makeshift rack of two sawhorses was eyeballed, filling him with a sense of adventure and curiosity; when he was younger, he only approached it with trepidation, as bodies of water filled used to incite a phobic reaction once upon a time. He since then made peace with it and was no longer fearful, but he¡¯d need to go grab the paddle before he embarked. It would also be wise to alert someone about going on the water. Maybe he¡¯d convince Jodie to come out with him, and he could attempt to get a few closeups of the raptor that circled above. That was a task for later, when Jodie grew sick of working. He opted to climb into a hammock that was suspended between two trees at the edge of the forest and closed his eyes, relishing in the sporadic cold breeze that rocked him back and forth. For a few moments, he mused over the idea of potentially moving here and how feasible it¡¯d be. Without a doubt he first needed a better car because all of the surrounding roads were mostly dirt and winter would be hell on it. But Roland offered the cabin for him to stay at for as long as he needed it, even indefinitely, and he''d been granted the blessing from work to fully go remote. It was only about an hour and a half away from Monument, which was considerably better than the three hours commute from Greenwich. A reset may do him well, he pondered. And maybe this slow-paced idyllic setting would get old over time, but maybe it was exactly what he needed for right now: to get the the point where a situation could get old for once, and instead of it getting exhausting. pragmatic When Mitch awoke, he stretched languidly and was unhurried about getting up. He didn¡¯t know when he fell asleep, but given how fitful the night before turned out to be, it wasn¡¯t a shock that he passed out when his body was horizontal. But he felt refreshed, despite the crick in his neck and his chilly nose. A few beech leaves rested on his flannel that must have landed there while he slept, and he brushed them away. He struggled to get upright, and once he was, he spotted Jodie seated at the end of the dock; she looked like a serene specter, wrapped in a delicate shawl that was layered over a black long sleeved dress, and her hair down in loose curls. Tiptoeing to where the shore met the planks, he was silent as he took a picture of her. ¡°Fancy meeting you here,¡± he softly greeted once he joined her, but didn¡¯t immediately take a seat. His legs were appreciative of being allowed to stretch. ¡°I got worried about you,¡± she admitted. ¡°But you looked so peaceful when I found you that I didn¡¯t want to disturb you.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± he lowered himself at last, bumping her shoulder with his. ¡°For what?¡± She looked at him, both puzzled and amused all at once. ¡°Caring,¡± he settled on. ¡°Caring enough to come find me. And for everything else, I guess.¡± ¡°Ha,¡± she barked with no heat, then rested her head on his bicep and hooked her arm in his. ¡°Remember when we¡¯d drink Fireball out here, like a couple of idiots?¡± ¡°Sure do,¡± Mitch grinned. ¡°And we¡¯d laugh over the name ¡®Kinky¡¯.¡± She snorted, her nose scrunching up. They reminisced about the past for at least fifteen minutes, until an enormous gust of wind cleared the lake and bombarded them with mercy. Mitch helped Jodie from where she sat, then followed her up the stairs to retreat into the house. ¡°Where the fuck did that come from?¡± she yelped indignantly. ¡°No idea!¡± Mitch held tightly to his hat so that it wouldn¡¯t take flight. Once back in the safety of an enclosed space, he settled onto the recliner in the living room and cycled through the photos that he¡¯d taken. Passing the camera to Jodie, he was especially excited to show her the doe that he snapped, but Jodie was mostly interested in getting a copy of the picture that he took of her. Unfortunately, he went back far enough that it reached the photos before the breakup. And he knew that he shouldn¡¯t look, should delete the contents from off of the SD card once he transferred the most recent pictures onto his hard drive, but he worked backwards regardless. Naturally, there were a few of Calvin, predominantly of when he wasn¡¯t paying attention and staring out a window and deep in thought. His delicate profile always made Mitch¡¯s heart inexplicably ache; even then, so far removed from the situation, he was still forlorn. Calvin¡¯s ghost was a difficult one to banish, even if the love died out long before the relationship itself had. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. There were other photos which harbored peculiar sentiment, such as dogs from parks in Greenwich, or street art from when he worked in New York City and wanted to convince himself that he was somewhere that he belonged. Not that he felt much closer to whatever that could look like, but at least he now had a better idea of what it didn¡¯t. The idea from earlier resurfaced, about moving here and away from Monument. It wasn¡¯t even that long ago that he toyed with the idea of moving back to France, after being cheated on and then stalling out too many times to be functional. He reasoned that a fresh start was a necessity, and being as far from the nuclear exclusion zone which was inhabited by both of his exes was in his best interest. And he could try to get to know his mother again; he probably ought to, and let go of the lingering resentment that he still harbored towards her. But then Jodie¡¯s grandmother passed, and that was far more important to deal with. ¡°Having deep thoughts?¡± asked Jodie. ¡°Nope,¡± Mitch lied. If he was going to do anything drastic like uproot himself all over again, he needed to figure out how he was going to approach the subject. Right now, it was easier not to. ¡°You?¡± ¡°Yeah. Do you think Avi would be mad if I fucked his wife? Or at least asked?¡± She said it so casually that Mitch did a double take. ¡°Girlfriend?¡± Mitch clarified while trying to recall if there was a ring on her finger, or if she said something about it and he refused to process the information. ¡°Whatever.¡± Jodie rolled her eyes. ¡°They¡¯ve been together for like 10 years. That¡¯s a wife ain¡¯t it?¡± ¡°How did you know that?¡± Sitting up a little straighter, Mitch didn¡¯t care if he looked desperate. ¡°Last night, at the fire? I asked about it, she responded. Do you just not pay attention to people when you¡¯re in full thirst mode, or?¡± ¡°You literally -without any hesitation- said that you wanted to fuck Charlie!¡± Mitch threw his arms up. ¡°Who¡¯s thirsty here?¡± ¡°I like to think of it as being pragmatic, thank you very much. You like¡­¡± She put a finger to her chin. ¡°You yearn. You¡¯re a Victorian woman that keels over because she had a broken heart. Should I get you a vibrator to help with your hysteria?¡± ¡°That¡¯s such a low blow,¡± he pouted and crossed his arms. ¡°It kinda was, huh?¡± She had the decency to hold back a laugh. ¡°Sorry about your shitty heart. Still can¡¯t believe that I let you wrestle. Gonna get my best friend killed.¡± ¡°Eh, it¡¯s pretty reinforced now. I¡¯ve already had the conversation with my doctor about it. Something really traumatizing would have to go down. I¡¯d have to get struck by lightning or fall a hundred feet for my heart to give out at this point, and I¡¯d basically be dead anyway if either of those things happened.¡± ¡°What about smoking?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll quit. Again. Just need a little time,¡± he promised. ¡°But uh, you gotta, too.¡± ¡°FUCK!¡± Jodie shouted, throwing herself backwards so that she was completely horizontal on the couch, and she kicked her legs in the air like an angry toddler. ¡°I know! Abuela died, I got back into it like a dumbass! I¡¯d been doing so good, too! But it fucks with the estrogen.¡± She covered her face and mumbled, ¡°Thank you for not like, rubbing it in.¡± ¡°I¡¯d never do that to you,¡± Mitch assured her. entrusted Mitch and Jodie kept to themselves until Avi and Charlie returned to the cabin. There was still plenty of daylight, which perplexed Mitch since he assumed that they would be out all day. He inquired about their date, and Charlie proceeded to gush about how perfect everything was, from the scenery to the weather. A totebag was handed over that contained several bottles of wine from a local vineyard. ¡°For tonight!¡± she gleefully explained. ¡°There¡¯s also cider in the fridge, as promised.¡± Mitch refrained from mentioning that he wouldn¡¯t partake in drinking, but he thanked her anyway for her generosity. Jodie, however, wasted no time in popping open a bottle early and coaxed Charlie into having a glass as well. ¡°Oh, I¡­¡± Mitch¡¯s mouth formed a line. ¡°What?¡± Jodie raised an eyebrow as she tipped the bottle back up. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. I wanted to see if you¡¯d like to go paddling in the canoe. But-¡± he gestured towards the half-filled wine glass. ¡°Oh! Well I wasn¡¯t planning on it, but I can¡­¡± she frowned. ¡°I¡¯ll drink this later? Canoeing could be fun?¡± ¡°No no, it¡¯s cool,¡± Mitch insisted. ¡°I saw, iunno, a hawk or an eagle earlier. I wanted to get some pictures, but I can do it myself.¡± ¡°I could go with you?¡± Avi spoke up. ¡°I haven¡¯t been paddling in a while!¡± ¡°Oh no, I- I couldn¡¯t put you out like that,¡± Mitch tried to be dismissive about it. ¡°No, I mean it!¡± Avi put a hand to his chest and earnestly declared, ¡°I¡¯d actually like to go!¡± And Mitch was about to protest, already stammering and ready to push back, but Charlie encouraged it as well, so he agreed. The paddles were removed from the hooks that they hung from, life vests were grabbed from out of the storage closet, and Mitch led Avi outside and down the stone stairs. After a brief exam to make certain there was no damage, they both worked together to hoist the canoe from off of the saw horses and placed it between the shoreline and the water¡¯s edge. Mitch mentioned the strong gusts of wind from earlier, and Avi related that he and Charlie experienced it as well when they were doing a tasting at a brewery. However, he also emphasized that he wasn¡¯t too concerned, since it died down a while ago. ¡°We¡¯ll just be careful,¡±Avi assured. While that didn¡¯t exactly sound like the wisest course of action, they came this far already, and Mitch wasn¡¯t in any mood to put up an argument. ¡°Could this count as physical therapy?¡± asked Mitch once they were off, past the dock and away from land, the long grass below the water making a valiant effort to slow down and tangle the oars, but was unsuccessful. ¡°Absolutely. Just don¡¯t push it too hard,¡± Avi nodded from his position in the front as he dipped the paddle into the water and breaking the surface tension. While actively working to get to the lake¡¯s center, there wasn¡¯t too much conversation which suited Mitch fine. He scanned the skies, seeking out the bird that he saw earlier. Each passing minute that he didn¡¯t spot it made him feel more ridiculous over whatever this endeavor was. He dipped his paddle and created resistance so that Avi would slow down, fully resigned to writing this off and ready to declare that they should head back. Avi turned his head, his eyebrows knit in confusion. At the crest of self doubt, there was a high pitched whistle, and the familiar silhouette of a large bird in flight circled above. Mitch picked up his camera and pointed it towards the sky, eye on the viewfinder and rapidly clicking the shutter button. Laughing heartily, Avi commented about how until he saw the bird, he was confused as to why Mitch slowed them down; Mitch played it off as though that was the reason and definitely not any sort of panic. They pondered what it was, until Mitch recalled that ospreys used to nest around the area. Most of them took off when their habitats were disturbed due to development, but a long time passed since any new houses were built, and there were ongoing efforts to reintroduce them to the area. His theory was proven to be correct when the bird dive bombed the lake several hundred yards away and emerged with a fish between its talons. As it took off to the sky, Avi yelped about it being the coolest thing he¡¯d seen in a while. Mitch tapped him on the back to show him the pictures he captured, and Avi spun in place until they were facing one another, taking the camera into his possession and scrolling through the images. ¡°You recently did a tour of the Caribbean and Central America, how can that be the coolest thing you¡¯ve seen?¡± Mitch wondered out loud. ¡°I did, but I was working most of the time. I didn¡¯t get to go out much, and when I did, it was in places that were crawling with tourists.¡± The camera was handed back over. ¡°By the way, you¡¯re really talented, man.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°I took a class or two,¡± Mitch admitted, reattaching the lenscap. ¡°Hey, can I ask something?¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Avi smiled. ¡°How do you manage doing tours and being away for long stretches at a time when you¡¯re in a relationship?¡± Avi¡¯s expression dropped ever so slightly; when it¡¯d recovered, it wasn¡¯t quite the same as before. ¡°Like my ex hated wrestling so much,¡± Mitch hurried to clarify. ¡°So trying to get booked somewhere outside of New England ended up always turning into a logistics nightmare, and then a fight.¡± ¡°Oh, Charlie isn¡¯t much of a fan herself,¡± Avi chuckled. ¡°Aw fuck,¡± Mitch rubbed the side of his neck. ¡°We don¡¯t have to talk about this, sorry.¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. You¡¯re fine.¡± Avi paused, glancing to his side and staring in that direction for several seconds before he looked back over at Mitch. ¡°Yeah, so. Things were a bit different when we first met. It was right before I¡¯d written off school, but like, for years neither of us stayed in one place for too long, so it worked out really well. She did all of this crazy international stuff, like Doctors Without Borders. Just super cool self-sacrificing stuff for the greater good. Meanwhile, I¡¯d be in, iunno, Berlin? All greased up, mostly naked and fighting dudes.¡± He laughed. ¡°But yeah, our lifestyles were compatible in the sense that neither of us were ever really ¡®home¡¯, so we could love one another while being free from most expectations that society places on couples. Which, as you¡¯ve experienced first hand, can be rather difficult when you love wrestling and your significant other doesn¡¯t get it.¡± ¡°I get why you¡¯d try to be so invested in trying to have her move here,¡± Mitch responded sympathetically. ¡°Like if you¡¯re staying in the country for the foreseeable future.¡± Avi¡¯s eyes widened, and he ran his hand from his mouth to the tip of his beard. Mitch couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that he was trespassing. ¡°I mean,¡± Avi started slowly. ¡°It¡¯s that, or quit wrestling.¡± Mitch blinked a few times. ¡°Come again?¡± ¡°Well, um.¡± Avi was doing his best to maintain his calm demeanor, but the air around him was all wrong. It was heavy. ¡°I don¡¯t have too many viable options as far as the big promotions go. Not that I¡¯d want to sign with The Fed,¡± he made a face, and Mitch snickered at it. ¡°My career is wholly dependent on traveling all over the place. And a while back, Charlie and I were doing a sort of State of the Union address, where we hashed a few things out.¡± Swallowing thickly, Avi stared down. ¡°Long story short, if it doesn¡¯t work out at Monument, I¡¯m gonna move to Tacoma and probably get a real person job because there¡¯s no wrestling out there. And I could open my own school, but I don¡¯t want to manage a business and still take bookings. I don¡¯t want to be tangent to wrestling and also not be able to take part in it, that¡¯d kill me. I still have years left in me, I think. But also Davey Richards retired last year. Shelley just retired a few months back. It happens.¡± Mitch¡¯s jaw was slack as the confession tumbled out. ¡°Well that fucking sucks,¡± he blurted when he remembered how to speak again, and Avi burst out laughing. ¡°This is the first time that I¡¯m telling anyone,¡± Avi spoke softly, wrenching his hands. ¡°I wish I knew what to say,¡± Mitch sighed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, man.¡± ¡°That¡¯s relationships, right? Compromise?¡± When Avi said that, Mitch recalled saying something identical to his therapist a few days ago in regards to an anecdote about Calvin kicking him out over¡­he couldn¡¯t remember, probably band practice? Ann set aside the legal pad and, hands folded in her lap, she responded that compromise was about deciding what to cook for dinner or selecting a movie to go out and watch, not violating fundamental boundaries. And he looked at Avi, who committed innumerable acts of kindness on a daily basis, sitting across from him in this rare form of being vulnerable and timid. Avi, who was welcoming and worked diligently to assure their friendship, like someone that feeds and gains the trust of a feral cat. Avi, who drove 6 hours when he barely knew Mitch to help him gather up the scraps of whatever semblance of life he had left. Who said the nicest things that Mitch ever heard from another human being. Who was attentive, and actually remembered the smallest, offhanded details. Who was so beautiful, that it drove Mitch to the precipice of insanity on a daily basis, but whose friendship had rapidly become invaluable within a short stretch of time that he¡¯d gladly risk the loss of those mental facilities for it. All Mitch wanted to do was repeat what his therapist had told him, and yet, he lacked the courage to do so. It wasn¡¯t his place to determine how a relationship should or shouldn¡¯t function, especially one with the lengthy history that Avi and Charlie shared. So instead, he managed to be brave enough to lean forward and pat Avi¡¯s forearm, offering an ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll work out.¡± ¡°Thanks, Mitch,¡± Avi exhaled. ¡°I really hope so.¡± Since the osprey did not appear to be coming back, Avi turned back around and paddles were dipped back into the water again. They went around the lake¡¯s perimeter in silence. Avi¡¯s confession still hung heavy, and Mitch knew that it was just in his imagination but its density seemed to weigh the canoe down. Part of it was deeply personal for Mitch, still sore from the amount of things he¡¯d been passionate about and sacrificed to placate former partners. He still didn¡¯t know shit about navigating relationships, but the idea of whittling oneself down to the marrow to feed another person was, in retrospect, downright horrifying.But this wasn¡¯t his battle to fight, and he thought far too deeply and created too many issues in his own head over what wasn¡¯t his territory to defend. For all he knew, there was more to the conversation -a conversation that he was never even a part of- that transpired before he befriended Avi, let alone met him. There was no stake for him here to claim. Having a crush didn¡¯t entitle Mitch to anything at all, and he was aware that he ought to be grateful for being entrusted with something so delicate and so important. stress response After returning to shore and placing the boat to its rack, Avi inquired how Mitch¡¯s arm felt. Mitch rolled his shoulder, and relayed that it didn¡¯t ache any more than it would have during a regular paddle, which pleased Avi. Back at the house, they and found Jodie and Charlie giggly with a bottle killed between the two of them. Avi took a seat in the recliner, so Mitch was wedged between both women, and Charlie lit up when she spotted the Elliot Smith t-shirt that Mitch was wearing. They discussed bands for a while and found a lot of common ground; it reminded him of when he worked at a now defunct record store in Burlington as a teen and chatted with customers for hours on end about music. In retrospect the job was otherwise a crappy retail one, but sometimes he met a celebrity browsing their wares, or they¡¯d host a show and a signing for a musician, and at 16 years old he couldn¡¯t really ask for anything better. ¡°Mitch has quite the record collection,¡± Avi chimed in. ¡°Oh, what¡¯s at Monument is nothing,¡± Jodie added. There was something so charming about Avi¡¯s enthusiasm, the way he responded to her with an excited ¡°Really?¡±. And Mitch meekly glossed over the unfathomable amount of records and instruments that were stored in his uncle¡¯s attic for the last few years. ¡°He¡¯s a fucking geek about this kind of shit,¡± Jodie was sure to drive home. ¡°That¡¯s why it¡¯s so weird that he became a communications major.¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t gonna make money from music,¡± Mitch shook his head. ¡°And I¡¯d always harbored this fantasy about being a radio DJ? But that field was annihilated long before I even touched ground in the States, despite what my guidance counselor sold me on.¡± He gave a self-deprecating laugh. ¡°I think all I ever wanted was to get paid to professionally curate mixtapes, but even that¡¯s not how it¡¯s done since most stations have automated playlists. And I¡¯d still like to try hosting a show on a local station, but that¡¯s about the extent of it anymore.¡± At that revelation, the comments alternated from Charlie insisting that Mitch totally had the voice for it, Jodie teasing him for being too chicken shit to actually ever interview anyone, and Avi mentioning that podcasts were always an option. ¡°Everyone has a podcast,¡± Mitch countered. ¡°Yeah, but you don¡¯t!¡± Avi responded so sweetly, so earnestly, and Mitch¡¯s face grew warm. ¡°C¡¯mon man, do you know how many podcast interviews that I do on a weekly basis? Whatever you do would be way better than any of those.¡± ¡°Well I wouldn¡¯t do a wrestling podcast,¡± Mitch stressed. ¡°That¡¯s an oversaturated market.¡± ¡°No, but just now you went off about all of these bands like some kind of expert.¡± Avi brought his thumb to his mouth and bit down on the nail. ¡°I¡¯d listen to it.¡± It would, of course, never come to fruition, but Mitch certainly gave it more than five seconds of consideration. He didn¡¯t feel as though he had anything to bring to the table, since he was only knowledgeable enough to navigate a conversation with diehards, but not exactly enough to impress them otherwise. Deep down, he knew his only avenue was to try to stream a weekly radio program as a hobby, but he had no idea how that even worked. Would permission be needed to use songs? Or would royalties have to be paid out? Was it possible to run a pirate radio in this day and age? This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. He pulled up the Notes app on his phone and typed out what he should look into, even if nothing ever came of it; at the least, he¡¯d have the offhand knowledge. While he jotted his thoughts down, Jodie went over a list of suggestions for what they could do for the night. There was a heavy emphasis on using the hot tub after dinner, which everyone unanimously agreed since it¡¯d been one of the selling points of coming up to the cabin. Thankfully, it was cleaned and treated the weekend before, so they were able to just use it as it was. In the past, less discretion was used when Mitch came up with friends, but that was when they were younger and unfathomably more stupid, and before wrestling had left him with a million tiny cuts all over his body. So after dinner Mitch started up the hot tub, and everyone disappeared into their respective rooms to get changed. Mitch stood in front of the full length mirror in his bedroom and examined himself, agonizing over every perceived flaw. There were no new bruises since he hadn¡¯t wrestled in weeks, and that was odd to take in. The lack of eating took its toll, and to his dismay, whatever minuscule gains that he¡¯d gotten were depleted. So much effort and for what? To lose it all and look like he did at peak junkie phase? Fingers traced his ribs, which were starting to be visible again, and he was frustrated that he had to tighten the drawstring of his swim trunks. He was nervous, and he berated himself for that. But it was easier to get half naked in front of strangers while wearing facepaint than it was to do so in front of people that knew him personally, for reasons unrelated to beating up another person (or in his case, often getting beaten). Avi was going to be all hot wet beefcake, Jodie had curves for days, and Charlie had her flat stomach and small waist. Mitch was going to look like the personification of a drowned rat. He didn¡¯t care for that. ¡°Dude, are you coming down?¡± Jodie pounded on his door. How long he¡¯d been doing this, he didn¡¯t know. ¡°Yeah, just-¡± he grabbed his shirt and threw it on, then opened up for her. Her expression fell when she saw him. ¡°Going through it?¡± she asked, her astute observations on point as always. ¡°No, I¡¯m,¡± Mitch started to speak, then cut himself off, not seeing any point in lying. She shut the door behind her. ¡°Yes, OK. Yes. Jo, I¡¯m so fucking skinny, it¡¯s bad. People are for sure going to make fun of me when I get back in the ring. Like they already do that, but it¡¯s going to be a lot.¡± ¡°Probably, but fuck ¡®em.¡± She stated matter-of-factly, and it made him snort. ¡°And you won¡¯t be in this shape when you return. Shit just hit you all at once, your body did the stress response thing. Give it a little more time, because you¡¯re not even as bad as you think you are. I¡¯ve seen you when you were a skeleton, and now you¡¯ve got cute little tits.¡± She tapped one of his pecs for emphasis. ¡°You¡¯ve always been your worst critic.¡± ¡°OK.¡± Mitch frowned. ¡°Besides, no one here is like, gawking at you, right? We¡¯re all here to chill, not bully you for things beyond your control.¡± He gave her a small smile, feeling better from the pep talk, and she reached up and pinched his cheek. ¡°Now c¡¯mon, let¡¯s go make a person stew.¡± ¡°Your way with words is nothing short of breathtaking,¡± Mitch deadpanned. ¡°What can I say? It¡¯s my gift,¡± Jodie sighed dramatically, then twisted the handle and gestured for Mitch to take the lead. fixated Armed with towels from the linen closet, they scrambled towards the patio. Jodie made a pitstop at the fridge to grab a 6 pack of beer, while Mitch hooked up his phone to the bluetooth speaker; in an attempt to pick a crowdpleaser, he selected a 90s alternative playlist. Jodie rushed past him and submerged herself in the water, letting out a satisfied ¡°Ahhh¡±, then proceeded to rant about how she spent the last year trying to convince Victor to put in a hot tub at their house. ¡°Y¡¯all are athletes, it¡¯d just make sense!¡± ¡°What¡¯d make sense?¡± Avi¡¯s voice came from the now open sliding glass door, and Mitch hurried to get in the tub as well. ¡°We should get a hot tub, right? At the house? Like obviously the students could come over and use it, but I think it¡¯d be very beneficial overall,¡± Jodie explained. ¡°Oh yeah, there¡¯s been all kinds of studies done on that. Especially a salt water one.¡± Avi came over, glass filled with wine in one hand and the bottle in the other. It shouldn¡¯t have come as any surprise that Avi¡¯s choice of swim trunks would be short and slim; Mitch watched plenty of his matches and hung out with Avi enough by now to get the idea of his style, which heavily leaned towards clothing that was as restrictive as possible. Of course, it was plausible that the issue was more related to height vs width when it came to men¡¯s apparel, but Mitch preferred to assume that the universe had a hit out on him. There was no way that random happenstance brought a guy into his life with thighs bigger that his own skull which he wasn¡¯t allowed to get his mouth on, this was very clearly gay punishment for being gay. And Mitch should have possessed an iota decency to not watch Avi climb into the tub next to him -said thighs inches away from his head for a split second- but he was too exhausted from being sensible and vigilant every other waking moment. Besides, Avi¡¯s attention was on Jodie, asking whether or not she was serious about getting a hot tub; however, judging from the swift kick to the shin from under the water, Jodie apparently noticed Mitch noticing Avi. ¡°Because like, for real? I¡¯ll work for you forever.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not not serious about it? Like we could probably get away with deducting it as an expense, since everyone is considered self-employed.¡± Then she salaciously grinned. ¡°Dad adores you, Avi. You should try to convince him that we need this!¡± ¡°Oh no, I¡¯m not asking someone to spend money. That¡¯s not my bag.¡± Setting the bottle on the ledge, Avi sipped at the wine. ¡°Damn, this is good. Do you want some?¡± He looked at Mitch, holding the glass in his direction as though he expected a drink to be taken from it. ¡°No, I¡¯m good,¡± he declined. ¡°I took an edible not too long ago, so I¡¯m waiting for that to kick in.¡± ¡°Aw, that¡¯s smart,¡± Avi smacked himself upside the head. ¡°Wish I thought of that.¡± Jodie informed him that they were in the fridge and he was free to help himself, but Avi lamented about already being soaked and didn¡¯t want to get out. As Mitch was about to offer to retrieve them, Charlie obliged with the request to grab one, although not without a little justified ribbing. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I don¡¯t often get to be so relaxed,¡± Avi attempted to defend himself. ¡°Aw, muffin!¡± Charlie pouted. ¡°Try being a critical care physician!¡± A kiss was planted on his lips, which was accepted and returned, but Avi frowned after. ¡°I thought we weren¡¯t going to participate in the Pain Olympics anymore?¡± he quietly murmured before pulling away entirely. Mitch, hearing it clear as day, stiffened in place. ¡°No, I know. I¡¯m just teasing.¡± She ran a hand up and down one of his pecs before lightly tapping it with her palm. ¡°Besides, how else would you be so hot if you didn¡¯t spend your entire day working out?¡± She certainly had every right to brag, but Mitch sure as hell wished that the edible would kick in sooner so that he could zone out and not be witness to this. Short of the mildest case of envy, he wasn¡¯t specifically upset by them, but at the moment public displays of affection were unnerving. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. That was yet another bizarre byproduct of the breakup that he wasn¡¯t even aware of until he saw Victor passionately embrace Nora after he returned from the Dominican Republic. It wasn¡¯t as though Mitch could avoid it though, or tell other people to not be affectionate towards their significant others. Still, that irrational and selfish part of him that wanted to scream out how he was hurting, how cruel and unfair it was that anyone else be content. Obviously, he didn¡¯t discuss that part with anyone other than Ann. Because even he could recognize that no well-adjusted adult in their right mind would utter that murky, vile, deep sea level trauma to the psyche -not unlike a chairshot directly to the head- to anyone other than a human being with a degree and a professional license to work with society¡¯s finest. So he just dealt with it, reminding himself over and over that it had nothing to do with him, and to let the irrational brain worms starve so that they couldn¡¯t eat away at him anymore. Sinking down further, he threw his head back and stared upwards at the heavens. The location wasn¡¯t a dark-sky preserve, but in comparison to Monument, the light pollution may as well have been nonexistent. Drinks continued to flow, and compounded with the hot water, inebriation came swiftly. At some point, while Charlie had asked about how guitar lessons were coming along, Mitch could feel the shift happening; it was like a TV channel that¡¯d been changed, but there was a delay before the new image displayed. He spoke much too quickly, rambling about fuck all until his mind caught up with his mouth. ¡°Wait, what was I just talking about?¡± he asked, giggling. It wasn¡¯t even that high of a dose so he wasn¡¯t having an outer body experience, but the air around him went wobbly. ¡°Oh no, I¡¯m high.¡± ¡°Think it was guitars?¡± Avi giggled back. ¡°Right. Avi¡¯s fucking great,¡± Mitch gave a hearty slap to Avi¡¯s bicep. ¡°Never seen anything like it, it¡¯s like everything is so effortless to this guy. I don¡¯t even know why he needs me to teach ¡®im!¡± ¡°No no, you¡¯re a great teacher!¡± countered Avi, his words starting to slur. ¡°I need someone to show me stuff, I can¡¯t follow a Youtube video or read a book. Big tactile learner.¡± He hitched a thumb towards himself. ¡°This guy.¡± There was a pause, a vacant stare, and then, ¡°Shit, it just kicked in.¡± ¡°AND you¡¯re drunk!¡± Jodie squealed, slapping the water and sending spray everywhere. ¡°Aw fuck, AND I¡¯m drunk!¡± Avi laughed harder, sinking even further down, until he was level with Mitch, shoulder to shoulder. ¡°Hey,¡± he whispered loudly, hand sliding on the back of Mitch¡¯s neck to pull him in close. ¡°What?¡± Mitch fixated on Avi¡¯s mouth, blinked a few times, and physically tore his eyes away. But then said mouth was at his ear, beard was touching his face, and Mitch could only hope that Avi was too gone to notice the way that goosebumps broke out. ¡°Thank you for inviting me. You¡¯re an amazing friend.¡± ¡°I¡¯m thinking of-¡± Mitch almost blurted out ¡®moving up here¡¯, but caught himself in time and shook his head to dispel the notion. ¡°I¡¯m glad you came. You and-and¡­¡± he snapped a few times. ¡°Charlie! I¡¯m sorry that I forgot your name right there, but I¡¯m so glad you both came!¡± As he fumbled through words, the hand moved up and down his neck, nails lightly raking against the skin and thumb grazing his spine as it dipped low, and Mitch made the mistake of leaning into the touch. ¡°That feels good,¡± he whispered without thinking, his mind already too hazy for coherence. ¡°You¡¯re like a dog!¡± Charlie hollered. ¡°This is so cute! Does anyone have their phone?¡± Someone took a picture, and he was pretty sure that Jodie did it. He mildly protested, not at all wanting to be caught in a moment of weakness where it would be plain to see on his face how fast and hard he was falling. But Avi didn¡¯t move at all so he couldn¡¯t help but wonder if maybe this was OK, maybe he won¡¯t mess this friendship up, maybe Avi won¡¯t be repulsed by him. He stayed tucked under Avi¡¯s arm, quiet and nestled like a fawn that was trying to evade being hunted by remaining under some brush. Avi would eventually let go of him and return to Charlie, but right then Mitch allowed himself to indulge in physical contact. He zoned in and out, but did manage to catch Avi requesting that the picture be sent to him. that tracked Time passed in a way that seldom made sense when psychoactive substances were involved. A loud clunk interrupted the revelry, and the culprit was an empty wine bottle that collided with the patio; miraculously, it did not shatter. Mitch¡¯s vision cleared enough to see the empty beer cans littered about the edge of the hot tub, and he heard Charlie and Jodie laughing. Next to him was Avi, nodding off and body slumped against his own. Christ, he wanted a cigarette more than anything. ¡°Hey man, you alright?¡± Mitch tapped his arm. ¡°I am¡­schwasted,¡± Avi barely got out. ¡°Oh. Uh, should you¡­mmm, hot tubs and drunk aren¡¯t a great combination,¡± Mitch tried to warn. ¡°He¡¯s kind of a lightweight,¡± Charlie spoke up. ¡°Babe, do you wanna get out?¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Avi rubbed his face. ¡°Yeah, I should, huh?¡± ¡°Aw shit, now I gotta be an adult,¡± Charlie whined, throwing her head back with a long winded, ¡°Maaan.¡± ¡°I was actually about to get out. I can help him,¡± Mitch offered. ¡°Oh my GOD, you¡¯re an angel. Thank you!¡± shouted Charlie. As she continued to babble her gratitude, Mitch assisted Avi with getting out of the hot tub, ushering him with ¡°c¡¯mon big guy¡±. His arm went around Avi¡¯s waist, and Avi¡¯s arm slung over his shoulders; after making a pitstop to grab his phone (in case he needed backup), together they hobbled into the house. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about this,¡± Avi lamented while they worked in tandem to get up the stairs. ¡°I¡¯m so dumb.¡± ¡°It happens, you had fun,¡± Mitch continued to assure him. ¡°No one got hurt. S¡¯all good.¡± It took an unfathomable amount of coordination to maneuver into the bed. Mitch had Avi sit on the mattress while he grabbed towels from the bathroom, assuming that there was no way he¡¯d be able to shower or get changed. He planned on tackling laundry before he and Jodie left, but if dense wet man exposure to the fabric was minimized, that was ideal. Once the towels were arranged on the sheet, he returned to the bathroom and filled a paper cup with water, then brought it over to Avi. The hangover in the morning would probably be a beast. ¡°You¡¯re so good to me,¡± Avi moaned, gradually going horizontal. He roughly made it onto the towels, which was good enough. After the contents of the cup were swallowed down, Mitch took it from Avi and put it on the nightstand. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna not take care of my drunk friend.¡± Grabbing the comforter¡¯s edge, Mitch loosely tucked Avi in. ¡°But I should probably get a bucket, in case you throw up.¡± He turned to get up and seek one out, but was held in place by a hand grabbing his wrist. ¡°No, don¡¯t go yet. I¡¯m alright, not gonna puke,¡± Avi assured. ¡°But. Hang out for a bit?¡± ¡°I was already gonna. Wouldn¡¯t leave you alone like this.¡± Unable to figure out what else to do, with his free hand he pat the top of Avi¡¯s; the grip loosened, but he wasn¡¯t released. ¡°Do you want more water?¡± Avi shook his head and closed his eyes. It was quiet for a few passing minutes, and Mitch wished that he didn¡¯t leave his phone in the bathroom so that he would have something else to focus on other than Avi¡¯s hand. Eventually, Avi punctured the silence and spoke up. ¡°Hey, can I ask an extremely personal question? And you don¡¯t have to answer it if you don¡¯t want to.¡± Mitch¡¯s eyes went wide and his body tensed, ready to hit the panic switch. He¡¯d been found out. He was dead. ¡°Sure,¡± he replied, then violently berated himself for letting his guard down. ¡°Have you ever uh¡­¡± Avi¡¯s eyes opened again, but they were trained on the wall next to the bed. ¡°You¡¯re gay, right?¡± Mitch cracked up. ¡°Is that your question? I already told you that. Also you met my ex, who is a guy.¡± ¡°No, that wasn¡¯t the question,¡± Avi huffed. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to be a pervert guy that¡¯s looking for details, but have you ever-¡± he audibly swallowed. ¡°Have you ever bottomed?¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Oh!¡± Mitch¡¯s heart leapt out of his throat. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, you don¡¯t gotta- Fuck!¡± Slapping himself upside the head, Avi started to roll away. ¡°No! No, it¡¯s cool!¡± Mitch yelped. ¡°You¡¯re not the first person to ask that. People get ridiculously intrusive,¡± he chuckled, then paused due to the sudden case of dry mouth. His shoulders hunched momentarily, then lowered. ¡°The answer is, yeah, I¡¯ve done it a bunch. I top as well. It depends on who I¡¯m with, or the mood I¡¯m in or the other person¡¯s in.¡± ¡°Can I ask what it¡¯s like?¡± Avi faced him at last, eyes pleading. There wasn¡¯t any hint of this being a trap. ¡°Depends on who you¡¯re with?¡± Running a hand through his hair, Mitch sighed. ¡°First time is scary. It¡¯s not painful when done right, but there can be discomfort initially, or if there isn¡¯t enough prep. But it can also be incredible once you¡¯re used to it.¡± It was ridiculous to wax poetic about getting a dick in the ass, but Avi intently listened regardless. ¡°And it takes a little while to not feel like you¡¯re about to take a gnarly shit.¡± ¡°That makes sense,¡± Avi nodded thoughtfully, then laughed at the addendum. ¡°So, may I ask a question that might be extremely personal?¡± He kept his voice low and genial to coax an answer that could be in his favor. ¡°Is it why I wanted to know?¡± ¡°It¡¯s why you wanted to know.¡± Avi chewed on his bottom lip, appearing as though he¡¯d been split open. Those deep, murky parts of Mitch, the places where he buried his skeletons, reanimated and started to violently claw out. Hopes that he dared not to dwell on in the daylight gained strength when shrouded in the dark. Insidious voices whispered terrible things, such as ¡®fuck it if Avi¡¯s girlfriend was just downstairs¡¯. It wasn¡¯t even as though he would act on anything, he wasn¡¯t total fucking garbage, but if this was some type of hushed confession, he¡¯d take it. He¡¯d take anything, and give everything in exchange to gain confirmation that there was even a possibility. A glimmer. A thread. The room was stifling and there was still a hand on his wrist, now searing his flesh. ¡°Well, I¡­I¡¯ve had this curiosity. Fantasy? And I kind of want to ask Charlie to. Well¡­¡± ¡°Oh.¡± That tracked. That made sense. Of course this wasn¡¯t about him, why would have bothered to get his hopes up? Someone like Avi, a literal Adonis, an absolute sweetheart, a total gentleman, would never in a million years be interested in someone like Mitch. ¡°Sure, alright.¡± He kept his tone even, mortification settling in nicely over letting himself think for even a second that there could even be a chance. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to have any advice on how to bring it up, would you? I¡¯m kind of scared to. Really scared to, actually.¡± And Mitch wanted to say no, bolt out of the room, steal Jodie¡¯s car, and get as far away as possible. Where? Maybe to Burlington, visit his uncle and aunt, be transparent with them for once about his state of health. Maybe go all the way to Greenwich, and beg Calvin to take him back. Maybe drain his meager savings out entirely and book a flight to Valence, and confront his mother about some things that were a long time coming. He did none of those things, and instead played the role of relationship counselor -unwise, considering how frequently he screwed up in that sector- and suggested that Avi just communicate with Charlie about his needs. Mouth operating independently of his mind, he also suggested that Avi could try out toys, since there were plenty of options for beginners. ¡°And you know,¡± his throat turned to sandpaper, which made it difficult for words to dislodge. It was as though all of his senses were trying to protect him, but he just could not stop saying dumb things. ¡°You can always talk to me, if you have questions about it.¡± Avi grinned, the lines of his face so aching soft and fond, and exuding relief. Mitch wanted to vomit, and he regretted not looking for that bucket. ¡°Thanks. You¡¯re the best.¡± The hand was still at his wrist, thumb caressing it, and Mitch gingerly removed it from the loose grasp. ¡°Do you think you¡¯ll be alright now?¡± He asked, surprised that he didn¡¯t burst into tears as his bottom lip trembled. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m good. Again, thank you.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡± He got up and retreated into his room to grab a hoodie and the pack of American Spirits. The first order of business was informing Charlie that Avi was in bed and had some water, and yet again she expressed her gratitude. When Jodie asked if he was coming back in, he declined and wandered towards the front of the house, hands shaking as he tried to light a cigarette. He had no one to blame but himself for this. Letting new people in was almost always an exercise in futility, and besides, there were enough people in his life as it was. This was so stupid, he was probably just lonely and Avi had a great ass so of course he wanted to hit that. Nevermind that he couldn¡¯t even get it up. He was so, so pathetic. Cigarette finally lit, he sucked that bad boy down in record time and absently scrolled through Twitter to distract himself. The only thing that he succeeded in was getting even more wound up over every single negative lukewarm diarrhea take that he was subjecting himself to by strangers on the internet, all angry about who even knew what. He was about to close out of the app, but his thumb hovered over the Messages button. Mitch had hit a lot of low points throughout his adulthood, that much was for certain. The last few weeks alone barely scratched the surface of the depths that he sunk to in the past. Yet nothing felt closer to burying himself 6¡ä underground than pulling up Toby¡¯s ignored message from the night he¡¯d gotten injured, and responding with ¡°hey¡±. good session Although Mitch spent most of his life afflicted by an aversion to taking care of himself, his decision to pursue therapy proved to be a good outlier. The session after Vermont was productive, even if he spent it word vomiting about the future and its uncertainties. Of course, most of the advice dispensed by Ann was a rephrasing of the questions that he asked out loud -how therapy often worked, after all- but at least he felt more sane than when he walked into the office as a tangled mess of fibers which needed to be teased apart. He found himself no closer to a decision about moving, but after what had happened with Avi (which wasn¡¯t even Avi¡¯s fault, it was his own for looking too closely, and Ann applauded him for coming to that conclusion), he weighed the pros and cons out loud. Ann¡¯s insight was split into two tracks of thought: yes, having his own space would undoubtedly be healthy for him, but would he be avoiding a situation simply because he was uncomfortable with it? ¡°Not that there¡¯s anything wrong with having to do that,¡± she¡¯d added. ¡°But is that what you actually want?¡± He didn¡¯t have an answer for her, but he promised that he would think about it. It was the first session that he left and didn¡¯t immediately go for a cigarette, or sit in his car and sob, which must have counted as progress in someone¡¯s book. Then again, he smoked a little less since he and Toby started talking again. Toby was a topic that stayed inhumed for the time being; not discussed with Ann, and certainly not with Jodie. Mitch remained aware of the disservice to himself, and one may ask what the point of trying to make improvements to a house, only to turn around and sell the land it was built on, then schedule it for demolition. But he operated better when he had some type of vice to privately indulge in; the higher the potential that it had to ruin him, the sharper he functioned. Was it due to stakes and odds? Or that a dose of sin made it easier to be virtuous? More likely than not, it was a cut and dry case of masochism. But his issues with Toby were his own, and not anyone else¡¯s burden to shoulder. They shared too complicated of a history for an outsider to grasp, not that Mitch held the fact in high regard. And he was still infuriated that this motherfucker slept with his ex, may never get over that particular offense, but a sick part of him understood why things went down the way they did; not to excuse it, but what was done was done. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Again, a situation understood by no one other than them; not even by Calvin, despite his role in it. Besides, had Toby not slept with Calvin, the catalyst which led to the breakup may not have been so definitive. In the end, Mitch desperately needed that to get over any further delusions. And, regardless of whatever transpired and all of the grievances, Mitch enjoyed talking to Toby and being in his company. Toby was an artsy guy, and they both had music and drugs in common. Mitch usually kept his geeky inclinations under tight wraps, knowing full well that most people did not want an in depth historical lessons on garage rock and grunge; Toby not only welcomed it, he matched with equal enthusiasm. They¡¯d go to record shops together and spend hours digging through bins as a date, then get stoned and sprawl out on an area rug, listening to their purchases. It was a nice departure to geek out with someone rather than at them. Back when Grindhouse first opened and everyone was still on good-ish terms, Toby was one of its first supporters. He¡¯d been the one to encourage Mitch¡¯s brief foray into burlesque, and was generally supportive of adventure and spontaneity; at the current juncture that he stood at, Mitch needed someone like that in his life. Maybe this time they could remain strictly friends, and keep the mess and the baggage in the past. He figured that as long as he kept Toby at arm¡¯s length in the meanwhile, he could figure out a way to maintain balance. Also, they weren¡¯t in their early 20s anymore, and who had the energy to be so petty? When he got home, his phone vibrated. Through text, Toby attempted to coax him to lunch, but Mitch made up an excuse to decline since it was still much too soon to meet in person; however, he insisted that they¡¯d get together sometime in the near future. Maybe it was a lie, or maybe it wasn¡¯t. Either way, the notion of being pursued for the first time in god only knew how long made him giddy. ¡°You¡¯re in a good mood,¡± Jodie stated from her station at the kitchen table, surrounded by the ever-present stacks of paper. ¡°What makes you say that?¡± asked Mitch as he made a beeline to the fridge. ¡°You¡¯re whistling. Sad people don¡¯t whistle.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Mitch pondered that, then rooted around for a seltzer. ¡°It was a good session, I guess.¡± Jodie appeared satisfied by the explanation, and Mitch didn¡¯t expand any further. futile optimism ¡°We¡¯re so close to phase three!¡± Avi declared with a tiny 3lb weight in his grasp, which he passed over to Mitch. With Graveyard Smash was in a few short weeks, Avi spent most of his time at Monument Wrestling Academy to keep up with the demand of the students that needed him. Mitch met him there for physical therapy to make his life a little easier. ¡°When do you think I¡¯ll be at phase 4? That¡¯s when I¡¯ll be cleared to compete again, right?¡± He lifted and lowered the weight with dramatic flourish. ¡°God, do you see this? I¡¯m so jacked.¡± ¡°Mirin¡¯ your gains, bro,¡± Avi laughed, then glanced down at his clipboard. ¡°Phase 4 is when you¡¯ll train to return to the ring. By the end of that, you¡¯ll be good to go. I¡¯ll help you get there, too.¡± ¡°And there¡¯s no way that I¡¯ll be ring ready at Graveyard Smash, right?¡± He made no effort to hide the futile optimism, and groaned loudly when Avi shot him an incredulous look. ¡°Look, for what it¡¯s worth? You¡¯re healing so fast. And we¡¯re going at a great pace if we keep at it almost every day. But-¡° ¡°But?¡± Mitch¡¯s eyebrows waggled, as if he could get a different answer by willing it. ¡°It¡¯s going to be at least another month and a half, maybe two. So maybe for¡­what¡¯s the holiday one that Jodie¡¯s stoked on?¡± ¡°Krampusnacht?¡± Mitch readjusted his arm according to Avi¡¯s instructions. ¡°Yes! I think we can safely say that¡¯s the target date, provided your physician clears you. Maybe even get on the tapings that are just before that.¡± ¡°So I can¡¯t do any ring training before then? At all?¡± ¡°Well,¡± Avi thoughtfully stroked his beard. ¡°There¡¯s not too much you could do in there, but I could come up with some modified holds and stretches to be employed. Could be good, at least from a psychological perspective. Get you amped for your return, which plays a lot more into healing than we give credit for.¡± ¡°I¡¯d really love that,¡± admitted Mitch. ¡°When I got in the ring after Sandy had lost her match, it almost knocked the wind out of me because I missed it so much. Got way more emotional than I¡¯d expected.¡± ¡°That¡¯ll happen,¡± Avi nodded. ¡°Years ago, I had a leg injury that kept me out for about 6 months. Up until then, it was the longest that I¡¯d ever been away from wrestling. After my first match back, I went to the locker room and was an absolute wreck. Full on tears.¡± He gestured to his face and emulated crying. ¡°The waiting is the hardest part for sure, especially for that period that you can¡¯t engage in it at all.¡± ¡°Honestly, I didn¡¯t even want to be here until¡­¡± Mitch pursed his lips. ¡°Today, actually. Just being around all of this was this crippling reminder. But I also didn¡¯t want to be away, either? Things hurt too much, it was confusing.¡± This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°I get that,¡± Avi acknowledged sympathetically. ¡°So let me look over my schedule and we can figure out when to do top secret in ring stretches. Might have to be before or after hours, if that¡¯s alright with you? And,¡± his voice lowered an octave, ¡°As long as we maybe don¡¯t discuss it with Jodie?¡± ¡°Oh my god, are you shitting me? There¡¯s no way in hell I¡¯d disclose this to her, she¡¯d make it so that I could never use this arm ever again.¡± ¡°If it¡¯s any consolation, you wouldn¡¯t be the first one armed guy to fight in a ring. And hey, I¡¯m just trying to prevent myself from enduring a fate worse than death.¡± ¡°Nah, she likes you enough to not commit a crime,¡± Mitch assured, which he hoped that Avi actually believed by now. Judging from earlier conversations, the only outstanding factor hinged on whether or not Charlie decided to make the move to the area, and Mitch hadn¡¯t yet summoned the courage to inquire. Admittedly, he didn¡¯t want to know the answer -not right then- and assumed that if Avi wanted to talk about it, he would. But aside from a relayed message of gratitude, Charlie hadn¡¯t been mentioned since she returned home. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s have you push against that,¡± Avi gestured to a nearby wall and continued to scrawl onto the piece of paper attached to the clipboard. Mitch placed his right hand on the cinder blocks and waited until Avi was paying attention before he moved forward with further instruction. This went on for another 15ish minutes, until Avi called it off and showed Mitch his notes on progress on what looked like an official chart record. ¡°Where¡¯d you get this?¡± Mitch asked. ¡°Looks official.¡± ¡°Oh, I dug it up from school days. I held onto everything. Anyway,¡± he circled a few sections as he explained the shorthand, and broke down observations he made that Mitch had never once taken into consideration. ¡°Give me until the end of the day to pick those dates out, alright? But for now, I have a class starting in,¡± he glanced at his wristwatch, then at the recent influx of students that gathered nearby. ¡°Shit, like 6 minutes.¡± His hand grazed Mitch¡¯s back after reaching out; the maneuver was standard Avi affection, but the hand landed lower than usual. A pat between the shoulder blades was to be expected, but at the lumbar portion above his waist? Less so. Mitch¡¯s brain kicked into overdrive with its reasoning, supplying him with the reminder that Avi most likely wanted to exercise caution around the shoulder now that it wasn¡¯t protected. But it couldn¡¯t present him with any reason that the contact lingered a hair longer than any previous time, and could only deduct that he was making it all up. ¡°Well, gotta run. See you back at home?¡± Avi asked with a bright smile, the one that disarmed Mitch every time and hatched an entire butterfly cluster in his stomach. ¡°Y-yeah,¡± Mitch stammered, waiting until he was alone in the bathroom before allowing himself to get angry for still having that reaction. He held onto the edges of the sink so tightly he worried it may break, yet simultaneously he wanted the catharsis of something crumbling within his grasp. After a few deep breaths, he turned on the faucet, splashed water on his face, and stared hard into the mirror. Under his breath, he mumbled reminders that Avi wasn¡¯t an option, would never be an option. Then he slapped himself with as much strength as he could muster. With his forearm he wiped away some spit that gathered at the corner of his mouth, which launched out due to the force of the hit. The sting of raw flesh grounded him enough to deviate from the spiraling trajectory he nearly fell victim to once again. One ragged inhale later, the type that made his entire body stutter, he stood under the sickly fluorescent lighting feeling both satisfied and numb. backfired Having the house to himself, Mitch relished in the rare absence of housemates. Those still moments, where the only company present involved the occasional appearance by Estrella, made it easy for him to hear himself think. Taking Ann¡¯s advice, he bought a composition notebook and started journaling for the first time in over 5 years. Something about physically putting pen to paper was cathartic, and to be able to do it without risk of interruption allowed him to delve into some stream of consciousness exercises. After finishing with writing, he tucked the notebook away into the small dresser that Jodie let him borrow while they shared a room, arranging then rearranging several pairs of jeans to further obfuscate the makeshift journal. Though the risk of discovery about was low, the idea of anyone accidentally stumbling across it brought about paranoia. God forbid someone read the blurbs about numbness and dysmorphia and intrusive thoughts; despite the constantly present ideation, he never engaged in any acts of deliberate self harm. An intervention or affirmations from the people closest to him, or being told that he was valid, may be enough to push him over that brink. However, the bulk of his musings recently trended in a positive direction. Something about returning to one former interest led him to considering others. Straddled between an abundance of caution and a possession of raw energy, he weighed options over which outlet to pursue. Lately, thoughts drifted towards music, and about the guitar that Avi borrowed. He momentarily considered going into Avi¡¯s room, grabbing and then returning it before anyone came home, but the violation of trust didn¡¯t sit well with him. He sent a text to request for permission to retrieve it, and the response was almost immediate. ¡®Of course!¡¯ Avi replied, and followed up with a lengthy apology about forgetting to return it. Mitch shook his head, and a smile crept up as he envisioned Avi¡¯s flustered expression while he typed up his novel. Hand on the doorknob to Avi¡¯s room, Mitch struggled with the hesitancy to turn it and cross over the threshold, then berated himself for overanalyzing every single decision. ¡°This is why you spent so long in a dead end relationship,¡± he muttered and opened the door. Despite having permission to be in there, it still felt wrong. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. He¡¯d never seen Avi¡¯s room, but it was about what he envisioned: tidy and modest. It was the smallest bedroom in the house, more of an office and not intended for full time occupancy, but Avi¡¯s possessions were modest to begin with and he never once complained about the size. A tiny writing desk was wedged between a bureau and a narrow bookshelf with several title belts on its shelves. On the wall above it was a cork board with a printout of his schedule, along with a few photographs and some pieces of fanart. At the back of the room was a single window, with a garland of Nepali prayer flags strung up above the sill, and the guitar sat propped below. As Mitch seized the neck, something on the nightstand caught his eye: the 7¡å Backstreet Boys single. He dropped the guitar, and it landed with a hollow thunk and a metallic clanging that reverberated. Seeing the vinyl should not have knocked the wind from him, but it did, and he sat on top of the neatly made bed as his mind reeled. Aside from some loose change and a few crumpled receipts, the nightstand was otherwise barren. No pictures of Charlie or of his family, although those were contained to the cork board, since Avi was meticulous about organization. Mitch lacked insight, because the items that lived on his nightstand were only the essentials, such as his phone and a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Maybe a vape pen, if he hadn¡¯t lost it. Inadvertently, he clutched the blue gingham duvet cover and kneaded it between his fingers while making a poor attempt at troubleshooting an issue that wasn¡¯t any of his business. ¡°Oh, fuck!¡± he shouted when he came to, and tried to smooth out the creases in the fabric. Before thinking better of it, he brought his hand to his chin and furiously rubbed the stubble to try to calm down, a tic that he struggled with during periods of distress. It backfired when he caught a whiff of spearmint and that organic basil scented fabric softener that was obviously Avi¡¯s, since no one else in the house bought the brand he preferred. Half hard and agitated, Mitch launched himself from off of the bed. He grabbed his guitar, bolted out of the room, and almost collided with the wall in the hallway. Struggling to breathe, he hurried down the stairs and rushed out the back door, gulping for fresh air as soon as he was outside. speculation On the safety of the deck, Mitch sat on the wooden picnic table and waited until his heart no longer risked cracking a rib from the force that it pounded. Next to him the guitar waited, a patient companion that lacked judgement. Grazing its lacquered surface brought Mitch back to planet Earth. He pulled it onto his lap and fiddled with the tuning, consumed by guilt that he taught Avi with a left handed model. But if Jimi Hendrix learned to play via flipping a right handed guitar, the method was good enough for anyone. Maybe if Mitch survived the next few months without going into cardiac arrest, he¡¯d get Avi a right handed guitar for Christmas. Several test strums later, the sound sounded correct at last, but Mitch paused. So much time passed since he last played for himself that he didn¡¯t quite know where to begin. He lacked any upcoming gigs, and it¡¯d been ages since he wrote any new material. Why bother at all? He idly plucked at the strings, slow at first until it vaguely resembled something familiar. Subconsciously, he settled on the chords to Pink Moon, its melancholy tone only made sense given the last few months. The sole audience member for the performance was the beautiful ash tree in the backyard, its leaves turned russet with the change of the season, but had not yet started to shed. The music spilled forth naturally, as easy as breathing or blinking, as if he hadn¡¯t missed a single beat despite his infidelity to the craft. The taught wire scraped against the pads of his fingers, rendering old callouses back into raw flesh and it felt so right. Still without a setlist, he continued to strum practice chords, toying with a few progressions that lived in his head for much too long. A few rusty attempts later, the bare bones of something with potential manifested. Setting the guitar on top of the table, he jumped down and embarked on a mission to locate a pen and some paper. He rounded the table¡¯s corner to head inside, and spotted Jodie in the kitchen. She looked up at the same time and excitedly waved. ¡°When¡¯d you get home?¡± He asked through the screen door, then pulled it open. ¡°Hm, 10 minutes ago? I was grabbing some lunch before running over to city hall to hand over permits.¡± She tossed a butter knife into the sink, and various cold cuts were methodically stacked onto a bulkie roll. ¡°Was gonna try to duck out before you noticed, but I enjoyed the performance too much.¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Thanks,¡± Mitch chuckled sheepishly. ¡°By the way,¡± she lit up and clasped her hands together. ¡°I actually planned to ask you this later tonight, but I have you here now and it¡¯s related.¡± ¡°Related?¡± ¡°Yeah, the whole music thing. So I booked a band for Graveyard Smash to open the show, maybe do some intermission work. But I found out that apparently they broke up like weeks ago, ghosted me and took my deposit, which is just so great!¡± She grinned in an unsettling manner, which could only be described as ¡®homicidal¡¯. ¡°Anyway, I would have asked you to do it, but the idea was to, y¡¯know, have you wrestle. If not for the heavyweight title or the tag titles, depending on how far you got in the tournament, at least for the Slutty Costume Battle Royal.¡± ¡°Are you really calling it that?¡± Mitch raised an eyebrow. ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯ll officially be the ¡®Sexy Costume Battle Royal¡¯, but I digress. Point is, do you think you could perform instead? I just want a few spooky cover songs, like how the Misfits sing about goblins and skeletons or whatever.¡± ¡°I mean, I guess? I don¡¯t even have a band anymore, though. Might be a one man act, which wouldn¡¯t be as high energy as you want it to be for this setting,¡± he attempted to explain. ¡°Could you contact your old band mates? It was amicable, wasn¡¯t it? The only reason that y¡¯all broke up was because you moved, but I¡¯m pretty sure they¡¯re both still outside of Boston, unless they both moved since I last checked the socials.¡± Mitch exhaled out his nose, and Jodie¡¯s mouth formed a straight line. ¡°OK, can you just-¡± She rubbed her temple. ¡°Look, don¡¯t give me an answer right now, but please just think about it?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡± He accepted an affectionate pat on the face . ¡°Don¡¯t expect anything, though, alright?¡± Finished assembling the sandwich, she scooped it up in one hand and made a finger gun with the other, pointing it at Mitch. ¡°You¡¯re the best!¡± She shouted while departing, leaving him alone in the kitchen to ruminate. As far as Mitch knew, they were all still on good terms, or at least leaned towards neutral. The bassist rotated between 5 or 6 different projects, and the drummer had both a business and a family to tend to. Already, it did not seem promising, especially on such short notice. But there was also no harm in asking, even if the details were sparse at best and Jodie failed to provide a dollar amount. As he wandered about the house to locate scrap paper, he scrolled down to the group chat labeled ¡®Liner Notes¡¯. The last activity was from over 2 years ago, which did not inspire confidence. Their numbers may have changed, he reasoned. Was this even worth the effort, or should he try another platform that stood a better chance of getting a response? He shook his head. Speculation, as per usual, led him nowhere. the mere prospect Armed with a pen and a few sheets of printer paper, air in his lungs, and the drive to take charge and do rather than think, Mitch reached out. The message contained what he deemed appropriate after a long stretch of time passed: a greeting, inquires about how they¡¯d been, and finally Jodie¡¯s gig offer -if they were interested. He shoved his phone back into his pocket after hitting ¡®send¡¯, and didn¡¯t expect anything. The band had parted because life got in the way, he reminded himself, but Mitch always felt guilty towards the end. Because no one explicitly said it, but the fact remained that his addiction took its toll on everyone. The last message hung heavy and contained comments about reuniting, though it never came to fruition. Now that he was sober, Mitch could read between the lines and see the concern and sympathy in their responses; possessing a clear head had the effect, or at least that¡¯s what the professionals said. So he took his phone back out, swallowed his pride, and admitted to the chat that he¡¯d gotten clean. He wondered if either of them harbored any ill will about the past and his actions. Both of them frequently commented on his wrestling posts, and Mitch was a guest at the drummer¡¯s intimate wedding after Liner Notes disbanded. But even if bygones were bygones, would anyone actually want to meet up and perform cover songs instead of original material? No matter, he already sent the message. Try as he may to will a response via staring at his phone, his only option was to wait and see. Humming along to what he heard in his head, Mitch again turned his attention to music. He jotted down the tabs and strummed them once more, making further adjustments as he went along. If nothing else, these tender shoots of creativity needed nurturing, whether by band or by solo act. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Sometime between scrawling and transcribing, Mitch¡¯s phone vibrated. He paused his work and found several paragraphs worth of messages awaited. The bassist reintroduced himself as Basil, and explained that due to the recovery from his top surgery a few weeks prior, his schedule was wide open. In his own words, ¡°time is nigh to show off the goods¡±, and he agreed to the gig. Mitch congratulated him, initially shocked; but within seconds of reflection, he concluded that no, none of this came as a surprise. When they were roommates, a lot of late night conversations revolved around gender and sexuality and whatnot, and Basil often seemed dissatisfied with something intangible. Within the last year or so, he also abstained from sharing any personal information online, all social media posts kept strictly to either self-promotion for shows, or the odd blurry photograph of city scenery with strange poetry used as a caption. Darius, their drummer, chimed in with a hello and a congratulations as well to Basil; he then continued, saying he¡¯d have to check with his wife since weekends were usually slammed at the shop. But regardless, he insisted they should all have a jam session sooner rather than later because he needed to exorcise a few beats that only made sense as a band. Their band, specifically, he clarified. That make any sense? Darius asked. lmao no man, Basil responded. Mitch cracked up. Could he find another drummer if Darius was unable to commit? Technically, but he preferred the entire unit together, otherwise it wasn¡¯t Liner Notes. Hell, if Darius couldn¡¯t make it, either Mitch or Basil could handle the drums without any issues, they managed it several times when Darius¡¯ then-fiance-now-wife was pregnant. But the mere prospect of being reunited with them, even for fun and nothing else, made Mitch¡¯s chest swell. He clutched his guitar, strumming the chords and progressions that tripped him up earlier, this time equipped with a confidence and enthusiasm that he lacked until that moment. "something came up" On a dreary October evening, the rain pounded so heavily on the roof that Mitch heard it while he showered. It was about two weeks out from Graveyard Smash, and Jodie officially reached the point where she lived part-time at the school; she went so far as to keep an air mattress in her office. Admittedly, Mitch enjoyed having the bed to himself for long stretches of time, but out of concern he ferried over meals on a daily basis. Not tonight, however. After he freshened up, dressing in his cleanest band t-shirt and least frayed pair of jeans, Mitch grabbed his car keys and quadruple checked to see if the house still remained vacant. Not a single noise was made as he skulked about; there¡¯d been no shower karaoke, and he cradled the keys to prevent them from jingling. In particular, he needed proof that Avi was still out. And he knew that Avi said he¡¯d be at the school, but maybe he snuck in while Mitch prepared to do something that he wasn¡¯t proud of. Mitch almost wished that he was present. Almost. And now the only restriction left fell upon his fragile morals, sturdy as papier-mach¨¦, and those would not save him now. Not with gratification on the line. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. To keep his hair from getting wet, he pulled on the knit cap and ignored the surge of guilt; days ago, Avi paid a compliment and said that the color was ¡®good on him¡¯, and Mitch tried not to dwell on that. Especially not now. He also refused to consider that he wore Jodie¡¯s gift when he was about to get up to some bullshit. Forgiveness may be easier to ask for than permission, but this pushed the limits of said maxim. This was outright wrong. His car started without any weird sounds, which was both unusual and frustrating. The universe beckoned him to fuck himself over. Begged for it. Opened the door and invited him inside. The dashboard¡¯s clock faintly displayed the time: quarter past 7. He needed to make a choice and send a message to someone, preferably before he left the driveway. Putting the car into reverse, he checked the rearview mirror before backing up. Maybe if he didn¡¯t commit to anything at all, he¡¯d do the right thing. As he drove past Monument Wrestling Academy without so much as slowing down, he knew that no, he wasn¡¯t capable of that. Should have sent that message, should have committed earlier. At least then no one would be waiting for him. Sitting at a red light, he considered what he ought to use for an excuse. He had a headache? His stomach ached and he needed rest? Neither were valid. He wasn¡¯t home, and he probably wouldn¡¯t be back that night. Overwhelmed by guilt, he slammed on the hazard lights and pulled over. He sent a text to Avi, a simple ¡®Hey man, something came up. Not gonna be in tonight, sorry.¡¯, and left it at that. There was no relief once it¡¯d been delivered, only more numbness. Throwing his phone onto the passenger seat, he scrubbed a hand down his face, then merged back into traffic. off into the night Avi spent the last week buzzing about the plan he developed with in-ring stretches, and he managed to secure a time and date specifically for Mitch. After some artful prodding on Mitch¡¯s part, Avi admitted that due to this being off the books, he wasn¡¯t getting paid for his time. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Avi insisted, ¡°We¡¯re friends!¡± But the other night, Toby sent a text of his own to relay that the very same night happened to be the only night which he had any availability to get together. The Wickburg Art Museum was in the thick of setting up a new exhibit -a huge gain for them, Toby noted- and as their newly appointed curator, he couldn¡¯t risk disappointment. He claimed that it may be weeks, if not months, before he had any free time at all. Mitch assumed that Toby either withheld the entire truth or adjusted it to fit a particular narrative; regardless, he shouldn¡¯t have disclosed the dates that he wasn¡¯t available, because by doing so meant the game was officially afoot. However, his dick started working again for the first time in almost a year, so he was an easy mark. The worst part: he didn¡¯t have much interest whatsoever in sleeping with Toby. And though there wasn¡¯t a guarantee that it would happen, no contract signed nor promise made, it was the world¡¯s safest bet. But within a rapid span of time, the want to be wanted nagged far worse than any injury. If he got laid, maybe he¡¯d be less out of his mind. Because his reward for at last clawing out of the chasm of depression was for his dormant hormones to reawaken with the potency of a pubescent teenager. It wasn¡¯t conducive to living with someone attractive, especially when he was on the receiving end of physical contact from said person almost every day. Albeit for medical related reasons. Not that it mattered to his dick. It reached a boiling point during their most recent session, which Mitch cut short so that he could rush into the bathroom and get off. He wasn¡¯t proud of that and tried his damnedest to keep it utilitarian, but his brain relentlessly supplied him with the memory of Avi asking what it was like to bottom; genuine and vulnerable and nearly undressed, splayed out on the bed, but not an invitation. Torture, that¡¯s what it was. Look and admire, but don¡¯t touch. Never touch. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. When he came, he swore that he blacked out for a second. And now he was terrified to be alone with Avi for another session, because he didn¡¯t want to accidentally get hard and then have to explain that shit. Or pretend that it didn¡¯t exist. Or, god forbid, if it happened and Avi tried to play it off as though it wasn¡¯t a big deal. He could already hear Avi¡¯s voice, all sweet and reassuring and calm. Fuck that. He would rather eat glass than be validated about an inappropriate boner. Speaking of which, his jeans tightened as he drove, and he readjusted them while muttering a string of curses in both French and English. So in came Toby, messy but flirty, and most importantly, familiar. A bad idea always, but also not the worst option, either. If nothing came of it, he could try his luck elsewhere, or die horny. Nate¡¯s awkward attempts at flirting sprung to mind; that could be fun, he decided, provided they exercised discretion. If Jodie found out she¡¯d never forgive him, because despite it being totally fine for other students to date one another, Mitch was forbidden from partaking. To be fair, he understood why; being a walking disaster, he also wouldn¡¯t want to deal with himself. For every mile gone by, he wished that his tires hit a pothole hard enough to cause damage and keep him from going through with this. But paving started at the beginning of the season, so many of the haggard roads already received their patch jobs. He¡¯d even gone on the most out-of-the-way route to get to the bar that Toby picked. The school was nowhere near the destination -quite the opposite- and that still wasn¡¯t enough to keep him from still pursuing this. What a disappointment he proved himself to be. An absolute asshole. ¡°Whatever,¡± he grumbled, exhausted and desperate to be anywhere other than Monument. With the exception of Nate, no one else chomped at the bit to go out with him; and in Nate¡¯s particular case, Mitch held little interest in someone that repeatedly failed to be upfront. His loneliness was horrible and unbearable, the last calendar year serving as an isolation chamber within his home and with his own partner. He didn¡¯t need reservations that would only deplete his self-worth any further, he needed to be openly wanted. And at least with Toby, there were no pretenses. Both parties knew what they were getting into. It was comforting, in a messed up way that everyone hated. The piss yellow backlit sign of a gas station came into view, a lighthouse amid this storm of foul desperation. Pulling into its parking lot, he overlapped two spaces but was too pressed for time to readjust. He bought a 3-pack of condoms and a pack of American Spirits, and sped off into the night. no consolation? Half an hour later, he arrived at the bar. Illuminated by the car¡¯s overhead light, he looked himself over in the mirror. Despite shaving that morning his stubble returned in full force, but that would forever remain his eternal boulder to push up a hill. His consolation was that he didn¡¯t look any more tired than usual, unlike the immediate post-breakup version of him, in which he resembled the living dead. Waiting for him was a message from Avi. ¡®Ok, I hope everything goes well!¡¯ it read, and Mitch hesitated to leave the car as the words rattled around in his skull. He should go back, apologize for¡­well, not for lying, but for being unfathomably inconsiderate. After this was over, whether or not he came clean about his transgression, he¡¯d not only buy Avi the guitar, but also make sure that he never paid for Starbucks ever again. That would come later, he resigned, and opened the door. The bar was located at the outskirts of Middlesex County, an area that encompassed most of the towns directly west of Boston. It reminded Mitch of every other quaint downtown he¡¯d passed through in Massachusetts. A newly minted progress pride flag hung in the window of the adjoining coffee shop, and some of the tension that built up in Mitch¡¯s neck and shoulders drained out upon seeing it; some of these smaller towns leaned heavily to the right, and though he never felt unsafe, nevertheless it warranted some degree of vigilance. And it could be argued that this wasn¡¯t a date, that he had no reason to worry about being targeted, but it also wasn¡¯t not a date. He hurried inside the building to escape the rain and walked up a hallway, his shoes squelching for the entire trek and echoing off of the walls. At the end, he reached a door with a glass window that had a vinyl decal of the bar¡¯s name on it. Pushing it open led him to a dimly lit room, furnished with every industrial feature imaginable: Edison bulbs encased in lanterns suspended from the ceiling, exposed pipes, floor to ceiling windows that faced the street. All of the wooden surfaces were stained dark and sealed with a high gloss lacquer, bringing together the entire appearance to resemble a study or an archaic men¡¯s club; the only thing missing was cigar smoke and rancid bigotry. ¡°Mitch! Over here!¡± A voice called out from a nook that several tables were crammed into, and Toby¡¯s lanky form came into view. He stood up from where he sat, the collared shirt/sweater combination and slacks suggesting that he just came from work. The last time that Mitch saw him, his brunette hair was cropped short and kept tidy; since then it¡¯d grown out again, curling around his face and just on the verge of being unruly. He rocked the hot professor look. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Mitch approached unhurried, and allowed himself to be pulled into a cautious hug. ¡°Hey you,¡± Toby whispered, bending over due to being nearly a foot taller. ¡°Hi,¡± Mitch greeted, giving two hearty pats on the back before pulling away. Toby pulled out a chair for him, and Mitch burst out laughing at the gesture. ¡°So formal!¡± He grinned and accepted the offer. ¡°Well, you agreed to meet with me! It¡¯s the very least that I could do,¡± Toby proclaimed. ¡°Which, thank you, by the way. Because you did not have to.¡± ¡°Shit. Are we just getting that out of the way?¡± Mitch rubbed the side of his neck and watched Toby return to his seat. ¡°Because after the last few months, I don¡¯t have the energy for it. You fucked my ex when I was still with him-¡° ¡°I thought that you were on a break!¡± Throwing his head back, Toby rubbed his face with both hands. ¡°Did you really? Like be honest,¡± Mitch leaned forward. ¡°I¡¯m not mad about it anymore, and I came to hang out, but let¡¯s not tiptoe.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. I think it was more that I didn¡¯t care about the official status when it happened?¡± Toby briefly put his head down onto his folded arms, then looked up again. ¡°You were both so terrible, and I was so¡­vindictive.¡± He paused when a server came over and took their drinks, a vodka soda for Toby and a lime seltzer for Mitch. Toby¡¯s eyes remained trained on them until they were out of earshot, then continued. ¡°Maybe I wanted to be the final blow, and went about it in the least mature way. Anyway, your turn for honesty: are you really not mad anymore?¡± ¡°Of course I¡¯m still mad!¡± Mitch responded without hesitation, and Toby laughed. ¡°I knew it! Should I go?¡± he abruptly stood up, feet of the chair scraping sharply against the floor, but Mitch grabbed hold of his wrist before he got anywhere further. ¡°But! It¡¯s also complicated.¡± Mitch explained. ¡°If you didn¡¯t do it, the cycle would have just continued as always. I finally got enough clarity to surrender that the ship was sinking, which was long overdue. So fuck you, you suck, but I also don¡¯t hate you and I wouldn¡¯t have agreed to come here if I didn¡¯t want to see you.¡± ¡°So it¡¯s done this time? For real?¡± Toby¡¯s face was a mixture of concerned and hopeful, and when Mitch nodded, he didn¡¯t bother to hide his relief. With a hand to the chest, he said, ¡°I¡¯m so glad to hear that.¡± ¡°Oh, no consolation?¡± teased Mitch. ¡°Because I¡¯ll have you know that these last few weeks have been a waking nightmare.¡± ¡°Uh no, you two together were a nightmare,¡± Toby scoffed. ¡°Maybe I should go.¡± This time Mitch stood, and it was Toby¡¯s turn to grab and keep him firmly in place. He snorted and sat back down. "I could be swayed" Conversation flowed easy once grievances were aired and their drinks arrived, and Mitch felt silly about spending the last few days worried that the final nail in the coffin was driven in. A vague recollection surfaced of the despair that he endured from his ex and the chucklefuck across from him, still a wound that refused to scab over. But the last few weeks were so excruciating, that the previous transgressions paled in comparison. Toby blathered on about his promotion and the upcoming installation and how he brokered it, and Mitch promised that he¡¯d stop by when it became available to the public. ¡°I can get you in for opening night?,¡± Toby offered. It wasn¡¯t cemented in stone because Mitch had to check his mostly vacant schedule, but he committed to a ¡®most likely¡¯. Toby smiled at that, all shy and private in a way that drove Mitch wild for the guy. Did he know? Did he do it on purpose? Who could say for certain. Mitch provided a brief synopsis of his life in the stretch that they hadn¡¯t spoken, careful not to undersell or oversell anything; just allude to some forlornness under the surface, and gain sympathy points from the one person he could tolerate them from. Without a doubt, Toby carried his own insight and agenda, always did, but the charade appeared to work well enough. They compared and discussed vinyl purchases and shows attended, and Mitch mentioned how he might be making music again, which Toby took a great interest in. Toby also expressed regret about not being able to attend recent Grindhouse events, but he assumed that he wouldn¡¯t be welcome (he was correct in his assessment, but Mitch didn¡¯t bother to inform him of that). Their fingers brushed more than once across the table, and with each pass Toby got bolder, eventually resting the tips on Mitch¡¯s nails. ¡°You know,¡± he started, his voice silky. ¡°This one¡¯s on me, if you wanted to imbibe. Not that you have to, of course.¡± Of course Mitch considered it, but he pushed himself to abstain for the last year or so, the exception being when Calvin broke the news about his infidelity. Consuming booze meant a strong likelihood of relapse; he couldn¡¯t determine his own personal risk factor, since last time that he went into a drunken stupor, he miraculously managed to avoid hard drugs. Were he in a familiar environment, he may have accepted a drink. After all, Toby -a former addict as well- seemed to have struck a balance. But for now, while the depression and anxiety still skyrocketed, Mitch decided to play it safe. ¡°How about we split these chips and guac?¡± he pointed to the menu and mustered as much sultriness as he was capable of, and Toby held back a snicker. ¡°Since apparently you¡¯re treating me.¡± Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡°You can get real food, too!¡± Toby insisted, and waved over their server to place the order. ¡°Nah, this is good. It¡¯s the most adventurous thing I¡¯ll have eaten in recent memory.¡± Mitch shrugged it off, then waited until the server was gone before asking, ¡°So can we do the honesty thing again?¡± ¡°Sure, why not? That¡¯s always a blast,¡± Toby snarked. ¡°Is this a date? Did you want this to be a date?¡± As Mitch asked, Toby shut his eyes and audibly exhaled through his nose, then leaned back in his chair. When his eyes opened back up, he gazed at Mitch, clearly sizing him up. ¡°If I told you that I was perhaps -maybe, yes- interested in it being that, are you going to take off?¡± Toby asked. Mitch shook his head. ¡°No,¡± he replied. ¡°But I¡¯m also not looking to get involved with anyone right now. I think I¡¯m supposed to be single for the time being, if that makes any sense?¡± ¡°So how uncouth would it be of me to¡­¡± Toby trailed off and drummed his fingers on the table, the tips of them now centimeters away but the vibrations running a current through Mitch¡¯s skin. He played coy by covering his mouth with his other hand, but Mitch knew better. ¡°What?¡± Mitch prodded, already aware of the following response. ¡°Invite you over to my place?¡± His hand stilled and then slid forward, bridging the gap and fully linking their fingers together. ¡°I could be swayed,¡± Mitch answered honestly. ¡°If you wanna get stoned and put on some jams like the old days, I¡¯m in.¡± ¡°I¡¯d like nothing more than to do that,¡± Toby admitted, his voice inciting a reaction in Mitch¡¯s chest that he was ill prepared for. By now, he assumed that this sort of behavior wouldn¡¯t have any impact, not after a decade of the same thing which led to the same conclusion each time. But here he was, falling for it again and blatantly ignoring his own vow about keeping this limited strictly to friendship. So he took it slow, picking at the food after it arrived and feeling out the next steps. He could no longer deny that he wanted to get laid, and things were surprisingly amicable. With plenty of conversation beforehand, they could map out the boundaries and maintain a strict ¡®no strings attached¡¯ policy. Of course, expectations and reality were often polar opposites. This wouldn¡¯t last, Mitch knew that. So, he could hit it and quit it; except that didn¡¯t feel right, either. After they cashed out, Mitch¡¯s internal conflict clung with the tenacity of a bug on a windshield, but he made no effort to apply critical thinking skills. Toby suggested that they ride in one car, and though Mitch went along with it, some lingering trepidation weighed heavy as he watched his car disappear from view. He asked if it would get towed, and Toby replied that it was unlikely. ¡°It¡¯s being left at a bar,¡± he added. ¡°Drunk people do that all the time¡±. That sounded reasonable enough. Alone in the car together, the energy became nervous. Toby¡¯s hand drifted over from the steering wheel to the shifter and then to Mitch¡¯s knee, and Mitch put up no protest when it rested there. If he had any pride, he would put up a fuss; but there he sat in the passenger seat, ready and willing to fool around with someone that wrecked him multiple times in the past without any remorse. And to be a willing participant, he deserved whatever terrible consequences that were bound to come his way. the lions den Toby¡¯s apartment was located roughly 15 minutes north of the bar, in what could barely even be considered a town. He said that he stuck around all those years because -despite being being in the middle of nowhere- his rent stayed dirt cheap. Mitch had visited the place a few times since Toby moved there, and it possessed a certain charm that he appreciated; there was a real sense of analogue, crammed full of academic ephemera such as globes and maps, and the walls almost completely covered in things like framed prints and insect taxidermy. His favorite piece of the collection was the small upright piano which was mostly used as a quirky shelf, but on occasion Toby would clear it off and perform songs that he retained from lessons in grade school. They joked multiple times that Toby would never be able to move again, on account of the effort needed to pack and move everything. As Mitch poked around, Toby busied himself by his console, until moments later Etta James¡¯ ¡®Tell Mama¡¯ crackled through the worn speakers. ¡°Good choice,¡± Mitch commented while Toby uncorked a bottle of wine. After the contents poured into a stemless glass and set down, he sparked a joint then passed to Mitch. ¡°I know,¡± Toby exhaled and gave a half cocked grin. Mitch smoked and watched Toby light a candle on the trunk-turned-coffee table. Soon, smoke curled upwards from the glass votive, and the scents of tobacco and leather permeated the room. ¡°Oh, that small isn¡¯t natural?¡± Mitch played naive and took a seat on the rattan pouf that¡¯d been strategically placed on the floor next to the couch. ¡°Afraid not,¡± Toby grinned, and eased himself down onto the rug, seated next to Mitch. Swirling the wine in the glass, he pursed his lips in thought. ¡°I¡¯d say the natural odor here is ¡®must¡¯, on account of the curated materials.¡± ¡°What a selling point. Boys must be busting down your door to get in here,¡± chuckled Mitch. ¡°Hey, worked on you, didn¡¯t it?¡± Tony waggled his eyebrows, then took another sip. ¡°Give me that,¡± Mitch swiped the glass from Toby¡¯s hand and took a drink. He didn¡¯t care for any of the lexicon or subtleties that came along with wine, but it didn¡¯t taste awful and that¡¯s what counted. ¡°Anyway, I don¡¯t count.¡± ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± Handing the glass black, he avoided eye contact entirely but felt Toby¡¯s eyes fixed on him. ¡°We have history. And I¡¯m easy,¡± he responded. ¡°Oh, sweetheart.¡± Toby tutted. ¡°You¡¯re not easy. You tell yourself that, but you¡¯re not.¡± Mitch went to open his mouth, but was interrupted before he could speak. ¡°College doesn¡¯t count, you¡¯re supposed to be a slut then.¡± ¡°Wow, thanks,¡± Mitch¡¯s nose wrinkled, annoyed by the flippancy. Sure, he opened with the self-deprecating comment, but it¡¯d also been a sore spot that he finally began to discuss in therapy. Too many times he served as the willing test subject for many a curious classmate, often because he himself was desperate for any sort of affection, to feel valued in any way. The irony was not lost on him that Toby himself played a massive role in Mitch¡¯s damaged self-esteem, back when he was impressionable and so, so vulnerable. And yet, he once more returned to the lion¡¯s den of his own volition. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Instead of giving that any more thought, he stole Toby¡¯s glass again and took another drink. ¡°I¡¯m just saying!¡± Toby attempted to defend himself. ¡°By the way, I can pour you your own glass, if you want me to.¡± ¡°Stolen tastes better,¡± retorted Mitch. After a pause, he muttered, ¡°And yeah, I get it.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Toby shrugged and took back his drink and his weed. A few minutes passed in silence, leading Mitch to question what exactly he was doing here. He moved from the pouf to the floor, and rested his head on Toby¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Why are we such a disaster?¡± Mitch¡¯s voice cracked when he asked, and he winced at the sound. ¡°Where¡¯d that come from?¡± Toby reached up, cradling Mitch¡¯s head with the crook of his elbow, and lightly massaged his temple. ¡°This-¡± Mitch gestured to the both of them. ¡°It never works out. You¡¯ve always got your foot half out the door, and I can¡¯t trust you for shit, and I can¡¯t tell where it started and where it ends. Why are we like that?¡± Toby sucked in a breath, his chest fully expanding before he let it go. ¡°Don¡¯t know. We set our expectations too high?¡± ¡°What am I doing here?¡± Mitch choked out a laugh. ¡°I thought we were just smoking a little dope and hanging out,¡± Toby gave his best Tommy Chong impersonation, and it got Mitch to giggle and relax. ¡°Nothing more than that, if you didn¡¯t want it.¡± ¡°But I do want more. And I also don¡¯t.¡± Running a hand through his hair, Mitch squeezed his eyes shut. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna be in your bed later tonight, staring at the ceiling and wondering if we¡¯re diving right back into the status quo all over again. Or if we have a shot of being OK just once.¡± He mulled over his next words, but decided to steal the joint away and take a drag first. ¡°Also, I might have feelings for someone else.¡± ¡°Well, what the fuck!¡± Toby exclaimed. ¡°Jesus. Why are you here?¡± ¡°He has a girlfriend,¡± Mitch continued. ¡°So it¡¯s not an option. And I can¡¯t tell, y¡¯know? Like maybe I just want to fuck him, and then I can move on from it. Or maybe I really like him, which would be an issue.¡± ¡°So, what? You wanted to fuck me and try to get it out of your system? And I¡¯m the asshole here?¡± Plucking the joint out of Mitch¡¯s fingers, Toby snubbed it out into a nearby ashtray. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that, you enjoy being used. You¡¯ve said so. This is like, a peak fantasy scenario, where someone in need turns to you and you get to fuck their pain away without any commitment whatsoever.¡± ¡°Are you calling me out? In my own home?¡± ¡°Toby the fuck messiah, takin¡¯ one for all us sinners,¡± Mitch loudly declared. ¡°Sure, you¡¯re acting upset, but I can see your dick ready to rip your pants to shreds.¡± ¡°I do love a man in need,¡± Toby sighed, and swung his arm across Mitch¡¯s shoulders to draw him in closer. ¡°Yes, alright, fine. I¡¯m very into it. But again, we don¡¯t have to do anything tonight. We can just¡­take things one day at a time, and see where it goes. Maybe we stay friends, maybe we sleep together, maybe we end up married.¡± ¡°We won¡¯t end up married,¡± Mitch deadpanned while he leaned into the touch, going pliant into Toby¡¯s clutch despite the abundance of caution that he claimed to possess. ¡°You never know,¡± murmured Toby, his mouth now near the top of Mitch¡¯s ear, the warm breath making him shiver. ¡°Thought you said we didn¡¯t have to do anything,¡± Mitch choked back a moan. ¡°We don¡¯t. And I¡¯m not doing anything.¡± Knuckles ghosted against his arm, causing an eruption of goosebumps. He was fucked. ¡°Aside being a liar?¡± ¡°If you tell me to stop, I will.¡± Drifting lower, Toby never actually made contact, but the lack thereof made everything somehow more potent and Mitch¡¯s thoughts whirred. Again, it was nothing if not inevitable. Mitch craned his neck back so that he could get his mouth on Toby¡¯s. Among the surge in the pit of his belly -the lust and longing, the need and anger- hot shame manifested because yet again, he¡¯s made the first move. sharp things For the millionth time it seemed, Mitch took Toby¡¯s bait and became his unwitting dance partner. Something feral awakened from hibernation when their tongues made contact, and before Mitch was even cognizant of his actions, he pivoted and straddled Toby¡¯s lap. He broke free to gasp when hands groped under his shirt and pawed at his chest, but Toby immediately dragged him back down. This is how it¡¯s supposed to be, right? A snide voice in the back of his head needled as they slid down and became horizontal with the floor with an unceremonious thunk. Flavors of weed and wine elevated the hopelessness of the situation, and he knew that he was failing in a catastrophic way, each passing second cementing his fate. Toby¡¯s mouth trailed down his jaw and neck, licking a long stripe up it before they collided once more. As they swapped spit, he tried to formulate a beneficial reason to engage in any of this. Maybe he could exorcize a few demons by abusing Toby¡¯s mouth. Toby took the lead, rolling to switch their positions so that he hovered above, and pressed his hips against Mitch¡¯s. Utterly delirious, Mitch reached up and wrapped all of his limbs around Toby¡¯s body, clinging like a vine while the heat consumed him, burning him out and leaving him a hollow full of nothing more than charred wood and ash. He wanted -needed- more friction. Nothing else mattered anymore. After spending the last year in a mostly dormant state with a nonexistent ego for company, he just needed affirmation that he was capable of being desired. ¡°Ohh, I missed that,¡± Toby groaned as he nipped at Mitch¡¯s earlobe, but he barely heard it due to the unrecognizable keening noises that continued to escape his throat. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good, baby.¡± Everything came to a screeching halt when Mitch felt hands at his fly, the button already undone. No, that was insane. Nothing good ever resulted from any of this, and goddammit, he knew better. ¡°Hold up, wait,¡± he broke away. ¡°Too much?¡± Toby asked, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. He looked incredible. ¡°Too much,¡± Mitch confirmed, and he scrambled to get out from under Toby. ¡°I should-I should go. Wait, no, car¡¯s at the bar. Shit.¡± ¡°Ok, so,¡± Toby sat back on his heels and smoothed back his hair as he sought out a solution; he moved with intent, as though he was approaching a cornered stray of some sort. ¡°Look, it¡¯s late, you¡¯re high. Why don¡¯t you just crash here-¡° ¡°Dude!¡± Mitch yelped. ¡°I don¡¯t mean with me! I mean sleep on the couch. I¡¯ll bring you to your car in the morning, and we can either pretend that this never happened, or laugh it off and consider tomorrow to be the beginning of the fresh start. If you¡¯re up for it, there¡¯s a great little cafe around the corner that makes incredible breakfast sandwiches.¡± That sounded agreeable, so Mitch dumbly nodded along. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ¡°OK,¡± he whispered. ¡°Great. Great, good,¡± Toby let go of a breath, then clapped his hands together and stood up. ¡°I¡¯m going to bed. Help yourself to whatever you want in the linen closet, or the kitchen, or whatever else. Nothing¡¯s changed.¡± Though he kept his tone neutral, resignation bled through his voice. Mitch attempted to get comfortable on the couch -thankfully one of the few items that Toby owned from this century- but his mind raced with too much fury for him to rest. What the hell was the point of any of this? Why did he agree to it? He shouldn¡¯t be here, shouldn¡¯t have come, shouldn¡¯t have agreed to meeting up. At any moment he¡¯d snap, crawl into Toby¡¯s bed, and spiral into self-destruction yet again. Lose weeks of progress and for what, to get his dick wet? Because he couldn¡¯t stay away from sharp things? According to his calculations, it would take about 2-3 hours to walk back to his car; were it not for the pouring rain, he''d already be on foot. He glanced at the time, and tried to determine what level of late 11:00pm fell on. Late enough to know that he was selfish and terrible, but not so late that it was an unforgivable transgression. He scrolled through his contacts, Arin¡¯s name being the first to pop up; a viable option, and the atonement opportunity that they were so desperate for, but Mitch didn¡¯t want to take advantage of them and their misplaced sense of guilt. Also, they lived over an hour away in the other direction. The next name was Avi. He cursed under his breath, then hit the phone icon. It picked up after 2 rings. ¡°Mitch?¡± Avi¡¯s voice came through a little gruff, as though he¡¯d been woken up; Mitch stayed quiet, stunned at this new low, even for him. ¡°You there man?¡± ¡°Yeah I¡­¡± Mitch swallowed hard. ¡°I¡­I fucked up. Real bad. Could-¡± His body tensed up. He was really going to do this. ¡°Could you come get me?¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Avi responded without hesitation, and Mitch¡¯s stomach roiled with nausea. He should hang up and deal with the shitty consequences of his shitty actions, but instead his body shook as he gave the address. ¡°I don¡¯t know where that is, but I¡¯ll let you know when I¡¯m there,¡± Avi quietly assured him. The call disconnected, and Mitch drew his knees to his chest and hugged them. He waited until the tremors subsided before he sought out a pen and piece of paper, eventually finding both in the kitchen. His thoughts scattered to all four winds as he tried to figure out what to write, knowing full well that he was being an asshole to two people in one night. I took off, I¡¯m sorry. If you don¡¯t hate me, call me later. -M For the entire duration that he waited for Avi, Mitch clutched the note in the dark. If Toby got up and saw it before he left, they would have to talk about it, and he wasn¡¯t ready for that. When the call finally came, he attached the sweat stained piece of paper to the fridge with a magnet, smoothing out the frayed edges that he spent the whole time picking at. Some stirring from Toby¡¯s room jolted Mitch back to reality. He left the note alone, and bolted for front door. disappointed ¡°Hey,¡± Avi greeted when Mitch opened up the passenger side door. ¡°Hi,¡± Mitch mumbled, then followed up with. ¡°Thank you. Thanks for. Fuck.¡± He collapsed into the passenger seat and ground the heel of his palm into his eyes, unable to get his brain together long enough to form a cohesive sentence ¡°It¡¯s,¡± Avi paused. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Are you OK?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Mitch answered honestly, then waited until they were on the road and about a mile away before blurting out, ¡°Avi, I¡¯m so sorry.¡± Avi didn¡¯t immediately respond, but his jaw was firm and his brow was furrowed in concentration, like something weighed heavy on his mind and he didn¡¯t know how to unsaddle the burden. He cleared his throat before talking, then matter-of-factly stated, ¡°Jodie told me that you were seeing someone named Toby. She didn¡¯t seem thrilled about it.¡± ¡°How did she-¡± Mitch¡¯s eyes went wide, and he scrambled to put the pieces together. Something clicked, and he pulled up Instagram; his suspicion was confirmed when he found a new update to Toby¡¯s Stories that hadn¡¯t been there before Mitch arrived at the bar. He didn¡¯t bother to look at it, only sunk further into his seat and mumbled, ¡°Jesus Christ. Great,¡± under his breath. ¡°You know-¡± Though Avi¡¯s voice was soft, it lacked all traces of its typical gentle characteristics. ¡°I made this whole plan. Like, specifically for you. And you told me that the time and date were fine-¡° ¡°I know! I was so stupid, I¡¯m sorry.¡± Mitch interrupted, then tugged his hair for being rude. ¡°I guess I¡¯m just disappointed?¡± The moment that the words left Avi¡¯s mouth, Mitch¡¯s blood turned to ice. His bottom lip trembled, and pressure built up behind his eyes. A mantra of don¡¯t cry don¡¯t cry don¡¯t cry rushed through his head at the pace of a bullet train, but it only succeeded in making the tears well up even harder. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± he uttered, trying -and failing- to hold back a sob. Somehow, that was worse than anything he could have anticipated for a reaction, despite being justly deserved. He kept his face covered as he crumbled, and considered opening the car door to jump out of it and keep his mess as far from Avi as humanly possible. As if his intrusive thoughts had been cracked open and put on display for public consumption, the car slowed down and pulled to the side of the road. Mitch reached for the door handle, assuming he¡¯d been given the signal to go; but before he could open it, he found himself enveloped in a tight hug. And though he tensed and resisted at first, he surrendered in short order and buried his face into Avi¡¯s shirt, openly wailing. His cries were so consuming, so loud that they drowned out the rain that pounded on the car¡¯s roof and the rubber wiperblades that dragged across the windshield. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. It was easily one of the most humiliating moments of his life. ¡°Dude, I didn¡¯t say I was mad at you,¡± Avi tried to soothe him, rubbing circles on Mitch¡¯s back. ¡°C¡¯mon, it¡¯s OK.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t know that I could even disappoint you!¡± Mitch could barely get out, his breath wet and shuddering. ¡°Why? Because you have abysmal self esteem issues and you assume that you¡¯re unlikable?¡± Avi asked, and Mitch coughed out a startled laugh. ¡°Don¡¯t drag me like that if you¡¯re just going to kill me!¡± whined Mitch. ¡°Let me die with dignity!¡± ¡°And definitely not dramatic at all,¡± Avi chuckled, and pat Mitch¡¯s hair. ¡°Look, I¡¯ve got news, man. You¡¯re likable. A lot of people like you, and they even say good things. I¡¯ve known you for what, just over a few months? And you¡¯re on the fast track to becoming one of my closest friends. That¡¯s why I was upset, because my good friend didn¡¯t communicate with me beforehand, and left me out to dry at the last second. That sucks!¡± ¡°That does suck,¡± Mitch agreed. ¡°I¡¯m so fucking sorry. I just¡­I don¡¯t want to make excuses, but I¡¯m¡­¡± he sniffed. ¡°My brain¡¯s not doing so hot right now, and I thought that I could fix it by doing this very dumb thing.¡± ¡°By seeing your ex?¡± ¡°By seeing my ex, yes.¡± Mitch confirmed while shame caused his face to burn. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± Avi pushed away slowly, enough to put a gap of space between them so that he could place his hands on Mitch¡¯s shoulders and hold him at arms length. Mitch refused to lift his head to make eye contact, he lacked the strength and energy to do anything other than fight off the urge to lean into the touch. ¡°That is pretty dumb,¡± Avi teased, and Mitch¡¯s heart caught in his throat when soft kiss was planted on the top of his head. Time moved at a glacier¡¯s pace as Avi sat back in his seat and buckled up, then shifted the car out of park and resumed driving. ¡°Is that Denny¡¯s near the mall 24 hours? Because now I¡¯m up and I think you owe me.¡± ¡°Uh huh,¡± Mitch responded dumbly, in desperate need of the knowledge of what he¡¯d done to deserve a kiss of all things, but not able to formulate a single sentence due to his brain short circuiting. Being the degenerate he was, he could only fixate on what it would take to get more. ¡°Cool,¡± Avi smiled, his expression tired but the lines on his face fond. ¡°And for whatever it¡¯s worth, I disappoint Charlie like¡­all of the time. Every day. So it¡¯s not the end of the world, we all do it.¡± ¡°How?¡± Mitch asked, and Avi¡¯s smile faded. ¡°Sorry, I shouldn¡¯t- Don¡¯t answer that.¡± ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Avi sighed, and allowed a few swipes of the wiper blades to pass before he spoke again. ¡°I think she assumed that by now I¡¯d ¡®grow out¡¯ of wrestling and go back to school, or something along those lines. And she tells me that she wants me to do what makes me happy, but then.¡± He went tight lipped, and the silence became more deafening than the cacophony outside. His head shook and he glanced from out of the corner of his eyes. Lips parted, but nothing fell from them, and Mitch finished the thought for him. ¡°Relationships are fucking hard sometimes,¡± supplied Mitch. Avi¡¯s mouth formed a line, his focus back on the road ahead. ¡°They really are.¡± His tone turned somber in resignation, and Mitch¡¯s heart splintered apart on his behalf. antithesis While crammed into a worn vinyl booth and sharing burnt coffee under yellow fluorescent lighting, the conversation from the car replayed over and over in Mitch¡¯s head. He alternated between picking at the ripped fabric and sneaking glances at Avi in an attempt to unravel what happened without having to directly ask. Naturally, Avi went mum on the topic; if Mitch wanted an opening, he needed to make it himself. They climbed back into the car to make the final stretch back home, Mitch found the courage to speak up before Avi backed out of the parking spot. ¡°Hey,¡± he cleared his throat and ran his palms on the thighs of his jeans. ¡°For whatever it¡¯s worth, but I don¡¯t think that you¡¯re a disappointment. Don¡¯t know how you got that idea, but you¡¯re the antithesis of that.¡± Avi looked over at him, mouthing ¡®what¡¯ before his face lit up in recognition. His shoulders hunched, and he rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°Oh, I. Thanks. I mean, you¡¯re not dating me or anything,¡± he huffed. ¡°So without that perspective-¡° ¡°OK, but even if I was dating you!¡± Mitch blurted without any forethought, and his face burned. He almost hit the backpedal, terrified that he just outed himself, but that¡¯d make it worse. Best to feign ignorance and continue the train of thought, he decided. ¡°I couldn¡¯t imagine you ever being a disappointment. You lift up every single person that¡¯s around you. You brought an energy to the school that wasn¡¯t there before. Everyone wants to try harder and do better, and that¡¯s because of you.¡± Mitch paused, then lowered his voice as it creaked, ¡°You make me want to be a better friend, Avi. I¡¯ve never really thought about that, until you showed up.¡± Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Avi stared at him all wide eyed in bewilderment, then bit his lip once Mitch stopped talking. ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t even know what to say,¡± his voice tremored. ¡°Thank you, though. I don¡¯t know if I actually deserve any of that-¡° ¡°You do.¡± Mitch ignored the guilt for continuing to cut him off, but hearing Avi being so hard on himself was unbearable. ¡°You went and picked me up without hesitation, even though you knew that I was being the worst. And then you hugged me!¡± ¡°After I made you cry!¡± countered Avi. ¡°I cry all the time!¡± Mitch brushed off the assertion, then grasped at the air in desperation to convey his sincerity. ¡°Avi, you¡¯re great! You are, I mean that from the bottom of my very shitty heart!¡± Although no words were exchanged, Avi¡¯s heavy breathing filled the void. Mitch couldn¡¯t tell since the only light source was the flood lamp they were parked under, but the rims of his eyes appeared damp and red. With hesitancy, Avi at last spoke up. ¡°Um. So, I know that we hugged earlier, but, uh. I really needed to hear that today. All of that. And¡­¡± ¡°Do you need another one?¡± Mitch tried to eradicate all traces of hope in his tone, but something in his chest fluttered when Avi sharply nodded. He stretched his arms out and Avi leaned forward, embracing him tightly while strong fingers clutched onto the back of his shirt. Avi¡¯s face tucked into the crook of his neck, a small sniffle muffled by the fabric. Mitch pretended not to notice. Curiosity continued to nag at him, insisting that he ask about what happened earlier to cause Avi to need reassurance about his character, but he said nothing. Instead, he held Avi closer. bleak rom the driveway, Jodie¡¯s bedroom window could be seen aglow, meaning that she was probably still awake. Mitch stared at the second floor and swallowed hard, debating avoiding her altogether by way of sleeping on the couch that night. ¡°You coming?¡± Avi shouted over the rain. ¡°No,¡± Mitch shook his head, sending droplets to and fro. Like a dumbass, he¡¯d forgotten his hat back at Toby¡¯s apartment. ¡°Gonna stay out here tonight. It¡¯s a great night for stargazing.¡± ¡°C¡¯mon,¡± Avi tutted sympathetically and pulled at Mitch¡¯s arm, guiding him inside. Other phrases of encouragement were offered, such as ¡°It¡¯ll be fine¡± and ¡°She¡¯s your best friend, just talk to her,¡± but they merged with the brain static that continued to accumulate with each stair climbed. Eventually, Mitch stood outside of the bedroom door, dazed and numb and at a loss over how to explain himself. But Avi seemed to believe in him, so he figured that he needed to make an attempt; couldn¡¯t risk being more of a disappointment to the guy that pulled his fat from the fire multiple times and asked for nothing in return. Without any further thought, he pushed the door open, and fought off every urge to bolt when he met Jodie¡¯s glare. ¡°How was your night?¡± Her voice was pure ice, pulled straight from the Arctic Circle and dropped off in the middle of this random room in Monument. ¡°Alright,¡± Mitch answered. ¡°Yours?¡± ¡°Well, I didn¡¯t fuck Toby,¡± she scoffed. ¡°Neither did I, actually!¡± Mitch snapped, and took some satisfaction in catching Jodie off guard. She raised an eyebrow at him, incredulousness written all over her face. ¡°Jo,¡± he sighed, not fond of the mistrust, even if it may be warranted. ¡°So what, you guys just hung out?¡± Arms folded across her chest, she didn¡¯t bother to appear anything less than suspicious. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Well, not that it¡¯s any of your business,¡± Mitch started and cast his eyes down at his feet to avoid the daggers being thrown his way. ¡°We fooled around for a little while, but I wasn¡¯t comfortable so we stopped.¡± His head shot back up when he heard her hiss out a few choice cursewords. ¡°Oh for fuck¡¯s sake, Jodie!¡± ¡°With Toby?!¡± She threw her arms into the air. ¡°Yes! I¡¯m sorry, yes! With Toby!¡± Running a hand through his hair, Mitch¡¯s back slumped against the door in exasperation and defeat as he struggled to not curl in on himself. ¡°But why?¡± The hostility in Jodie¡¯s voice turned to something else, more akin to curiosity and hurt. ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know,¡± Mitch answered meekly. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ve been damaged goods for so long that all I know is how to be used.¡± Jodie gave a low whistle, then followed up with, ¡°That¡¯s bleak, dude.¡± ¡°It¡¯s why I¡¯m in therapy,¡± he deadpanned. ¡°I¡¯m working through it.¡± A few seconds passed, and at last Jodie¡¯s face softened and she pat the space next to her on the bed; though her mercy sometimes came with thorns, the roses that accompanied them were sweet, and the hedges offered a great amount of protection. So Mitch accepted this, but settled at the mattress¡¯ edge before going any further. ¡°Jodie,¡± he kept his tone soft. ¡°You gotta stop stalking his accounts. I know you hate him, and I¡¯m sure it feels like your efforts paid off tonight, but it¡¯s really not healthy. You¡¯ve got way bigger stuff to worry about than Toby.¡± ¡°But what if he hurts you again?¡± She asked, and in rare form allowed for vulnerability to shine through. ¡°Then it¡¯s my own fault, and you get to present me with the world¡¯s biggest ¡®I told you so¡¯ for it. But I can¡¯t-¡± He sighed, then dropped his head into his hands while the smell of Avi¡¯s cologne wafted from off of his shirt and made his heart physically ache. ¡°I can¡¯t keep pining for a guy that I have literally no chance with in this or any other lifetime. You gotta trust me on this and let me get it out of my system so that I can move on.¡± After the sound of rustling fabric came from behind him, arms went around his midsection and her head rested on his back. ¡°You really think Toby¡¯s going to help you with that?¡± ¡°Dunno. At the very least, he¡¯ll remind me of all of the things that I dislike about being with someone,¡± he bitterly chuckled. ¡°But it might be a moot point. I think I burnt that bridge tonight.¡± ¡°Yeah right,¡± Jodie snorted. ¡°That¡¯s impossible. The more of a bitch that you are to him, the harder he pursues you.¡± ¡°If you say so,¡± Mitch, having all of his energy drained, put up no further argument. Quietly, he laced their fingers together, and ignored the way that she heavily sighed against him; every word gone unsaid, expelled in that breath. symbolic gesture At nearly the last possible moment, the three members of Liner Notes came together for a rehearsal. Mitch already committed to the gig with Basil on board, and Darius managed to sort the date out with his wife, so they were good to go. They agreed to meet at Darius¡¯ house in Lowell, because transporting a few guitars was easier than hauling around a drumset; furthermore, neither Mitch nor Basil had families that they¡¯d be missing dinner with by going to band practice. Since Basil lived in Somerville and lacked a car, Mitch offered to pick him up from the train station. While waiting in the parking lot, he reviewed Jodie¡¯s songlist and tried to envision the songs¡¯ arrangements per her request. The train¡¯s horn blared and yanked him from out of his thoughts, and he made sure that he let Basil know what car he was in. Except, he remembered, Basil already knew, the car model stayed the same for the last decade. His eyes narrowed when someone unfamiliar approached, a redhead in a flannel with a stylish quiff haircut and a small goatee. Then the immaculate cheekbones tipped him off, and Mitch lit up in recognition. ¡°Dude!¡± he exclaimed when the passenger¡¯s backseat door opened and a guitar case was unceremoniously tossed onto the seat. ¡°Dude!¡± Basil parroted back. ¡°Is the hair color natural? You¡¯ve been bleach blonde as long as I¡¯ve known you,¡± Mitch asked, practically tripping over his own words. ¡°Oh and like, holy shit! You¡¯re handsome as fuck!¡± ¡°Thank you, I know! Spent a lot of money to look this good.¡± Basil¡¯s smooth voice was surreal at first, but also so natural and a wonderful thing to listen to. Not a single hint of cynicism from days of yore, just a perfect self-assured calm that Mitch always envied. He dropped into the passenger seat, and as he buckled up proceeded to explain, ¡°And yes, I¡¯m a natural redhead. I shaved my head before starting T, like some kind of ¡®breaking up with myself¡¯ symbolic gesture.¡± A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°That¡¯s so cool,¡± uttered Mitch. ¡°Right? I thought so. Anyway, I kind of dug it when it started to grow back in, and leaned into a more natural me for the first time in my adult life.¡± ¡°I¡¯m so goddamn happy for you!¡± Mitch grinned. ¡°Thanks, man. I¡¯m happy for me too,¡± Basil smiled back. They stopped for some fast food before heading over to Darius¡¯ house, and 15 minutes later pulled up to a small classic New England cottage in a quiet neighborhood. From inside of the house a dog furiously barked, but the bark was much bigger than the bite. Mitch and Basil grabbed their instruments from the back, pushed past the chainlink fence¡¯s gate, and ascended the front steps. Basil pressed on the doorbell which made the dog bark louder, and a toddler could be heard joining the cacophony as the small voice shouted ¡°Door! Door!¡± The door swung open, and Darius¡¯s tall frame blocked out the light that poured out of the entryway. Attached to him clung a small child, who scurried away as soon as she was face-to-face with adults that she was unfamiliar with. From between Darius¡¯ legs, a miniature schnauzer mix whined a few times then squeezed through, its little body wiggling as it demanded attention, which Basil was happy to lavish it with. ¡°Twizzler!¡± Darius attempted to settle down the 10lb perpetual motion machine, but to no avail. ¡°Sorry about him,¡± Darius said while he pulled Mitch into a side hug. ¡°He acts as if he¡¯s never had any human contact whatsoever¡±. Basil had to decline any sort of hug due to his chest, so he and Darius exchanged fist bumps. When asked if he¡¯d be able to play, Basil assured them that he¡¯d gotten clearance. Even if he started to ache, he could just keep the bass down low. ¡°If all else fails, get me a stool to sit on and I¡¯ll be fine.¡± They pushed past various colorful toys that were spread out across the floor like an obstacle course, but before reaching the basement door, Darius¡¯ wife Evelyn apprehended them and asked if they had dinner. ¡°Just ate!¡± Mitch informed her, and she proceeded to chew Darius out for not inviting them over sooner. ¡°I¡¯ll pack you both some for the road!¡± she asserted, and neither Mitch nor Basil protested; it¡¯d be insane to decline, since Evelyn was a professional chef-turned-caterer in Boston¡¯s North End. She then shot a stern look at Darius, and warned, ¡°Invite them next time!¡± ¡°I¡¯ll invite them next time baby, sorry!¡± he relented, throwing his hands up in surrender. whoops After years of Darius claiming that he¡¯d get around to it, his basement was at last finished. ¡°Fellas,¡± he gestured proudly once all three of them settled at the bottom of the newly carpeted stairs. ¡°Welcome to my studio!¡± While Mitch pressed on some of the grey foam tiles, Darius expanded upon the lengths he went through to make the space functional. ¡°My next goal is to get a soundbooth in here. Wanna do professional recordings in the future.¡± ¡°Like for an album?¡± Basil¡¯s head snapped up from the wall mounted guitar rack that he¡¯d been admiring. ¡°Possibly. I was thinking more soundbites that could be licensed. Been working a lot on production these days, but if we can keep this-¡± he hitched a thumb at himself, then waggled his index finger at Basil and Mitch. ¡°Going on a regular basis, I¡¯d love to give it another shot.¡± While Darius continued, Mitch opened his guitar case and came to the embarrassing realization that he packed his acoustic guitar. ¡°Oh my god,¡± Basil snickered as he peeked inside after Mitch shot him a helpless look. ¡°Whoops, huh?¡± ¡°Yeah, whoops!¡± Mitch slapped his forehead. ¡°Darius, you still got Molerat hanging around?¡± ¡°Sure do!¡± Darius pulled a left handed electric guitar down from the rack, and both Mitch and Basil cheered, ¡°Molerat!¡±. Darius acquired the guitar years ago when someone traded it into his store. Its cheap quality was a step above a beginner¡¯s guitar, and not worth tagging for sale due to the real estate that it would take up. That, and the fact that it was a horrid shade of Pepto Bismal pink. Mitch plugged it into the closest amp, and immediately got to work tuning it. ¡°I may need to borrow her for the gig, is that alright?¡± Mitch asked. ¡°Man, just take her home already,¡± urged Darius. ¡°She¡¯s always been yours. You know that.¡± Mitch grinned up at him and gave his thanks, and proceeded to make his best attempt to get her sounding as pretty as possible. Some day, Molerat¡¯s fate was to be smashed on stage, but until that moment came she¡¯d get as much TLC as Mitch could spare. ¡°We¡¯re mostly doing punk-style covers,¡± he mentioned. ¡°Jodie¡¯s not looking for anything too polished, just high energy.¡± This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°What about rockabilly? Like Nekromantix?¡± Basil asked. ¡°Nah, I think she¡¯s definitely more on board with Misfits style.¡± He pulled up a Youtube video and showed it to both of them. ¡°Like she wants Pet Semetary, but the way that Groovie Ghoulies plays it. Real crunchy garage rock, y¡¯know?¡± While they both listened, he plucked a few chords, experimenting with a few basic chord progressions. ¡°Alright, got it.¡± Basil nodded, and having already set up, joined in as well. Darius took a seat on the drum stool and readied his sticks. ¡°Let¡¯s maybe start with Monster Mash and go from there.¡± Band practice was the most at ease that Mitch felt since his injury; perhaps the most natural before he¡¯d started wrestling at all. Still plagued with self-doubt over his in-ring abilities, he now constantly mulled over Rod¡¯s helpful critique. But he¡¯d known music for over half of his life now, and without ever signing anywhere, once upon a time Liner Notes had gotten far enough where he considered their work an accomplishment. Basil and Darius possibly had different definitions for what success looked like, but the accolades spoke for themselves. They¡¯d opened for bands that had gone on to get signed and even managed several tours on their own, and headlined venues, including a local festival. Alongside that, they recorded a full album and a handful of EPs, had a hit song that was a mainstay on an independent radio station for almost an entire year. On occasion, Mitch still received payments from online sales after he¡¯d thrown all of their music onto a website that Basil highly recommended and used for his independent work; it tickled him that anyone out there still gave a shit. And though any further dedication towards music wasn¡¯t possible at the time for either Mitch or Darius given life¡¯s circumstances, Basil could reach greater heights if he didn¡¯t change his mind so often or stretch himself too thin between various projects. Mitch glanced over while Basil tore up the bass. He always wanted to see him get there, but they all had their burdens to shoulder. Guilt still lingered for not being able to commit while on the knife¡¯s edge of possible greatness, instead bailing when the threat of elevation loomed too close. Maybe it¡¯d stick this time, and maybe Basil would get the flowers that he always deserved. healthy When the session wrapped up, Mitch relayed, ¡°We can always tweak stuff the night of, but that sounded great!¡± Things went smoothly with only a few hiccups, but nothing out of the ordinary. Before they left the basement, he asked if Darius had any right handed acoustic guitars for sale at his shop. Darius responded by grabbing one off of the rack from his own collection. Its dull black veneer had seen better days, Mitch assumed; scuffed to hell with sticker residue all over it and a few chips taken out of the body. ¡°How much you want for it?¡± he inquired. ¡°$20? It¡¯s nothing special, just a spare that I keep around for jam sessions,¡± answered Darius. Without any hesitation, Mitch pulled out his wallet and handed a $20 bill over. ¡°Can you help me get it out to my car? Since I¡¯m already carrying two of them?¡± he asked, and Darius obliged. They loaded Mitch¡¯s acoustic and Molerat into the trunk, and the black guitar and plastic containers full of Evelyn¡¯s cooking were put onto the back seat. Before Mitch could get into the driver¡¯s side, Darius stopped him. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s great to see you looking¡­¡± Darius paused. ¡°Healthy. Y¡¯know? I¡¯ve been real worried about you. Evelyn, too.¡± ¡°Yeah. Thanks. It¡¯s been good, I feel good,¡± Mitch nodded, and was caught off guard when he got dragged into a hug. ¡°Thanks for caring. I¡¯m sorry that I-¡° ¡°Don¡¯t start with that. You were sick. We¡¯re just happy that you¡¯re better.¡± Darius released him, but not without a light cuff to the shoulder. ¡°Look, after this gig? Let¡¯s talk about actually writing some new stuff. Or shit, a Halloween cover album, whatever, that was fun earlier. Point is, I miss you both.¡± ¡°Miss you, too, big guy,¡± Mitch grinned, his eyes suddenly misty. Wiping them, he cleared his throat and followed up with, ¡°Hey, I gotta get Basil to the train, but I¡¯ll see you Saturday. And we¡¯ll be sure to carve out something, alright?¡± ¡°You got it.¡± Darius shut the door after Mitch sat down. He waved goodbye, then looked over at the passenger side from where Basil watched him. ¡°He get all emotional on you, too?¡± asked Basil. ¡°He did,¡± Mitch confirmed, then took a breath. Exhaling, he asked, ¡°That was good, right?¡± ¡°Yeah man! Felt right, anyway.¡± Sinking further down into the seat, Basil put his feet on the dashboard. ¡°But uh, we should go because uhhhh¡­¡± he drew the noise out for far too long. ¡°Train.¡± ¡°Train!¡± exclaimed Mitch, and he started up the car. ¡°¡®Cause otherwise you gotta drive me to Boston, and that would suck for you. Not for me. Love hanging out, love seeing you, my dude.¡± From out of the corner of his eye, Mitch could see Basil stretch languidly, like a tomcat, his lean arms ending up folded behind his head; as per usual, there was never a sense of urgency with him. ¡°By the way, this is a Halloween shindig, right? Are we allowed to wear costumes?¡± ¡°Oh yeah, please do. It¡¯s getting recorded for a DVD release. I think Jodie would actually be upset if you didn¡¯t dress up. We should have extra costumes and makeup and stuff kicking around if you need anything, though. I know it¡¯s last second-¡° The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Oh fuck no dude, I got stuff! I live for Halloween. Are you gonna get all dressed up in your wrestling gear?¡± ¡°I actually didn¡¯t think of that!¡± Mitch laughed. ¡°Probably not. Zevon¡¯s not a musician or anything, I don¡¯t think. And it might be weird having him in a group that isn¡¯t his werewolf pack.¡± ¡°OK, can I just tell you that I fucking love it so much that you¡¯re a wrestler? And that you put all of this thought into character stuff? Because it¡¯s great.¡± ¡°Oh, please do.¡± ¡°No, that was pretty much it, actually. I¡¯m so stoked to actually go to a show. Just a bummer that you won¡¯t be wrestling.¡± ¡°Tell me about it, dude,¡± sighed Mitch. His thoughts lingered on wrestling for a bit longer during the drive, things like the state of his physique and everything that gradually changed over the last few years. Eventually, his brain circled back to Darius¡¯ comments about how he looked, and he wondered if Basil was of the same opinion. ¡°Hey can I ask you something?¡± ¡°Fire away.¡± Finger guns pointed at him, Basil¡¯s tongue clicked against his teeth for full effect. ¡°Do I look better? Like from the last time we saw one another?¡± ¡°You look¡­iunno, like way less of a junkie? Is that what you mean?¡± Basil stated it so plainly, and Mitch barked out a laugh; he always appreciated the blunt honesty. ¡°That¡¯s what I meant,¡± he confirmed. ¡°And uh, good. I guess.¡± ¡°Mitch,¡± Basil reached over and pat his thigh a few times. ¡°I don¡¯t know if ten minutes is really enough time to talk about our feelings or catch up. That doesn¡¯t feel appropriate for a deep dive.¡± ¡°No, you¡¯re right.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll do that later. But to answer your question, you do look better, even if you don¡¯t look like you¡¯ve slept in a decade.¡± ¡°Fuck, still that bad, huh?¡± Rubbing his face, Mitch failed to stop the inevitable image of Calvin from resurfacing in his mind, which always manifested when someone suggested that he appeared ¡°tired¡±, or something in that vein. It continued to hurt, like the sting of a papercut that kept getting exposed to hand sanitizer. ¡°Yes! Geez dude, dunno if you have sleep apnea or whatever, might wanna look into it. Anyway, I¡¯m happy that you¡¯re still around. Sorry that I wasn¡¯t for a while.¡± Basil¡¯s hand withdrew, and he set it in his own lap. ¡°It¡¯s alright man, I get it. I do.¡± ¡°I just-¡± Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he then exhaled through his nose. ¡°After what happened to my brother, and then seeing you destroy yourself in the same fashion. And your shitty boyfriend enabling it after you¡¯d finally gotten clean. I couldn¡¯t do it anymore.¡± He went quiet for a moment. ¡°Should¡¯ve tried harder. So much harder. I hope you can forgive me for that.¡± ¡°I never held it against you. Can¡¯t help those that don¡¯t want to be helped.¡± A sniffle punctured the heavy air. ¡°Oh my god, Basil. Stop.¡± ¡°This was what I was trying to avoid!¡± Basil shouted. ¡°Aw fuck. Look, I wasn¡¯t ready for this tonight. Let¡¯s make a date for when we can get into it, but not right now and not the gig.¡± Mitch agreed. At the train station, they embraced, and Basil kissed his temple. ¡°I fucking love you, dude. Pinky swear we¡¯re not gonna let another 2 years go by without talking again? Because that sucked.¡± Mitch held his pinky finger up, and Basil hooked his around it. ¡°There, it¡¯s a deal. Unless you wanna make it a blood oath.¡± ¡°Oh! I got my knife on me!¡± Basil declared, patting his pockets. ¡°Should probably sterilize it first, though. Who knows what I¡¯ve used it on.¡± The train¡¯s horn sounded off in the distance, interrupting Basil¡¯s deranged ramblings. ¡°Aw shit, that¡¯s me. Later, though.¡± ¡°So I¡¯ll see you Saturday?¡± Mitch clarified while Basil collected his bass guitar. ¡°Yup! Just text Dar the address, I¡¯m riding over with him.¡± With a wave, Basil departed. Mitch waited until he had boarded the train, then took advantage of the station¡¯s liminal space to allow himself to process the gamut of emotions which he just experienced. He knew that the reunion had the potential to wreak havoc on his mental state, but he couldn¡¯t spend his life avoiding every single thing from his past because it made him uncomfortable. atonement Mitch readjusted the rearview mirror, and a smile crept up on his face when it reflected the guitar in the back seat; it wasn¡¯t in perfect shape by any means, but hopefully this was a step in the direction for atonement. When he got home, he left the other two guitars in the trunk and grabbed the black one to bring inside. Thinking better of it, he turned back and grabbed a Chlorox wipe from out of the glove box, then cleaned the lacquer veneer. Once he was satisfied with his work, he sprinted up the front porch stairs and began to look around for signs of Avi on the first floor. When he couldn¡¯t find him in the livingroom or kitchen, Mitch hurried up the stairs and knocked on his bedroom door. The entire time, he couldn¡¯t stop vibrating. ¡°Hello?¡± came Avi¡¯s voice from the other side, and Mitch gulped. ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± Mitch responded, ignoring how stupid he suddenly felt. ¡°I know it¡¯s late, but-¡± The door creaked opened, Avi¡¯s bemused face peeked through the crack and caused Mitch¡¯s hands to tremble. This would have been much easier to convey over text, he realized ¡°I. Uh, this-¡± He held the guitar out by the neck, putting a little more space between them. ¡°This is for you.¡± ¡°Wait, what?¡± Avi¡¯s eyes went wide as they landed on the guitar. ¡°This isn¡¯t yours?¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s yours. My friend, well, bandmate. And friend. Darius is his name,¡± Mitch rambled as the door swung open, Avi in nothing but thin gym shorts emerging from it as he gently took the guitar from Mitch¡¯s grasp. ¡°I bought it off of him. It¡¯s yours.¡± Though he specifically wanted to avoid the word ¡®bought¡¯, Mitch could barely focus on anything other than keeping himself from sputtering. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it ¡°You bought me a guitar?¡± Avi¡¯s smile spread wide. ¡°For no reason?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Mitch nodded. ¡°Well, no, there¡¯s reasons. Because we¡¯re friends. And I owe you so, so much at this point. Thus. Guitar.¡± ¡°Oh my god, that¡¯s maybe the nicest thing that anyone¡¯s ever done for me!¡± exclaimed Avi as he admired his gift. ¡°Well it¡¯s kind of beat up, but I¡¯ll tune it for you tomorrow. And re-string it. And I¡¯ve got a bunch of picks that you can have,¡± offered Mitch. ¡°I didn¡¯t have any time to do that tonight.¡± In retrospect, he should have taken care of all of that ahead of time, but the excitement of finally having something to offer to Avi clouded his judgment. ¡°Take your time, I won¡¯t be able to practice until after Graveyard Smash, anyway.¡± Avi shrugged, then set the guitar down on the floor next to him and leaned up against the doorframe. ¡°But thank you. I really appreciate this.¡± ¡°Hey, you¡¯re the one that keeps investing your time in playing. And me, I guess, heh. It¡¯s the very least that I could do,¡± Mitch rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m gonna crash. Have a good night.¡± ¡°You too. Sleep well,¡± Avi responded, still in the doorway while Mitch turned on his heel and escaped to Jodie¡¯s room. He turned back to look just once, and caught Avi watching him from down the hall; he appeared to be surprised before shifting into his usual friendly demeanor. Mitch gave a small wave, his face and chest hotter than the surface of the sun, and Avi waved back. He practically dove behind Jodie¡¯s door to escape further scrutiny, his heart thundering so hard that he worried it may bruise a rib. hot stuff Camp Forgues was a decades-ago overnight camp that¡¯d been built during the peak nuclear suburb family era, serving as an overnight camp for kids from Monument and Wickburg. Up until recently, a bumpy dirt road led up to it, but it finally received some much needed paving due to recent estate development around the pond that the camp sat on. After Mitch helped load supplies at the school into a rental box truck, he and Sandy piled into his car and got a head start getting to the camp to scout the area. Though Mitch already visited it with Jodie when she took a tour prior to booking, Sandy had yet to see the property since she lacked a driver¡¯s license and either had class or work when everyone else got to check it out. He explained the amenities, stressing that the cabins were heated and that there was a generator on site, all of which were also newer installations as the camp¡¯s owners desperately tried to capitalize on rustic weddings with the rise of things like Pinterest and Instagram. ¡°So they thought you two were together, huh?¡± Sandy commented. ¡°Yes. Yes they did,¡± Mitch nodded, his mouth a firm line while she cackled. He parked in the small parking lot (also new, according to the camp¡¯s director), and once he stepped out of the car, noted the air¡¯s chill. Now that he was in the woods and not sweating his ass off, he shivered despite wearing a few layers. Thankfully, Jodie decided to move the show into the large dining hall instead of trying to film everything outdoors. The rumor of rain on that Saturday forced her to ease up on her stubborn vision, but they managed to reconfigure everything: the bulk of the more atmospheric entrances and vignettes were filmed a few days beforehand, and they had another night to take care of the remainder of production. Everyone breathed much easier as a result, including Jodie, though she may never admit as much. As Sandy took off to explore the cabins, the rental truck pulled up to the camp with Jodie at the wheel and Maya in the passenger seat. Jodie jumped out, and immediately exclaimed ¡°Holy shit! Remind me to book this stupid show earlier next year!¡± ¡°What about in September?¡± suggested Mitch. ¡°It¡¯d still be spooky, but warmer than 45 degrees.¡± If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. She grumbled something under her breath along the lines about how she¡¯d think about it. The truck¡¯s rear door shot up after Maya unlocked and lifted it, and she climbed into the back, passing various items to Jodie and Mitch. Once Jodie took off to bring the equipment inside, Maya asked Mitch, ¡°You got all that?¡±, gesturing to everything in his arms. He assured her that he was good; although they were a tight knit group outside of the ring, he¡¯d rather eat glass than show weakness in front of the champ. She shrugged in response, the corner of her upper lip turned up slightly to convey ¡®whatever you say¡¯, and Mitch bristled at the subtle jab. No wonder that Jodie was head over heels for her. (Not that she would ever, in a million years, admit to that. Let alone pursue it.) Other vehicles full of carpooling students and roster members trickled in as equipment was ferried into the dining hall, and each person immediately got to work as soon as they parked. Jodie made sure to set up a table with a water and snack station outside of the truck, and went out of her way to ensure that everyone got her gratitude for coming early. A few duct tape Xs on the dining hall¡¯s hardwood floor served as markers for where to set up the ring; the metal fixtures were the first to be assembled, followed by several ratchet straps that were added for tension, and the plywood and foam pads were laid down. After the ropes were strung up to the turnbuckles, Louis¡¯ custom painted canvas was rolled out. Mitch and several others paused to admire the painstaking handiwork, which had not been revealed until that moment: a detailed illustration of a zombie¡¯s rotted hand emerging from its burial mound, with several tombstones set in the background with a full moon on the horizon. Against the black fabric, it was striking. As Mitch helped attach the canvas, Jodie approached him and asked, ¡°Hey, did you remember your costume?¡± ¡°I threw it in my car as soon as it arrived in the mail so that I wouldn¡¯t forget,¡± he answered. ¡°Wait. So you didn¡¯t try it on?¡± She folded her arms across her chest, and Mitch faced away from her so that he could roll his eyes. ¡°Well, no. But I opened it up, and there was a black dress and a wig inside of the package. Which was what I ordered.¡± ¡°And the shoes?¡± ¡°Also in the car! I bought those from the store.¡± The frown that she made forced him to take a deep breath so that he didn¡¯t further add to her stress. ¡°We¡¯ll be the best looking pair, I promise.¡± Then, he muttered under his breath, ¡°I¡¯m gonna be the goddamn belle of the ball.¡± ¡°Sure thing, hot stuff,¡± she guffawed. He wrinkled his nose at her, and returned his focus to the canvas. a rude poltergeist As Mitch stood in front of a floor length mirror of his assigned cabin, he concluded that, perhaps, he ordered the wrong item. Or rather, the item itself wasn¡¯t incorrect, but his search should have been far more specific than ¡®Halloween long black dress¡®. He never actually watched The Addams Family, going along with the idea because Jodie had wanted to do it, but then he looked up Morticia Addams on his phone and saw that her dress did not have a neckline so deep that it went down to her naval. According to the reference images, her dress also lacked slits up the sides that went all the way to the hips. Someone scrounged up a pair of fishnet tights for him to borrow, a benefit to being among wrestlers. ¡°Looking good,¡± Louis wolfwhistled, making Mitch¡¯s face flush. He took some consolation in the fact that he secured the correct wig, and teased the long locks to keep his hands busy. ¡°Are you supposed to be Elvira?¡± ¡°Is that who this is?¡± Fumbled with a makeup pouch on loan from Sandy, Mitch pulled out some eyeliner. A moment later, Louis waved in front of his phone in front of Mitch¡¯s face, showing off a voluptuous woman with the same black dress. ¡°Wow, she¡¯s unfairly hot.¡± ¡°First woman I ever loved,¡± Louis chuckled while he put his phone away, then adjusted his own disheveled green wig. ¡°Are you gonna style it into a beehive?¡± ¡°Huh? Oh no, I¡¯m supposed to be Morticia, but I botched. Hopefully I can play it off as being a sexy version of the costume.¡± He tugged the top portion of the dress, dismayed by how loose it was. Surrendering to the fact that he¡¯d never get it to fit properly, Mitch toyed with the eyeliner. Before the felt tip made contact with his lash line, he took one last look down at his lack of cleavage and stated, ¡°I don¡¯t have the tits for this.¡± ¡°No one¡¯s gonna care, I promise,¡± assured Louis. ¡°Jodie¡¯s gonna care a little, I¡¯m sure.¡± ¡°Is she Gomez?¡± ¡°She is,¡± Mitch confirmed. As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. ¡°Y¡¯all decent in there?¡± came Jodie¡¯s voice from the other side. ¡°Yeah, come in!¡± Louis responded, and mouthed ¡°what?¡± when Mitch shot him a glare. In burst Jodie, wearing a pinstripe suit with her hair slicked back and put into a bun, and a little pencil mustache drawn above her top lip. She threw her arms up when she spotted Mitch. ¡°CARA MIA!¡± she bellowed while Mitch finished up with the eyeliner and proceeded to apply mascara. Circling around his backside, he could see her eyebrow raise from the mirror, which he returned via his reflection. One of her fingers hooked through a hole in the fishnets, and she gave a light tug. ¡°You uh, went for the slutty version, stud?¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°He got an Elvira costume,¡± Louis answered. ¡°OK!¡± Lowering the mascara, Mitch turned away from the mirror to stare them both down. ¡°It didn¡¯t say ¡®Morticia¡¯ or ¡®Elvira¡¯ on the packaging, just that it¡¯s a long black dress!¡± He huffed, then resumed applying makeup, grumbling, ¡°So what if I¡¯m a little slutty tonight? Fuck it, I look hot.¡± ¡°No, you look good, really,¡± Jodie spoke without a hint of irony. ¡°I already told him that,¡± Louis nodded. ¡°Real shame you¡¯re not cleared, you¡¯d be great for the battle royale,¡± Jodie sighed heavily. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be able to wrestle in this, anyway,¡± Mitch tch¡®d, pulling at the long skirt with his free hand to demonstrate his point, then released it and waved them both away. ¡°Now if you striped suit wearing weirdos could both fuck off so that I can finish up, that¡¯d be awesome.¡± ¡°Oh, I can¡¯t admire my own wife?¡± Scandalized, Jodie put a hand to her chest while Louis held the door open for her. ¡°When I¡¯m done! You can do all of that! When! I¡¯m! Done!¡± ¡°We¡¯ll see you out there, man,¡± Louis gave a thumbs up and closed the door behind them despite Jodie¡¯s protests. The last thing he heard was Jodie asking Louis if he was Beetlejuice, and then the cabin was peaceful once more. He relished in the quiet for a moment before rushing to get the rest of his makeup done. Minutes later, his lips were crimson, the setting spray was spritzed, and he admired his handiwork, proud of how he hadn¡¯t missed a beat since his performance days. Somewhere in the back of his head, Calvin¡¯s voice surfaced through a memory, his voice cutting as he not-so-subtly made a barb about Mitch being a walking stereotype to some friends. It hurt at the time, filling him with a lifetime¡¯s supply of hot shame that ultimately caused him to abandon it altogether. Burlesque wasn¡¯t about low brow entertainment for Mitch, although that may be part of the appeal, but the rush of bravery he experienced when he got on stage meant more than he could put into words. He discovered a part of himself that didn¡¯t terrify him when he donned the role of a character, and for the first time in his adult life, he wasn¡¯t wary of his body; instead, he actively put it on display -surgery scar, bony hips, and all- and the feedback was empowering. Wrestling had been the only other time that dysmorphia didn¡¯t cripple him, hence why he did it at all. He looked himself over in the mirror, vertical sternum scar on full display, the comment still hurt even in the present. It didn¡¯t matter that friends were all around and that Calvin was far away, no longer a part of his life other than manifesting as a rude poltergeist on occasion, because those words remained stuck in his craw. ¡°Whatever,¡± he mumbled. This was a topic for Anne to handle and that¡¯s why she got $20 a week from him, so that he could complain about things like abandonment issues and being a doormat. If it got too overwhelmed at the party, he could just say that he wasn¡¯t feeling well and slip away. He made a final attempt and readjusting the dress so that he had more coverage, but the result turned out to be an exercise in futility so he abandoned it altogether. Standing up straight, he nodded at himself in the mirror then spun around, left the safety of the cabin and made his way over to the dining hall. unsaid Music loudly echoed through the woods and could be heard all the way from the dining hall when Mitch stepped out of the cabin. Spotting the soft glow of various colored lights from a distance, he used those as a guide while he wandered towards the building through the dark. Less than several feet into the trek, he started cursing about wearing heels on soft ground and the flimsy fabric which did nothing to protect against the cold. He also wondered who ended up getting the bid to be the party¡¯s DJ, since there were at least 4 people that he could think of off of the top of his head that did it as a side hustle. ¡°Hey little girl,¡± came a try-hard husky voice from nearby that Mitch recognized. ¡°You lost?¡± ¡°Ha ha,¡± Mitch deadpanned and squinted, making out Nate¡¯s form. ¡°Dude, I should¡¯ve brought normal shoes and changed when I got there. I can¡¯t run in heels, never developed that skill.¡± ¡°Want a lift?¡± offered Nate, already crouched down in front of Mitch before being given an answer. ¡°Fuck it,¡± laughed Mitch. ¡°Yes, please.¡± He approached Nate¡¯s back and grabbed onto his shoulders, then went pliant as arms hooked under his legs. Upon closer inspection, he could see that Nate had some kind of disheveled wig and sideburns on, then spotted the pointed ears poking out from underneath then. He huffed in disbelief. ¡°Wait are- are you a werewolf?¡± ¡°Teen Wolf. The Michael J. Fox version, not the show. Hence the letterman jacket?¡± Nate stood up straight again, and craned his neck enough to see Mitch from the corner of his eye. ¡°In hindsight, I realize how funny of a coincidence this is.¡± ¡°Oh, is it a coincidence?¡± teased Mitch. ¡°You¡¯re right, you caught me. My elaborate scheme was to workshop the idea that we do the couple thing next year. You be Little Red Riding Hood, and I¡¯ll be the Big Bad Wolf?¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°It¡¯s adorable that you think Jodie would let me be anyone else¡¯s girl,¡± Mitch snorted. ¡°Worth a shot,¡± was all Nate said as he walked forward. Relaxing against wide expanse his back, Mitch swore that the dense silence which fell over them was supposed to be awkward, but he didn¡¯t have the bandwidth to dissect it. Instead, he focused on only absorbing as much of Nate¡¯s body heat that bled through the jacket. Maybe someday, whatever this wack energy was, would be clarified once and for all. If Nate could be anything beyond a potential hookup in the future, Mitch had no idea, but he could be swayed. He committed himself in the past for less, and after the many free rugelach pastries that Nate supplied him from his family¡¯s bakery, Mitch knew that he should probably put out at some point. The walk to the dining hall took no time thanks to Nate¡¯s freakishly long legs, and once they reached the doorway, Mitch slid off Nate¡¯s back and landed on his feet. ¡°Thanks for the ride,¡± he quietly remarked, and Nate broke out into a smile. ¡°Yeah, of course,¡± Nate responded, voice distant as though it¡¯d been thrown from a summit of a mountain made up of layers of things that went unsaid. It¡¯d always been like that. The urge to speak up rose like the tide; to suggest that they not go in at all and take off, see what trouble they could get into. But Mitch said nothing and continued to not breach the tension, because then the thrill of it all would vanish. Besides, Nate had three years now to make his move, or at least throw out feelers, and Mitch considered himself done with pursuing anyone for the immediate future. So, no dice. ¡°Well,¡± he broke the silence, ¡°I¡¯m heading inside. Thanks for the ride.¡± The insinuation hung heavy, but he didn¡¯t care. ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± Nate eventually responded after some bottom lip worrying. ¡°You uh,¡± he started once MItch¡¯s back was turned to him. ¡°You look great, by the way.¡± Mitch turned his head enough to look behind, flashed a grin and replied with, ¡°Yeah, I know.¡± If that was supposed to be the pickup line, it wasn¡¯t enough. Nate¡¯s smile had gone from playful to small and unsure, clearly processing that his comment wasn¡¯t quite a slam dunk. But before anything else could be said, a retcon or further elaboration or any other method to smooth it over, Mitch slipped away. surprise me Sensory overload immediately crippled Mitch when he stepped foot into the dining room. All of the fancy lighting and sound equipment that¡¯d been rented for the show was fully operational, and hopefully no one would get too drunk and accidentally break any of it. Most of the students and roster members were already present and filled the enormous room, all in costume and vibing to whatever niche electrohouse that Arin was playing. Seeing the sea of bodies in one place served as a reminder that it took an impressive number of hands to make both Monument Wrestling Academy and Grindhouse functional. He squeezed through the throng to seek out Jodie, often being apprehended for a few moments of quick conversation or to oblige requests to have pictures taken with various friends. Around 15 minutes in, overstimulation and fatigue reached their peak, which had to be a new record. He interrupted anyone else that approached and asked if they¡¯d seen Jodie, and the 3rd or 4th person pointed to the pass-thru cafeteria window which had been converted to a bar for the night. Hurrying along and bumping into nearly everyone in his path, he offered apologies and requested to pass through. Eventually, bright purple hair came into his field of view, and he breathed out a sigh of relief. ¡°Hey,¡± he quietly greeted and sidled up to her as she conversed with no less than 6 other people, none of which he recognized. ¡°Hey wife!¡± Jodie put an arm around his waist and pulled him in close, then introduced him to the group. It turned out that they were all involved with the new brewery, and he took turns to shake each of their hands; if only he put in the extra effort to apply the press-on nails so that he had an excuse to refrain. ¡°His band is going to be opening the show tomorrow,¡± Jodie explained, which led to small-talk style questions about what kind of music Liner Notes played, how long they¡¯d been around, and the like. Mitch fielded them the same way he did when club owners and agents and producers hung around a green room. As far as he could tell, no one actually cared much about the details, so he kept the answers brief, smiling and nodding along to tangential anecdotes. Some of the company present either were currently, or had been, in a band themselves, so he let them do most of the talking. When a business card was handed to him, along with the suggestion that they ought to get together and jam, he felt like he¡¯d won a game of bingo. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. It was fine. Nothing egregious, just the run-of-the-mill networking stuff that he hadn¡¯t prepared himself for, but was willing to do for Jodie¡¯s sake. Also, she mentioned getting him gigs at the brewery, so he wasn¡¯t going to botch that opportunity just because he didn¡¯t want to interact with anyone new at that moment. But Jodie, perhaps sensing that he wasn¡¯t all there, suggested that the small group go check out the unoccupied cornhole set-up. ¡°Come find me if you need me,¡± she squeezed Mitch¡¯s arm before taking off with the rest of the group, and he assured her that he¡¯d be alright. He stood there by himself and watched her leave, nerves swelling like a rising tide being forced through a narrow channel that couldn¡¯t possibly contain all of the water. It wasn¡¯t Jodie interacting with new friends or co-workers or whatever they were that upset him, there were plenty of people here that he knew, and he could very well engage with any of them. From where he stood, he could see Louis and Desiree already eyefucking one another in a corner, which made him wonder if Nate was still outside. Or maybe he could chill out for once and try to enjoy himself in a social setting, while also wearing an extremely revealing dress that he put on in agreement to be part of a couple¡¯s costume. He was being a bitch. He knew it. Blame it on the stupid dress. ¡°Hey, can I get you a drink?¡± came a voice from behind him, interrupting his train of thought that quickly went off of the rails. One of the refs assumed the role of bartender, and it dawned on Mitch how few people here were aware of his issues, since he rarely opened up about them. He took some solace in the idea that he¡¯d done a good enough job coming across as normal, and not as some strung-out junkie that barely held it together without a fix. Propping an elbow on the counter, Mitch smirked and responded with, ¡°Surprise me.¡± the sun itself Going on a year without a drink had made Mitch a certifiable lightweight. He didn¡¯t hate that two glasses of whatever he sucked down -possibly a take on a Long Island- already had him warm and fuzzy. The world felt a little softer, like a vintage Polaroid photograph or an old vinyl that occasionally popped. Memories resurfaced of conversations from meetings and reading material he¡¯d been handed, reminding him that alcohol was still a drug and that he shouldn¡¯t partake in it. Some people would claim that he failed, he was sure. He¡¯d get the dreaded sympathy tone from those close to him, because oh lord he was relapsing! But he smoked pot on a daily basis and was already addicted to cigarettes and coffee, the latter being perfectly acceptable in society. Furthermore, he made the decision to stop at two drinks. He did that on his own. But no one would congratulate him on that incredible feat of self control. He wanted to feel good, just once. Was that so much to ask for? The last few weeks, few months- The entirety of 2018 had been an absolute shitshow with no off season, and aside from a few stolen sips of Toby¡¯s wine, he managed it all without touching hard drugs or alcohol. Not a single person offered their congratulations, only their relief; not for him, but for themselves, that they had been the ones to reach some sort of benchmark by not cutting ties with him. He got it, he did, but he was exhausted. And right then, that fatigue didn¡¯t exist. He conversed freely with people that he knew and barely knew alike, without all of the shyness and self-doubt that typically prevented him from doing so. He laughed long and hard, and all of the tension that¡¯d been stored in his body eased out of him as though it was never even there at all. It couldn¡¯t be like this all of the time, he knew that much; there wouldn¡¯t be another drink consumed that night, nor would he have hard liquor again, but maybe he was capable of a little self control. Maybe he wasn¡¯t as helpless and pitiful as everyone wrote him off to be. Mostly, he needed to stay clear of Jodie, which wasn¡¯t difficult since she was busy making the rounds across the room. She didn¡¯t need to be saddled with the concern of his well-being, and he didn¡¯t need her bringing down his buzz. Everyone could be a winner tonight if he remained vigilant. And when he finally heard her voice nearby, he got to his feet and wove between the crowd to escape. Turning a corner, Mitch found himself in a dimly lit room that he was unfamiliar with. There were tons of props in it, indicating that it was being used as storage for the show tomorrow. Shoved towards the back, a few pieces of furniture were strewn about, such as a couch and a dining table with chairs, which Rod and a few people played cards at. Perhaps it was a staff lounge for when the summer camp was in session? Spotting that the couch was empty and craving only the highest state of relaxation, he ambled over to it with as much poise as he could muster. Given the inebriation, however, he didn¡¯t make it far without bumping into a chair he hadn¡¯t noticed before, and stumbling over. Stupid heels, stupid dress. His eyes squeezed shut as he braced himself for collision with the floor, and was shocked when instead found that he was seated and safe. ¡°Oh my god, are you alright?¡± There was a hand on his arm, then on his back, and that oh, was Avi¡¯s voice fraught with concern and right in his ear. Mitch shivered. He was on Avi¡¯s lap. How the fuck did he get there? ¡°How the fuck did I get here?¡± he tittered while scrambling to sober up as quickly as possible. He hadn¡¯t factored in Avi. ¡°I think you tripped?¡± Avi responded. ¡°Are you, uh-¡° ¡°Please don¡¯t tell Jodie,¡± Mitch cut him off in a panic, grabbing both sides of Avi¡¯s face in desperation. The surprised look that was reflected back reminded him that Avi didn¡¯t know about that part of his past. ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± Avi nodded slowly, registration over what exactly was being requested of him gradually becoming evident. ¡°But maybe just chill out for a moment?¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°OK,¡± agreed Mitch. He still considered going over to the couch, but Avi hadn¡¯t let go of him so he didn¡¯t move. The hand at his back rubbed small circles that were barely noticeable, yet reassuring. And while he tried to make an effort to not openly ogle Avi when they were within close proximity of one another, the uncharacteristic red and white ballcap on his head caught Mitch¡¯s attention, as did the denim vest. ¡°Are you supposed to be the Pokemon boy?¡± he asked. ¡°Ash Ketchum? Yeah!¡± Avi grinned. ¡°Fuck, you¡¯re adorable.¡± Mitch burst into a fit of laughter, and slung his arm around Avi¡¯s neck to steady himself. ¡°Everyone here brought some kind of weird psuedo-sexual nostalgia energy, and you chose-¡± He motioned at all of Avi. ¡°This.¡± ¡°What, are you saying that a 10 year old boy can¡¯t be¡­you know what, I can¡¯t even finish making that joke without being put on some sort of list.¡± Avi started to crack up, which only made Mitch laugh harder. He curled in on himself, grabbing hold of the front of Avi¡¯s shirt in a futile attempt to settle down. ¡°You freak,¡± he playfully shoved at Avi¡¯s pec. ¡°This is an 18+ party, no kids allowed. Go change into something slutty, you¡¯re making us all self conscious.¡± ¡°Says the MILF hitting on the 10 year old!¡± Avi teased back. ¡°By the way, great Morticia.¡± ¡°Thanks, I totally don¡¯t have the tits to fill it out. You do, though. Wanna swap costumes? I look way more like a little boy than you do.¡± He removed the wig and placed it on top of Avi¡¯s hat, adjusting the acrylic strands of hair so that they weren¡¯t in his face. ¡°No you don¡¯t,¡± snorted Avi as he allowed Mitch to continue smoothing the wig out. ¡°You¡¯re too like¡­¡± He paused, then his voice dropped an octave and hovered just above a whisper. ¡°A hot rockstar type guy, y¡¯know?¡± ¡°No, I don¡¯t know,¡± Mitch shook his head. Avi stared up at him with something unreadable. Bemusement or disbelief? As if he wasn¡¯t aware that Mitch looked like a scrawny birdperson. Somewhere in the span of the initial panic about being found out and then the uproarious laughter, the hand on Mitch¡¯s back moved then resettled; this time it was the space between his waist and hip, and fingers lightly kneaded in place. He was dizzy enough that he may not have even noticed at all if Avi¡¯s other hand hadn¡¯t gone right above his knee, onto technically his thigh, but now he¡¯d become hyper aware of every single bit of movement. His skin was grazed against, the contact so light that he only registered it due to the fishnet going taught for a split second. He looked down and watched as the hem of the skirt¡¯s slit touched the knuckle of Avi¡¯s thumb, and a few millimeters of fabric now eclipsed his nail. Mitch¡¯s breath hitched, and he prayed that it went undetected. Heart in his throat, he wanted to ask for clarification on what Avi meant, but words refused to leave his mouth. He was still touching Avi¡¯s chest, and he needed to pull away but everything was too heavy and too magnetic that he couldn¡¯t move. Avi still stared up at him all thoughtfully and whatnot, which only added to the gravity¡¯s pressure. Like Avi was the sun itself, and Mitch was an outer planet: too far away for to receive warmth or life, but helpless to do anything other than to be in his orbit. Avi¡¯s lips looked so, so good, Mitch noted; slightly parted, tongue poking out enough to moisten them, then darting back inside. He¡¯d become witness to the physical deterioration of his very own mind. What a privilege to have. It had to be the alcohol. Avi had a girlfriend. Avi wasn¡¯t an option, would never be one. ¡°Uh, Charlie-¡± Mitch blurted out, and Avi¡¯s eyebrows scrunched at the sudden turn in conversation. ¡°I-I never asked, did Charlie have a good time in Vermont?¡± ¡°Oh!¡± Avi¡¯s eyes went wide, his genial demeanor returning in full force. ¡°Yeah, she did! We¡¯re¡­we¡¯re still working stuff out. Still talking it over.¡± ¡°That¡¯s great! You¡¯d um-¡± Mitch swallowed hard; Avi gave him nothing further to work with, and the room was much too hot to form any coherent thoughts. ¡°You¡¯d probably have to move out of Jodie¡¯s if she did come over here, right? Get your own place?¡± He wanted to slam his own head into the nearby wall. Why was that where he went with this? Why was he so bad at holding a simple conversation? ¡°I guess. I didn¡¯t¡­I didn¡¯t really think about it, but that makes sense.¡± Avi spoke with intent now, each word seeming to be mulled over before spoken. ¡°I¡¯d really miss you,¡± Mitch let out a helpless laugh, his mouth operating on its own accord. ¡°If you moved out.¡± And then his brain caught up with what he said. If Avi responded, Mitch didn¡¯t hear it. He did, however, excuse himself to go to the restroom, uncurling from off of Avi¡¯s lap and rushing away as fast as his wobbly legs could take him. Hurrying out of the room, he wandered through the crowd, vision blurring from the tell-tale threat of an anxiety attack about to crest. He hadn¡¯t even noticed that he kicked the heels off at some point; if Jodie managed to catch him, she¡¯d immediately know that he was completely out of his mind. He¡¯d been so good for so long, and now this. What a dumbass. raincheck Mitch reached the safety of the restroom and hid away in one of the stalls. If he had his phone, he would have called Toby and begged to be picked up, offering whatever he desired as compensation; instead he sat alone with his thoughts, the only other company being a dripping faucet and weird chemical smells while he sat on the dirty floor and hugged his knees. Being buzzed and strung out made it impossible to tell how much time passed, but after countless people came in and out of the bathroom, eventually he spotted pinstripe pant legs at the urinals. ¡°Loulou?¡± he called out meekly. ¡°Babe?¡± Louis responded in confusion, and Mitch choked on a wet laugh. ¡°You alright?¡± ¡°No,¡± Mitch answered. Louis hummed affirmatively, washed his hands, and approached the stall. ¡°Coming in. Hope you¡¯re decent.¡± ¡°I am,¡± Mitch confirmed. The stall door opened a crack, and Louis peeked inside. ¡°Aw, your makeup,¡± he tutted. ¡°Is it bad?¡± sniffled Mitch. ¡°So bad. You¡¯re still pretty, though.¡± Louis extended a hand, which Mitch used to pull himself up. ¡°C¡¯mon, let¡¯s get you out of here before someone thinks you¡¯re operating a gloryhole.¡± ¡°Who says I¡¯m not? I could run a gloryhole!¡± Mitch retorted with an unnecessary amount of confidence. He allowed Louis to slide an arm under his shoulder to assist him with staying on his feet. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯d be great at it,¡± Louis chuckled. ¡°Wanna get out of here ?¡± ¡°Yes, but.¡± Mitch swallowed. ¡°What about Desiree?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about Desi. I¡¯ll sneak out later, when you¡¯re fast asleep.¡± ¡°They just don¡¯t make boys like you anymore, Loulou.¡± Burying his face in Louis¡¯ neck, Mitch clung tightly and sighed. ¡°What can I say? I¡¯m part of a dying breed. Anyway.¡± Stopping at the doorway, Louis reached into his pocket. ¡°Lemme just text the important folks and tell ¡¯em you¡­hm, what am I saying here? Anxiety attack?¡± ¡°No, that¡¯s embarrassing. Could we go with a case of mild food poisoning? I had Taco Bell for lunch, Sandy can back me up.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± Narrating aloud as he typed, Louis relayed in monotone, ¡°Found Mitch shitting himself to death on the toilet brb.¡± ¡°Not like that! Mild!¡± Several weak attempts were made to take the phone, but Mitch was unsuccessful. ¡°Stomachache! A mild case!¡± ¡°There was so much vomit, it¡¯s everywhere. I think he¡¯s really dying. Sadface.¡± Louis paused to frown. ¡°If I¡¯m dying, can you grant me one last request?¡± ¡°Anything for you.¡± ¡°Would you grant me a kiss?¡± Mitch puckered his lips. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°I would absolutely kiss those lips if you were dying and they were covered in puke. But I told Jodie and Desi it was mild, so we¡¯ll take a raincheck until you¡¯re actually on death¡¯s door.¡± ¡°With tongue?¡± ¡°No duh,¡± scoffed Louis. ¡°I¡¯d go all out for a man¡¯s final wish.¡± Working in tandem, they reached the front exit, and once they were outdoors and out of sight of anyone else, Louis scooped Mitch up and carried him bridal style back to the cabin. Mitch didn¡¯t bother getting changed out of the dress, and instead crawled into his bunk and lay face down on the covers while Louis sat by his feet. ¡°So-o-o, what¡¯s good?¡± Louis spoke up in a saccharine tone after several minutes passed; it was his goofy way of trying to get Mitch to open up, and it always worked. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what to say,¡± Mitch grimaced. ¡°It¡¯s just booze, right?¡± Thank fuck for Louis¡¯ more lackadaisical approach to important matters; were it anyone else, the concern would be suffocating. ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Mitch answered, turning his head enough to see Louis from the corner of his eye. ¡°I mean, not that it¡¯s a good thing, but I¡¯m not rolling or doing bumps at the kids¡¯ summer camp. But they say it¡¯s a gateway to relapse.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s ¡®they¡¯? Do the kids say that?¡± Louis smirked, and Mitch gave him a light kick. ¡°I¡¯m a DARE graduate, did you know that? I let everyone down in my 5th grade class,¡± he sighed. ¡°Well I¡¯m a DARE graduate as well, and the only time that I¡¯m disappointed is when you don¡¯t have rich kid weed on you.¡± ¡°Sorry Lou, that well¡¯s dried up.¡± ¡°Hey, life¡¯s like that. It was a good time while it lasted.¡± Gently patting Mitch¡¯s calf, Louis¡¯ face softened. ¡°So is booze the reason that you were on the bathroom floor?¡± ¡°That was part of it.¡± Mitch¡¯s mouth formed a hard line. The spots on his body where Avi had touched him still seared like a new tattoo; if he looked at his thigh, he was sure that a handprint would be visible and raw where contact had been made. His eyes stung as a chill ripped through his core. ¡°Hey, do you think that I¡¯m capable of being loved? Like genuinely, for my personality or whatever? Not just because I¡¯m an easy mark, or as a way for someone to pass the time?¡± ¡°Huh? Where is this coming from?¡± Louis raised an eyebrow. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t think about that kinda shit after getting out of a long relationship, it¡¯ll-¡± he tapped the side of his head. ¡°It¡¯ll mess with you bad.¡± ¡°I always fall for people that don¡¯t like me back,¡± Mitch continued, flinching at the way that Louis¡¯ face collapsed for a fleeting moment before resuming the mask of compassion. Something inside, like a shard of glass, pierced through his chest for the guilt which he burdened his friend with, but he kept talking regardless; they didn¡¯t need to acknowledge the past, it was long ago and Mitch had since then gotten over his unrequited infatuation for his tag partner. ¡°And it¡¯s like¡­I think sometimes guys will take pity on me, or they can sense that I¡¯ll put out and so they go for it. I don¡¯t hold it against anyone, but fuckin¡¯-¡° ¡°Mitch,¡± Louis quietly attempted to interject, and Mitch grabbed the edge of the blanket and yanked it over his head. ¡°I¡¯m so broken. And I know it, and somehow they all know it.¡± His bottom lip trembled, and he pulled it between his teeth to make it stop. ¡°Who am I kidding? Who wants to deal with that? I don¡¯t want to, but I have to because it¡¯s me.¡± ¡°Did Nate do something?¡± Leaning in, Louis tried to pull the blanket away, but Mitch only held onto it tighter. ¡°No! God, no,¡± laughed Mitch. ¡°Alright, ¡¯cause I saw him carrying you earlier. Thought that might be¡­dunno.¡± ¡°No.¡± Shaking his head, Mitch paused. ¡°I should just marry him though, shouldn¡¯t I? Think he¡¯d wanna elope?¡± ¡°Sure. He¡¯d make a good spouse, too,¡± agreed Louis. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, you¡¯d be a good spouse as well.¡± Lowering the blanket enough so that he could see Louis, Mitch leered. ¡°Too bad you¡¯re not gay, huh?¡± ¡°Too bad you¡¯re not a chick,¡± Louis retorted. ¡°Even if I¡¯m dressed up as one?¡± Mitch joked, and noted the way that Louis¡¯ shoulders slumped. ¡°I¡¯m just kidding. Mostly. Anyway, you can go. I¡¯m alright now.¡± ¡°Nah.¡± Stretching out, Louis batted at Mitch until he rolled onto his side, and wedged his enormous frame between Mitch¡¯s back and the wall. Together, they barely fit in a bed that was intended for a child, but Mitch didn¡¯t care. ¡°Jodie¡¯ll wanna check on you if I take off. And like I said, I¡¯ll wait until you¡¯re fast asleep.¡± He wrapped his arm around Mitch¡¯s midsection and kissed the top of his head. ¡°Love you, Loulou,¡± Mitch murmured and closed his eyes. ¡°Love you, too, babe,¡± Louis fondly rumbled back. as good a crux as any When morning arrived and Mitch was alone in his bunk with a splitting headache, he welcomed it. Being dumb the night before earned him this, and although Louis¡¯ bedside manner was pleasant, he lacked any caretaker experience whatsoever. Neither water nor asprin were provided, and it left Mitch with a nice cross to carry. At the very least, he could better sell the food poisoning lie. There were several texts that awaited him. Basil and Darius would be arriving together in the next hour or so, Jodie checked in on him, and then there was something from Avi. Mitch didn¡¯t bother to read the latter, and opted to only respond to Jodie¡¯s message, letting her know that he survived the night. Unfortunately, it was almost a guarantee that Avi would be unavoidable when Mitch wanted nothing to do with him; having a mild hangover while racing through a soundcheck on an empty stomach was as good a crux as any. And when Avi at last arrived, he came armed with a coffee and a greasy brown paper bag. Mitch eyed him from his peripheral vision without any greeting, curious as to why he didn¡¯t sip from the cup while silently praying that something wasn¡¯t about to happen. ¡°Got these for you,¡± Avi finally approached after hovering around in the background for a short while, as if he waited for all of that time to be acknowledged. ¡°Thanks,¡± Mitch mumbled, his eyes fixed on his pink guitar since he was physically incapable of eye contact. He didn¡¯t reach out to accept them, so Avi set the bag and the cup down on the shoddily constructed stage that Mitch perched on the edge of. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°I¡¯ll leave these here?¡± Avi suggested, and Mitch nodded sharply. ¡°Great, yeah. Thanks.¡± ¡°Uh, I also-¡± clearing his throat, Avi continued with, ¡°I have the wig that-¡° ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± That got Mitch to look at him; he was ready to snap that he was busy until he spotted Avi¡¯s smile falter. It put his heart into a vice, and he softened up. ¡°I¡¯ll grab it later.¡± Digging through the bag as a form of performative appeasement, he pulled out a garlic bagel -his absolute favorite- and silently cursed while moving the wax paper out of the way to take a small bite. It was a little cold, but still good. He didn¡¯t have the first clue as to where Avi even managed to obtain that since the closest place that made them was over 15 minutes away in Wickburg, and it would be insane to go all that way for just a bagel. ¡°So¡­Jodie said your band¡¯s gonna be playing?¡± Aw fuck, they were still conversing. How did Avi not get the hint that he wanted to be left alone? ¡°Yup. I¡¯m going to do my best to not embarrass them.¡± Mitch plucked at a few strings, then continued to discreetly fidget by continuing to tune. ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± snorted Avi. ¡°You¡¯re too good.¡± ¡°You¡¯re very sweet to say that,¡± sighed Mitch, needing to take a break while his hands began to tremble. ¡°Mind if I ask you to scram so that I can focus?¡± ¡°Oh! Of course, I¡¯m sorry.¡± With his head ducked in embarrassment, Avi at last took his leave; although Mitch swore that he wouldn¡¯t watch, his eyes never left Avi¡¯s backside. The night before had no significance. Neither did the very specific bagel at his side, despite the amount of times that he put it over in the past. Appetite thoroughly killed, he left the breakfast offering alone and did his best to ignore playful comments about how it was too early in the day to be tinkering with the sound equipment. ¡°I¡¯m a professional!¡± he eventually snapped with far more tension in his voice and body than intended, but it seemed to be the trick to keep everyone away from him for the time being. He needed a goddamn cigarette. feign interest The edge softened as Basil¡¯s firey hair came into view, trailed by Darius with an armload of drumming equipment. ¡°Hey there, champ!¡± Basil exclaimed, and Mitch leapt onto his feet. Finally, someone that wasn¡¯t a potential witness to his shame from a little over 12 hours ago. He went to offer a hug, but was admonished before he could get so far on account of the surgical recovery. ¡°Y¡¯all really going full slasher film, huh?¡± Darius commented as he looked around at the decor that was being strung up. Mitch relieved him of his burden and placed the equipment down on the stage, then proceeded to give them both a tour of the campground. Introductions were exchanged every few steps taken when they bumped into roster, students, and staff alike; when they reached Jodie, she squealed in delight. For Mitch, this reunion had been two years in the making, but for Jodie it was closer to three. She asked Darius for updates on his family and gushed over Basil¡¯s transition; unbeknownst to Mitch, Jodie actually had some knowledge of it beforehand. ¡°I reached out to her a while ago for advice,¡± Basil explained once she left. ¡°It wasn¡¯t something I could go to you about.¡± He maintained that he wasn¡¯t upset over it, but the wording nagged at him. At the time, he was in the thick of his own awful life decisions, and more often than not people kept things from him. The reminders stung a little, that¡¯s all. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. When Jodie transitioned, he was informed of every tiny detail. And Basil didn¡¯t owe him any information, he wasn¡¯t Jodie, but the rift that formed between them over the last few years rivaled the Grand Canyon. At one point they¡¯d been inseparable: former co-workers and roommates, bandmates and friends. Practically family. So in the time between setting up and rehearsal, Mitch found the courage to push forward with bridging it. He asked questions -nothing too intrusive- but things like how Basil settled on that name and how he felt now versus a few years back. Basil flashed a grin and enthusiastically answered each one, rambling as he did when a topic struck his fancy. He and Mitch shared that trait, and reliving it now provided an unexpected rush, like being transported back in time to a late night conversation at a greasy diner, or sharing a cigarette on the fire escape before sunrise. ¡°Y¡¯know,¡± Basil plucked at a bass string, sending low vibrations throughout the building as they echoed through the amplifiers. ¡°You don¡¯t have to feign interest for my sake.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± Mitch swore up and down, and swallowed his pride a little more. ¡°I missed you. Missed this. Honest. Wish I was there to support you when you were first going through it.¡± ¡°Well, you¡¯re here now. And maybe that matters more,¡± Basil sighed fondly. ¡°We both killed the part of ourselves that was killing us. That ain¡¯t nothing.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Mitch nodded, not quite getting it, but understood the general vibe of the words. He had a few seconds to mull it over before his thoughts were interrupted by a heavy hand on his shoulder; between the both of them crouched Darius. ¡°How long you been there?¡± asked Basil, eying him with suspicion. ¡°Long enough to hear you get emotional,¡± Darius teased, earning him a few guitar picks to the face. raw and frantic Liner Notes¡¯ first reunion show started at 6:00pm sharp, just as the sun set. To Mitch¡¯s surprise and utter delight, Darius and Basil agreed beforehand to get their faces painted like Zevon; he had to hustle to get himself done up after he saw them, and barely made curtain call. Later, he learned that the whole thing had been coordinated by both Jodie and Louis, and was touched by everyone¡¯s efforts; even if he couldn¡¯t be in the ring that night, it was the next best thing. Being on stage with the guitar¡¯s solid weight in his hands and the microphone in front of him brought about a fresh set of nerves, but in an unusual way for him when it came to gigs. Perhaps being sober was the reason, but he found himself acutely aware of every little misstep. Still, he performed as usual: raw and frantic, but struggling to not overcompensate. He couldn¡¯t even remember the last time he felt this alive and unconcerned with every other facet of his crumbling life, living in the very moment. And at least he liked the way that he looked. He originally debated wearing the Morticia/Elvira dress, but elected to go with a Jailhouse Rock tribute in hopes of channeling a little Elvis into the routine. Maybe he¡¯d rock black jeans more often. The third song wrapped up with a rockabilly-inspired version of Spooky Scary Skeletons, and for the life of Mitch he didn¡¯t understand why past him was so quick to cast all of this away. He knew full well that he wasn¡¯t making sound decisions back in the day and that trying to rationalize it was an exercise in futility; but between the roar of the crowd and the jubilant expressions that he exchanged with his bandmates as they set their instruments down and reconvened felt like a punch to the chest. They could have had this the entire time if only he hadn¡¯t been hellbent on torpedoing his own life. And that they took him back so easily hurt as well, because he knew that he should have to prove himself worthy after all of the damage and pain that he inflicted. But instead, they managed to pull this off on a moment¡¯s notice for the sake of his extracurricular hobby. So few people out there had such good friends and such good fortune, and he needed to give a shit about that. The three of them stood together against the back wall and watched the first match, but despite the fact that there was a sexy costume battle royale happening right in front of him, Mitch spent less time paying attention to the ring and more time stuck in his head. Not even Nate in a scantily clad maid outfit could distract him as he pored over his mental notes about mistakes that he made during the set, and thought about how to improve. If he truly wanted to atone, he needed to stop messing around and get better for Darius and Basil, should they all decide that the band was worth reviving. At some point Jodie snuck over with three envelopes stuffed with cash to hand off to Mitch, but he discreetly removed the contents from the one that was meant for him and divided it up between the other two. Already owing Jodie his life multiple times over, he didn¡¯t need payment from her. More matches came and went, most of which were the culmination of feuds that¡¯d been building for several months. Sadly, Bad Moon Rising never made it past the semi-finals in the tag team tournament, but as a consolation Lucian had a match against Lagoon Goon since both Zevon AND Sandy¡¯s honor were at stake. It was scheduled prior to intermission, which was an important place on the card since afterwards the title matches would be taking place. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Goon came out first and received a mixed response, which was peculiar since they were normally over as a face. A change in the air weighed heavily, charged and crackling with an unfamiliar energy, and Mitch automatically braced himself for the boos and jeers. Over the speakers a double bass pedal cued up, and through the curtain charged an unsettlingly stoic Louis, his corpsepaint like something from a nightmare and his shoulder length black hair drenched. Desiree introduced him to the crowd as ¡°The Black Metal Beast, LUCIAN!¡± ¡°THAT¡¯S MY FUCKIN¡¯ GUY!¡± Mitch pointed and shouted from where he stood, popping the audience before applause broke out. ¡°This rules so hard,¡± Darius leaned over and commented as Lucian circled the ring and stalked his prey like the wolf he was portraying. ¡°Haven¡¯t been to a wrestling show since I was a kid.¡± ¡°Loulou¡¯s great,¡± Mitch beamed with pride. ¡°And you should come out to shows! Bring the wife, make it a date.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll talk to her.¡± Darius chuckled. ¡°But if y¡¯all ever need live music again, I¡¯m in.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll see what Jodie has to say later. It¡¯d be great to incorporate, but y¡¯know. The budget.¡± Mitch stopped talking once the bell rang, and slow claps broke out as the opponents circled one another. Lagoon Goon, not a small person by any means, was completely dwarfed by Lucian, as most of the people were. And while Louis was the most laid-back guy Mitch ever met, Lucian was a ruthless, cold-blooded monster, and quite difficult to prepare for a match against. Mitch was just glad that they were on the same side. Though the origins of this match were entirely accidental, the end result was this incredible feud between two hosses, because sometimes things in wrestling just worked out. Zevon and Lagoon Goon had their fair share of matches, but for whatever reason this was Goon and Lucian¡¯s first bout. Lagoon Goon attempted to slow down the pace and utilized a much more technical moveset, similar to how they held their own against Yours Truly in the past, Mitch noted. But Lucian was hungry for vengeance and appeared rabid. Despite numerous attempts to take out his limbs, especially his legs, he shook them all off and proceeded to hoist Goon up in the air for powerbomb after powerbomb. The most devastating blow was when he slammed Goon¡¯s back against the ring apron and their limp body dropped to the wooden floor with a sickening thunk. Mitch cringed as the referee counted down and wondered how Arin fared under the mask, but the merciless onslaught continued. Lagoon Goon was lifted up once more and their head tucked under Lucian¡¯s arm, only to fall back and have their skull driven into the floor for the nastiest DDT that he¡¯d ever been witness to. From where he stood, Mitch heard the announcers declare that Lucian had snapped, and how the referee needed to call the match before Goon suffered permanent injuries. As the massacre proceeded and everyone¡¯s attention stayed on that, dry ice billowed from behind the entrance curtain. Mitch spotted it from across the room and wondered if one of the ghost roster members were due to interfere, as was the modus operandi of some of the more chaotic ones. However, the hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he couldn¡¯t keep from staring in the direction of Gorilla position. Then, something burst through the fog with the force of a cannonball and was in the ring before anyone could process it. Within seconds, the bell repeatedly rang and Lucian¡¯s back hit the mat as someone that wasn¡¯t Lagoon Goon assailed him. tell everyone ¡°What¡¯s that guy doing to your boy?¡± Basil nudged Mitch. In a panic, Mitch scanned the room for Jodie, needing a sign or some type of guidance about what to do and whether he could run in and assist; lately, there¡¯d been a few events where fans tried to get a little too involved with shows, from indies to The Fed itself, and it put him on edge. He finally locked eyes with Jodie, and she gave a firm nod for the go-ahead. Pushing from off of the wall, he sprinted to the ring and slid under the bottom rope, praying that he wouldn¡¯t fuck up his shoulder again during whatever the hell this was. By the time he reached the brawl, Lucian was back on his feet and had launched the mysterious aggressor into the ropes. Without hesitation, Mitch charged at the stranger. Taking note of the wide brimmed hat and long jacket, and snarled ¡°C¡¯mon Van Helsing, let¡¯s fucking go!¡±, before he spotted a very familiar beard and warm set of eyes staring back at him. ¡°Avi?¡± he mouthed. ¡°Gonna kick, get ready,¡± Avi whispered back, his arms wrapped the ropes behind him for leverage and both knees lifted to his chest. Instinct took over and Mitch went pliant so that the impact was minimal from Avi¡¯s doublekick to the midsection, and he fell backwards onto the mat. In a state of shock, he lay still and allowed Avi to step gently on his chest. ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡± Avi shouted and pointed at Lucian. ¡°I¡¯ll kill him! Get back!¡± Lucian complied and remained anchored to his spot. ¡°What do you want?¡± He growled, and Avi lifted the brim of his hat as they stared one another down. ¡°This is your notice that The Hunter¡¯s arrived. Tell everyone.¡± He lightly pushed against the side of Mitch¡¯s ribcage with his boot, and Mitch took that as a cue to roll towards Louis. He spotted Sandy at ringside, looking as genuinely bewildered as Mitch. Lucian snorted, then gathered his tagmates and ushered them into the back. The lights went on, and the intermission was announced over the speakers. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°What the fuck was all that?!¡± Sandy shouted at Louis. ¡°Did you know about any of that?¡± Mitch chimed in. ¡°I thought it was a fan at first.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Louis grinned. ¡°Needed to keep it under wraps, though. Anyway.¡± One of his meaty hands clasped Mitch¡¯s shoulder while the other ruffled Sandy¡¯s hair. ¡°I¡¯ll be back, I¡¯m gonna go check on Arin real quick.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll come with!¡± Sandy followed, latching onto Louis¡¯ elbow. ¡°Right,¡± Mitch nodded, attention already diverted as he heard Jodie¡¯s ear piercing squeal. He waited until they both were turned away before following the sound, and came across a huddle consisting of Jodie, Victor, and Avi. She was in the middle of lavishing Avi with praise, wildly gesturing the whole time as she gushed, meaning that she was pleased. This was bound to go on forever, so Mitch decided to take off. He had to get ready for the next set, anyway. ¡°Mitch!¡± Victor shouted, and Mitch flinched at being caught. He spun on his heel and faced them again, then moved under Victor¡¯s outstretched arm for a side hug. ¡°C¡¯mere, my boy! My talented music man.¡± ¡°Dude, wasn¡¯t Avi great?!¡± Jodie asked, then her entire tone changed to concern, and she began to palpate around Mitch¡¯s right shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re not hurt, are you? I know it was irresponsible to let you go in like that, but-¡° ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Mitch waved her off. ¡°Avi¡¯s a professional, he knows what he¡¯s doing.¡± Jodie opened her mouth to say more, but someone urgently called both her and Victor¡¯s names before she could get anything out. ¡°Aw shit, that sounds like a fire to put out. I¡¯ll see you both later.¡± faith in others Mitch and Avi watched the both of them leave. When the pair was out of earshot, Avi turned to Mitch with his brows knit . ¡°You¡¯re seriously OK, right? I knew we were keeping things on the down-low, but I thought Jodie would let you in on it at the last second.¡± ¡°I¡¯m good, honest,¡± Mitch laughed. ¡°And I mean, she kinda did? When I got the signal, she didn¡¯t seem worried at all about what was happening in the ring, so subconsciously I think I knew that it was a work.¡± ¡°Well,¡± Avi cleared his throat, and any further allusion to dismay transitioned to something Mitch had never seen him showcase before, a sort of nervous excitement. His voice dropped when he asked, ¡°How uh¡­how did I do?¡± Mitch stared at him in disbelief as he waited for the punchline to be delivered. Avi Mehta, better known as Avi Sher, was a wrestling veteran of nearly 20 years. He had been on TV and around the world, and was the winner of countless titles and tournaments. He had a Wikipedia article and blue checkmarks, for chrissakes. There he was, on the outskirts of Monument, Massachusetts and wearing a long duster jacket and hat with a comically large brim (most impressively, the hat stayed on the entire time!) and pleather tights so that he could go fight B-horror movie monsters. And he consulted a guy with a little under 3 years under his belt -about 2 of which were actually in the ring, with a year and some change portraying an actual character and not a jobber- about how he did. Mitch thought better of making a sarcastic comment, albeit they now had enough familiarity between them to warrant it. But he couldn¡¯t bring himself to do that, not when Avi¡¯s uncertainty seemed authentic and he was seeking feedback from Mitch, out of anyone present. ¡°You killed it, dude. You¡¯re perfect,¡± he assured. ¡°Yeah?¡± Avi lit up, his eyes shone as if those words were the moon and stars and had been personally handed to him. His expression threw Mitch into a blind panic, making his breathing stuttered; numbers popped off in his head, counting backwards from 10, and he swallowed hard to get a better handle on it. It was the exact look from the night before in the exact room where everything transpired, rendering the effort he made to forget about all of that pointless; now his thigh tingled from where the hand rested on his bare skin some 24 hours ago. Avi wasn¡¯t an option, Mitch reminded himself yet again, and he violently shoved down every urge to grab the sides of his face, pull him in, and kiss him. His chest ached and he needed to get away. ¡°Oh, your band!¡± Avi spoke up, any trace of vulnerability from seconds before gone and replaced by his typical robust enthusiasm. ¡°You guys are¡­you¡¯re so good! You¡¯re great. Do you have any albums that I could buy, or-¡° This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°Oh, uh. Thanks!¡± Mitch, completely caught off guard, stumbled over his words. ¡°I¡¯m sure Darius has extra copies kicking around, I¡¯ll ask him for you. I should actually. I should go, intermission¡¯s gonna be over in a bit, and we¡¯re playing, and¡­¡± ¡°Cool! I¡¯ll see you out there?¡± ¡°Mhm hm,¡± Mitch nodded then hurried away, his heart hammering with such intensity that he could hear the blood rushing through his ears. He returned to the main hall with his head down to avoid talking to anyone, and found where his bandmates set up shop by the ring to sell their wares among the other wrestlers. ¡°I didn¡¯t even realize we still had any of this stuff,¡± Mitch remarked while he poked through the various t-shirts and stickers with their logo on it. ¡°Kept it all in storage,¡± Darius responded. ¡°We spent good money on merch, I wasn¡¯t gonna just throw it out. And I knew we¡¯d be back,¡± he winked and ruffled Mitch¡¯s hair. ¡°Your faith in others never fails to astound me,¡± Basil snarked. ¡°Do we have any albums left, assuming you brought some?¡± asked Mitch once he¡¯d gotten the world¡¯s biggest eyeroll out of his system. ¡°Mostly sold out, except for a few copies of Greywater. People wanted the more upbeat stuff, like what we were playing.¡± A thin jewelcase was handed over, and Mitch stared down at it. He could visualize Darius going into longwinded explanations about the merits of each album to potential customers, and already knew why this one was the most likely to be passed over. It was written after Mitch first overdosed, in a bittersweet spot where he was in recovery but relapse loomed nearby. The tracks fluctuated between heavy chords and stripped down bleak melodies, a departure from the usual fuzzy guitar indie fare that Liner Notes was known for; the people that liked it really liked it. It definitely wasn¡¯t Avi¡¯s type of music, Mitch decided, and ultimately he didn¡¯t want to expose that part of himself. He set it back down on the table and lied about going to go get ready for the next performance, which in reality meant that he was going to hang out behind the wall of sound equipment to decompress. Moments later, the lights flicked off and on, followed by an announcement about intermission concluding within the next 5 minutes. About 10 minutes passed until Basil joined him and calmly asked if everything was alright while he adjusted his bass strap. ¡°No,¡± Mitch answered honestly. ¡°Was it the ¡®faith in others¡¯ remark? Because that was rude of me, sorry.¡± An apology from Basil was about as rare as witnessing a shooting star, so Mitch accepted it with grace. ¡°By the way, a friend of yours grabbed Greywater. Gushed a bunch about you. Avi?¡± Try as he may to act detached, Mitch felt his face drop. Basil mirrored the expression. ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t¡­¡± Mitch shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t look like nothing.¡± ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± reiterated Mitch, but Basil¡¯s skepticism persisted, somehow loud though he said nothing further. He¡¯d always had a knack for that, it drove Mitch nuts and got him to confess to more than a few misdemeanors. ¡°Yes, he¡¯s a friend. And my roommate.¡± ¡°Oh, sweetheart,¡± Basil tutted, knowingly. A fucking bloodhound, that guy. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°Where¡¯s Darius?¡± Mitch¡¯s head swung around as he sought to switch the topic, awash in relief when their drummer approached the stage. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with, huh?¡± blood and viscera After the conclusion of Liner Notes¡¯ second and final set for the evening, they were met with an uproar of applause. Mitch found himself both melancholic and relieved when it was over at last. Needing both solitude and nicotine, he went outside for a cigarette, and was briefly joined by Nate who praised him and the band¡¯s performance, but mostly him. He allowed for it, since he wanted the ego boost. ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be with your little gang?¡± joked Mitch, giving a once-over to the wrestling gear that he¡¯d switched into and biting back a comment about how that maid costume was a much better fit. Nate rubbed the back of his neck and stammered on about how he had a few minutes before the match started, and how he wasn¡¯t even a participant, etc etc. Eyeing him, Mitch took a particularly heavy drag. If Nate wasn¡¯t busy, he¡¯d toss caution to the wind and ask if he wanted to go fuck around. Take a risk and blow him right there behind the building, and then some. Getting dicked down to escape his emotions was the equivalent of throwing a bandage on a shotgun wound, but Mitch ran out of ideas about how to take the edge off. Thankfully, Nate was gone before Mitch could make an ass of himself. He snuck back inside when he finished smoking, catching the latter half of the tag match where Coven failed to capture the titles from The Court. Following that was the match for the Full Moon Title: Eulalia the Grim Spectre vs the reigning and defending champion, The Dark Lord. Unsurprisingly, the match was a banger. Erin, the wrestler portraying Eulalia, brought over 12 years of wrestling expertise into the ring. She migrated from Oregon to Philadelphia many moons ago, and funny enough had a bit of history training with Avi way back in the day, crossing paths several times throughout their time on the circuit. Victor aside, no one had come so close to pushing Maya to her absolute limit. The issue -and everyone in the room knew this by now- was that Maya thrived in tight spots. When someone outsmarted her, she tapped into a whole other level, morphing in the embodiment of that Bear Grylls¡¯ ¡°adapt, improvise, overcome¡± motto. Something completely otherworldly, possessed by the likes of Mildred Burke and Bruiser Brody and Ray Mendoza, and also maybe a few serial killers as well. Sandy likened her to a very cool anime villain that kept powering up, which Maya appreciated. The only insight that anyone had on it was Louis, since they dated right around the time they both enrolled in the school; apparently, she was obsessed with vintage and obscure matches, constantly pulling out oddities such as VHS rips of hardcore Joshi matches from long defunct promotions of the 70s and 80s. Much like Coven, The Grim Spectre¡¯s endeavor ended up being an exercise in futility as well. All of the matches were fantastic, absolute barn burners. But the sense of so few getting what they truly wanted hung heavy from the rafters, which Mitch related to more than anything. Sometimes that¡¯s how wrestling went: the highest highs or the lowest lows, and nothing in between to serve as a buffer. Sometimes a concrete floor broke a freefall. At the end of the night, Jodie got on the microphone and thanked everyone for attending. While the roster tackled breaking down the wrestling equipment, Mitch assisted his band by getting gear into Darius¡¯ minivan. He swore up and down to Darius that they would play again sooner rather than later, and to text him no later than Monday so that they could coordinate real dates, promise. Before Basil climbed into the passenger seat, he wished Mitch good luck with everything, and Mitch huffed out a laugh. They exchanged farewells, then he rejoined the roster and got to work cleaning, but kept to himself so that he could think clearly. He was proud of the band¡¯s work, but uncertain as to what the next steps were; the idea of picking up where things left off, of creating a whole new album and scheduling shows was daunting, but Darius seemed so certain of them. In comparison, Basil was ambivalent, always working on something and committed to nothing. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. It must have been a freeing way to go about life, mused Mitch. Not that anything stood in his way from taking charge and living like that now, he just knew that he¡¯d fuck it up astronomically if he made any sort of attempt. The thought was put far out of his head, and instead he hung out at the back wall and gave all of his attention to Jodie. With the last of the attendees gone, she stood in the center of the room and gave a congratulatory speech to everyone; the challengers for the titles were praised for their efforts, and the title holders were congratulated for their successful defenses. Avi also got a special shoutout for his debut, and he turned and gave a bashful wave to everyone amongst the whoops and hollers. ¡°Like he said to Louis: you¡¯re all on notice,¡± Jodie smirked. How long had she been waiting to make that remark? ¡°Alright, let¡¯s finish cleaning this place up and get the fuck outta here!¡± Everyone scattered at the declaration, not needing to be told twice in their collective exhaustion. As the night progressed and the workload lightened, people began to filter out due to having work in the morning or family to deal with (and in Nate¡¯s case, both). The rest were dismissed when the ring was loaded up and nothing remained other than bits of trash, which Jodie assured them that she, Victor, and a few other folks (Mitch) could handle. Once everyone else departed, Victor¡¯s voice boomed across the building. ¡°I¡¯m so proud of you, baby girl!¡± he told Jodie and eagerly embraced her with a hearty pat to the back. ¡°Thanks, Dad,¡± Jodie¡¯s voice was muffled in his shirt. ¡°Couldn¡¯t do this without you, though.¡± ¡°Team effort,¡± he corrected her, and she nodded. It was silent for a moment, and then a sniffle punctured the air, and Victor whispered in a soothing tone. Mitch took that as his cue to be anywhere else, and settled on going to the bathroom so that he could scrub the paint off of his face. He reached for the door¡¯s handle, but it swung open at the same time, and Avi stood on the other side of the doorway. ¡°Man of the hour,¡± Mitch greeted, pulling a chuckle from Avi. ¡°I didn¡¯t even wrestle!¡± Avi deflected, and stepped aside so that Mitch could walk in. ¡°Threw some haymakers, talked some shit. Nothing too crazy.¡± ¡°Yeah, but you¡¯re what everyone¡¯s talking about. The new big bad,¡± quipped Mitch. He stepped inside, and was surprised when Avi followed instead of going on his way. ¡°Hey, so not to stalk a rockstar in the bathroom¡­¡± Avi started, and Mitch snorted. ¡°I¡¯m just gonna clean my face off.¡± He rolled his eyes, muttering rockstar under his breath in amusement as he stared at himself in the mirror. ¡°Keep talking if you want, I can multitask.¡± ¡°Well.¡± Avi coughed. ¡°I was uh. I was hoping that you¡¯d autograph this?¡± Mitch¡¯s head whipped around, and he stared down at the copy of Greywater and a marker that Avi held towards him. For an instant he forgot what he was doing in there, and was about to make ask why the hell Avi had those in the bathroom, but the static between his ears built sharply and he couldn¡¯t concentrate. His mouth went dry. He wanted to decline. He wanted to tell Avi that he wouldn¡¯t like that album, or that he shouldn¡¯t listen to it. He wanted to yank it away and run, snap it in half and throw it into the nearby pond. Because if Avi listened to it, he was going to learn something awful and be witness to how fucked up and terrible Mitch was in reality. Just because Avi wasn¡¯t an option or wouldn¡¯t ever reciprocate his feelings didn¡¯t mean Mitch wanted to present all of his flaws and trauma under bright lights. Instead, with a trembling hand, he gingerly took the CD and marker, and joked about who he was making it out to. Avi laughed so hard, and Mitch was sure that his heart was going to rip itself from his chest; that was something he couldn¡¯t take a chance on, he already had a condition, and he wondered if he should go to the hospital. He signed his name, handed the CD and the maker back, and in a meek tone said, ¡°You know you¡¯re a dork, right?¡± ¡°Yeah, but you love me,¡± Avi smiled, and Mitch smiled back. He smiled despite the fact that a bomb landed in the restroom and instantly vaporized his body, leaving blood and viscera splattered on every surface. Someone would have to clean that up, just like how they would have to clean up the sink after Mitch vomited into it when Avi finally left the bathroom. Intermission #1 Aha! Finally figured out how to insert images! This is the first page of a zine/compendium that I¡¯m working on, intended for people that are new to wrestling. I¡¯ve wanted to make something like this for a while because wrestling should be fun and approachable, but there¡¯s a LOT of terminology and it can be overwhelming to grasp at first; hopefully this will break down any barriers to entry. Naturally, there will be IC Easter eggs sprinkled in it. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Intermission #2 Page two of the zine/compendium. I now realize that I''ve never posted art of the book on here, which I will attempt to rectify gong further! If it isn''t clear, the face is supposed to be Lagoon Goon and the heel is Zevon, if it isn''t clear. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The doodle of Zevon is one of my favorites. Just a real bastardman. I might try to make a sticker of it :3 Intermission #3 Nathan (Nate to his friends) is a hardworking 28 year old man that helps run his family¡¯s bakery in downtown Monument. Opened in 1950 by his late great-grandfather, he works alongside his father and grandfather. His family is very tight-knit, and he currently lives with his parents. A prototypical boy-next-door, he has an equal love of sports (especially the Red Sox and Bruins) and nerdy stuff like video games and Dungeons & Dragons (he plays in a campaign with a few other wrestlers from the academy). Having gone to a vocational high school for automotive technology and repair, he¡¯s fond of restoring old cars and always has some project in the garage. He¡¯s personable and outgoing, but also insecure; were it not for his height, he¡¯d be pushed around much more. Nate is one of Victor¡¯s first students, before Monument Wrestling Academy even existed. They met because Victor¡¯s mother was a frequent customer of the bakeshop, and she sung praises of how well Nate treated her. When she broke her hip and could no longer drive, Victor stopped by the bakery for her, and was delighted to meet the young man that his mother had ¡°fallen for¡±. Nate, an avid wrestling fan since his childhood, recognized Victor from his television days, and failed to keep himself from fanboying. They talked for a long while, and Nate lamented that he always wanted to be a wrestler, but could not pursue it due to the lack of schools in the area and needing to remain close to the shop. Victor decided to take him under his wing, and promised that he¡¯d sort out a way to make his dream a reality. A week later, Victor converted his unused shed into a makeshift gym, and Nate started his training. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Other trivia: -Adopted a three-legged pitbull mix named Moxie -Has another wrestling persona named Rocco Stone, which he takes bookings for outside of Monster Mash Wrestling. Much like Yours Truly, Rocco is also a motorcycle gang/greaser/bad boy type, and an option for any booker that isn¡¯t necessarily interested in a vampire. -Had a huge crush on Jodie when he met her. She rejected him swiftly and without mercy. -Realized that he had a crush on Mitch when the roster went out for karaoke night. He wasn¡¯t going to participate, but Mitch coaxed him into doing (I¡¯ve Had) The Time of My Life, saying with his entire chest ¡°c¡¯mon man, I¡¯ll even do the girl part!¡±. A little under five minutes of the most flirtation that he¡¯s ever endured in his entire life from a slutty twink, Nate was emotionally fucked in biblical proportions. Intermission #4
February 2018 ¡°Here I come!¡± Mitch shouts from across the ring, voice echoing in the otherwise empty building. His body is coiled and about to spring forward. Nate prepares himself: body lax yet still on edge, knees bent, and arms in front of him. They¡¯ve rehearsed this a handful of times already, but what¡¯s one more? Incorporating the lift from Dirty Dancing started out as a joke, something private between the both of them back when Mitch dragged Nate on stage for karaoke for a rendition of (I¡¯ve Had) The Time of My Life. Some of the roster might get it, but the audience sure won¡¯t. (¡°It makes sense for our characters,¡± Mitch insisted, and Nate couldn¡¯t possibly argue, let alone deny him.) Mitch moves gracefully, though he doesn¡¯t believe it when people tell him this. Nate knows that he did track in high school, and he mentioned something about dance in college; it all comes through when he wrestles, even if he¡¯s still a bit green. As he rushes to close the distance between them, there isn¡¯t a hint of hesitation, and it does something to Nate¡¯s insides. He¡¯s proud of the both of them: of Mitch, because of the self-confidence that he¡¯s showcasing at long last, and of himself, because all of his hard work over the last 5 years makes him trustworthy among his peers. And maybe it means something that -specifically- Mitch trusts him. Mitch is a few feet away now. He¡¯s going to crouch, then push off of the balls of his feet and leap into the air. Nate¡¯s fingers twitch with anticipation and he watches for his cue, focused on this moment though his mind spins its wheels while it recalls the last few weeks.
It was late in the evening, and Nate should have been asleep because he had to open the bakery in the morning. But Mitch sent a text asking if he was up and if they could talk, and of course he said yes. He didn¡¯t expect the phone call that followed seconds later, or Mitch¡¯s broken voice, or the horrible, horrible news of what happened. ¡°I¡¯m not suicidal, but I don¡¯t wanna be around. Does that make any sense? Like if a bus hit me¡­¡± Mitch choked out with a manic laugh. ¡°Are you alone?¡± asked Nate, worried. ¡°At Jodie¡¯s,¡± Mitch replied. So Nate did what any good friend would do, which was ignore how many hours of sleep he could get if he passed out right then. He picked Mitch up, and took him to Denny¡¯s at 1am. Mitch rambled on and on, blindsiding Nate left and right about the absurdity of the whole situation. ¡°I can¡¯t talk to Jodie about this right now, not with Rosa having just passed,¡± he explained sheepishly. Thing was, he had other friends. Even without Jodie, he could have gone to Louis or Gia or Arin, but he chose Nate. And Nate wore that as a badge of honor. After they checked out, Mitch slathered on his gratitude thickly, and Nate told him that he¡¯d be there anytime, he meant it. He did, he really did. So Mitch kept talking to him. Not that they hadn¡¯t talked before, but certainly not this much, not with this depth. The texts started out dark, usually intrusive thoughts that needed untangling, but he also started revealing more of himself. Little things, like about his hobbies and his job, and how he missed Juno, his dog that lived with his uncle and aunt. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Nate hung onto every word, every ¡°goodnight¡± text tucked deep within his heart for safekeeping. ¡°I¡¯d treat him good,¡± he whispered to himself in the way that some people recited the Lord¡¯s Prayer before sleeping. ¡°I¡¯d treat him so good.¡±
Nate grabs Mitch¡¯s waist as he jumps, and he uses the momentum to lift him high above his head. The expression on Mitch¡¯s face is pure rapture followed by relief, and his eyes fall shut as he stretches his arms out. It¡¯s the second time that Nate¡¯s seen him that he didn¡¯t look weary; the first was at karaoke that night, about a year ago. If his arms didn¡¯t start cramping up, he would have kept Mitch up there forever, anything to keep him weightless and free. But Mitch seems to get the hint, and his hands rest on top of Nate¡¯s shoulders as he¡¯s lowered. They get chest-to-chest, and his arm hooks around Nate¡¯s neck for more stability. Due to the proximity, the lemon after-shave balm he favors wafts from off of him, smelling so good that over time it¡¯s become Nate¡¯s favorite flavor. Then, without thinking, Nate grabs onto Mitch¡¯s thigh and hikes it up, pulling a surprised reaction from him; he¡¯s just as surprised, never once so bold until now, and tries to play it off by saying, ¡°Like in the movie? They do this, right?¡± ¡°I guess?¡± Mitch breaks into a soft grin, but he doesn¡¯t seem displeased. If anything, he appears curious and continues to stare, his eyes searching Nate¡¯s face for something. Nate¡¯s heart hammers as he¡¯s far out of his depth. In his arms is Mitch, pliant and patient, without phone screens and miles in between them. It¡¯s real -very real- and Nate realizes that though he wants to, he¡¯s never kissed a boy. He hasn¡¯t kissed a lot of girls, either, but his parents know that he¡¯s at least had girlfriends. They don¡¯t know that he¡¯s thought about dating guys. They don¡¯t know that he¡¯s fantasized about dating this particular guy, who they¡¯ve never formally met outside of Monster Mash events. They don¡¯t know what this guy does to him, how much he likes him. They don¡¯t know. And he doesn¡¯t know how to explain it to them. He lives with them, after all. How and when and where do you bring that up? And really, he¡¯s not even certain if Mitch actually likes him back, because Nate doesn¡¯t usually have a lot of luck in that department, either. Could just be loneliness that¡¯s gotten them this close, and the idea of finding out if that¡¯s all this is terrifies him. ¡°Y¡¯know, this is the most fun I¡¯ve had in a long time,¡± Mitch¡¯s voice hovers above a whisper. The tips of their noses brush and his fingertips grazing Nate¡¯s back. It feels incredible. Yet, Nate lets him go. He sees the flash of dejection in Mitch¡¯s eyes. The grin falters, shifting into a reserved smile. All of the openness he once displayed is gone as his defenses go up and the weariness from before returns. ¡°Me too,¡± Nate says, stupidly, because he recognizes that the moment is gone. He desperately wants to explain that he can¡¯t take advantage of Mitch when he¡¯s vulnerable, but doesn¡¯t, because what if he took offense to that? Then again, who is Nate to determine someone¡¯s emotional state, and what they can or can¡¯t handle? It doesn¡¯t matter, Mitch has already broken away and doesn¡¯t meet his eyes anymore; instead he rubs his arm and stares down at the canvas. Nate wants to kiss him, and he can¡¯t, and now he won¡¯t be able to due to all of the uncertainties surrounding the both of them. But there are things that he knows. He knows that he isn¡¯t brave enough to clarify anything, and that he won¡¯t tell his parents. He knows why Mitch starts to get distant. He knows why he doesn¡¯t get ¡°goodnight¡± texts anymore. He knows he¡¯s not to blame when Mitch returns to his awful boyfriend about a week later, although he can¡¯t help but feel guilty. He knows that he could never live up to his bold assertion that he¡¯d be good to Mitch. And after they win the tag team tournament, and are presented with the options to either pursue the tag titles together or split up right then and fight one another for a future world title shot, well. He can take a guess as to why he gets a kendo stick to the back of his head. Intermission #5 Desdemona, aka Desiree Robinson, is the host on Monument¡¯s local access television station. She became ¡°the voice¡± of Monster Mash Wrestling about a year prior to the events of Interpersonal Chemistry, after doing a spotlight episode on Monument Wrestling Academy and held an interview with Jodie and Victor. They invited her to a show, which she initially declined due to prior plans; but after being stood up for a date that night -the first one she had accepted to go on since her divorce- she decided to go and was immediately hooked. It was the first time in years that¡¯d she had actually felt something other than all-consuming numbness. When it was over, she tracked Jodie down and asked how she could become involved. For a long time, Desiree was ¡°a good Christian woman¡±. She¡¯d followed all of her parents¡¯ advice throughout adulthood: went to college, started a career, got married to a ¡°nice man¡±, bought a house, had a kid, etc etc. She joined school boards. She was a Boy Scout Mom. She participated in church bake sales and donated to every raffle. She learned to knit so that she could make scarves and hats and mittens for homeless residents of Monument and Wickburg. Then, after 10 years of marriage, her husband had an affair and requested a divorce. They sold the house, since she couldn¡¯t keep up mortgage payments on her salary, even with alimony payments (since he¡¯s a contractor, a lot of his numbers are¡­less that accurate). And for whatever reason, the insinuation in her family was that she hadn¡¯t done enough to keep him around, that she worked too many hours, and so on. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. She fell into a spiraling depression, barely keeping it together except for her son. It became difficult to get out of bed most days. She lost a lot of luster for life. She was in her late 30s, and aside from her presence on a local TV channel, felt mostly invisible. But the weirdos at Monster Mash Wrestling took her in as their own when she showed up with tupperware containers full of freshly baked goods. She approached Jodie with the concept of something like a muse or a Greek chorus type character for the ring announcement position, and Jodie wholeheartedly encouraged her to pursue this idea. Gianna and Wil helped her with outfit designs to reflect this, while repeatedly reminding her that she¡¯s ¡°smoking hot¡±; after some hesitation, she leaned into it. This unholy house of queers and fuckups made her feel so much more welcoming than church ever had, embracing her and all of her quirks. It¡¯s not perfect, but neither is she, and that¡¯s alright, because no one expects perfection from her there. All she¡¯s gotta do is work hard and show the same acceptance that they¡¯ve all shown her, and she¡¯s done both. For once, she¡¯s actually happy. Eventually, she¡¯ll get over how silly she feels that it¡¯s due to wrestling. Being exposed to and becoming familiar with these various walks of life has helped her learn so much about herself. It¡¯s also been good for her relationship with her teenager, who she¡¯s started to realize might have a lot in common with a few of the folks there. In particular, Jodie has been a wonderful friend and a wealth of knowledge throughout the process of helping her figuring it all out. my terms Mitch was wrapping up his cooldown on a treadmill when a text from Toby came through. What are you doing on October 30th? He continued to run in place, fighting off the urge to end it sooner and indulge his curiosity. Every second that passed may as well be an eternity, and he still had about 5 minutes left to go. In that span of time, he hoped for a followup ¡®nevermind¡¯, thus ending this before it started. But so far, nothing. Zip. Nada. He hadn¡¯t expected Toby to get back to him at all, not after what happened the last time. Weeks passed since their failed date, and he accepted -hell, hoped- that he burnt that bridge. A minute left to go, and he received another text: ¡®Mitch?¡¯ Goddammit. Frustrated, he stopped the cooldown 30 seconds early and finally responded, saying that he was about to hit the shower. As he undressed in the locker room, a new message arrived: ¡®Send pics? ;-)¡® ¡°Fuck it,¡± Mitch snorted. Apparently, they were still on good terms. And after countless hookups in the last decade, who gave a shit anymore? Besides, it was nice to be wanted, and at this point he was desperate for affection. No one else lined up to get some from him. Certainly not the actual person that he himself wanted, nor were his second or third place choices. Taking advantage of being alone, he hurried in front of the mirror before anyone else came in. He kept the shots mostly above the hips, showing off a bit of skin below his pubes, but no more than that. This wasn¡¯t a free show, Toby didn¡¯t deserve that much yet, but he could have a sample to whet the appetite. The bastard had way more explicit ones of him anyway, because Toby wasn¡¯t the type to delete nudes of exes. He reviewed the pics, touched up the best one, and sent it. Then his phone exploded into a flurry of notifications. ¡®I DIDN¡¯T EXPECT YOU TO. I¡¯M AT WORK! M I T C H.¡® Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Cackling, Mitch dropped his phone on top of his gym bag and hopped into the shower. Under the droning sound of running water, he was able to weigh out the pros and cons. October 29th Jodie¡¯s birthday, so he wasn¡¯t sure if it would be weird to plan anything around that. Especially with Toby. Or rather, it should be normal and fine, but Toby being a factor would make it A Thing. And would he be able to hide it? Should he have to? Should he keep tempting fate, keep upsetting Jodie? Was it even any of her business? He reminded himself that she housed and shared her bed with him for the last few months, free of charge. It was her business a little bit. But he and Toby didn¡¯t even sleep together last time, and there was no guarantee that they would ever again. Maybe Toby got the hint that he was too much of a trainwreck to be intimately involved with, but was willing to make an attempt at something platonic. Except Mitch did send that picture just now, so he may have unwittingly set some expectations. This was a mess. He made that mess. What an idiot. His current gameplan was to draw out lathering up and cleaning off, and let Toby sweat a little. The reality was that he wasted little time and treated the shower like a sprint, because all of this fucked with his head. They needed to talk sooner rather than later, before the cycle renewed and someone ended up maimed. He stepped out and toweled off. After getting dressed, he hurried out of the building and hit the phone icon next to Toby¡¯s name. ¡°I¡¯m at work,¡± Toby answered within the first ring. ¡°It¡¯s after 7, you¡¯re by yourself,¡± Mitch shot back and hid away in his car so that no one could eavesdrop. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean that I¡¯m not working! I¡¯ve got this gallery opening in less than a week, remember? That¡¯s why I asked if you were free.¡± ¡°We need to talk.¡± ¡°Now?¡± Toby barked out a laugh. ¡°Yes, now.¡± Toby went silent for a few seconds. ¡°Why do you get to dictate the terms?¡± ¡°Because you hurt me,¡± Mitch blurted out. ¡°You hurt me, and I¡¯m sure that you knew what you were doing, and regardless I know that you don¡¯t feel bad about it. But you still want to be in my life. So then, it¡¯s my terms,¡± Mitch shouted, getting some relief from addressing it, but knowing full well how futile this probably was. ¡°We were supposed to talk about this a few weeks ago,¡± Toby sighed. ¡°You left.¡± ¡°Did you like the picture?¡± Again, Toby was quiet, and Mitch pressed, ¡°Did you?¡± ¡°Yes, very much,¡± he answered at last, all of the ego drained from his voice. ¡°I miss you, OK? I don¡¯t know why shit¡¯s always fucked, I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be your date to this specific thing. But if you want me around, you have to start giving me reasons to trust you. You have to actually try, Toby.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Toby conceded without putting up further argument, and something sank into the pit of Mitch¡¯s stomach. This was the best he could do, he resigned. Toby was the only person that invested any type of effort to make him feel desired, and it was more akin to a coyote seeking a meal than it was to real companionship. But it was this, or dying alone. He couldn¡¯t decide which was better, and he didn¡¯t have the energy to figure it out. away Naturally, Jodie warranted two celebrations for her birthday. The first was held at her new brewery, Fighting Spirit, which was treated as a soft launch. All of the Monster Mash family was in attendance for a night of sampling beer (in the case of anyone under 21 years of age -or Mitch- a selection of mocktails), games, and other festivities. Liner Notes performed, and Mitch carefully curated a playlist that lived up to Jodie¡¯s tastes, focusing specifically on 80s goth and new wave. Band practice had been a great way to get out of the house, which he was in desperate need of an excuse for, and preparation for this gig kept him especially busy. Most importantly, it kept him away from Avi. Not that he wanted to be away, but he knew better. If their friendship was going to survive, Mitch needed to temporarily disengage from it. He couldn¡¯t wait until Charlie uprooted her life and Avi moved out. And with rental prices continuing to rise and his freelance offers dwindling (his editor claimed that it wasn¡¯t due to his work from home negotiation, but Mitch wasn¡¯t entirely stupid), he needed to tough it out at Jodie¡¯s for the time being. This meant doing his stretches on his own, which he set several alarms during the day to remind himself, and declining Avi¡¯s offers of help. It meant turning down Avi when he wanted to go get a coffee, not riding with him to the school, and not getting up at 5am for a run (Mitch had only done that twice, but was prepared to commit to the habit despite loathing it with his entire being). It meant not cooking together anymore, despite how invaluable Avi¡¯s knowledge was in regards to everything from vegetable preparation to optimizing nutrition. Because of Avi, Mitch actually put on mass for the first time in his life; not much, but noticeable enough that his ribcage and spine were no longer protruding (and for Jodie to excitedly point out his ¡°tiny titties!¡± now, before she¡¯d slap one of his pecs). He hated it. The last few weeks were shitty and lonely, but the stakes were too high. By now, the disappointed reaction he received after rebuffing every offer to hangout was imprinted behind his eyelids. The only time that he didn¡¯t deny a request for his presence was when Avi needed help with the guitar, because it was the only thing that Mitch was any good for other than sucking a dick. But he couldn¡¯t avoid Avi at Jodie¡¯s birthday dinner. Victor arranged it on her actual birthday at her favorite restaurant in the area, an intimate gathering that consisted of himself, Jodie, Nora, Mia, Avi, and Mitch. At Jodie¡¯s insistence, Mitch took the seat next to her, and Avi proceeded to take the seat next to him. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. In the middle of the meal, as Victor loudly recounted some tale from his childhood in Santo Domingo, Avi tugged on Mitch¡¯s flannel and whispered into his ear, ¡°Hey, are you alright?¡± ¡°Huh? Yeah,¡± Mitch offered a small smile, but faltered when Avi didn¡¯t appear convinced. ¡°I mean¡­y¡¯know, just going through some stuff. It¡¯s fine.¡± ¡°Do you wanna talk about it? I¡¯m here.¡± Avi¡¯s hand was still on Mitch¡¯s sleeve, grasping as though he sought affirmation. Mitch couldn¡¯t tell if it was an offer or a request or a demand, but he averted his gaze from Avi, instead opting to stare down at his plate. He didn¡¯t want to read into something that wasn¡¯t there. More importantly, he didn¡¯t want to burden his friend with something that wasn¡¯t his fault. ¡°Thanks,¡± was all that Mitch responded with, hoping it was enough to dissuade Avi from pushing it any further. The hand slowly retracted, transitioning to a gentle pat on the bicep and then it was gone. Mitch shriveled up inside. He didn¡¯t know how to pull this off without fucking it all up, but he had to try. Later that night, when he and Jodie were in bed and doing their respective phone scrolling, Jodie broke the silence by telling Mitch that she loved and appreciated him, and was glad that he was now here instead of Connecticut. ¡°Thanks?¡± Mitch¡¯s nose scrunched. ¡°Love you, too. Happy birthday.¡± However, the tension didn¡¯t dissipate like he anticipated that it would. ¡°OK, what?¡± ¡°Avi told me that he¡¯s worried about you.¡± ¡°I¡¯m mentally ill. It¡¯s the same old shit.¡± Mitch shook his head. ¡°Nothing I can¡¯t handle.¡± ¡°You sure?¡± She raised an eyebrow at him. ¡°Do I seem any worse than usual?¡± He bluffed, and she stared at him. ¡°Honestly? Not really,¡± she answered after intense scrutiny, but still sounded wary. ¡°He¡¯s new around here. Probably not used to my subdued depression.¡± That hurt to say. It hurt to discount Avi like that, because Avi had been there for him, proven himself over and over. They shared long car rides and late night conversations. Avi really listened, and always had something genuine and insightful to say after Mitch rambled and went on 10 different side tangents. He was in the room right next door as they spoke, and Mitch had the audacity to play down his character when he was maybe 15¡¯ away at most. Avi was a great friend, the best that anyone could ask for, and Mitch was the very antithesis of that. ¡°OK, but you¡¯ll tell me if shit goes south, right?¡± For a rare moment, Jodie allowed vulnerability to shine through. On her birthday, no less. ¡°Of course,¡± Mitch reached over and tousled her hair. As far as he was concerned, it wasn¡¯t a lie. What would transpire the following night was an act of self-care, he told himself. There was something dangerous in his system that needed to be flushed out, and no one understood that other than Mitch, Toby, and God. your date
The Wickburg Art Museum was a restored textile mill that spanned across two buildings, with a skyway bridge that connected them. Though it wasn¡¯t as large as its Boston or Worcester counterparts, it still held its own and served as a centerpiece of the community that housed it. Mitch stood outside by his car, finishing off a cigarette while he stared at the outdoor installation: a giant red stick figure that appeared to be holding up the bridge. The mental image of Toby pulling into this parking lot every day and seeing this sculpture, probably relating to it as if he himself propped up the art scene of North Central Massachusetts, made Mitch snicker. He wondered if Toby was truly satisfied here, or if he compromised all of his dreams and settled. Years ago, he talked about working for the MET or the National Gallery of Art or the Art Institute of Chicago. It was one of the reasons that he never fully committed to their relationship when they were together, because when it came to serious conversations about their future, he got cagey and said that it was only a matter of time before he was anywhere else. To younger Mitch it never made any sense, he would have moved as well. As someone approaching 30, he understood it much better now. Toby was an asshole. The end. Halfway done with the butt, Mitch snubbed out the rest and deposited it into a nearby receptacle. He pat himself down one last time to shake off Estrella¡¯s loose fur on his dark slacks, then meandered over to the front entryway. Someone at the reception desk asked for his name, which he gave and explained that he was Toby¡¯s +1 as they pored over their list. He was handed a sticker and instructed to put it somewhere visible like his lapel, which seemed like a funny thing to suggest to literally anyone else present considering that they were all in much higher tax brackets and their clothing probably didn¡¯t come from a thrift shop. The receptionist gave him directions to get to the gallery: up the stairwell to the right, and into the room diagonal from the landing. He thanked her and moved on, attaching the sticker to his blazer and shoving the backing paper into his pocket. Even if he wasn¡¯t given directions, the chatter was loud enough that he could navigate towards it. At the top of the stairs was a standing floor sign with ¡®Danse Macbre¡¯ printed on it and an arrow pointing at the room. From where Mitch stood, he could see Toby standing tall in a crowd of middle aged women that gave him their full attention while he went on and on about the ¡°vision of the artist¡± or something in that vein. God, cougars loved him. At some point, Mitch should be a real bro and introduce Toby to Louis so that he could play wingman for a night. Not wanting to interrupt Toby going full ham- which realistically was the man¡¯s job- Mitch elected to examine the artwork instead. True to the name, it was a collection of paintings and prints that were morbid in nature, containing dark backgrounds and jaunty skeletons in various scenarios. It reminded Mitch of some of Goya¡¯s work, and he knew that Jodie would love this if she didn¡¯t hold such a grudge against Toby. ¡°Hey there,¡± Toby¡¯s voice came from behind Mitch, and fingers ghosted up his spine, making him shiver. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you come over?¡± ¡°I¡¯m quite familiar with your lectures,¡± Mitch smirked. ¡°Besides, couldn¡¯t risk taking your attention away from the patrons.¡± ¡°You¡¯re a patron as well.¡± ¡°I¡¯m your date,¡± Mitch clarified, unsure of how the word felt on his tongue. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m starving. You said there¡¯d be food.¡± ¡°Oh my god, you¡¯re so needy. The table¡¯s this way, come with me.¡± Toby led him by the arm to a nearby hall where an enormous spread awaited on a table, ranging from appetizers to finger sandwiches to desserts. Mitch grabbed a plate and considered what to load up on, while Toby explained that everything was catered from some local place that sourced local ingredients from local farms. ¡°Sounds local,¡± Mitch quipped before biting into a pinwheel sandwich. After swallowing, he asked, ¡°Do they have any vegan stuff?¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Toby¡¯s face scrunched. ¡°Probably? I didn¡¯t check. Why, are you vegan now?¡± Mitch¡¯s mouth hung open, realization dawning about what he just asked. Why did Avi always, always have to be on his mind? ¡°Sometimes, I guess,¡± was the fastest response that he could get out. He followed up with, ¡°I¡¯ve been toying with it lately.¡± ¡°Well, there¡¯s vegetarian options here, if you aren¡¯t too scrupulous,¡± offered Toby, which Mitch picked through to save face. ¡°So is the artist present?¡± asked Mitch, unsure how to be appropriate with Toby while the two of them were at his job rather than a bar or his apartment. ¡°Actually, they are.¡± Toby craned his neck so that he could see into the gallery room. ¡°Do you want to meet them?¡± ¡°Not really, no,¡± Mitch was honest, and Toby grinned. You¡¯re a menace,¡± he spoke with fondness, then reached over and grazed Mitch¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ve gotta get back and schmooze for a bit longer, then I¡¯m gonna give a quick introduction to the artist so that they can do an overview and a Q & A session. Can you please stick around?¡± ¡°I already looked at the paintings, though.¡± ¡°Look at them again,¡± Toby said before departing. ¡°Absorb them.¡± ¡°Absorb them,¡± Mitch mockingly parroted, then shoved a cracker into his mouth. Regardless of how badly he wanted to say he fulfilled the request and leave, he stayed. He even managed to make small talk with a few of the other attendees when they approached, letting them share their own theories on what the artwork represented. All of the takeaways varied, but they seemed so much more vast and grand than what was physically on the canvas, expanding deep into the psyche of the beholder. He stared at one of the skeletons that stared back at him, trying to grasp at what other people were getting out of this, and wondered if this is what he sounded like when he talked about music. Or wrestling, for that matter. But humility was needed when addressing the latter, since most people had preconceived notions. They either looked down upon wrestling and thought it was stupid, or they considered it to be insane questioned his mental state for engaging with it. So Mitch rarely bothered to bring it up at all. ¡°Good evening, everyone!¡± Toby started, and the acoustics of the gallery allowed his voice to project loud enough that he didn¡¯t need a microphone. He thanked everyone in attendance, and behind him was a projector screen came to life. While he gave an introduction about the collection, a slide lit up with the Danse Macabre logo. He went at length to discuss his own involvement in curating it, radiating bullshit and definitely giving himself far too much credit. But his charisma overshadowed those grievances, and Mitch found himself envious of this because he would kill for such promo cutting skills. The artist, Sacha de Vries, came forward after what felt like an hour, and they were so demure that Mitch felt bad for them. They gave a brief history on the origins of the danse macabre while projecting slides of medieval artwork, then explained how they personally chose to interpret it in a modern day and age which was inspired by their former career as a mortician. Mitch¡¯s curiosity piqued as he learned about the Netherlands¡¯ open approach to and the acceptance of death, which Sacha went into great detail about. After a 15 minute Q & A took place, Toby once again thanked everyone. It wasn¡¯t quite a sendoff, but it appeared as though his duty was done for the evening. He chatted with Sacha for a few minutes, then returned to Mitch. ¡°I never asked this, but have you ever been to the museum before?¡± ¡°No,¡± Mitch shook his head. ¡°C¡¯mon, lemme give you a tour.¡± ¡°Is there time for that?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a small place,¡± Toby insisted, his hand finding its way to Mitch¡¯s lower back while he ushered him out of the room. They passed through the skyway bridge and crossed over into the other building, where oil paintings of still life pieces and glass cases full of antique ceramics adorned the purple walls. Toby mentioned that they once belonged to the museum¡¯s largest benefactor, and she willed her entire estate to them when she passed away. The excursion came to a halt in front of an old mill window, which reached from floor to ceiling and was so drafty that Mitch shivered as he stood near it. Moonlight poured in, casting crisscross shadows between the boxes of light on the floor. They were alone, which Mitch suspected was Toby¡¯s intent all along, then confirmed when he leaned in and kissed Mitch on the mouth without provocation. Mitch surrendered and let it happen, aware of how hopeless this all was when he agreed to Toby¡¯s request to come here in the first place. He kissed back, too defeated to be angry or indignant, too pent up to consider any other option. Toby broke away after a minute, putting his forehead against Mitch¡¯s and he breathlessly pleaded, ¡°Come back to my place tonight? I miss you so much.¡± ¡°OK,¡± Mitch wearily responded. His head felt like a revolver¡¯s empty cylinder that someone spun wildly out of control and made him dizzy. ¡°OK,¡± he repeated, quieter this time, as if a bullet was loaded in preparation for a game of Russian roulette. choke He let Toby fuck him. He thought there¡¯d be the illusion of hesitation, a tasteful amount of modesty before they dove right in. But the moment that Toby¡¯s apartment door closed, Mitch was pushed up against it with wrists pinned above his head. Toby¡¯s free hand unbuttoned Mitch¡¯s shirt and he nipped at each inch of skin as it became exposed. Within minutes, they were in the bedroom, and Toby was on him like a starved animal. No questions were asked, no answers were given. ¡°Fast and rough¡±, Mitch requested when Toby got the lube out; he alluded to wanting to forget the past year, but in all honesty he just wanted to get this over with. In theory it seemed like a good idea, except for the part where he¡¯d seldom been intimate with anyone in recent memory, not even with Calvin. Toby worked him open, but Mitch squirmed uncomfortably on his finger. With a dramatic sigh, he made the call that Mitch was too tight and they couldn¡¯t go at that pace without getting hurt. Mitch shot back that he wasn¡¯t a virgin. ¡°I could choke you?¡± Toby offered, and at first Mitch thought that he was joking. He was not. Mitch swallowed hard. He tried to recall if he ever told Toby about the time that he almost drowned. His mother left him home alone for a week so that she could go on a holiday with some friends. At that point, he was self-sufficient enough since she worked so much, and he would have been fine despite being¡­ Well, he didn¡¯t remember how old he was when this happened. His uncle said that he was 11 years old, so he took his word on that. There wasn¡¯t any reason to lie. It would have been fine, probably. Except she didn¡¯t leave him with enough medication. Forgot to get a refill. He couldn¡¯t say how many times he fainted that week because his heart nearly gave out. Eventually he lost consciousness in the shower, but before fading away, he recalled the water pooling all around him, being filled with dread as he slowly suffocated. Thankfully someone in the neighboring apartment heard him fall, and broke into the unit when no one answered their knocks at the door. It took years to get over the nightmares. Although he was now fine with being near large bodies of water, he still refused to get in any if he couldn¡¯t see his feet. And he wouldn¡¯t go any further than waist-deep. But the worst part was the memory loss he suffered from either the trauma or the oxygen deprivation. Most of his childhood memories evaded him. The fact that he recovered from a hypoxic injury was nothing short of a miracle. Realistically, he probably told Toby all of this, but Mitch could never be absolutely certain since he couldn¡¯t trust his brain. If he did say anything about it, it was years ago, and it wasn¡¯t something to bring up before getting railed, not unless he wanted to kill the mood entirely. So despite the fear and hesitancy and every nerve in his body in screaming at him not to, he agreed to it. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. As Toby¡¯s fingers tightened around his throat, he squeezed his eyes shut while trying to coax his body out of high alert mode. When that didn¡¯t work, he slipped in and out of a fugue state; each time he came to, he silently hoped that if his body language was too stiff or if he radiated bad energy, that Toby would notice and stop. But he agreed to it, he said that he¡¯d be fine. He wasn¡¯t some uptight virgin, he¡¯d experimented with way weirder, harder shit in the past. He could handle getting roughed up, in fact, he preferred it that way. That¡¯s what he claimed. He could handle this, goddammit. When it was over and he tried to assess his headspace, he touched his dick and determined that he came. That was the only thing that mattered, so he must have been alright. Perhaps by allowing this, he at last confronted a massive boundary. They lay in the dark together, sweat drenched and breathing heavily while Toby clung to him. Mitch hoped that by getting laid, the static in his brain would finally settle down, but it stayed at the same pitch. Since Toby didn¡¯t seem to be in any hurry to grab a washcloth, Mitch untangled himself and rolled away to go clean up in the bathroom. Taking a long look in the mirror, he was startled by all of the bruising and petechiae on his neck and chest. Some of the marks were hickies, which Toby always laid on heavy, but he couldn¡¯t stop staring at the marks from strangulation. The white noise that built up turned sharp, like the feedback from a microphone. There was pressure against his temple, which he assumed was due to a budding headache, but he couldn¡¯t stop thinking about the revolver that he imagined back at the museum: the hammer cocked back, and the trigger begging to be pulled. He shook his head to dispel the visual, aware that he couldn¡¯t stay here much longer. He considered taking a shower to wash away the grime, but just looking at the droplets of water gathered at the drain made his skin crawl. ¡°Everything alright?¡± Toby asked after Mitch returned to the room. Instead of getting back in the bed, he took a seat on the edge of the mattress. Toby¡¯s fingertips grazed Mitch¡¯s lower back, and he struggled to stay still and not wrench away. ¡°I think I¡¯m gonna go,¡± Mitch responded, and his answer was met with a stretch of silence. ¡°Do you have to?¡± Toby eventually spoke up, his voice creaking. His entire disposition changed, as if he was starkly aware that his usual tactics were futile. For the very first time, Mitch felt like he had the upper hand, and he didn¡¯t know what to do with that power. Had Toby not surrendered and shown his belly, he¡¯d be out the door already. But now what? ¡°Yeah, I think so. ¡®One day at a time¡¯, remember?¡± Eyes adjusted to the dark, he turned his head enough so that he could see Toby¡¯s face. The expression he got back was unreadable. ¡°Can¡¯t just go diving back in like the past if we want to give the future a chance.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Toby surrendered, and Mitch smiled at him. He then stood, stretched his back until it popped, and turned on the nearby sconce lamp. Before he changed his mind and stayed, he gathered up his clothing that had been flung all over the floor. ¡°Are you leaving right now?¡± ¡°Mhm,¡± Mitch nodded, zipping up his pants. ¡°Can¡¯t help but feel a little used.¡± Ah yes, some of old Toby bled through at last. It would be concerning if he didn¡¯t shoot his shot via charm or snark. ¡°My terms.¡± Mitch leaned down and pressed his lips to Toby¡¯s forehead, then buttoned his shirt. Once he was fully dressed and started to make his exit -grabbing his forgotten knit hat on the way out- he found himself apprehended at the door by a still naked Toby. ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried about your neighbors seeing you?¡± he teased. ¡°Are you going to actually give this a try?¡± Toby ignored the joke, his brow furrowed with an intensity that Mitch wasn¡¯t used to from him. ¡°Like you¡¯re going to message me tomorrow? We¡¯re gonna see one another more often?¡± ¡°One day at a time,¡± Mitch repeated, and accepted a proper kiss. When they broke away, he whispered, ¡°goodnight, Tobes¡±, and left. "where were you?" Though Monument was only about 25 minutes away from Toby¡¯s apartment, it may as well have been on the other coast. Mitch¡¯s thoughts were tangled and frenzied, crashing into the walls of his skull like a wild bird that flew through an open window and couldn¡¯t escape the building that it entered. He had difficulty focusing, and as a result, nearly ran a red light. After being honked at by a passing car, he slammed on the brakes and slapped his cheek several times. His hands trembled as they both gripped the steering wheel, sweat accumulating at his palms. When he pulled up to the curb in front of Jodie¡¯s house, he undid the top few buttons of his shirt and gasped for air while his lungs burned. Throwing his head back, his shoulders rapidly tensed then released. Several minutes passed until he settled down, and he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. ¡°What the fuck,¡± he laughed, though it sounded more like a sob from how wet it was. Running his hands down his face, he murmured, ¡°Alright. OK. Alright,¡± repeating the sequence ad nauseum until he couldn¡¯t stand the sound of his own voice anymore. He had an appointment with Ann in a few days, he could make it until then. In the meanwhile, he took a deep breath and drafted a text to Toby saying that he didn¡¯t like what they did. His entire body shook as he hit the send button, the convulsions so hard that his teeth chattered. Toby¡¯s response was almost immediate. ¡®Getting choked? I¡¯m sorry. We don¡¯t have to do that again.¡® It was a far cry from the past, Mitch being upfront about his needs and Toby not downplaying them. Maybe they had a chance after all, if they took it slow. Sighing, he left the car and instantly regretted not checking himself out in the rearview mirror beforehand. But it was past midnight, and the likelihood of anyone being awake was practically nonexistent. All he needed to do was clean up and crash on the couch for the night so that he didn¡¯t disturb Jodie. He opened the front door slowly, and his head whipped side to side to see if there was any activity coming from either the downstairs or the upstairs. Aside from the stove¡¯s hoodlight which illuminated the kitchen in a soft glow, the house was still. He sat on the bottom step to remove his shoes, then set them on the hall tree¡¯s bench in the foyer and wandered into the kitchen for a drink; for all he knew, dehydration was what triggered this flux in emotions. Since the old house was noisy from minimal provocation, she carefully moved about, flinching each time the floor or a cabinet door groaned and creaked. Eventually, he got a glass under the running faucet and filled it up, then drank as though he¡¯d been stranded in the desert for days without supplies. A soft gasp came from the kitchen¡¯s doorway, prompting Mitch to turn around. There stood Avi in a zip-up hoodie and sweatpants and damp hair, staring at Mitch as though he was something incomprehensible, like a cosmic horror. ¡°Where were you?¡± Mitch asked to break the tension, as if he had any right to ask such a question. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Went to the school to work out. Couldn¡¯t sleep,¡± Avi answered. ¡°Didn¡¯t wanna risk a run because. Y¡¯know, it¡¯s night.¡± He chuckled in a defeated tone. ¡°Cops and brown people.¡± ¡°Oh. Right,¡± Mitch grimaced. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen you in a dress shirt before,¡± Avi pointed out, and the comment caught Mitch off guard and made him self conscious. It was too late to re-do the top buttons, and he realized that he left the blazer at Toby¡¯s, so he couldn¡¯t use that to cover up more. ¡°It¡¯s one of two that I own,¡± Mitch joked, unsure how else to respond. Avi nodded, appearing equally unsure. This sucked, Mitch decided. It was awful and it was all his fault, but he¡¯d fix it. He just needed enough time to pass to gradually fall for Toby once again, and everything would be fine. Then they could go back to being buds and Mitch wouldn¡¯t be at risk of outing himself or being driven to the precipice of insanity at the close proximity, or how desperate he was to touch and kiss Avi every waking moment. Eventually, his thigh wouldn¡¯t tingle from where Avi touched him, which wouldn¡¯t drive him to tears, wouldn¡¯t make him want to yank all of his hair out. God, he was a fucking creep. He didn¡¯t deserve to be Avi¡¯s friend. But Avi looked at him with something between expectancy¡­something else. Disappointment? Resignation? Alternatively, he was just tired. When he spoke up, the struggle was evident in his voice. ¡°So what¡¯d you get up to tonight?¡± he asked, and Mitch¡¯s blood froze. There was no way that Avi could have known, but one could take an educated guess given how marred the skin on display was. He wondered how much Jodie had vented about Toby, what details were shared. Was this a safe space anymore? Mitch almost lied about being at band practice, because that was usually why he was out when he wasn¡¯t training for his in-ring return. ¡°Treated myself to a museum trip,¡± he settled on. It wasn¡¯t a whole lie. ¡°That¡¯s fun,¡± Avi nodded with a smile, warm and reassuring, appearing as if he anticipated more of an explanation. Mitch wanted nothing more than to launch into what he saw and the things he learned about death and funeral customs based on other cultures, and pick Avi¡¯s brain for what he thought about that. But he refrained from doing so. The knowledge that he gained would have to stay within him, and all he could do was hope that his shitty broken brain would retain it. Not that it was of any particular importance, he just lived in constant fear that everything he took in was at risk of being immediately forgotten. Or he¡¯d just endlessly hyperfixate without anyone to talk to about it. Besides, it was weird. That was a stupid and gross and weird thing to infodump about. A look wasn¡¯t an open invitation to overshare, it was just a polite glance and nothing more. And Avi probably wanted to go to sleep, he was usually in bed no later than 10pm. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m-¡± Mitch tried to pull his thoughts together, not wanting to be in this room and at risk of being a nuisance anymore. ¡°I¡¯ll catch you later. I¡¯m gonna go to sleep,¡± he said with no fanfare. ¡°Oh!¡± For a split second, Avi¡¯s mouth hung open. He blinked a few times, but then settled into nonchalance. ¡°That¡¯s cool. I should probably do that as well. I¡¯m up way past my bedtime.¡± ¡°Cool,¡± Mitch responded, then waited for Avi to move away, but they both stayed put. His body stiffened, paralyzed by the awkwardness and inaction and not wanting to be the first to depart. He didn¡¯t want to have to initiate saying ¡°goodbye¡± or ¡°goodnight¡±, but he knew it would eat him up inside if Avi exited without saying it either. At last, unable to bear the suspense any longer, Mitch placed the empty glass in the sink and moved past Avi. Their shoulders bumped against one another, and the smell of Avi¡¯s cologne flooded his nostrils and messed with his insides. ¡°Goodnight, Mitch,¡± Avi said softly once Mitch was several feet down the hall, and Mitch¡¯s stomach clenched. ¡°¡®Night,¡± Mitch responded, and made a beeline for the livingroom, crashing onto the sofa face first. square one Toby was the star of the next therapy session. For as much as Mitch wanted to avoid discussing him altogether, the topic could no longer be put off. When he relayed certain anecdotes about their checkered history, he could see the restraint that Ann exercised as she carefully selected her words, and his stomach dropped. ¡°Look, I know I sound batshit insane,¡± he prefaced what he was about to say. ¡°But I think it¡¯s salvageable in some sense. We¡¯re both older, and it¡¯s not like we¡¯re committed to one another. Yet.¡± She nodded along and jotted stuff onto her pad. Fuck. Her assessment about the incident from a few nights ago was that Mitch had a PTSD episode. The following advice was gently given to him, which was about caring for himself since the shockwaves may not be over yet, and being vigilant about his boundaries. There was a palpable sense of concern through her words, and though therapists weren¡¯t supposed to be disappointed per se, Mitch couldn¡¯t help but feel as though he let Ann down. She offered an extra appointment that week since what he was dealing with was technically a mental health crisis, but he declined to take it and insisted that he was otherwise fine outside of that one incident. When she handed over the card for their next appointment, she also urged him to get in touch if anything else came up. He lied and told her that he would, and his neck itched where the bruises finally faded. About 5 minutes away and several streets over, he realized that he forgot to bring up the situation with Avi, because he needed insight on how to not mess that up, or if he was making the correct choice by doing this at all. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The day before, he compromised his agenda because he couldn¡¯t stand the way that Avi looked at him when he rejected plans, and the followup faux-polite, ¡°Oh, it¡¯s OK. Really. I¡¯ll catch you later?¡± And he missed Avi like crazy. He missed all of their little adventures together, he missed his friend. He missed Avi¡¯s smile, so brilliant that it rivaled the sun, and he missed being a frequent recipient of them. So he broke down and made the approach, and told Avi about the grocery store that Toby mentioned. ¡°I was gonna head over and check it out. Wanna come with?¡± he asked, and Avi accepted the invitation with the enthusiasm of a kid being told that they were going to Disney for vacation. As suspected, said local grocery store prided itself on locally sourced goods with a hefty assortment of vegan offerings. Avi was delighted by the selection, and immediately got to work loading up a carriage while he explained everything that he picked out to Mitch. When some mid-00s pop song played over the speakers, he sang along to it without any regard for being in a public space, and Mitch stood frozen among the dairy-free milk and cheeses. This was exactly why he kept his distance, because every time he thought he had steady footing, Avi kicked his feet out from underneath by doing nothing other than being unapologetically himself. Mitch couldn¡¯t continue to fall like this, couldn¡¯t keep fantasizing about these domestic bliss scenarios where this was more than two roommates shopping together out of convenience. Avi was his friend, not the person that he¡¯d eventually slowdance with in the kitchen on a lazy Sunday morning while All Green played in the background. Matters were only made worse when the cashier mistook them for being¡­together. She stammered out apologies after the awkward moment where they clarified that she was mistaken. Avi laughed and assured her that there was no harm done, while Mitch remained silent. After checking out, Avi took control of the carriage and giddily declared, ¡°C¡¯mon, boyfriend!¡± Mitch¡¯s heart imploded as he helplessly watched him cross the parking lot. Back to square one. just a little longer According to Jodie, Fighting Spirit Brewing¡¯s official launch was a major success. It opened on the first weekend of November, and when the doors locked on Sunday night, she passed out as soon as she got home. Mitch took advantage of her absence by sneaking off to see Toby, when he wasn¡¯t busy with band practice. Avi wasn¡¯t around either due to being booked across the weekend, which helped unfuck Mitch¡¯s brain a little. When the chaos died down at last, Jodie scheduled time off for herself from the school that coincided with the weekdays that the brewery was closed. But despite that, she still ended up at Fighting Spirit and coerced Mitch to come with her. While no one else was there, she wanted his opinion on a few ideas, and laid out her vision for turning the space into a venue for performance art. She talked about the paperwork she secured and the stage that Victor was building and scheduling bands and comedians and burlesque shows, then nudged him about the last one. ¡°That was the old me,¡± he sighed wistfully. ¡°Eh, you still got it. So what if you¡¯re more of an otter than a twink now?¡± she clapped him heartily on the back. ¡°Gee, thanks.¡± Although he didn¡¯t care for her wording, the idea wasn¡¯t a bad one. But if she wanted him to be involved in that specifically, there was a hitch: he wasn¡¯t really in contact with anyone from that scene anymore. That said, he suspected that Gianna might be, since their backgrounds and circles overlapped. They had a lot of friends in common, but somehow never directly met until Monument Wrestling Academy. Gia had even seen Mitch¡¯s first band perform, Blood Blister, and yet they still didn¡¯t cross paths. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. He thought about it some more. Hiding behind a persona was one of the few things that made Mitch feel genuinely good. He didn¡¯t realize this until he¡¯d gotten injured and was back together with the band, but he missed being on the stage. It was why he was at the school nearly every single day now (but careful to memorize Avi¡¯s schedule to avoid him), training like a man possessed for his in-ring return. With Jodie¡¯s permission, he¡¯d also taken over a part of the attic. At one point, there were plans to turn it into a finished living space for Jodie, but the work had been interrupted after her grandmother passed away and was now on indefinite hold. He invested in some cheap area rugs and soundproofing materials, then furnished it with equipment on loan from Darius. It¡¯d been good for his emotional well-being to have his own little space, and it was amazing how a little bit of privacy drastically elevated his mood. So when Jodie mentioned that she wanted to start a weekly unplugged music night and asked that he be the one to kick it off, for once he felt confident enough to agree to it. While they sat together with all of the potential imaginable in front of them, Jodie appeared hopeful and assured for the first time since her grandmother¡¯s passing. Mitch reveled in his friend¡¯s accomplishments as she pulled him into a sidehug, thanking him for always supporting her. The plan to tell her about Toby could wait just a little longer, he decided. yet Within a single night, Mitch managed to upset three people. The first was Toby, who wanted to know if Mitch still had feelings for ¡°that guy¡±. It was a fair and valid question, but also a bold one to ask just after sex. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna talk about it,¡± Mitch warned, and rolled onto his side. What followed couldn¡¯t be considered a fight, but Toby needled him. He wanted answers. A name. An identity. A background. ¡°What are we?¡± Toby asked after his interrogation, his tone curious and pondering. ¡°We¡¯re one day at a time,¡± Mitch reminded him. ¡°We¡¯re not dating. Not yet.¡± ¡°We go out on dates, though. We go out, then we come back here and fuck, then you go back to Jodie¡¯s. Are we fuckbuddies?¡± ¡°You¡¯re the most annoying man alive.¡± Mitch got out of bed and wandered into the kitchen, then rummaged through Toby¡¯s fridge. ¡°Why do you need a name for it? Don¡¯t you ¡®hate labels¡¯?¡± He made a face and did air quotes. ¡°Isn¡¯t that the line that you used to use on me?¡± ¡°I¡¯m getting soft these days,¡± Toby quipped, now also in the kitchen with one hand above Mitch¡¯s head, planted on the freezer door. ¡°Did you know that you have an ass now?¡± he asked before giving a firm smack, and Mitch jumped in place. ¡°No shit, I do like 500 squats a day. And be gentler, you just railed me,¡± Mitch chastised. ¡°Also your snack selection sucks.¡± ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ll start stocking up on vegan stuff,¡± Toby snarked, then resumed his barrage form earlier. ¡°Are the squats to impress the guy that you like?¡± Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°The squats are because I¡¯m a wrestler,¡± Mitch shot back as he shut the door, but Toby didn¡¯t move. He found himself pinned, Toby¡¯s hand slid up his chest and fingers grazing against his throat, elevating his heartrate and turning his blood to ice. Nothing came of it, but he stood paralyzed. ¡°Toby,¡± he croaked out at long last. ¡°What do you want?¡± ¡°You, mostly.¡± Toby leaned in to press his forehead against Mitch¡¯s before nuzzling his neck. Mitch couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on it, but it was as though Toby was seeking something. ¡°I¡¯m gonna win,¡± he whispered. ¡°Hold on. Win? Are we not OK with the arrangement anymore?¡± Mitch shuddered, his stomach performing somersaults directly into a pile of thumbtacks. ¡°Have you told anyone about me?¡± ¡°No,¡± Mitch answered honestly, and Toby released him. ¡°It¡¯s only been what? Two weeks since this iteration? This isn¡¯t anything to talk about yet.¡± ¡°Yet,¡± Toby muttered while he returned to the bedroom, and Mitch rolled his eyes. He followed, but went no further than the doorway, leaning against it with his arms folded across his chest and observed a forlorn Toby sitting on the mattress. ¡°Can we at least consider ourselves a little more than a ¡®yet¡¯?¡± he pleaded, head in his hands for full dramatic effect. ¡°I have to think about it,¡± Mitch answered after a lapse in time, and Toby groaned. ¡°Don¡¯t¡­do that. C¡¯mon.¡± The groaning got louder, and Toby flopped onto his back. ¡°Fine. FINE. I¡¯ll tell one person,¡± Mitch shouted over the groaning, and Toby stopped. ¡°It better not be-¡± ¡°It¡¯s Jodie.¡± The groaning resumed, and Mitch decided to not spend the night like he originally planned, which turned into another layer of shit added onto this garbage casserole. Regardless, he wasn¡¯t about to reward such awful behavior, not after dealing with Calvin¡¯s petulance for half of a decade. Instead of going directly home, he drove to the school to get a late workout in and strategize about how to approach Jodie. This had the potential to go nuclear, and he¡¯d need somewhere to lay low; Louis offered his sofa to him throughout the years, so Mitch had that as an option. When he pulled into the Monument Wrestling Academy parking lot, he sent a text asking if the offer still stood, and Louis responded with a thumbs up emoji. "Are you mad at me?" Overnight bag in hand, Mitch pushed open the lobby door and stopped to fill out the self check-in sheet that was kept behind the reception desk. He then rounded the corner into the hall that led to the training area, and almost collided with Avi. ¡°Oh shit! Hey there,¡± Avi jumped back and put his hand to his bare chest. His skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, and a towel was around his shoulders. ¡°You scared me.¡± ¡°Yeah, sorry,¡± Mitch yelped, his heart about to leap from his chest and exit through his throat. They both giggled for a few seconds, and Mitch¡¯s eyes drifted to what Avi was staring at before he interrupted. It was the corkboard with flyers posted to it for various events and news, as well as miscellaneous notifications from Jodie and Victor. There was a new piece of paper that must have been tacked up within the last day, an advertisement for the unplugged show that Mitch was scheduled to perform at. He dug the fluorescent green paper choice and the punk rock DIY Xerox aesthetic that presumably Jodie put together. His name wasn¡¯t on it, and he breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°Jodie said you¡¯ll be playing at that,¡± Avi spoke up, and Mitch deflated. Of course she did. ¡°That¡¯s the rumor,¡± Mitch chuckled nervously. ¡°I can¡¯t wait, man.¡± Avi was so cheerful, and Mitch was terribly envious of this quality. Where did he get a constant supply of energy to be like that? ¡°Well it¡¯s¡­I mean, it isn¡¯t a big deal,¡± shrugged Mitch. ¡°And it¡¯s on a Monday night, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll be beat from traveling and shows over the weekend, right?¡± The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Eh, that doesn¡¯t matter,¡± he grinned, and Mitch wanted to scream. ¡°Gotta support my bro, y¡¯know?¡± ¡°Avi, you don¡¯t have to. It¡¯s-¡± Mitch forgot how to speak when he saw the way that Avi¡¯s entire disposition changed within an instant. He was frowning as if he¡¯d been wounded. ¡°Did¡­did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?¡± Avi quietly asked, his brow now furrowed. ¡°No, it¡¯s not you,¡± Mitch attempted to assure, but could see that the conviction was lacking when Avi stared at him. He took a deep breath. ¡°Avi, I¡¯m dealing with stuff, OK?¡± ¡°But I¡¯m here for you,¡± Avi lightly touched his arm, and Mitch struggled between wrenching away and reaching up to hold the hand in place. Pathetic. So he did nothing, made no moves, and yet his body still acted of its own accord and trembled. Avi continued, this time with urgency, ¡°You know that, right? You¡¯re not alone, Mitch.¡± ¡°That isn¡¯t what I need right now,¡± Mitch said far more bluntly than intended, then scrubbed a hand down his face when Avi went wide eyed in surprise. ¡°I need space. It isn¡¯t just you, it¡¯s. It¡¯s everyone, Avi. I¡¯m sorry, I appreciate you, I just-¡± ¡°Sure,¡± Avi nodded, still appearing unconvinced. He kept his eyes to the floor and murmured, ¡°I¡¯m. I¡¯m sorry you¡¯re going through that.¡± ¡°Thanks man,¡± Mitch slumped his shoulders. He waited until Avi retreated into the training area before bashing his forehead against the concrete wall. It wasn¡¯t fair, but what was he supposed to do? Confess everything to the very person that was the inadvertent cause of why he didn¡¯t sleep at night anymore? Was he supposed to admit that in the dark, he stared at the adjoining wall between their rooms, silently begging for Avi to be thinking of him? To maybe stare back, to feel his presence? Was he supposed to be open about the madness he¡¯d been inflicted with? Every waking thought, big or small, was consumed by Avi, and he couldn¡¯t even tell him: ¡®I think about you constantly, even when my not-boyfriend fucks me. I don¡¯t even imagine that he¡¯s you, I just want to know what you¡¯re doing right then, and I have to resist the urge to text you. Or I get your stupid theme song stuck in my head and I have to stop myself from humming it, because how would I explain that when there¡¯s a dick inside of me? Everything revolves around you, you¡¯re the literal sun that I¡¯m helpless to orbit around.¡¯. He tore the flyer down. If he were able to have a drink he would. For a fleeting moment he entertained the idea of going to a bar, then put the thought far from his head. down to a science With the mood to workout thoroughly killed, he left and migrated over to Fighting Spirit since it was near closing time and Jodie was bound to still be there. He approached the bar and was about to ask the server where Jodie was, but vigorous waving from a nearby table caught his eye before he opened his mouth. ¡°Hey, what brings you in?¡± Jodie asked with a bright smile while Mitch took the seat from across her. On the table were ever-present numerous documents, which she pushed to the side. ¡°Was in the neighborhood,¡± he answered. ¡°You want some water? We got kombucha, too.¡± ¡°All set.¡± ¡°Alright, did you just wanna chat or¡­¡± She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Actually, yes.¡± He let go of a breath that he wasn¡¯t aware he¡¯d been holding onto. ¡°Cool. Let me just see if anyone needs help with closing stuff.¡± After she left the table, Mitch watched her with suspicion and wondered why she seemed to expect him. Minutes later, several employees walked out the front door and most of the lights were dimmed. Jodie returned with a glass of water, which she slid in front of Mitch. ¡°I said I was all set?¡± He glanced down at it and then back up at her. ¡°I assume you¡¯ll want it, since you¡¯re gonna be talking.¡± Her mouth formed a line, and everything hit him like a sack of bricks. She knew. Part of him wanted to play coy, but he didn¡¯t have the energy for mental chess against Jodie. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ¡°I¡¯m seeing Toby,¡± he revealed. ¡°Yeah no shit.¡± She threw her head back. ¡°Did you actually think that you were being sneaky? You¡¯re covered in hickies and you smell like his deodorant. Also what the fuck was up with your neck a few weeks ago?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t-¡± Mitch reached up and touched where the bruises finally faded, his pulse racing so much that it hurt. Softly, he said, ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about that.¡± ¡°Mitch.¡± Pausing, she set down her reading glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°He¡¯s going to hurt you. It¡¯s what he does. He has it down to a science by now.¡± ¡°It hasn¡¯t been bad, I¡¯m working on boundaries and he¡¯s listening.¡± A restrained noise made its way from Jodie¡¯s throat, and he glared. ¡°Is it so difficult to believe?¡± ¡°Honestly? A little, yes.¡± She threw her hands up, then brought them down and rubbed her face. ¡°Dude, I can¡¯t tell you who you can or can¡¯t sleep around with, OK? You¡¯re an adult. But he sucks!¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, did I miss something? Did he fuck your ex as well?¡± Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned back in his chair and continued to glare. The look he received in exchange was chilling. ¡°Jodie, you have to let this shit go. This isn¡¯t your battle.¡± ¡°Fine. OK. Go¡­¡± she grasped at the air and shook, then sharply inhaled and settled down. Leaning in, she continued with, ¡°Go keep making disappointing decisions because you refuse to value yourself.¡± Then she stood up, and the feet of her chair sharply scraped against concrete floor. ¡°And when you inevitably get torn apart, I¡¯ll be here waiting with bandages and antiseptic and the world¡¯s loudest ¡®I told you so¡¯, just like you said I could.¡± Mitch blinked several times, his eyes stinging. Wordlessly, he got up and walked out the door, slamming it behind him as he left. He wasn¡¯t positive, but he swore that he heard glass shattering from within the brewery. "Why him though?" Mitch was still high when he woke up on Louis¡¯ couch. If nothing else, Gianna and Wil were fantastic agents of hedonism, and they supplied him with enough edibles to be rendered incomprehensible for the evening. Meanwhile, Louis held him tight, allowing Mitch to alternate between slobbering all over him and trying to eat his hair. Mitch was fairly certain that he¡¯d overshared enough trauma for a lifetime, but a solemn vow was made between the four of them that nothing said in that room would leave it. He grabbed his phone to check the time, and nearly screamed when several new texts from Calvin were waiting. Vague memories resurfaced of Gianna going on a tangent full of vitriol after Mitch disclosed a particularly upsetting anecdote; in his despondent state, he must have taken that as a cue to speak his mind. He set the phone face down on the coffee table, as he could not yet handle whatever came from Calvin on top of every other thing that he was juggling. The front door swung open, Louis stepped through with a brown paper bag full of greasy fast food. Mitch accepted a hashbrown and breakfast sandwich, then scooched over for Louis to take a seat. Aside from Mitch¡¯s occasional sniffling, they ate in silence. ¡°You can stay for as long as you need to,¡± Louis told him as he cleared away the trash. ¡°But just so you know, Jodie messaged me earlier. She¡¯s worried about you.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll see how it goes,¡± Mitch shrugged. Once he sobered up, he announced that he was leaving and Louis gave him a bear hug tight enough to realign his spine. He finished three cigarettes on the way to Jodie¡¯s and was ready to light a fourth one by the time he parked on the curb. Staring at the house, he was unsure what awaited him. Options were mulled over, but he knew it was pointless to strategize; yesterday was enough proof of that. So he abandoned the safety of his car and entered through the front door. Jodie sat in the livingroom with a pair of knitting needles in her hands and a dusky purple skein of yarn at her side, which Estrella swatted at. She looked like she hadn¡¯t slept all night. Mitch watched her with a lump in his throat, and she glanced up for a moment before returning her attention to her project. ¡°So,¡± she spoke slowly. ¡°I said some awful stuff last night.¡± Mitch bit his bottom lip, unsure how to respond. Were her accusations from the night before wrong? No, not really. But it all hurt nevertheless. He moved across the room and took a seat on the other end of the sofa, but remained hunched forward in case he needed to make a quick exit. Estrella stared up at him, crosseyed as usual and giving the illusion that she was worried, but sprinted when his leg bounced up and down. Enough time passed that it seemed as though Jodie had nothing else to say, but then she followed up with, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, dude. I was an absolute bitch.¡± The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Mitch hesitated with his response. ¡°It¡¯s¡­fine.¡± ¡°Is it?¡± Her head shot up, face fraught with concern. ¡°Jodie, I know that he¡¯s not great. And I¡¯m not in love with him, we¡¯re nebulous at best right now,¡± he explained, and she nodded along, doing her best to feign support but obviously failing. ¡°Why him though?¡± she inquired, and Mitch mulled over every possible reason that wouldn¡¯t make him sound utterly pathetic or deranged. ¡°I know what I¡¯m getting into with him,¡± Mitch started with, satisfied with his own choice of words because they held an illusion of empowerment. ¡°I know his buttons, I know when he¡¯ll drop me because he can¡¯t commit to save his own life. And it¡¯s way too early for me to think about getting out there, so this is a good placeholder.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t just do some random hookups? It¡¯s gotta be Toby?¡± God bless her attempts, but she struggled. ¡°Toby¡­¡± Mitch trailed off, and the following words tumbled from his mouth before they could be filtered. Because neither he nor Jodie enjoyed this dance routine, and he couldn¡¯t take it anymore. ¡°Toby makes me feel wanted. Jo, I haven¡¯t felt wanted in so goddamn long. And I don¡¯t have to explain myself to him, like my past. Like why I can¡¯t drink. There¡¯s no stigma there.¡± His voice trembled as he pushed on. ¡°He tells me that he misses me. He doesn¡¯t try to-¡± he squeezed his eyes shut. ¡°When I¡¯ve been out of my head, he¡¯s never tried to-¡° ¡°Mitch,¡± she slid towards him and wiped his eyes. Eventually the tears subsided, and he was hiccuping and horizontal, his head on Jodie¡¯s leg while she smoothed out his hair. ¡°I get why you hate him, but I can¡¯t,¡± Mitch lamented. ¡°Trust me, I wish I could. But next to you, he¡¯s been there for me the longest. I¡¯m not ready to abandon that.¡± ¡°I know,¡± she sighed in defeat, which wasn¡¯t the empathy that he needed but it was a form of compassion and he¡¯d take it. ¡°You don¡¯t have to be friends with him, I¡¯m not asking for that. You don¡¯t even have to acknowledge his presence, and I can relay that to him. But he wants to come to my shows and be supportive. And honestly? I kind of want him to be there,¡± he stressed. ¡°I think it¡¯s worth a shot.¡± ¡°OK,¡± Jodie spoke after a pause, and Mitch craned his neck to look up at her. ¡°Let¡¯s start small. Invite him to the unplugged show or something, as a trial. If he isn¡¯t a total ass, we can talk about other spaces.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± he murmured, and she lightly scratched at his scalp in response. The gentle ''clk clks'' of the metal needles resumed, and he made no effort to move as the yarn draped over his head.. ¡°What¡¯re you making?¡± he finally asked while suppressing a yawn. ¡°A matching scarf for your hat, like you asked,¡± Jodie answered. ¡°Abuela had a whole stash of unused yarn, and I found the matching skein amongst it. Hope you don¡¯t mind that it¡¯s acrylic and not angora or whatever the pros use. I¡¯ve only done this like 3 times.¡± ¡°If it¡¯s not cashmere, what¡¯s the point?¡± Mitch joked, and she flicked his forehead. ¡°Just kidding,¡± he clarified. ¡°What¡¯re you, Calvin?¡± She exclaimed. Hearing the name caused Mitch to stiffen, and the phone in his pocket became much heavier. He closed his eyes and ignored the dread that clawed at him, not yet prepared to manage that crisis. exposed Leading up to the unplugged show, Mitch raced to finish a few remaining tasks. He curated a playlist of cover songs and made the call to omit any original work, since no one would be there to see him specifically. There was a running theme about longing, which wasn¡¯t intentional but without a doubt manifested from his subconscious. Whatever, people ate it up when a skinny white guy didn¡¯t switch the pronouns of songs that were originally performed by women. Going down the list of songs, he either checked off or crossed out titles after he finished playing them, because sometimes the vibe didn¡¯t match what he was going for. At the midway point of this practice session, he wrapped up Fade Into You; though he was no Hope Sandoval, but he felt as if he did a competent job practicing it. Apparently, he wasn¡¯t the only one that thought so. When he set his guitar down for a short break, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that he was being watched, but assumed that it was his anxiety. He turned around to confirm that it was his mind playing tricks on him, but at the top of the attic stairs stood Avi, who smiled sheepishly when their eyes met. The hazy lighting and dust particles that floated about added a dream-like filter and made time stand still; for a moment, Mitch couldn¡¯t discern if this was reality. Then terror kicked in, and his head dropped. He stared down at his feet while a nervous laugh bubbled out of him. Never before had he ever felt so exposed, and couldn¡¯t begin to explain how excruciating it was or why, not to Avi of all people. ¡°How uh- How long were you there?¡± he softly asked, not daring to move another muscle. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°Not long,¡± Avi responded, his voice wavering as if he was piecing together that he wasn¡¯t welcome here. Next time, Mitch would hang a sign on the door. ¡°I heard you playing up here and I just-¡± he cleared his throat. ¡°You¡¯re so talented. It¡¯s like your stuff on Greywater¡­¡± And Mitch knew that it was because his brain was only focusing on the things that it wanted, but he could have sworn there was admiration in Avi¡¯s tone. He fought the urge to run towards the window at back of the attic and jump out of it. ¡°Thanks,¡± Mitch smiled, despite being on the verge of all of his limbs detaching themselves from his body and all of his teeth ready to fall out of his mouth. He watched Avi look around the makeshift studio, and debated either shoving him down the stairs or giving him a tour of the place. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to it?¡± Avi at last spoke up when Mitch didn¡¯t say anything else, but the inflection at the end of the sentence made Mitch start to perspire. It was the type of phrase that lingered, as if the person that said it sought more out from a situation, an invitation, but wasn¡¯t communicating it. What was Mitch supposed to do, invite Avi in? Put on a show? Why not invade the only place that he got any privacy at all? ''The playlist was inspired by him, may as well,'' some dark voice suggested, but he shook it off. Instead he nodded and stayed quiet, then counted for a full minute after Avi finally left before he went down the stairs to lock the door. He told himself over and over again that it was too early to feel this strongly, and that all of this would wither away in due time. But the attic¡¯s doorknob was still warm from where Avi put his hand on it, as if he¡¯d held onto it for a while, and Mitch had to practically rip his own arm away to stop touching it. sneak attack Mitch¡¯s next task was to invite Toby to the show and lay out the terms and conditions, should he accept. He braced for all of the sarcastic comments, and allowed Toby to tire himself out with excuses and remarks about what a victim he was because Jodie didn¡¯t like him or whatever. This was the exact level of theatrics that made Mitch second guess what it was that he was doing, and helped him see things a little more clearly from Jodie¡¯s perspective. ¡°If you don¡¯t come to this, I don¡¯t think we have much of a future,¡± Mitch dropped the bombshell at last. Sure, it was manipulative, but he was also being transparent. The show itself didn¡¯t mean much to him personally, but everything hinged on getting Jodie and Toby together in the same room to see if they could co-exist. He didn¡¯t need Jodie¡¯s approval for who he spent time with, but she was his ride-or-die for coming up on two decades, and that held a considerable amount of weight. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°What if I have an early next morning?¡± Toby asked. ¡°The museum¡¯s closed to patrons on Tuesdays, and you don¡¯t have to be there until noon,¡± Mitch countered. ¡°Either come see me play sad boy music and tolerate being in the same room as Jodie, or y¡¯know. I guess that¡¯s the last time that I blow you? Your choice.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t even get to savor it!¡± Toby complained while he hiked his underwear and pants back up. ¡°You sprung this on me right after you were done. It was a sneak attack.¡± Still, he agreed, and Mitch was pleased with the results of his efforts. The final item was to confront the texts from Calvin, but he still couldn¡¯t bring himself to do it. Instead, he handed his phone to Jodie and relayed how Gia got him wound up and the result was a horrible mistake. ¡°I swear to god, you belong in some type of Hall of Fame,¡± Jodie glowered while she deleted the texts for him. assertive ¡°Sure is November,¡± Mitch remarked as he stared out the window and watched rain droplets splatter against it, then slide down the glass and leave tiny channels of water. It was the night of the unplugged show, or the open mic, or whatever it was that Jodie had changed it to for the hundredth time that week. At only 6pm it was already pitch black outside, and the downpour made it sound as if the building was under attack by gunfire. If he hadn¡¯t committed to this, Mitch would be curled up on the couch under the granny square blanket and watching some random episode of Nova with his girl Estrella. At the very least, the atmosphere was laid back, which he preferred. Of course -and rightfully so- Jodie had hopes that this would be a major success, but Mitch always liked a more intimate setting. And then came the rush, which killed that vibe entirely. About 15 minutes before he was due to play, the bulk of the Monument Wrestling Academy body poured in, overtaking the bar and grabbing almost every available seat. From the small stage where he set up, Mitch shot a look at Jodie; in exchange, she shrugged and grinned at him, playing it off as if she didn¡¯t replace the flyers that he tore down. Trailing behind everyone was Toby, his tall frame sticking out even amongst wrestlers. He scanned the room and lit up when he spotted Mitch, then disappeared, presumably to grab a drink. Mitch was surprised that he came at all, since he¡¯d been so determined to get out of this. If Toby was notable for anything, it was his gratuitous use of asking for forgiveness later. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Yet he came, and Mitch was admittedly impressed. There was a long and winding road ahead that was by no means easy -should they embark upon it- but each passing day it seemed more likely than the last. Could he spend his days with Toby? Perhaps, given enough time it wouldn¡¯t be such an impossibility. Mitch checked his phone, saw that there were under 5 minutes to go, and grabbed his guitar. Before he sat down on the wooden stool, someone tapped his arm and he stopped in place. ¡°Hey, take this,¡± came Toby¡¯s voice, and Mitch spun around to see him extending a water bottle. ¡°Thanks,¡± Mitch grinned and accepted it. ¡°I¡¯d say good luck out there, but I know that you don¡¯t need it,¡± Toby gave a lopsided smile of his own. He lingered while the seconds continued to count down, as if he sought preferential treatment here. For nearly a decade, he¡¯d been handed countless opportunities to sneak his way to the front of the line and secure boyfriend status, but seldom did he take advantage of it. But not this time, not when the rules were clear. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Poking his tongue out as he reflected on how to respond, Mitch elected for polite indifference and gave a dismissive wave. ¡°Thank you for the water. Now go sit.¡± Toby snorted. ¡°You¡¯re so pushy these days,¡± he said before doing as he was told. ¡°I¡¯m assertive. My therapist says it¡¯s a good thing.¡± ¡°Maybe I like it.¡± Toby threw a wink over his shoulder, and Mitch shook his head. He took a sip from the water as he watched Toby take an open seat by Louis, and readied himself for the barrage of texts that Lou was bound to send during the show. Setting the bottle by his feet, he perched on the stool with the guitar in his lap and adjusted the mic. "Ive got a lot to say to you..." ¡°Testing testing¡­good evening,¡± Mitch greeted the crowd, who responded with cheers. The butterflies in his stomach fluttered so hard that they hurt. With the band, he had a support system to lean on and it wasn¡¯t just him at the center of attention. Giggling nervously, he asked how everyone was doing, and was met with more noise. So far so good. He gave a special shout out to the school, which earned a particularly loud pop. Once the racket settled down, he announced the first song and began strumming. Though the majority of the attendees were now familiar with Liner Notes, he made the right call by sticking to covers. When the crowd joined in with a few of the choruses, he wholeheartedly welcomed their participation. He didn¡¯t have a lot of banter ready to go because he¡¯d anticipated a much smaller audience, but no one seemed to mind that he didn¡¯t talk much between songs. It¡¯d gone well for the first few songs, until about halfway through the set. Just as Mitch started to strum the intro for Fade Into You, he spotted Avi walking through the front door. It caused him to nearly miss the transition into the first verse, since all of his scabbed-over wounds split open at once and became fresh all over again. Shame and anger and indignation and longing roiled around in his guts, congealing into something awful that weighed him down. Every passing second was excruciating, lasting for multiple eternities, and he had to fight off every urge to cut the list short so that he could take off into the night and disappear. Then the worst imaginable scenario went down right in front of Mitch¡¯s eyes: the only open seat was next to Toby, and Avi took it. Even from several feet away, he could see the way that Avi politely asked if it was available, then saw him strike up small talk. With Toby! What the fuck, universe! Mitch fought off the bubbling panic while he sat on stage and couldn¡¯t hear the words exchanged between the two of them, but he could take a few wild guesses. He didn¡¯t want them to meet like this, or ever, but least of all not without him present to mediate it. Who knew what claims Toby might make, and if Avi would believe him. Did it matter, really? Mitch pondered. He didn¡¯t have an answer, but he hated it nevertheless. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. He ignored the way that Avi not-so discreetly waved at him, and Toby¡¯s confused expression at the gesture. But it distracted him enough that when the end of the song drew near, Mitch blanked out on the rest of the setlist, and like a complete idiot, neglected to bring the piece of paper that he wrote them all down on. Before each of the previous songs, Mitch announced the title and original artist, but his mind was presently a vacant wasteland so he couldn¡¯t very well do that now. ¡°Uh¡­¡± he breathed into the mic in an attempt to buy a few seconds. While his brain stalled out, his nerves kicked in and he patted the top of the guitar a few times, eventually forming a rhythm. And he wasn¡¯t even fully cognizant when the words ¡°¡­I got a lot to say to you,¡± exited his mouth, but once they were in the open, he instinctively strummed. There was never any real intent on performing crushcrushcrush because it wasn¡¯t Mitch¡¯s style; he learned it out of spite, but now he was playing it in front of an actual crowd. And it felt perverted and wrong, like he was crossing into a domain that he wasn¡¯t a welcome guest in. Like everyone was going to know his dirty secret, if they didn¡¯t already. He glanced up for a moment and caught Avi staring at him, his brow furrowed and head slightly tilted, as if he was having trouble with processing what he was hearing. So Mitch played harder, sang louder, gave it some bite. Take the hint, Avi. Don¡¯t try to make me spell it out anymore, Mitch silently pleaded when they made eye contact, but he broke it off almost as quickly as it was established because he was unable to bear it any longer. By the time he finished -his eyes stinging and a lump settling in his throat- the rest of the setlist resurfaced with ease as though it was waiting for him to get that one song out of his system. Those wounds that he tried to hide earlier were now scraped raw and out in the open, vulnerable and oozing but unable to be protected. He took a sip of water and pressed on, as if nothing happened at all. After a few more songs Mitch wrapped up, thanking everyone for coming out and thanking Fighting Spirit for having him. Once the attention was off of him, he collected the tips that¡¯d been deposited into his guitar case, then responded to Louis¡¯ concerned texts while he packed up his things. Discomfort reached a fever pitch when he ran out of further distractions, and he knew the last remaining option was to go over to where Toby and Avi were sitting. He wanted nothing more than to leave altogether, but then he would have to explain himself. When did his life become some terrible romcom? Sans the rom, or even the com, for that matter? provoked or unprovoked ¡°Hi,¡± Mitch greeted Toby and Avi with a tired smile, but remained standing since there were no available seats. They both looked up at him: Avi with a bright grin, and Toby bearing the expression of being ill-prepared to deal with someone as upbeat as Avi. ¡°You were amazing!¡± Avi gushed, and Mitch rubbed the back of his neck, grinning despite himself. ¡°Told you that you¡¯d kill it,¡± Toby casually stated, but his tone was suspicious. Had Toby figured out that Avi was ¡°that guy¡±? Nothing indicated that he was any the wiser, and Avi seldom opened up about his personal life so it was doubtful that he mentioned Charlie, but nevertheless Mitch stayed on edge. ¡°Are you gonna sit, or-¡± Toby started to ask. ¡°No free seats,¡± Mitch attempted to explain. ¡°It¡¯s alright, though, I don¡¯t mind.¡± ¡°You can sit on my lap,¡± Toby waggled his eyebrows. Mitch came close to telling him off, the anger bubbling in his sternum and its bitterness rising to the tip of his tongue, but he was interrupted by the sound of wet sputtering. Both Mitch and Toby turned their heads towards the noise, and spotted Avi in the process of wiping himself down with a napkin; his beard and glasses were covered in droplets, and foam spilled all over the table. ¡°Sorry,¡± he said gruffly. ¡°Went down the wrong pipe.¡± ¡°I was gonna go grab more water, but do you need more napkins, Avi?¡± offered Mitch. ¡°No, I should be good,¡± Avi replied as he pulled his shirt taut, his focus strictly on drying off. ¡°I¡¯ll come with. I wanted to get a drink as well,¡± Toby insisted and already stood up. He grabbed his empty can and gave it a little shake as if to prove that he finished it. Half of Mitch wanted to inquire if he should be drinking, while the other half warned him to leave it alone. This wasn¡¯t his monkey nor his circus at the moment. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Around the bar was a dense crowd of people closing up their tabs. Mitch lingered at the back of the line while Toby stood behind him, close enough that he could feel breathing on the back of his neck. ¡°Can I help you?¡± Mitch tilted his head enough to see Toby from the corner of his eye. Apparently, that translated as some type of invitation. Toby rested his chin on Mitch¡¯s shoulder, and his arms went around the waist, pulling Mitch in closer. ¡°You were a hot little thing up there, singing your heart out like that,¡± Toby commented low in Mitch¡¯s ear and making him shiver. ¡°Are you hard right now?¡± Mitch snorted. ¡°I¡¯m not going home with you tonight.¡± ¡°I¡¯m getting there. And why not?¡± ¡°I¡¯m tired.¡± ¡°I have a bed.¡± When Mitch didn¡¯t respond to that, Toby followed up with, ¡°Wanna go fool around in the bathroom?¡± ¡°Not really,¡± Mitch answered honestly. ¡°I think Jodie would kill me if I did that.¡± ¡°Hm.¡± The line moved forward, and Mitch was still enveloped by Toby. Clearing his throat after the pause, Toby changed the subject. ¡°So tell me about Avi.¡± ¡°What about him?¡± Mitch stiffened. ¡°He¡¯s your roommate, huh? Seemed to know you well, made it difficult to hear the music sometimes.¡± ¡°He¡¯s friendly,¡± Mitch responded curtly, reinforcing every possible angle from whatever Toby¡¯s attack plan was. Hopefully his feigned indifference was enough to drop this, but if there was any attempt at besmirching Avi¡¯s character, Mitch wouldn¡¯t hesitate to throw down. But also, why on earth would Avi introduce himself like that? Was it provoked or unprovoked? Mitch chewed on the inside of his cheek as he dwelled. ¡°Oh, very,¡± Toby agreed, a bit of a sultry purr in his tone. Dangerous. The line moved once more, and there were only two people between them and the bar. Mitch wriggled enough so that he was out of Toby¡¯s grasp and facing him more directly. ¡°How did you introduce yourself?¡± Mitch asked, and Toby cocked his eyebrow. ¡°I said that you and I go way back. Why?¡± Mitch didn¡¯t say anything, so Toby continued with a snarky, ¡°I didn¡¯t say that I was your boyfriend, if that¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about.¡± ¡°One day at-¡° ¡°One day at a time, yes, I know,¡± Toby cut him off, then leaned in and planted a kiss on his forehead. ¡°So pushy.¡± ¡°Assertive,¡± Mitch corrected, then spun back around. When they finally got to the bar, Mitch grabbed two more water bottles, handing one to Toby, and several napkins as well. He dropped a few bills into the tip jar, then returned to the table despite Toby¡¯s continued teasing that they go somewhere private. "...on full display." ¡°I¡¯m not gonna-¡± Mitch raised his voice in reaction to a comment from Toby, but he stopped himself when Avi turned towards them. His face burned in embarrassment over being so easily wound up by this guy, even all these years later. After a light elbow to Toby¡¯s ribs, Mitch extended the napkins to Avi, saying, ¡°Here. I know you said you were good, but it was all over your shirt. And I thought, iunno, just in case?¡± ¡°Yeah, Gianna said my ¡®tits were on full display,¡± Avi laughed as he accepted the napkins, then dragged one down his shirt. ¡°So thank you, I appreciate this.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Mitch nodded, then flashed a grin at Toby before stealing his seat. ¡°Excuse you,¡± Toby scoffed. ¡°You didn¡¯t call it,¡± Mitch dismissed him. ¡°And there¡¯s a free chair opened up at that other table, just ask if you can take it.¡± Toby took the suggestion -not without a little grumbling- then set up shop between Mitch and Avi. While he settled into this new spot, Mitch rested his head on Louis¡¯ bicep; Lou said nothing as he was in deep conversation with Rod and Desiree, but he shifted enough so that he could tuck Mitch under his arm for a short while until they both respectively cramped up. Before Mitch broke away, Louis asked under his breath if he needed to talk, and Mitch shook his head. As the night rolled on, fatigue settled into Mitch¡¯s bones. He mostly stayed quiet as he fought to stay awake, which allowed for Toby to steamroll the conversation with minimal checks and balances. Stories from the past were dug up, things that Avi couldn¡¯t possibly contribute to and was forced to politely listen as Toby yapped on and on. But this is what Mitch wanted, right? To start incorporating Toby into the fold, because after all of these years they were still tethered to one another, which meant all of this was inevitable. It would be much simpler if Toby wasn¡¯t clamoring so loudly for them to be more than what they were, which was a wrench that Mitch hadn¡¯t anticipated on dealing with. Years ago, the only thing that he wanted was some level of certainty between them, and Toby refused to provide it; now the tables were turned, and Mitch wasn¡¯t prepared to commit. He never thought he would have preferred the version of Toby when he didn¡¯t try at all. Although the ¡°one day at a time¡± mantra literally originated from Toby¡¯s lips, guilt nagged at Mitch every time that he threw the line out there. He couldn¡¯t tell if he was genuinely engaging in healthy boundaries, or resisting for the sake of being contrarian. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. But every time Toby approached and challenged these walls, he ultimately respected them and backed off. For the time being, it was enough. However, if Mitch couldn¡¯t get over his own shit, he¡¯d need to reconsider this entire situation. Sometimes the signs were hopeful, and sometimes he reminded himself that the only difference between the venomous snakes at a zoo and the ones in the wild was the thick plexiglass that separated them from the observer. Then there was a hand on his thigh, and Mitch jerked to full attention. He looked around, saw that Avi¡¯s seat was empty, and asked, ¡°Where¡¯d Avi go?¡± Toby shrugged. ¡°I think he went to close up his tab? Did you have a good nap?¡± ¡°Never felt more rested,¡± Mitch deadpanned. ¡°I need a cigarette, then I¡¯m gonna go. You want a smoke?¡± ¡°Nah, but I¡¯ll keep you company.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Mitch allowed, then went about gathering his stuff and exchanging goodbyes with people from the school. He continued to scan the crowd for Avi, but didn¡¯t see him. There was a chance that he was in the bathroom, but Mitch was already carrying his guitar case and he didn¡¯t want to lug it in there to check. Instead, he sought out Jodie to let her know that he was taking off. She beamed while giving him a thumbs up and told him that he did a great job, then she turned to Toby. Her expression turned neutral, but she gave him a slow nod. Toby exchanged it in kind. ¡°Civil,¡± Mitch noted out loud when they got outside, grateful that the rain finally died down. He put the cigarette to his lips and Toby held out a lighter for him. After taking a drag, he eyed his tall not-boyfriend, who appeared humble for the first time in all the years they¡¯d known each other. ¡°Such a gentleman,¡± he teased after exhaling, then made the slow trek to his car with Toby in tow. ¡°Am I passing the test?¡± Toby inquired while Mitch loaded up the trunk. ¡°There¡¯s no test,¡± Mitch half-lied. ¡°I¡¯m dealing with shit. You have to keep respecting that, that¡¯s the test.¡± Toby deflated a little, so Mitch crowded into his bubble and lightly tapped his chest. He hadn¡¯t exactly gone easy on him, he knew this. ¡°But if you need a letter grade, yes, you passed tonight.¡± ¡°What was the grade?¡± Toby crowded back, pressing Mitch¡¯s back against the car. ¡°Well you know the saying ¡®Cs get degrees¡¯?¡± ¡°Oh c¡¯mon, I¡¯m better than a C. I know that I was.¡± ¡°You got a B.¡± Holding the cigarette between his fingers, Mitch went up onto his tiptoes and kissed the side of Toby¡¯s face. ¡°Give me a study guide next time and I¡¯ll get an A,¡± Toby grinned. ¡°I did. You were too busy thinking with your dick.¡± Putting the cigarette back into his mouth, Mitch opened the driver¡¯s side door. ¡°I¡¯m leaving now.¡± fragile and foolish Toby¡¯s reluctance was obvious as he stepped away, as was the restraint that he demonstrated from making further comments about spending the night together. Mitch genuinely appreciated that this didn¡¯t turn into a fight, and once he buckled in, he put his hand on the window and glanced up at Toby with a smile. Toby raised an eyebrow and then emulated the gesture -his long fingers eclipsing Mitch¡¯s- and they shared a small laugh. ¡°Get home safe,¡± Toby said, his voice muffled by the glass, and Mitch nodded before he looked away and shifted the car into reverse. After backing out, Mitch took one last glance at Toby through the rearview mirror and caught a rare glimpse at something authentic that he couldn¡¯t quite find the words for. Toby didn¡¯t exactly do sincerity, that would involve scraping away too many layers of gilding and paint and plaster, all of which was undoubtedly toxic. If the man was a building, it¡¯d be safer to condemn and raze him. But as he stood there in the parking lot of Fighting Spirit and the flood lamps harshly illuminated him, he appeared withdrawn and uncertain, weighed down by the precariousness that hung heavy between them. Nothing about this arrangement felt good. Better than it¡¯d been in the past? Sure, undoubtedly. Then again, when was hard labor actually pleasant? It wasn¡¯t. But it¡¯d been a decade, and here they were, back at it again. They deserved one another, Mitch reckoned, because no one else should have to deal with either of them. If he had to guess, Toby probably came to the conclusion a while back, and that¡¯s why he invested effort in this go-round. He lit another cigarette, cracked the window, and tapped ash from his butt. The chilled air was refreshing against his sweaty scalp and flushed skin. For the first time in nearly a year, he was somewhat centered. Too often, he spent his days feeling more dead than alive; it wasn¡¯t a case of being actively suicidal, he was just indifferent towards existing. Though he never deliberately hurt himself, he¡¯d sometimes daydream about a bus or a train hitting and instantly killing him. He didn¡¯t disclose these morbid thoughts to anyone, neither Ann nor Jodie, because he considered them intrusive but harmless. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. A conversation from years back resurfaced, after he overdosed and spent a few nights in the hospital to recover. While Basil was visiting, he made some quip about Mitch being the only queer in their age group that he¡¯d ever met without self-harm scars all over his arms. They both concluded that life itself was trying to take him out, so there was no need to do it himself. But like a cockroach, he kept surviving. Did cockroaches ever think about death, Mitch wondered. The resilience must get exhausting at some point. But there were always reasons to hold on, at least for him. He enjoyed this quiet night drive while coasting off of the buzz from performing. In the face of adversity and temptation, he successfully managed to stick to his guns, and he dared to be a little proud of his own efforts. Emboldened by cautious optimism, Mitch made another decision: come New Year¡¯s Day, he¡¯d have a definitive answer about Toby. If he still wasn¡¯t entirely comfortable by then, he¡¯d call it off for good. But if progress continued to trend positively, they¡¯d pass the ¡°yet¡± threshold. Six weeks was plenty of time to make that assessment. He couldn¡¯t share this with Toby, or else there might be a grand gesture of effort before the date, only to be tapered off soon after it passed. It had to be organic, and Toby had to genuinely want to be with him instead of treating their time together as if it were a game. Warmth blossomed in his chest, not over Toby and wherever that route may lead, but due to the fact that he was taking steps to prioritize his mental and emotional wellbeing for the first time in his life. If he could keep up this momentum, he could potentially enter his 30s as a functional adult. Healthy. Healed. Happy. Each and every of those notions -these concepts and affirmations that he delicately cradled and fostered, gave life and warmth and love to- crashed onto the ground when he pulled up to the curb outside of Jodie¡¯s house. On the front porch sat Avi, and who could tell how long he¡¯d been out there in this weather. Mitch¡¯s breath caught in his throat when Avi¡¯s head lifted and they made eye contact. He was back to being small and helpless. Fragile and foolish. Why the fuck didn¡¯t he just go back with Toby? And then something inside of him snapped. Mitch took his time getting the guitar out from the trunk, while also pretending to look at his phone. His heart raced a mile a minute, and he schemed about more ways that he could stall. Then again, It was just Avi, and they were friends. Nothing about this should be complicated. All Mitch had to do was slip him and retreat into the safety of Jodie¡¯s room, and he might not completely fall apart. He crossed the front yard and counted every step along the way. The wet earth squelched loudly beneath his feet, and oh how he wished that it¡¯d swallow him up like quicksand. Occasionally, he glanced up to look at Avi, whose eyes never left him. The usual smile that he greeted Mitch with was absent; instead, his shoulders were slumped and his stare was solemn, unsettling Mitch even further. Though the porchlight behind him had a soft tone, casting a warm halo that outlined Avi¡¯s body, the streetlights nearby caused a sharp contrast, creating sharp lines and inky shadows on his face that made it impossible to read, giving Mitch nothing to work with. The entire atmosphere grew denser with each passing moment, like a storm on the horizon, green and sickly and promising danger. ¡°Hi,¡± Mitch grunted when he set a foot on the old wooden steps, then momentarily paused; yet again, he was suspended between yearning to be acknowledged while simultaneously being back to not wanting to exist. But Avi didn¡¯t respond, so Mitch brute forced his frozen limbs into functioning and took another step towards the porch, forcing the wood to groan. He needed to be away. Far, far away. ¡°Mitch,¡± Avi¡¯s voice came from behind him, and Mitch stopped. ¡°Yeah?¡± Mitch pivoted slightly, enough to indicate that he was listening, but not so much that he could see Avi. ¡°Why¡­why was everyone there?¡± Avi asked, his voice brittle. ¡°Why wasn¡¯t it OK for me to be there, but it was fine for everyone else?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t invite them,¡± Mitch answered honestly, hoping that this was it. ¡°Jo must¡¯ve.¡± ¡°OK but. We¡¯re friends, right?¡± ¡°Last I checked.¡± ¡°Then what-¡± Avi huffed. ¡°Why have you been acting like you can¡¯t stand me? Why don¡¯t you talk to me anymore? You barely answer my texts, you look right past me when we¡¯re in the same room¡­¡± Mitch blinked a few times, paralyzed in his spot. He heard shifting around, pebbles crunching under shoes, then could feel Avi inches away from his back. ¡°I told you,¡± he kept his tone even so that his voice didn¡¯t crack, ¡°I¡¯m going through a lot right now. And I really need space.¡± ¡°It¡¯s more than that!¡± Avi accused him, making Mitch¡¯s nostrils flare in agitation. And then something inside of him snapped. His teeth gnashed and his eyes went wide enough that he felt the lids stretch far enough apart that they may tear at the corners. One hand ran down his face, while the other grasped the handle of the guitar case so hard that his nails dug into his palm. Was this all a practical joke? Did someone put Avi up to this? Were camera operators about to pop out from the bushes and tell him that this was all for a stupid show on Netflix? While he hurried to come up with an answer that didn¡¯t involve him disemboweling himself, Avi continued. ¡°You¡¯re not like this with anyone else, and it sucks that you can¡¯t just talk to me and tell me what I did. Instead you just¡­ignore me? That hurts, man. What kind of friend are you? I thought you were better than this.¡±
Finally, Mitch spun around. He dropped the guitar case, ignoring how the strings inside of it cried with a pathetic clang. Then he spat out, ¡°What the literal fuck do you know?¡± Stepping down, he got closer to Avi so that they were face to face, his hands outstretched and clutching the air in front of him as rage caused his body to quake. ¡°Do you have a single idea what these last few months have been for me? Or this last year? I¡¯m barely holding it together, and-¡± He took a deep breath, cycling through other things that he could add to this tirade and make a definitive point. But all he focused on were the things that either weren¡¯t allowed to have shed light on them. No one commended him for trying to do the right thing in this situation, which was to get over his feelings. The march forward had been brutal, his soles totally worn through and the skin of his feet raw and bleeding. He couldn¡¯t very well declare his love for the condensed ball of sunshine that constantly tested him, especially right in that moment. He couldn¡¯t break down and cry like he¡¯d done so many times, wondering why this man had such a grip on him and why he was utterly incapable of diminishing these flames that did nothing other than consume and consume and consume, despite all of the effort. Because whenever Mitch tried to pull away, Avi wouldn¡¯t allow for it, and it drove him insane. The audacity to suggest that he¡¯s a bad friend. Fuck that. A bad friend wouldn¡¯t have invested all of the hours and effort that Mitch has to put aside their feelings. A good friend recognizes when they can¡¯t get what they want, and though that doesn¡¯t impact the love itself, it means to drop the pursuit. He didn¡¯t even talk about it, didn¡¯t burden anyone else, just carried it inside all of the time and pretended that nothing was wrong and pretended that it wasn¡¯t killing him. Only to be told that he¡¯s being hurtful. To be called a bad friend. That he isn¡¯t good enough. For what? A guy that he isn¡¯t dating? A guy that he¡¯ll never have a chance with? Toby may give him a lot of grief, but at least Mitch got his dick sucked for putting up with him. So instead, he flipped the script. ¡°But y¡¯know, while I¡¯m trying to put my life back together after everything -and I do mean everything¨C fell apart, it¡¯s very cool that my so-called friend can¡¯t respect that I need some goddamn breathing room.¡± Bingo. Avi¡¯s face dropped and he sharply inhaled, all jagged and stuttered. Caught off guard by this reaction, the edges of Mitch¡¯s voice dulled ever-so-slightly, but still had teeth. ¡°I can¡¯t live up to your impossible standards, Avi, whatever they are. Not now, not as a friend. If you have needs, then you should get in touch with your girlfriend.¡± If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. That last line made its way out of his mouth before he had the opportunity to run it through a filter. What he said dawned on him much too late, all of the terrible implications that he carelessly tossed into the open like that. In a blink-and-you¡¯ll-miss-it instance, Avi¡¯s face shifted, but Mitch caught it. He saw the way that Avi straightened up momentarily, head rock backwards ever so slightly, his nose scrunched then his brows lifted in surprise. Though Mitch couldn¡¯t transcribe what it meant, the signal was obvious enough: he crossed a line by dragging into this Charlie, and he didn¡¯t even have the balls to use her name. He never had that specific look tossed his way, but he¡¯s had similar looks directed at him in the past. Naturally, his brain went into overdrive to remember each instance that it happened so that he could find a match. Louis did it a few years back at the bar, after Mitch drunkenly propositioned him. Hell, Nate also did something similar not too far back, right around Mitch¡¯s birthday, just after Calvin cheated on him. Further and further it went, until his blood went cold and a memory resurfaced that he¡¯d rather have stayed in storage.
It¡¯s a humid July night, and Mitch is 15 years old. He¡¯ll be a Sophmore in September, and he¡¯s hanging out with Dylan St. Germain, who will be entering college as a Freshman. Dylan is the younger brother of Mitch¡¯s English tutor, and they¡¯ve been friends for the last three years. In that time, Dylan has introduced Mitch to what are now all of his favorite bands, and even taught him how to play the guitar. Sometimes Mitch gets distracted during lessons, like when Dylan touches his arm or repositions his hands on the frets or ruffles his hair after he nails a particularly difficult transition. They¡¯re hanging out on Dylan¡¯s back deck, sitting together on a wicker sofa and drinking from old Smirnoff Ice bottles that they found in the garage fridge. Dylan¡¯s parents are away for the weekend, and all of his recently graduated friends came over earlier and are now passed out on various surfaces of the house. But the two of them are still awake, and after Dylan gripes about the mess, Mitch promises that he¡¯ll help him clean up in the morning. He hopes the morning never comes, but he knows that inevitably it will. Dylan throws his head back and lets out an overtired laugh (the kind that can only exist after 2am) and says ¡°I¡¯m gonna miss you, y¡¯know?¡±. And Mitch¡¯s 15 year old heart -the one that¡¯s been surgically repaired and that he has to take medication for- hammers hard enough that he¡¯s sure it¡¯ll wake up everyone inside. He tries not to openly stare at Dylan, which he¡¯s done before in the past and has been lightly teased about, but right now he¡¯s buzzed and not fully in control of his facilities. Lolling his head against the back of the sofa, Dylan then stares back at him with a playful grin and dimples on full display, and Mitch is sure that he¡¯s going to die. There¡¯s so much he wants to say, because ¡°I¡¯ll miss you, too¡± doesn¡¯t seem adequate to sum up his very intense and very confusing emotions. He struggles to force something out of his throat, anything to convey the depths of his feelings, but before he¡¯s able to, Dylan lets out a little ¡®heh¡¯, then leans in and kisses him. It¡¯s right on the mouth, something that Mitch has spent these last three years fantasizing about, when he should have been thinking about girls but all he can think about is Dylan. He¡¯s never been kissed before, and he doesn¡¯t know why it¡¯s happening or what he did to deserve it, but he wonders if Dylan can read his mind. Thing is, Mitch also doesn¡¯t know anything about kissing other than what he¡¯s seen in movies and on TV, so he makes a rookie mistake and opens his mouth to get some tongue action, and that prompts Dylan to pull away. And he¡¯s got this look on his face. It¡¯s something that Mitch has never seen in his life, but he¡¯s a little drunk and trying to process what it could mean. It goes by in a flash, not quite disgust or anger, but definitely surprise. Something that communicates ¡°no¡± or ¡°that¡¯s too far¡±, then turns to a sympathetic smile. Dylan ruffles his hair affectionately like he¡¯s done so many times in the past, then readjusts and sits up straight. The look haunts Mitch for years, that split second which lasted a lifetime. Later, he figures out that it means: ¡°No, I¡¯m not like that, I¡¯m not like you. Sorry if I ever led you to believe that I am.¡±
Being 15 years old was something that Mitch would rather never experience again, but there he was, almost 30 and still somehow a confused teenager on a friend¡¯s porch. And Avi wasn¡¯t Dylan, but at that moment he may as well be. The faces and the expressions didn¡¯t match up perfectly, but maybe these things varied from person to person. All that Mitch knew is that he hadn¡¯t asked to be dragged into situations that were beyond his control, but they kept happening. He¡¯d be fine with loving someone from a distance without any chance of reciprocation, but why did they have to kiss or touch him, and send him into these terrible tailspins that he couldn¡¯t escape from? Why did they have to give him the faintest glimmer of hope, only to snuff it out so cruelly? Mitch didn¡¯t want to be 15 anymore. He whipped back around to retreat indoors so that an end could be put to this, grabbing his guitar case along the way. But before he reached the door, Avi meekly asked, ¡°Why did you pick that song?¡± ¡°Be more specific, I played a few songs,¡± Mitch deadpanned, trying to come across as indifferent, though he knew exactly what Avi was referring to. They were no longer facing each other, but he heard the way that Avi swallowed. ¡°My theme song. Why?¡± Were there ever a good moment for the earth to open up and consume him, it was then. He wondered when those rides into space would be available for the average person, and what the cost would be for the option to get launched directly into the sun. ¡°If you didn¡¯t want me there.¡± ¡°Which one¡¯s your theme?¡± Mitch lied, his hands shaking with such force that he almost dropped the case for a second time. The temptation to look at Avi was overwhelming, but if he did, he¡¯d be caught, tried, and executed. He knew the song. He watched plenty of Avi¡¯s matches before they were roommates, and countless more of them he moved in. He¡¯d wanted to ask him why he used ¡®crushcrushcrush¡® specifically, but never found the courage to do so. It was a stupid song, and an even stupider move to perform it. Maybe he finally wanted to get caught, tired of carrying this weight. And then, amongst the turbulence and the gale winds and the warning sirens, a moment of clarity shone through: why not finally confess and get it out of his system, instead of letting this eat him alive? What was the worst case scenario, that Avi not want to be under the same roof as some junkie faggot that fell in love with him? His mouth hung open, and the words were ready to spring away from the tip of his tongue, ready to go scorched earth. But then Avi sighed, and responded with a defeated, ¡°Nevermind. Sorry. I¡¯m sorry, Mitch.¡± Mitch stood there dazed. There was something meant to fit in that gap, perhaps further accusations or more biting words. Instead, he couldn¡¯t help but feel as if a punch had been pulled, and now the puzzle remained incomplete. He¡¯d rather that Avi hit him or try to get a final word in rather than contend with the disappointment brought on by Avi¡¯s solemn resignation. Maybe he assessed that Mitch couldn¡¯t handle being dragged any further across the pavement, or that he was so pitiful that it wasn¡¯t worth finishing a fight with him. Why not just deliver the killing blow? ¡°OK,¡± Mitch numbly uttered. Aside from the hum from the nearby telephone wires, the silence that overtook them was deafening, and it made Mitch¡¯s skull throb. His skin went clammy, and he wanted to vomit. ¡°Well. Goodnight,¡± he said, desperate to crawl into bed and never leave it. ¡°Night,¡± Avi replied, strangled and barely above a whisper. It took everything for Mitch to not turn around; instead he pushed past the front door and went inside, leaving Avi behind on the porch. no gratification earned Unsurprisingly, Mitch didn¡¯t sleep much that night. He came close to telling Jodie about what happened with Avi, but refrained because she was so elated by how well everything went at Fighting Spirit. A compliment was even paid to Toby, and he couldn¡¯t go and put a damper on her mood after that monumental feat. Instead, he stayed quiet while she lavished praise and laid out more ideas; eventually she got the hint that he wasn¡¯t all there, and left him alone after planting a kiss on the forehead. God, he appreciated her so much. But once the light turned off and she stopped trying to engage him, Mitch was left alone with his thoughts. There¡¯d been no gratification earned from losing it at Avi. Even if the accusations stung, they weren¡¯t unwarranted. Could they have been presented in a gentler, more tactful way? Sure. But in Mitch¡¯s pursuit of ridding his feelings to preserve their friendship, he hadn¡¯t been a good friend, and that irony wasn¡¯t lost on him. All that Avi had ever done was offer his assistance, and Mitch effectively slapped him away. The guy had every right to be upset. Maybe not having an outlet for his aggression impacted Mitch a lot more than he realized. He¡¯d used wrestling as a way to express himself in the ugliest ways imaginable, the yelling and the violence and the general spectacle of it all. When asked about Zevon, Mitch always insisted that he was a character and nothing more, certainly not himself ¡°turned up to 11¡±, not like how other wrestlers portrayed their characters. But then again, maybe that¡¯s exactly who Zevon was, and Mitch just didn¡¯t want to embrace this. At least Zevon was loyal and devoted to his friends, even if he was crude and offputting and sadistic to everyone else around. Zevon understood something fundamental that Mitch didn¡¯t, even though they shared the same body, and it drove him mad. He wanted to tap back into that, and maybe then he¡¯d finally know what to do about Avi. Maybe it really was time to be upfront. He could preface it with a few disclaimers, say that he didn¡¯t expect anything in return and if Avi was uncomfortable, he could move out. Either the lakehouse or Louis¡¯ couch were available for him to stay at, and wrestling wasn¡¯t his career, so he had options to start everything over. But putting Avi through this grief wasn¡¯t one of them. Not anymore. Outside was still pitch black when he decided to get out of bed, but he couldn¡¯t stay still for another second. He threw on the first top that his hands landed on -an unfortunate gag crop top that Jodie bought for him years ago- and didn¡¯t bother putting anything over his underwear when he couldn¡¯t locate pants in the dark. Whatever, he was dressed enough. He descended the stairs and strode towards the kitchen, but froze in its doorway when he saw Avi already in there and at the counter. Shirtless as well, because why wouldn¡¯t he be? Why not make this more of a challenge than it already was? The only thing that could make this scene worse would be if Avi wore the hoodie that he stole from Mitch back at Graveyard Smash. He¡¯d worn it nearly every day since, and stretched it out so much that it was unrecognizable at this point. Mitch¡¯s brain always failed to register when he had it on until he was out of the room and long gone, but there wasn¡¯t any point in asking for it back, he had enough hoodies to choose from that he didn¡¯t need to hold onto a nondescript black one. Avi turned his head towards him, then it ducked. ¡°Oh, hey,¡± he spoke quietly. ¡°Hi,¡± Mitch acknowledged. Holding up a mug, Avi offered some coffee that he just made, which Mitch accepted. They stood across the kitchen from one another, the awkwardness was so palpable that Mitch couldn¡¯t stand it. These early hours of the morning were about to be the only witness to something that typically only the later parts of the night were privy to, because not once had a single soul spilled their guts at sunrise. But if nothing else, sleep deprivation made him brave. Mitch cleared his throat. ¡°Hey, can we talk?¡± he asked, and Avi¡¯s face dropped. ¡°Wait, before that-¡± Avi countered. ¡°Can I say something first?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Mitch nodded, and fought off the urge to put up a protest, considering that he just psyched himself up and feared losing the momentum. ¡°Mitch, I¡¯m¡­¡± Avi trailed off, then found his footing again. ¡°I¡¯m really sorry.¡± The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Come again?¡± Mitch¡¯s nose wrinkled in confusion. ¡°About?¡± ¡°I thought about what you said earlier, and I¡¯ve been really awful about listening to you, and being mindful. And then I¡­I accused you of, iunno, not being forthcoming when you already opened up about struggling with mental health? It was extremely fucked of me to come at you like that.¡± ¡°Avi, it¡¯s- it¡¯s fine,¡± Mitch¡¯s head swam, completely caught off guard by whatever the hell was going on. The inertia was now at critical risk of dying, and he¡¯d barely gotten out of the station. ¡°No, I wanna explain.¡± Taking a shuddery breath, Avi closed his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve¡­I¡¯ve lost friends over the years, due to various reasons. It¡¯s usually a combination of awful stuff. But the worst was 8 years ago. Are you familiar with Damian Le¨®n?¡± ¡°A little,¡± Mitch lifted his hand and rocked it back and forth. The name rang a bell, and he¡¯d seen it printed somewhere in the school¡¯s lobby, possibly on a match card or engraved under a photograph. ¡°I think Victor trained him a long time ago. He passed away, right?¡± ¡°Right,¡± Avi nodded, and Mitch¡¯s insides turned cold with recognition as to what direction this conversation had turned to. ¡°Damian was my best friend and tag partner for 7 years. He¡¯s actually the reason that I met Victor. We went everywhere together, got signed together. He was closer than family, which I don¡¯t say lightly. But he had his demons, and Mitch, they were so much bigger than him.¡± Pressing the heel of his palm into his eye, Avi paused then sniffled. ¡°They took him from me. Just locked himself in the hotel bathroom while I was out with Charlie one night. Sent me a text saying he loved me and that he was sorry, and he was¡­he was gone by the time I got back. The EMTs couldn¡¯t revive him, he was declared brain dead as soon as he got to the hospital.¡± ¡°Jesus,¡± Mitch hissed. ¡°I took a month off after his funeral, then got right back into it because the grief made me spiral in a way that was unmanageable. It was like I also died, in a way. I didn¡¯t do a great job processing it, still haven¡¯t. But I felt like I had to carry on his legacy and that no one else was allowed to. Dropped out of med school. Hit the road harder than ever before. Gave my all to wrestling.¡± For several minutes, no words were exchanged. It was the most that Avi had ever opened up about himself; if this was the kind of stuff that he carried day-to-day, Mitch now understood why he was so reserved about his past and his personal life, preferring to live in the moment. An eternity came and went before Avi continued, his tone so fragile that by daring to speak it may shatter. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault, and maybe I didn¡¯t even know this was a thing until I sat down and thought about it, but I get scared. Terrified. Like I didn¡¯t do enough to help Damian or anyone else pull through it?¡± ¡°I can see that. I¡¯ve lost a few people in the music scene.¡± Mitch let out a small laugh. ¡°I was almost one of them.¡± Avi¡¯s head shot up with watery eyes, and Mitch flinched. ¡°Shit. That was bad timing. Sorry.¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s cool,¡± Avi smiled sadly. ¡°But anyway, I think I panicked and tried to overcompensate, and I ended up being insufferable and smothering. Sometimes you just¡­don¡¯t take this in a weird way, but you remind me of him a little. Not that I¡¯m trying to use you to replace him, but- ¡°It¡¯s fine, you¡¯re fine,¡± Mitch assured. ¡°And I¡¯m so sorry, man. I need to do better. I really want you to know that I care so much about you, and I am here. Always. Anytime. I mean that.¡± At this point, Mitch resigned to the fact that there¡¯d be no confession, and that this wasn¡¯t about him anymore. Can¡¯t very well tell a person that you¡¯re in love with them after they just compared you to their deceased best friend. ¡°Well, for starters, I¡¯m incredibly touched that you¡¯re so concerned about my well-being.¡± Avi¡¯s shoulders dropped a little when Mitch said that, as though a weight had been taken from him. ¡°And I¡¯m sorry that I¡¯ve been like this. For whatever it¡¯s worth, I don¡¯t care for it, either.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t even imagine,¡± Avi lamented. ¡°And, you kept asking if you did something,¡± Mitch continued. Memories from Graveyard Smash resurfaced, the sensation of Avi¡¯s hand on his thigh, the arm around his waist, the glazed look of admiration. Being pulled in close¡­ Mitch shoved that all away, because he couldn¡¯t keep clutching like this. It meant nothing, and he needed to drop it for good. ¡°You didn¡¯t, OK? You¡¯re a great friend. I¡¯m sorry that I alluded to you being anything less than that, you¡¯ve been nothing but a blessing.¡± ¡°It¡¯s OK,¡± Avi wiped his eyes while Mitch took the first sip of his coffee, which had gone cold. ¡°So, are we cool then?¡± ¡°Yeah, of course,¡± Mitch answered, then fully expected Avi to go about his business now that they air cleared. But he just stood there, almost as if he was waiting for something else. ¡°Uh, you wanna shake on it?¡± Mitch tried to joke. ¡°I mean, that or,¡± Avi stretched his arms out slightly with a bashful grin. ¡°Bring ¡®er in?¡± ¡°Oh!¡± Mitch blinked. Of course he wanted a hug when Mitch was barely decent; sure, at least he was wearing a top, he was fairly certain it was the one with BLOWJOB QUEEN printed across the chest. Nevertheless, he obliged and met Avi in the halfway point, thinking about shit like corpse flowers and beached whale carcasses to not focus on the way their bare skin touched at the waist and hips. Unsure what to do with his hands since Avi was fixed firmly around his midsection, Mitch gingerly patted the top of his head and resisted sinking his fingers into the soft waves of his hair. Avi clung to him so tightly that Mitch swore his spine would be better aligned by the time he was eventually released. So an agreement was forged: Avi would no longer harass Mitch about the state he was in, but Mitch assured that if he was in over his head and needed something -anything at all- he would let Avi know instead of going at it alone. They parted, and though a small part of Mitch was relieved that his feelings stayed unearthed for another day, he had also been looking forward to no longer harboring this secret. concerete plans For the first time in years, Mitch didn¡¯t have concrete plans for Thanksgiving, which thrilled him. He had little attachment to the holiday as it was, but being forced to dress up and drive into Manhattan to eat with Calvin¡¯s parents and watch football wasn¡¯t his idea of a good time. Or worse, when they¡¯d go to the Hamptons to visit Calvin¡¯s grandparents, where they subjected him to thinly veiled barbs about everything, from their relationship to his class status. Before Calvin, he used to spend the long weekend with his uncle and aunt; neither celebrated, but each year they took a trip to Montreal and either stayed at a ski resort or with Marie¡¯s parents. They still invited Mitch along every time, and this year was no exception to that. However, he declined, but promised that he¡¯d visit soon. He was still a little too raw, a little too off, to be comfortable with their gentle questions and concerns about his life. But it wasn¡¯t long before he was handed two options, which he attempted to reconcile at the last possible second. The first was to spend the day with Jodie, since she went all out with providing a feast for those that didn¡¯t have anyone to share a meal with. Considering her background, she wasn¡¯t fond of Thanksgiving either, but since she started Monster Mash and accumulated all types of the vagabonds without families of their own, she was compelled to take action. Normally she held a buffet style dinner at the school, then set up a multitude of board games to play as well as a projector to watch movies. Sometimes enough people brought sleeping bags and air mattresses, turning it into a huge slumber party, and in the morning they¡¯d all hit up the diner across the street for breakfast. But the school¡¯s heater went out a few days beforehand, and needed to be repaired. Since a technician wasn¡¯t available until the Monday after the holiday to work on it, Jodie went back and forth between hosting it at the house or at the brewery; ultimately, she didn¡¯t want to risk serving food without a license and get in trouble. Could they fit around 20 people into a duplex? According to her, they were going to find out. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. His other option was to spend the day with Toby, who spent the day alone after cutting ties with his family in Indiana. Toby¡¯s plan was to gorge on sushi in Cambridge, ¡°like old times¡±. Naturally, he wanted Mitch to be his date, and even went so far as to look up places with vegan offerings. Mitch insisted that it didn¡¯t have to be vegan, but Toby was persistent. What Mitch actually wanted to do was take a trip to the ocean when no one else was around, let the salty air deep into his pores and lungs, and be reminded that life was so much bigger than him and his problems. He also very much needed to confront his fears before they consumed him altogether, because recently he¡¯d been plagued with reoccurring nightmares about drowning, which caused him to wake up in a cold sweat. It¡¯s been almost 15 years since he last experienced this, and he wasn¡¯t a fan (nor was Jodie, who he¡¯d woken up several times during these throes). However, Thursday¡¯s temperature was predicted to be in the single digits, so regardless he¡¯d have to put it off for a day or two. Then again, he already re-arranged his current plans, so what was one more? Originally, he was set to train all weekend after being cleared to return to the ring, but with the school temporarily shut down, that opportunity shut down along with it. So a short Cape trip felt right, even with the frigid weather, but the expectations that others had for him needed to be addressed first. Armed with a list of reasons, he asked Jodie if Toby could join them: Toby didn¡¯t have family to spend the day with so he met that qualification, and he and Jodie managed to co-exist the other night without everything descending into pandemonium. For good measure, Mitch bluffed about his intention to spend the day with Toby, and hinted that this was the only way she could ensure that he was also present for Thanksgiving dinner. Jodie threw her arms up and called him a ¡°fucking bastard¡±, then negotiated with terms of her own: not only would would he help her cook the entire day beforehand, but he was going to be in charge of the dishwasher on Thanksgiving. He agreed to this, and they shook on it. Toby was a much easier sell. All Mitch had to do was tell him that he¡¯d spend the night at his place if he went with this. Without even the slightest reservation, Toby said that he was in. freakshow
As Mitch baked and Jodie read the final guest list aloud to make sure she got her count correct, Avi came into the kitchen with his carry on bag. He commented on how wonderful it smelled, then wished them both a happy holiday with about as much enthusiasm as a person about to travel on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving could possibly give. ¡°Have a safe flight,¡± Mitch looked up and gave him a little wave. ¡°¡­Wil, Gia¡­Toby,¡± Jodie growled at the last name, and Mitch winced. She then put down the piece of paper, got up from her seat, and pulled Avi into a hug. ¡°Aw, I wish you could stay. Why can¡¯t Charlie come out here? We can make vegan stuff for you. Mitch, help me bully him into staying.¡± ¡°Jo¡­¡± Trailing off, Mitch shook his head the turned his attention back to the stove. ¡°Oh, if I don¡¯t spend time with Charlie¡¯s family during Thanksgiving, I¡¯m a dead man,¡± Avi chuckled. ¡°But thanks. I¡¯ll miss you both.¡± He got free of Jodie¡¯s grasp and squeezed Mitch¡¯s shoulder on the way out. Once he was gone, the house was terribly empty without his presence. Weekends in general were devoid of Avi since he was usually booked somewhere across the country, but this was different. He¡¯d become part of the fold, absorbed into their weird family, and to not have him at the table with the rest of them sucked, frankly. ¡°Is it me, or was he upstairs all day?¡± asked Jodie, and Mitch shrugged. ¡°Dunno. I don¡¯t pay attention to his comings and goings,¡± he lied, and Jodie snorted at him. ¡°Yeah, OK,¡± she muttered. ¡°You think he would have come down to hang out. Wonder if he hates his in-laws or something and has to prepare himself for that.¡± Mitch stayed silent and filled a piecrust with pumpkin puree, trying to think about anything other than Avi getting on a plane to see his perfect girlfriend and her presumably perfect family. His insides twisted, and he raked himself over the coals for being a petulant child about an American taking part in an American tradition instead of hanging out with the freakshow (affectionate). Besides, everything was bound to be less complicated with him gone. Ever since Toby met Avi, Toby turned around and prodded Mitch with ceaseless inquiries, which grated his nerves. Mitch made best attempts to deflect, but Toby was a bloodhound once he caught whiff of something of intrigue. The end result was a wretched balancing act where both of them pretended to be just naive enough as a way to outfox the other. Eventually, one of them was bound to end up in a snare. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. He slammed the pie tin down onto the counter several times with much more force than necessary as he tried to get the bubbles out of the batter, which sent bits of pumpkin splattering here and there. The hard date flashed into his mind, and he wondered if he could even make it to the end of December before this was destined to fail yet again. Yes, Toby had gotten better at being a partner, but that wasn¡¯t saying much when he was still very much Toby. Still sought shortcuts, still was low risk but high reward with regards to personal gains. Everything was on track to a promising future until this shit. And maybe this entire situation wasn¡¯t fair to Toby, but Mitch became a broken record about boundaries and how they weren¡¯t together; aside from shielding Avi¡¯s privacy, Mitch stayed as transparent as he possibly could. If Toby continued to push, the only thing that he would achieve was shaving time off of Mitch¡¯s decision, and it would not be in Toby''s favor.
It was quarter to midnight when Mitch and Jodie wrapped up in the kitchen. Mitch untied his apron and slung it over the back of a chair, then he migrated to the livingroom and collapsed onto the sofa while Jodie sunk into the recliner and kicked her legs up. Half-asleep, Mitch¡¯s gaze drifted from Jodie to the framed Suspiria poster above her head, and he huffed out a small laugh. Nothing promoted themes such as ¡°warmth¡± and ¡°togetherness¡± and ¡°love¡± than a gorehound¡¯s rancid decor choices. At least she¡¯d taken down the creepy Suehiro Mauro fetish print for the time being, to the relief of both him and Avi. They¡¯d griped to one another about the bad vibes that emanated from the artwork on several occasions. Sometimes Mia stuck googly eyes onto the distorted faces, which didn¡¯t make it much better. ¡°Let¡¯s just buy everything next year,¡± she groaned. ¡°This is way too much. My knee¡¯s too messed up to be standing for that long.¡± She massaged it and whined in pain. Years passed since she¡¯d been injured during roller derby, but it still plagued her to the day despite her efforts to downplay the severity. ¡°Wasn¡¯t this supposed to be a potluck?¡± Mitch asked as he stretched out. ¡°No, but it should be. Nora¡¯s taking care of the turkey, thank GOD. Twenty people! Am I insane?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Mitch answered smugly, and if looks could kill he¡¯d be a dead man. Jodie held up a pillow to whip it at his head, but lowered it and looked towards the window that faced the driveway. ¡°Mia¡¯s home early,¡± she remarked. ¡°Bar probably closes early on the night before a holiday?¡± Mitch shrugged and grabbed the TV remote from off of the coffee table. As he nestled under a throw blanket and flipped through the channels, he thought out loud. ¡°Survivor Series used to take place on Thanksgiving. Why doesn¡¯t Monster Mash do anything like that?¡± ¡°Dad¡¯s actually brought this up before. It¡¯s too close to Graveyard Smash and Krampusnacht, though.¡± That made sense. Unfortunately, both events were too important to the promotion to forgo. ¡°Y¡¯know, he actually worked a few of them, back in the day.¡± ¡°Huh.¡± Settling on Nova, he half paid attention to the special airing about a family of peregrine falcons. He¡¯d have to ask Victor about his experiences in The Fed later; although after enough drinks, they were bound to come up anyway. The front door opened and cold air rushed in, which Mitch responded to by burrowing further. He pulled the vape pen out of his pocket and turned it on for Mia, fully anticipating some wild stories about regular patrons that she dealt with. But it wasn¡¯t Mia that greeted them; under absolutely no circumstances did Mitch expect the person walking in to be Avi. invasive species ¡°Hey guys,¡± Avi greeted in a shaky voice as he unbuttoned his jacket. ¡°Wait, what happened?¡± Jodie launched out of the recliner and met him in the hall. After he shrugged the coat off, she snatched it away and hung it up on the coat rack. With a heavy exhale, he dropped his luggage onto the bottom step. ¡°Flight was canceled. Couldn¡¯t reschedule to get home in time, so here I am,¡± he answered while unlacing his shoes. Exhaustion oozed out of his voice and body, viscous and pooling onto the hardwood floors below; it was so palpable that without a doubt it¡¯d sink into the grain and eventually warp the lumber. ¡°Were you at Logan this whole time?¡± ¡°Sure was,¡± Avi looked up at her with a weary smile. ¡°Thank goodness for the airport bar.¡± As he sullenly marched towards the living room, Jodie stepped aside for him and traded helpless glances with Mitch. But as Avi drew closer, Mitch¡¯s focus went to him and they locked eyes. Slowly, Mitch drew his legs in and sat up, then leaned over and patted the furthest couch cushion. A flash of relief crossed Avi¡¯s face at the offering, and he took the seat. Mitch tossed the vape to him, and they got high without exchanging words. For a short while Jodie participated, but soon after announced that she had to go to bed due to tomorrow¡¯s schedule. ¡°Don¡¯t stay up too late,¡± she warned Mitch. Once she left, a hush fell over the room. A million questions raced through Mitch¡¯s head, but he couldn¡¯t articulate any of them. He wanted to know if Avi was OK, but that seemed inappropriate to ask. Furthermore, guilt gnawed at him with its jagged teeth for having the audacity to be elated that Avi returned. ¡°Any chance that I could get some of that blanket?¡± Avi requested, and Mitch didn¡¯t hesitate to stretch out the throw and kick half of it towards him. Grabbing the other side, Avi threw it over his lap and melted into the cushions. ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± Mitch spoke up for the first time since Avi arrived. ¡°Shoot.¡± Shutting his eyes, Avi tucked his chin into his chest. ¡°Are you gonna be in trouble for this?¡± Out of every question that Mitch could have asked, he didn¡¯t have the first clue where that one came from, or why it aggressively cut to the front of the line. Generally, he avoided prying when something wasn¡¯t his business, and in this case he really did not want to know. But he¡¯s aware that he must get better with allowing people to share themselves with him. It¡¯s uncomfortable to put someone in that position of being vulnerable, and out of empathy he never wants to intrude. It¡¯s also uncomfortable to be presented with such information, because then it needed to be tended to and protected, like being charged with caring for a still-beating heart. In the past, he¡¯s tucked these precious bits in with his own heart for safekeeping, but too often that¡¯s backfired. Because those things become a part of him as well, absorbing into his system and imprinting onto his cells. Should something happen between him and that other person, it isn¡¯t just his own heart that breaks. He¡¯s left holding onto all of this deeply embedded data that does him no good, which winds around his tender insides like an invasive species and choking out everything that¡¯s native. Sometimes people freely volunteered this information, but Avi did not. Like Mitch, he rarely opened up about facets of his life unless prompted, but Avi was somehow even more evasive about providing details. It made them kindred spirits, Mitch thought, though most people may consider this kind of behavior unusual. But there¡¯s no moral high ground on the topic, at least not in that house: Mitch hadn¡¯t spoken to his mother since his mid-20s, his father was a non-existent entity at best and either in jail or scamming another poor woman at worst, and well over a year had passed since he last saw his uncle and aunt. Then there¡¯s Jodie¡¯s entire situation, and Mia¡¯s father passed away when she was young. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Point was, Avi fit in with the lot of them, and yet he was still an outlier. As far as anyone knew, his family was rather nuclear and intact, with a mother and father, a brother and sister; when he rarely spoke of them, there was fondness and reverence, but then he¡¯d hastily change the topic. One time Jodie pointed out that he never brought up Charlie, and said that she wouldn¡¯t have believed that she existed if they hadn''t met in person. Ever since she brought it up, that didn¡¯t sit comfortably with Mitch. Mitch¡¯s question went unanswered for some time, and he worried that -as he feared- he reached down too far and struck a nerve. Avi¡¯s eyes opened slowly as he stared ahead, but he wasn¡¯t watching the program. His profile transitioned several times, from apprehension to turmoil, and then to resignation. He tilted his head at a glacier¡¯s pace, and stopped when it moved just enough to look over at Mitch. The rims of his eyes were puffed up from irritation, the white of his eyes bloodshot, and Mitch¡¯s chest tightened. Avi responded with a flat ¡°Dunno¡±, then turned back to the TV. Mitch didn¡¯t say anything further, ever wary of trespassing. As he silently fret, the narrator mentioned how falcons became endangered in the 1970s due to pesticide applications. Then the tension cracked when DDT was mentioned by name, which triggered the both of them to immediately shout as though they were famous commentators and this was a wrestling match. Some time after the giggles finally died down, it went quiet again, but at least the mood had lifted as well. Before the program was over, Avi fell asleep, and his gentle snores occasionally overlapped the TV¡¯s already low volume. The dishwasher chimed to signal that it was done, so Mitch got up and returned to the kitchen. He began to unload it so that there¡¯d be one less task for tomorrow, but as he took out a few baking instruments, an idea struck him. Entering ¡®easy vegan desserts¡® into his phone¡¯s browser -adding ¡®best¡® after the first batch of results loaded- he then searched until some kind of brownie popped up that he knew they had all of the ingredients for. He tread carefully to make as little noise as possible, for there was triumph in presenting someone with a finished product that was made specifically for them, versus the humiliation of getting caught in the act of making it. It wasn¡¯t until the brownies were out of the oven and tested for doneness that Mitch so much as entertained the idea of leaving the kitchen, so he sat and idly scrolled, looking for other vegan Thanksgiving recipes. Unfortunately, the bulk of the ingredients they¡¯d bought had already been used up, and every grocery store would already be closed until Friday. He sent a few texts to some of the guests, sending along recipes and asking if they had anything to spare in their pantries. Despite Mitch¡¯s suspicion, the brownies smelled and looked like brownies, and when he bit into a small sample, even tasted like one. Nothing fancy, but acceptable. Hopefully Avi would be fine with mediocrity. He put them into a plastic container and put a sticky note on it that said VEGAN, then set it aside with the other specialty dishes and wandered back to the livingroom. Avi remained asleep, and his glasses were still on his face and edging further down the bridge of his nose. ¡°That can¡¯t be comfortable,¡± Mitch mused, and without forethought he reached down to gingerly removed them, then set them down onto the coffee table. Turning back around, he was about to take his place on the couch once more, but paused to study Avi¡¯s face. He¡¯d never seen him asleep, which was creepy, and he a creep for having that thought. But he could not stop staring, despite knowing better. More than anything, Mitch wanted to sweep the bangs that hung limply over Avi¡¯s forehead, especially the gray hairs at the edges. He adored those small white patches even though Avi made a few passing comments about being self conscious of them. He wanted to run his thumb along the plush part of Avi¡¯s cheeks, feel the long eyelashes against his finger pads. Bump the soft curve of Avi¡¯s nose with his own. Whisper words that burned him up directly into Avi¡¯s mouth- As his thoughts gained traction, Avi¡¯s eyes slowly fluttered opened, and shame swooped in low and knocked Mitch off balance. ¡°I-I-I-¡± he stammered. ¡°Your glasses. I put them on the table,¡± he pointed for full effect. ¡°They were falling off. I¡¯m sorry, I-¡° ¡°Oh,¡± Avi beamed up at him, soft and barely conscious. ¡°Thanks, man.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mention it,¡± Mitch breathed out, then hurried to the other side of the couch but didn¡¯t sit. The snoring resumed before he had the chance to suggest that Avi go to bed. However, Avi was an adult and capable of making his own decisions, so he didn¡¯t worry about it. Instead, he turned off the TV and hit the light switch, then went upstairs. I say a little prayer for you With Jodie scrambling about and making herself impossible to ignore, Mitch begrudgingly elected to get out of bed. He hurried to the bathroom before Avi could barricade himself in there for an hour and a half, doing fuckall, presumably grooming himself. Except his routine took a million years from start to finish, and not even Jodie and her demanding hundred step skin regime took so long. At least the bathroom smelled amazing after he was done in there, even if he left every surface damp and little dark hairs clung to all of the porcelain. It wasn¡¯t his fault that he was half human and half rug, and cleaning every millimeter of space after every shower would add a whole extra hour to the clock. In a house with a single bathroom and four adults, it just wasn¡¯t feasible. After showering, beating off, and thoroughly rinsing, he stepped out of the tub, brushed his teeth, spritzed cologne, and wrapped a towel around his waist. A brand new man to start the day, he mused, in good spirits until he opened the door and came face-to-face with Jodie standing expectantly on the other side. ¡°You ready, big boy?¡± She asked, ambushing him without so much as the courtesy of letting him dress first. ¡°I¡¯m still naked.¡± Grabbing the fold of the towel that rested at his hips, he gave it a forceful shake for further emphasis. ¡°When are people due to come over?¡± ¡°Around noon.¡± She disappeared into the bathroom, and the sound of running water drowned out any further conversation. It struck Mitch that he forgot to shave, and his face preemptively itched at the idea of having a beard by the evening. Oh well, he could handle being in hell for one day. Digging through his limited supply of clean clothes, he found a plain black shirt and a pair of black jeans without holes in the knees, then started on Jodie¡¯s to-do list. One of the more pressing items was finding Estrella and figuring out where to corral her for the day. He checked with Mia first, bumping into her as she was about to head over to the neighboring unit and help out Nora, but she hadn¡¯t seen the cat. For the next half hour he checked all of Estrella¡¯s usual hiding spots, then gave up and asked Avi for assistance. ¡°She might be in my room?¡± Avi suggested. ¡°How?¡± Mitch was in disbelief until Avi led him to his room, where the door was slightly ajar; sure enough, the ragdoll was sprawled out across his comforter. ¡°We¡¯re buddies,¡± Avi grinned and gave Estrella a light scritch near her neck, earning an affectionate trill. It took years for the cat to remain in the same room as Mitch, let alone allow him to touch her, but somehow Avi accomplished this in months. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Jodie¡¯s worried that she¡¯ll be stressed around company. Can she just stay in here for the day?¡± Mitch pleaded after he picked his jaw up off of the floor, and Avi granted permission. They brought up her supplies, litter box and all, and Avi took over getting everything set up so that Mitch could meet back up with Jodie and resume his role as manservant. The remaining few hours were dedicated to final cleaning details, mostly dusting and organizing. Victor swung by with extra folding chairs and card tables that he picked up from the school, arranged them in the kitchen as serving stations. Before he vacated the unit, Jodie cursed loudly from the basement in her search for whatever it was that she needed, and he wished Mitch the best of luck with a sympathetic glance. ¡°Everything is going to be fine,¡± Mitch repeatedly assured Jodie while she panicked about every possible detail. In the meanwhile, Jodie cursed everything from the busted HVAC to God himself, and swore to never do this again in her own house lest she be struck down by lightning. Unable to handle Charlton Heston levels of dramatics when he had his own anxiety to contend with, Mitch paused his work to spark a joint and thumb through his vinyls, settling on Aretha Now. ¡°This better not be a message,¡± Jodie warned when Think crackled through the speakers. ¡°I¡¯d never!¡± Mitch pretended to be scandalized by her accusation. Holding the joint between his lips, he put the apron back on, then resumed dusting and straightening out the numerous knick knacks left over from Rosa. He wiggled about to I Say A Little Prayer, bobbing his head and just barely restraining himself from outright dancing. ¡°Christ, you¡¯re an adorable housewife,¡± Jodie commented as she set a candle down on the coffee table, and Mitch outstretched a hand to her. Though she shook her head, she still took it, and he spun her around. ¡°And while I¡¯m combing my hair now, and wondering what dress to wear now,¡± Mitch sang at her, cracking her up. She quickly surrendered and put her arms around his neck while he led them both in a small waltz around the livingroom. ¡°I say a little prayer for yooou.¡± ¡°You sure you¡¯re not a girl?¡± Jodie teased. ¡°Last I checked, still just a very, very gay man.¡± He planted a kiss on her forehead. ¡°Don¡¯t think that¡¯s gonna change.¡± ¡°Alright, well we got shit to do. Breaktime¡¯s over.¡± ¡°There¡¯s still half of a song left!¡± Mitch protested as she wriggled out of his hold, and still sang along to the chorus despite Jodie walking away, pausing to add, ¡°You¡¯re a bad dance partner.¡± ¡°Light that candle on the coffee table,¡± She called out from the dining room. ¡°Smells like weed in here.¡± He grabbed the torch lighter and continued to shimmy, attempting the falsetto portion of the background singers. ¡°Forever, and ever, we never will part. Oh, how I love you-¡° And then immediately froze when he saw Avi watching him from the doorway. ¡°Are you gonna play that at the next open mic?¡± he asked gleefully, arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the frame. ¡°Oh. Oh no. I¡¯m no Aretha,¡± Mitch answered, suddenly very interested in the task of getting the pumpkin spice candle lit, which took every bit of his focus. ¡°Anything that I can do to help in here?¡± Avi¡¯s eyes were still on him, and Mitch hoped that he wasn¡¯t being silently mocked too harshly. ¡°No. Honestly, it¡¯s probably better if you don¡¯t get in the way. She¡¯s insane right now,¡± Mitch whispered. ¡°I HEARD THAT,¡± shouted Jodie. bite the bullet Around noon, a steady stream of people arrived at the house. While Jodie played host, Mitch took his station in the kitchen and reheated everything that he helped make the day before. Though he granted Jodie full access to his record collection, she declined it because they were ¡°in the 21st century¡±. But the soul music theme which he kicked off earlier kept going, albeit via more modern technology and streaming and algorithms. When a dish was adequately heated up, Mitch deposited the contents into one of the many aluminum pans that were suspended over small chafing burners. He multi-tasked by preparing the appetizers as well, griping, ¡°I need more arms for this.¡± While bouncing from task to task, his phone vibrated repeatedly in his pocket, to the extent that he worried there was an emergency. He stopped to check it, and several messages from Basil were waiting in his notifications. Maybe I should have taken you up on that offer, read one. Doug got here an hour ago and hasn¡¯t stopped with the comments! If Mitch recalled correctly, Doug was Basil¡¯s uncle with fringe interests. A retired cop whose wife left him a decade ago, and no one in the family ever talked about the reason why, but anyone with two braincells could give an educated guess. Mitch heard stories back when he and Basil were roommates, and hoped to never meet the guy. Given the last few years, he¡¯d probably gone from obnoxious to intolerable. Need an ear to lend? Mitch asked. If you can, yeah, Basil responded. As Mitch looked around the room for someone to tag in and keep an eye on the burners while he stepped out, Avi entered his peripheral. ¡°Want a hand?¡± he asked for the third or fourth time that day. Up until then, Mitch rebuffed all of his offers and sent him off to hang out with the rest of the group, but now he was a godsend. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°I do, actually.¡± Mitch enthusiastically waved him over, then gestured to the stove. ¡°Can you watch all of this while I make a call? Just stir the stuff in these pots and make sure the house doesn¡¯t burn down.¡± Naturally, Avi agreed, looking elated to finally be of service. Making a quick retreat to Jodie¡¯s bedroom to escape all of the commotion, he pulled up Basil¡¯s contact info and called. ¡°How goes it?¡± Mitch asked when the other end picked up. ¡°Hold on, lemme just¡­¡± Basil¡¯s voice sounded distant, and after a few seconds of moving around in the background, a door slammed shut and he answered with, ¡°Sorry. Hi. Thanks for calling, I appreciate it. I¡¯m about to blow my brains out.¡± ¡°That good, huh?¡± Mitch responded dryly, and Basil huffed. ¡°Is it ever! My mom asked me to shave my face so that he wouldn¡¯t get riled up, but then he showed up with his thin blue line hoodie. Y¡¯know, the one with the Punisher skull?¡± ¡°Oof.¡± ¡°Yup. Then he called me ¡®Jenna¡¯ at least a dozen times within a minute, and asked if I still lived in-¡± he took a deep breath, ¡°-that Hispanic neighborhood. In that fucking voice. Went on to talk about all of the thugs he¡¯s arrested in that area. No one even asked, he volunteered it.¡± With a lump in his throat, Mitch struggled to articulate his rage on Basil¡¯s behalf. ¡°You can still come over,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll pick you up from the station, or I¡¯ll drive out to Medford and grab you from your parents¡¯ house. Whatever you need, man. You shouldn¡¯t have to put up with that.¡± ¡°Mitch, I can¡¯t. My nana¡¯s dying, this is probably her last Thanksgiving. I gotta bite this bullet on this one,¡± Basil sighed. ¡°Thank you, though.¡± Acid reflux kicked up and burned Mitch¡¯s inside while he wallowed in helplessness. They wished one another the best of luck with their respective situations before hanging up, and Basil promised to get in touch if he needed a getaway car after maiming Doug. A laugh bubbled out of Mitch, albeit against his will, but then Basil laughed along as well. ¡°It¡¯ll be alright,¡± Basil assured. ¡°Ain¡¯t nothing I haven¡¯t dealt with before. Maybe I¡¯ll drop by after, if the couch is still an option to crash on.¡± ¡°If not, we¡¯ll figure out somewhere to put you. You know what Jodie says-¡° ¡°There¡¯s always room at the inn?¡± He heard a small smile in Basil¡¯s voice. ¡°There¡¯s always room at the inn.¡± part of the bargain Mitch stood in the center of Jodie¡¯s room and took a few seconds to decompress. Staring at Velvet Jesus, he counted down from ten to keep himself from taking his frustration out on either an undeserving pillow or a lamp. The best bet was to pull Jodie aside at some point and have her check in with Basil, since she had a knack for persuasion. In the meanwhile, he swallowed his pride and sent his own uncle a message to say that he missed him and hoped to visit soon; he meant it, though he didn¡¯t know when. ¡°Baby steps,¡± he muttered. He didn¡¯t wait for a response, and instead returned downstairs to the kitchen, where Avi stood firm by his post and shared a beer with Victor. Passing Arin on their way to the bathroom, Mitch exchanged pleasantries with them and answered a few questions about his shoulder and the recovery process. Enough time passed for Victor to crack himself up and fill the room with his laughter, then move on to the next person. It allowed Mitch the opportunity to sneak back in and relieve Avi from his duties. ¡°I¡¯ll take it from here,¡± Mitch tapped Avi¡¯s back. His finger made brief contact with the hood of what used to be his hoodie, and he pulled away before making a fuss over it. Turning to face him, Avi shrugged and said, ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t mind.¡± ¡°No, I gotta do it. This was part of the bargain, so.¡± Using slight force, Mitch crowded into Avi¡¯s space and was grateful that he yielded instead of playing the role of the immovable object. He held his hand out and Avi returned the spatula, but not without some hesitation. ¡°Now go away, please. Can¡¯t have too many cooks in the kitchen.¡± ¡°What bargain?¡± Avi tilted his head to the side, but Mitch continued to stare at the burners and pretended that he didn¡¯t hear him; there wasn¡¯t any dignified way to address that situation, Jodie¡¯s rightful contempt and Mitch¡¯s pathetic attempts to reconcile to the past. Instead of repeating the question, Avi changed the subject. ¡°C¡¯mon, I¡¯m an unexpected addition to the guest list. Let me be helpful.¡± ¡°Yeah, but none of this is for you. I¡¯m sorry man,¡± Mitch lamented. ¡°Go hang out with everyone. Enjoy yourself. I¡¯ll be alright. Promise.¡± ¡°I can fend for myself, it¡¯s fine,¡± Avi waved him off. ¡°OK, I just-¡± Mitch frowned as he looked over all of the ingredients that Avi couldn¡¯t eat, with the exception of the vegetable platter that Desiree and her son brought with them; even then, it came packaged with ranch dip, which wasn¡¯t useful, either. Then, as if he¡¯d been struck by lightning, Mitch remembered spotting a can of chickpeas in the cabinet during ingredient inventory. He burst across the room to grab it, nearly wiping out while sliding across the linoleum floor. Stolen story; please report. ¡°Are you possessed?¡± Avi cracked up. ¡°Hummus!¡± Mitch blurted as he gathered up the remaining ingredients. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do that,¡± Avi attempted to stop him, but Mitch was relentless. After spending the last 24 hours assisting Jodie with every American and Caribbean based side dish imaginable, making hummus for this well-meaning vegan himbo was nothing. He had everything that he needed for the recipe, although he¡¯d be scraping the nearly empty jar of tahini butter to make it happen. The food processor whirred to life, and Avi watched on in disbelief. ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t have,¡± he commented softly after the noise died down. Ignoring him, Mitch dipped in a stolen celery stick, then held it in front of Avi¡¯s face. ¡°Tell me if this needs anything,¡± Mitch said, fully anticipating that Avi would take it into his possession, his attention already elsewhere as he prepared to sprint towards the next fire that needed putting out. What he wasn¡¯t prepared for was Avi biting it straight from his fingers like a petting zoo animal. Mitch¡¯s head swiveled slowly and deliberately, and he tried to get a reading on Avi. Because in his throat was the world¡¯s loudest ¡°Hey what the fuck?¡±, and that needed that to stay put. No way in hell was he gonna be responsible for making a scene at a holiday dinner. The only thing he got was a clueless expression and several blinks. Of course Avi didn¡¯t know what he was doing. He never did. He would have stopped by now if he was aware of the effect that he had, Mitch assumed. It also wasn¡¯t unusual. Didn¡¯t mean anything. He fed Louis french fries by hand plenty of times in exchange for sips of his drinks, and not a day went by that Jodie didn¡¯t try to take a bite of whatever he was eating, like the fucking seagull that she was. Did she typically supply the fancy bagels for him? Yes, which to her meant that she was entitled to be an absolute menace. He¡¯d retaliate by drinking from her coffee mug before making his own cup, and annoying her was a boisterous declaration of Ew, gross!, knowing full well that she put too much cream and sugar into it and that he¡¯d hate it. ¡°Perfect as is,¡± Avi announced with a thumbs up, then grasped the celery stick and popped it into his mouth once the damage was done. Several calculations raced through Mitch¡¯s mind as he considered their level of comfort and familiarity with one another. He reckoned that he could probably get away with a little flirting, and not cross any hard lines. At the very least, he should be able to playfully call Avi out without it turning into anything embarrassing. As he willed his wobbly limbs to empty the rest of the hummus into a small serving bowl, Mitch swallowed. His mouth opened, the corners lifted into a small smile, and he almost spoke aloud the sentence ¡°Don¡¯t be a tease, Avi¡±. Almost. But then fingers trailed up his spine, cutting off from any coherent words as he shivered and gasped. ¡°Wow, you¡¯re tense,¡± came Toby¡¯s voice from behind him. Mitch¡¯s entire body went clammy, and suddenly the room was much too hot, the conversations much too loud, the house much too small. He didn¡¯t want to be there. He wanted to be back in the safety of Jodie¡¯s room, under the comforter and hugging Cendre. Selfishly, he wondered if he could use himself as a reason for Basil to escape his situation, and the two could lean on one another to get through this godforsaken holiday. ground rules While reassembling his features into something vaguely normal, Mitch took the bowl of hummus between his hands and held it up towards Toby. ¡°Try this? I made it.¡± ¡°Uh, sure?¡± Toby raised an eyebrow, then reached behind Mitch and grabbed a carrot stick. ¡°It¡¯s really good,¡± Avi chimed in, and Toby¡¯s mask of polite indifference raised at a breakneck pace. ¡°Hi Avi,¡± Toby evenly greeted before he took a bite. ¡°It is good,¡± he conceded with a nod; having to agree with someone that annoyed him must have taken months off of his life, and the dismay was palpable. Then, without warning, he moved in for a kiss. But Mitch caught on in the knick of time and turned his head so that Toby landed on the cheek. Under his breath, he uttered a flat ¡°Oh?¡± Mitch shot a glare at him and mouthed ¡°not here¡±. They¡¯d gone over ground rules beforehand, Toby knew better than to act this way under Jodie¡¯s roof. Needless to say, it was going to be a long afternoon. Regrouping, Mitch turned to ask Avi if he could bring the vegetable platter into the livingroom, but found himself staring at a blank space that seconds ago was occupied by his friend. He looked around the kitchen, but Avi was gone. ¡°Ah.¡± Mitch¡¯s mouth formed a line, and he deflated a little. ¡°Was he your assistant? I can step in,¡± Toby offered, jostling a paper bag that he carried under his arm. ¡°Brought some of the stuff that you asked for.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± Mitch flashed a soft smile, grateful while also ridden with guilt. Of course Toby was the one to rise to the occasion, making Mitch even more of a selfish dickhead given his motives and the circumstances that surrounded them. As he looked through the bag¡¯s contents -an assortment of root vegetables, some squash, and half of a head of cauliflower- his attention fluctuated between the vegetables and Toby. ¡°Hey, there¡¯s a lot going on and I need a little bit of solitude while I get started on this. Can I ask you to go check in with Jodie, if she isn¡¯t busy? Just thank her for hosting, I think she¡¯d appreciate it. I would.¡± The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Toby¡¯s expression dropped for a split second, but he somewhat collected himself. ¡°Alright. I can do that,¡± he nodded, uncertainty heavy on his furrowed brow. It was as though a weight was lifted once Toby wandered away and Mitch stood alone in the kitchen at last. He flipped between recipe options and settled on a handful, then in a mechanical fashion he started to work all over again. Peeling and chopping, rinsing and seasoning, roasting and broiling, fatigue clouded his thoughts and sunk into his bones. While water boiled in a pot, he stared at the steam that curled upwards and zoned out. Thoughts drifted back to Basil, who was subjected to unfathomable mistreatment when he should be among loved ones. It amplified the continued helplessness which plagued Mitch, and an indignant fury seized him by the throat. And all that he could do was feel sorry for himself. Asshole. ¡°Are you OK?¡± Toby¡¯s voice cut through Mitch¡¯s thoughts and yanked him out of his spiral. He wiped his eyes with the back of his arm and kept his face hidden, gesturing to the remnants of an onion that he chopped to indicate why he teared up, if there were lingering questions. ¡°I think I¡¯m about done here,¡± he announced without any fanfare. After setting a timer for the final side dishes, he fumbled with the apron strings and eventually accepted Toby¡¯s assistance with undoing them. ¡°You¡¯re hot in this little getup,¡± Toby commented while he folded up the apron then set it aside. ¡°Black on black might be your look.¡± ¡°I know, right?¡± Mitch acknowledged. While no one was around, he allowed the briefest amount of groping before reminding Toby about their agreement. Toby initially responded by pouting, and then compliance by releasing the firm grasp that he had on Mitch¡¯s ass. ¡°I¡¯m tracing every inch of you with my tongue tonight,¡± was Toby¡¯s parting statement as a heated whisper in Mitch¡¯s ear. Mitch shuddered, then lightly elbowed him in the ribs with a smirk. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you can behave first,¡± he snorted. nothing at best, fatal at worst With the kitchen no longer an active warzone, guests were able to migrate and disperse in there, which helped alleviate the cramping; even with that option, the house was at its limit for occupation. Another downside with hosting at Jodie¡¯s was that everyone else couldn¡¯t swing by after their respective family gatherings to hang out since the space was too small. Jodie played it off as though she wasn¡¯t bothered, but it was undeniable that she missed having the roster around for the holiday. She was particularly glum over Maya¡¯s absence, and made a few comments in passing that were twinged with longing and jealousy. God forbid someone have a healthy relationship with their entire family and be able to celebrate that. Meanwhile, Mitch felt as though he was navigating through a laser field security system in a heist movie, and moved about with the utmost caution. If Toby wasn¡¯t clinging off of him, he constantly lingered in the peripheral. When Avi approached Mitch, without fail Toby crept over soon after with his bad attitude. Hostility simmered below the surface, nearly boiling over when -unprovoked- Toby asked Avi how tall he was ¡°out of curiosity¡±. Mitch retorted by ¡°accidentally¡± driving his heel into the top of Toby¡¯s foot, then sent him into the kitchen to fetch a seltzer. The caveat to Toby¡¯s hovering was Jodie, who he didn¡¯t dare go near. Or at least, that¡¯s how it was initially. Eventually, Toby became brave out of necessity, since he couldn¡¯t very well avoid her in her own home. To Jodie¡¯s credit, she was a good sport and matched his charm and wit; sometimes the two laughed as though years of deep seated animosity hadn¡¯t driven a wedge between them. It¡¯d be foolish to think that this ceasefire would last longer than the few hours that Toby was permitted to stay, but Mitch accepted this tiny miracle and breathed a bit easier over not having to be a referee for the day. And yet, something was still off. He¡¯d convinced himself that he wanted Toby integrated into this part of his life -arguably the most important part- but a sinking sensation continued to overwhelm him the more that he observed. Instead of being thrilled or relieved over this mingling, he became borderline irate and territorial. These were his people, his family. God only knew what Toby embellished out of earshot, or the outright lies that were being shared, and Mitch didn¡¯t want to think about it. At one point, Mitch loved Toby with a ferocity that consumed him the way that fire does tinder. Toby was the only thing that mended his heart after Dylan ripped it out of his chest. He frequently teetered on the edge of throwing his life away for him, and would have abandoned Calvin if Toby just said the word. For years, he was convinced that they were soulmates, and that in the end they would wind up with one another. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. But enough time and distance and therapy sessions came and went, and Mitch at last allowed himself to digest what they were, what this was. Fact of the matter was that it meant nothing at best and was fatal at worst. Toby made him feel like he was the most valuable person alive when it was convenient, only to drop him when Mitch would so much as hint that he needed a crumb of real effort and not just the superficial doting. It fucked with his head, reduced his self-worth to nothing, made him feel as though he couldn¡¯t voice his needs with anyone, lest he be abandoned. They met when he was 19 years old, and in retrospect, how was he supposed to know any better? How was he supposed to handle being told that he was loved by this older man, who promised him the moon and stars, only to repeatedly leave him in the cold vacuum of space? More often than not, Toby¡¯s shuttle was the only one around. It was the sole form of safety that Mitch became conditioned to, even though the risk of being violently ejected from it was constant. How did this go on for so many years, and yet they were never on the same page? Not once? How did the roles become so drastically reversed? When Mitch was the one that couldn¡¯t handle commitment, Toby became obsessed with the idea. He would have killed for this level of devotion in the past, but now that he could have it, it wasn¡¯t appealing in the slightest. Too plastic, too insincere, too many airs. Unsustainable and artificial. This experiment failed, Mitch accepted at last, despite his continued efforts to revive what they once had. The bottom was due to fall out any moment, and someone would get hurt. And though the nasty, vengeful part of his psyche wanted Toby to get his after everything, Mitch couldn¡¯t bring himself to inflict that same kind of cruelty on purpose. While he nursed his seltzer and watched the room from a corner, Wil sidled up to him and they exchanged knowing glances. As two introverts, they often ended up like this together at big gatherings. Sometimes Gianna swung by and tried to pass a drink to Wil, but he reminded her that he was the designated driver and that she should go enjoy herself. Once she left to join up with Avi and Arin, Mitch turned to Wil and quietly asked, ¡°Am I the most fucked up guy alive?¡± ¡°For real?¡± Wil asked, and Mitch nodded. ¡°Maybe in this room.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± Mitch grimaced. Wil offered a sympathetic smile. ¡°C¡¯mon man. We¡¯ve known each other for a while now. I think you¡¯re just going through it. We¡¯re all allowed our moments of madness.¡± He paused, eyes trained over to where Toby and Victor conversed. As if he could tell that he was being watched, Toby looked over to where they stood and winked, and Mitch begrudgingly waved to him. ¡°Your, uh, guy might have you beat, though, if he can¡¯t pick up on what you¡¯re putting down.¡± ¡°You could tell, huh?¡± Mitch rubbed the side of his face. ¡°Mhm,¡± Wil hummed affirmatively, and Mitch sharply inhaled. ¡°Yeah, I gotta deal with that.¡± ¡°Good luck,¡± Wil gave him a hearty pat on the back, then cleared the way for Toby¡¯s return by rejoining his wife. "Youre the absolute worst!" Mitch considered himself to be a man of his word more often than not. So, provided nothing too egregious went down between dinner and dessert, he¡¯d go back with Toby and spend the night. Wouldn¡¯t be the first time that his heart wasn¡¯t in a fuck; probably wouldn¡¯t be the last given the trajectory of the last decade. But within the next 24 hours, he needed to break it off for good. Matters escalated to a fever pitch when he found himself seated between Toby and Avi at dinner. He made multiple attempts at escape by getting up and making sure the allergy-free food was kept separate from everything else, or trying to get a load of dishes done, until Jodie loudly asserted that he needed to sit his ass down. ¡°You already did enough,¡± she chastised, then informed the table that -with the exception of the turkey- Mitch was responsible for everything they were eating. ¡°So if it sucks, blame him.¡± His face flushed and he kept his head down. It was meant to be a compliment, he knew that, but now everyone¡¯s attention was on him when all that he wanted to crawl into a hole and decompose in peace. He hated this stupid holiday with every fiber of his being, but there were so many people around, so he couldn¡¯t react without it turning into a potential scene. Even Avi¡¯s kind words and gratitude about the vegan dishes didn¡¯t help, especially not with Toby simultaneously upping the bullshit by grabbing Mitch¡¯s knee under the table. He jumped in place when contact was made, then pushed his seat back and quietly excused himself. Though it was physically painful to stand outside due to the frigid temperature and strong winds, Mitch needed a smoke so badly that he preferred the biting cold to whatever the fuck was going on inside. He stood on the back deck, trying and failing several times to light the cigarette, then succeeding after he almost burst into tears. But the relief was short lived, and minutes later he was joined by Toby. ¡°Hey can I ask you something?¡± Toby spoke up. Something was in his voice that Mitch couldn¡¯t get a reading on. ¡°Shoot,¡± Mitch mumbled around the filter. ¡°Does Avi have a huge crush on you? Like what¡¯s his deal? I thought you said he wouldn¡¯t be here.¡± Mitch almost choked on the butt, then composed himself. ¡°His flight was canceled. And no, he has a girlfriend. I already told you, he¡¯s very friendly. That¡¯s all it is.¡± The words fell from his mouth, and Mitch became cognizant of what he at last revealed. Somehow, the air dropped several more degrees, rivaling the arctic circle, the depths of the ocean, the vacuum of space, the void itself. ¡°Oh!¡± Toby gasped. ¡°Oh my god, it¡¯s him, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°What, famous independent wrestler Avi Sher? Sure is. You want his autograph? I know the guy, I can probably get you one.¡± Mitch rattled on like he was funny, still trying to smooth this over though he knew it was futile. The jig was up, he¡¯d shown his entire hand. ¡°No, that¡¯s the-¡± Toby slapped his forehead, the noise that it made far more violent and sickening than Mitch had ever heard, including the time his head hit the concrete floor. ¡°That¡¯s the ¡®straight guy¡¯, isn¡¯t it? The one that you-¡° Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Tobes,¡± Mitch warned, but Toby took one step forward, followed by another, crowding into Mitch¡¯s space and forcing him backwards until he was up against the house. ¡°Are you fucking kidding me?!¡± Toby started to shout. ¡°Keep it down,¡± Mitch hissed, his heart racing out of his chest. It occurred to him that his entire life was about to unravel, which was appropriate given the web that he¡¯d woven was haphazardly done. ¡°You¡¯re the absolute worst! You crawl into my bed and climb on my dick because you can¡¯t get your roommate¡¯s?!¡± Hands forcefully shoved Mitch¡¯s shoulders, and he was slammed into the side of the house. The back of his skull collided first and his vision blurred as the cigarette flew out of his mouth. His cheek stung, and it didn¡¯t dawn on him that he¡¯d been slapped in the face until he saw Toby wind up to strike again. The scene was familiar, though vague and hazy. He couldn¡¯t remember any of the details, but this happened before, when both of them were out of their minds and strung out on a multitude of substances. His brain must have fought tooth and nail to bury that one. Is he fucked up right now? Mitch wondered. ¡°You pathetic slut,¡± Toby¡¯s voice barged through the repressed memory, bringing Mitch back to the present. ¡°You needy motherfu-¡° The sentence wasn¡¯t finished and the second blow never came. Before Toby made another move, he was launched onto the lawn, then Avi tackled him at full speed. It happened all within the blink of an eye. For Mitch, time stood still: one of Avi¡¯s fists twisted in Toby¡¯s shirt, while the other was raised in the air, ready to strike; his eyes wide and wild, jaw practically unhinged while spit flew everywhere. Victor and Arin suspended in mid air, defying gravity as they both floated towards the fray. Mitch blinked again, and in the next scene Victor and Arin successfully apprehended Avi before he could swing and get a clean hit. Several other roster members spilled outside as well. Another blink, and Avi was trying to break free, but enough hands finally held him back. He thrashed about like an enraged bull that¡¯d at last been corralled in much too small of a pen, terrifying and powerful. Beautiful in a way as well, like how Goya painted violent scenery. Feeling high, Mitch¡¯s attention shifted clumsily, from the conflict going on in the backyard to Jodie cradling his face and asking if he was OK. He nodded despite being disoriented from the elevating tinnitus, and seconds later Wil took her place as she rushed over to the commotion. ¡°Wait, what¡¯s going on?¡± Mitch asked as Wil ushered him inside. They passed by the crumpled storm door that was torn from one of its hinges, and stepped through the scattered contents of the now-toppled recycling bin. Wil led Mitch over to the couch, and Mitch sat down at his request, then allowed him to manipulate his head and check his eyes; Wil used to be an EMT, Mitch reminded himself, so he knew what he was doing. ¡°How many fingers am I holding up?¡± Wil asked, displaying his index, middle, and ring fingers in front of his face. ¡°Three. Wil,¡± Mitch placed his hand on Wil¡¯s wrist and lowered it. ¡°I¡¯m OK.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s hang out in here for now.¡± He cupped Mitch¡¯s hand with his own and firmly held it in place. Mitch surrendered and nodded. Minutes later, Avi stormed through the front entryway and up the stairs, his head hung and shoulders hunched as he moved. The procession slowly rolled into the house behind him, with the exception of Jodie and Toby. Guilt ate Mitch alive. He ruined the holiday that Jodie took solace in and worked tirelessly for, all because of his guest. He should have never invited Toby, never gotten back together with him. What the fuck was he thinking, why did he let it drag on like this? In what universe did he honestly believe that they had a chance? And he used Toby. Maybe deep down, he got off a little on leading him on. He didn¡¯t even realize that he was doing it, but subconsciously, there had to be some reason that he stuck around. All of this for what, scraps of affection? Mediocre sex? That had to be some sort of cardinal sin in someone¡¯s handbook. Toby was right, he was a pathetic slut. Jodie entered the room some time later. Though Mitch promised that he¡¯d compose himself and take whatever on the chin that was coming to him, when he saw the way that her eyes shone, he broke down. In front of everyone. He was the asshole, the one at fault, yet he was the one that needed consoling. Gathering him into her arms, Jodie brought Mitch upstairs. just a shove After leading Mitch into the bathroom, Jodie forced him to sit down on the edge of the tub and she shut the door. He sobbed and shook while she filled up a paper cup with water, then passed it over to him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he wailed, and only drank because she urged him to. After a large gulp, he set the cup down next to him and tried to hide his face, whimpering, ¡°Jodie, I¡¯m so sorry.¡± ¡°Sweetheart, for what?¡± When he didn¡¯t immediately answer, she crouched down and gently cupped his cheek, trying and failing to get him to look at her. In a firmer tone, she asked, ¡°Mitch. For what?¡± ¡°I should have listened to you. I went and ruined Thanksgiving.¡± ¡°What, the thing you busted your ass on when I was busy being vindictive?¡± Mitch let out a wet laugh, and she tutted. ¡°Oh honey, the only thing you¡¯re doing wrong is blaming yourself for Toby. If he was upset with you, he should have just left.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s my fault he was here.¡± ¡°And? That doesn¡¯t give him the right to hit you, no matter what you said or did.¡± Again, he said nothing, and she exhaled. ¡°Mitch, you know that right?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a piece of shit-¡° ¡°No! Bad! He fucked your ex.¡± Bumping their foreheads together, she lightly raked her nails against the back of his scalp. ¡°You silly man, he spent the last decade bleeding you dry emotionally. And then he hits you, to top it all off.¡± ¡°It was just a shove,¡± Mitch weakly countered, unsure why he was hellbent on glossing this over, or why he omitted the slap. Because as a wrestler, he was supposed to be tough and able to handle his own. When Mitch started training, Calvin cracked jokes about ¡°roid rage¡± and how he¡¯d eventually become a statistic, like a battered housewife. It horrified Mitch so much that he almost quit, and adopted a much more docile temperament to compensate. Then Calvin accused him of getting boring, because there wasn¡¯t any way to win against him. Jodie leaned back and studied his face for a moment, then got up and rummaged through the linen closet. With a washcloth in hand, she turned the faucet on again and held it under the running water, then rang it out and pressed it to Mitch¡¯s cheek. The cool fabric briefly burned against his flesh before the sting numbed at last. ¡°Just a shove,¡± she muttered under her breath. ¡°It was assault, Mitch. And I talked to him after it happened. For starters, he¡¯s drunk. Did you know that?¡± ¡°No,¡± Mitch shook his head. ¡°I was wondering about that, though. He¡¯s been drinking recently, I should have-¡° If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Jodie let out a sharp Ah!, startling Mitch and shutting him up. ¡°Again, not your fault. Anyway, he went off about wanting to press charges against Avi.¡± ¡°Oh fuck,¡± Mitch squawked and pulled at his hair while the tell-tale signs of a panic attack manifested, his throat tightening and pulse racing and nausea turning his stomach over. ¡°Shhh. Stop interrupting. He¡¯s the one that started this. I told him if he went through with it, I¡¯d twist your arm to do the same to him. I know you won¡¯t otherwise, and I¡¯d really like to keep Avi out of jail.¡± Shaking his head, Mitch admitted, ¡°I didn¡¯t plan on it, no.¡± ¡°Exactly. I reminded him that Nora¡¯s an attorney as well, and a really good one, too. That¡¯s how Dad got over 25 years of owed residuals from The Fed a while back. Apparently they weren¡¯t paying him for streaming or DVD revenue? Something insane like that.¡± ¡°Wait, but her field isn¡¯t criminal defense, right? So how would that even work?¡± ¡°I mean, she¡¯s done general practice as well. But that isn¡¯t the point, and Tobes isn¡¯t any the wiser, since he¡¯s kinda dumb about real world stuff. Anyway, he settled down and got agreeable so fast, you should¡¯ve seen the look in his eyes. I paid for a cab and he went home, and there¡¯s a tow truck on its way for his car so that he doesn¡¯t have to worry about coming back for it.¡± During her explanation, she occasionally paused to wipe tears off of Mitch¡¯s face. Holding him at arm¡¯s length, she cooed, ¡°Everything¡¯s fine. We can still have dessert. Wouldn¡¯t be a holiday without some shit going down anyway.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not hungry,¡± Mitch sniffled, and Jodie set aside the washcloth to pull him into a hug. His nose pressed into the fabric of her dress, and the floral sweetness of her perfume lodged into his nostrils and grounded him. There was no quantifiable way to measure his love for her, and he could only hope that his reciprocation was adequate in comparison. But he very much doubted that, always had. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do anything,¡± she whispered. ¡°If you wanna go lay down, do that. You deserve it, it¡¯s been a long day.¡± ¡°Actually, uh. Could I ask you to do two things for me?¡± ¡°Anything,¡± she nodded. ¡°Can you touch base with Basil? I don¡¯t think he¡¯s in a good place right now, but you¡¯re better at getting through to him than I am.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± And then he asked her to bring up the vegan brownies, which she hurried off to fetch. With the door now open, he could hear light conversation from downstairs and how it died off as Jodie¡¯s heels clicked throughout the foyer and towards the kitchen. He didn¡¯t have to be present to know firsthand that the mood turned sour. When Jodie returned, she also handed over Avi¡¯s glasses alongside the plastic container, and Mitch profusely thanked her. Waiting until she was gone before daring to look at himself in the mirror, he frowned at the obvious red imprint across his cheek. Pressing fingers under his jawbone, he moved it to and fro to assess further damage and found everything to be intact. Once he left the bathroom, minutes passed as he stood outside of Avi¡¯s door, gripping the container so tightly that he worried about crushing it. At last, he squeezed his eyes shut and knocked. The solid wood -an original and therefore ancient fixture of the house, leftover from before the building was converted into a duplex- muffled the sound, so with a wince he raised his arm to rap his knuckles again. ¡°What?¡± came a gruff reply from the other side. ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± Mitch¡¯s voice tremored. ¡°Can I come in?¡± There was a pause, followed up by a quiet, ¡°OK¡±, and Mitch summoned the courage to turn the knob and open the door. pitiful sight The sun¡¯s dying light cast long shadows across the walls and floors, making the rest of the room unsettlingly dark in juxtaposition. Avi lay on his stomach and was completely still, his face buried in a small heap of pillows. Defeat radiated off of him in waves, and Mitch¡¯s heart ached at the pitiful sight. Scared of being any more intrusive than he already was, Mitch tiptoed across the floor and gingerly took a seat on the edge of the mattress. Something bolted from off of the bed, and Mitch felt awful when he realized that he disturbed Estrella. He placed the glasses on the nightstand -noting that a hinge was bent- then fumbled with the container¡¯s lid. ¡°Hey, roll over,¡± he gently demanded once it popped off. Avi moved at a glacial pace, so slow that at first Mitch wasn¡¯t sure if he heard the request. But after a short while they made eye contact, putting Mitch at some ease despite the crestfallen expression he was greeted with. His fingers traced the edge of a brownie, which he lifted from out of the container then held an inch or so away from Avi¡¯s mouth. ¡°Try this,¡± he urged, meaning to come across as comforting but felt the words strain when they dislodged from his throat; he¡¯d be embarrassed if his ego wasn¡¯t already in the gutter. Something about Avi shifted, as if compassion overrode his gut wrenching misery upon exposure to Mitch¡¯s own pitiful state. Not that Mitch would ever admit to as much, but in a way he banked on that. His gaze went from Mitch¡¯s face to the brownie, and after a little contemplation, he leaned forward and bit into it. ¡°Did you make these?¡± Avi asked after he swallowed, and Mitch handed over the rest to him. ¡°Yeah,¡± Mitch answered, then stared at the wall above Avi¡¯s desk while he ate. He settled on the photographs that were pinned to the corkboard, and wondered what the people in them were like, what they¡¯d done to make Avi smile so brilliantly. A jealous twinge made him wish that he was worthy of being up there as well, but his own humility trampled out that sentiment. ¡°After you passed out last night. I¡¯m sorry that they¡¯re super basic, I still need your help with vegan secrets.¡± ¡°They¡¯re great,¡± Avi responded matter-of-factly. Mitch craned his neck to look back at him, if only to gauge the sincerity of the statement; the brownie was gone, so he must have been telling the truth. ¡°I don¡¯t think I deserve them after hurting your boyfriend, though.¡± Mitch let out a single, incredulous huff. Apologizing for coming to his defense seemed absurd, but Mitch recognized placation when he saw it, he¡¯d been in that position more than he could keep track of. So he passed on the opportunity to lecture -the whole ¡®how could you think that you did anything wrong?¡¯- sparing them both a vent session about Toby¡¯s crimes or a philosophical dispute about when violence was appropriate. Or god forbid, both of these topics. They¡¯d be there all night. Instead, Mitch opted to meet Avi half way, because he too could play dumb when it mattered. ¡°Oh, Toby¡¯s not my¡­even if he was, he wouldn¡¯t be anymore.¡± ¡°Still, I¡¯m sorry.¡± Avi once again rolled onto his stomach and hid his face, this time in his forearms. ¡°I don¡¯t know what came over me. I¡¯ve never been in a fight outside of a ring. Pulled guys apart before, and that¡¯s about it. But I saw him¡­I followed him after he got up from the table, to try to clear the air because I¡¯m pretty sure he hates me? And I don¡¯t know why-¡° As Avi began to ramble, Mitch interrupted him. ¡°Don¡¯t dwell on that too much. Toby¡¯s¡­not right in the head.¡± ¡°Well, I watched you guys through the kitchen window for maybe a minute, and I saw what happened and I just. Iunno, I stopped thinking and started running. I think I blacked out from the adrenaline.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve really never been in a fight before?¡± In part, Mitch was genuinely curious, but mostly he wanted to move on from any conversation that involved Toby. He¡¯d put up with the man for 10 years, and he needed a break from him. Avi shook his head in response. ¡°Have you?¡± He looked up, all wide eyed and innocent as if he hadn¡¯t just tackled someone a foot taller than him to the ground. Mitch lit up at the question. ¡°Oh my god, yeah. Before Liner Notes, I was in a punk band. And you gotta be willing to throw hands when skinheads and their ilk inevitably crash your shows. But I did track in high school, so I was great at evading cops when they busted shit up. An equally important skill, as it turns out.¡± ¡°What the fuck? Why are you like, the coolest guy alive?¡± Avi spoke with awe, and Mitch instinctively rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°I¡¯m really not. I tried to pull off an early Danzig look. Y¡¯know, the leather and fishnet shirts and gloves? Real gay, real dumb,¡± Mitch snorted. ¡°Sometimes I wore skirts and shit, to be antagonistic. Don¡¯t know how I avoided jail for so long or didn¡¯t get lynched the whole time that I was in that scene.¡± ¡°Do you have pics?¡± ¡°No, but I¡¯m sure that Jodie does. I¡¯ll ask her to dig them up later.¡± ¡°I¡¯d like to see them,¡± Avi smiled. ¡°Anyway, as I was saying, I¡¯m not that cool and it¡¯s insane that you insist that I am.¡± Lightly pushing at his arm, Mitch asserted himself and said, ¡°move over¡±. Avi blinked a few times as though he wasn¡¯t able to process what he¡¯d been told, but finally scooched backwards until he was pressed up against the wall next to his bed. It seemed cruel to force such a wide man to compress himself like that, but Mitch¡¯s leg started to cramp and he needed to stretch. Once more space opened up, Mitch pivoted so that his back rested on the headboard and he was able to sprawl out on top of the comforter. ¡°You¡¯ve been everywhere, Avi. You¡¯re the most fascinating person in any room that you choose to be in. I moved to New England when I was either 11 or 12, and I never left. That¡¯s the definition of being lame.¡± Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°How do you not know the age?¡± Avi asked, and Mitch hummed. This was a safe space, he decided, and Avi earned a little honesty. ¡°Mild brain damage.¡± Mitch grimaced when Avi made an audible noise. ¡°Oh my god, don¡¯t gasp at that. I mostly recovered, I¡¯m fine now.¡± ¡°Brain damage?¡± Avi¡¯s tone made Mitch bristle. ¡°There¡¯s gaps in my memory about my childhood and I had to relearn a bunch of fine motor skills, but so what? My uncle and aunt went into some tremendous debt to fix me so that I could fuck off and become a cocksucking drug addict. Feel bad for them, not for me.¡± ¡°Jesus,¡± Avi sputtered. ¡°Enough. Tell me about the flags,¡± Mitch changed the subject yet again and pointed up to the garland of prayer flags strung up above their heads. ¡°I know plenty of woo woo folks, and you¡¯re not one of them. This room is barren and you¡¯re not a superfluous guy. And those don¡¯t look like something you ordered off of the internet. What¡¯s the story?¡± ¡°Um,¡± Avi cleared his throat as if he¡¯d been caught off guard. ¡°Some years ago, I met my dad¡¯s side of the family in Mumbai for the first time. And to make an extremely long story short, I ended up getting contracted to help start a wrestling school in Kathmandu. So I lived there for a short while. I didn¡¯t really teach that much, I was more of a consultant? And they used my name and face for marketing. Had no idea that I¡¯d be a draw half way across the world.¡± He chuckled and his eyes cast upwards, then he looked back over at Mitch. ¡°A few of the friends that I made there took me on a backpacking trip through the Himalayas, and we stayed at this ancient Buddhist monastery along the way. The flags were a parting gift, which they got from that temple.¡± The way that Avi¡¯s tone held reverence and wonder had set off butterflies in Mitch¡¯s belly. If he had it his way, Avi would never stop sharing stories about himself. ¡°I should actually hang them above the doorway, but I can¡¯t reach that high.¡± ¡°Oh yeah, no, my shit¡¯s way cooler,¡± scoffed Mitch, then he playfully pushed Avi yet again. ¡°Are you fucking kidding me, Avi?¡± You want to see pictures of me being a punk queer? No. Show me those mountains. I know you took pictures, I¡¯ve seen your Instagram. You¡¯re a goddamn globetrotting wine mom. Do you have a secret compass rose tattoo? Maybe an infinity symbol or a flock of birds? Let me see your ankles right now.¡± ¡°Alright, alright!¡± Avi laughed, but it quickly died off. ¡°Later, though. I think my phone¡¯s still downstairs and I just¡­¡± He went quiet, then slightly curled in on himself. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna see anyone right now.¡± ¡°No one¡¯s mad at you,¡± Mitch assured. ¡°Especially not me. But. I get it, I¡¯m kind of in the same boat.¡± ¡°Wanna get high instead?¡± ¡°God yes.¡± Mitch had barely gotten his mouth open before Avi reached over him and opened his nightstand drawer, producing a joint and a lighter. ¡°Do you think Jodie will care about the smell?¡± He asked as he handed both to Mitch, who shrugged. ¡°I sure as shit don¡¯t.¡± While Mitch lit up, Avi resettled into his spot and waited expectantly for his turn. This was the kind of thing that teenagers did, holing up in a bedroom to get away from the adults and smoke pot. It made him want to find a toilet paper roll and a dryer sheet to assemble a deodorizer for old time¡¯s sake. After Mitch took his hit and passed over the paraphernalia, he considered the situation and what was or wasn¡¯t appropriate etiquette in these uncharted waters. So far, Avi hadn¡¯t told him off or exhibited any discomfort by his presence, but Mitch was wary nevertheless. He¡¯d learned to reign in affection or never overstay his welcome when it came to most straight guys, forever vigilant because survival demanded that he stay sharp. But maybe this was OK. Maybe they were OK. He mulled it over, filled to the brim with hesitation and doubt, then at last he slid down until his back was against the mattress and he¡¯d gone fully horizontal. Blame the weed, if Avi said anything about it. In a distant voice, Mitch gave a serious answer to Avi¡¯s inquiry. ¡°It¡¯s too cold to crack open the window, y¡¯know. This is fine.¡± The response seemed to be good enough for Avi, who said nothing more on the subject. They passed back and forth in ritualistic fashion, the occasional giggles the only thing outside of the crackle of burning paper and plume smoke that permeated the air while the room turned pitch black. Sometimes Avi requested another brownie, which Mitch happily delivered to him. And while he assumed that being within such proximity to Avi -in Avi¡¯s bed, no less, arms and legs grazing against one another- would have driven him to either derangement or despair, he found himself more relaxed and weightless than he¡¯d been in months. In a haze, he spoke without any forethought. ¡°What¡¯re you doing tomorrow?¡± he slurred. ¡°Nothing, right? ¡®Cause you¡¯re here instead of over in Washington?¡± ¡°Yeah man,¡± Avi confirmed after a delay. His voice was light, as if he was barely present. ¡°Cool. You uh-¡± Mitch licked his lips, and propped himself up on his elbow. ¡°I¡¯m gonna go to the Cape to visit the ocean. You wanna come with?¡± Avi shuffled around in the dark for a few seconds. ¡°I¡¯d really like that, actually. Could we get there in time to see the sunrise? That¡¯d be rad.¡± ¡°It¡¯s an hour and a half¡­two hours away,¡± Mitch explained. ¡°We¡¯d have to get up super early.¡± Avi yawned. ¡°I¡¯m usually up early, anyway. You know that. I¡¯ll drive if you want to sleep on the way, it¡¯s fine.¡± Mitch lay there helpless, unable to deny him anything that he wanted. ¡°OK. I¡¯ll take care of coffee,¡± Mitch conceded, earning a content hum. A dense silence followed, and minutes later Avi¡¯s gentle snores filled that space. Too exhausted and much too content to move, Mitch set an alarm on his phone and placed it on the nightstand. He knew that he should relocate to Jodie¡¯s room, but the very idea of moving transmuted his bones into lead and¡­ And he didn¡¯t want to. Avi saved his skin earlier. For a rare instance, Mitch wasn¡¯t hounded by stress and inner turmoil of his own design. He wasn¡¯t on a cliff¡¯s edge, waiting to get thrown off and skewered by the jagged rocks below. As far as he was concerned, Avi¡¯s tiny room was the safest place on Earth, and no one else existed other than the two of them (and the cat hidden under the bed). It wasn¡¯t as though he was being kicked out, either. This didn¡¯t have to mean anything, he decided, becoming more and more comfortable with the attempts to make peace with this notion. ¡°Goodnight, Avi,¡± he whispered in the dark, a test to see if he¡¯d be evicted at last. But there came no response, so Mitch rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. He wasn¡¯t coherent enough to be certain, but before he faded into unconsciousness, he could have sworn that he heard a mumbled, ¡°Night, Mitch.¡± sometimes Mitch¡¯s legs tingled when he woke up from his phone¡¯s alarm. At first he equated it to being pinned, like when someone did a moonsault and didn¡¯t quite get it all, landing on a limb rather than the midsection. Then he realized that his legs were actually pinned. By Avi¡¯s legs. ¡°The fuck?¡± he laughed in disbelief, and lifted up a corner of the blanket to figure out this arrangement. Avi¡¯s calves were draped across his knees and eclipsed part of his thighs. Also, Mitch was positive that they both fell asleep above the comforter -or at least he did- but now he was beneath it and clutching to its edge. Mitch would have been content to stay like that, but his mouth was gross and he had to piss. And they had a sunrise to catch. Besides, he knew that at this point he risked overstaying his welcome, which was enough motivation to untangle himself from the heap they formed together. Before exiting the room, he paused at the doorway and let it sink in that this was as good as it was going to get, ignoring the way that the thought burrowed under his skin with a sharp jab. But there was acceptance as well. Loving the unattainable was part of the human condition, after all; a painting could capture your heart, but it was still kept in a museum for other people to admire as well. For Mitch, Avi was every one of Van Gogh¡¯s sunflowers brought together onto a single canvas, so beautiful and bright and inspiring. He¡¯d go so far as to say that he wanted him imprinted onto his skin permanently, albeit in a different manner of speaking. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. After he stepped into the hall, Mitch noted the bar of light that formed in the gap between the bottom of the bathroom¡¯s door and the floor. ¡°Who¡¯s up at this hour?¡± he grumbled under his breath, elated when the toilet flushed and the faucet turned on. Then, elation turned to confusion when the door opened and Basil stood on the other side of it. ¡°¡®Sup dude,¡± Basil greeted with a stretch and a yawn, appearing totally composed and as if he¡¯d always been here. ¡°Hi,¡± Mitch smiled warily, unsure what to make of the black chiffon robe that Basil wore and little else underneath. It had a feather trim and dragged across the floor, something straight out of 1930s Hollywood during the glamour era. And most importantly, it belonged to Jodie. ¡°Are you two fucking?¡± he joked, seething on the inside because he¡¯d been forbidden from wearing that stupid robe which he coveted with his entire being. ¡°Sometimes?¡± shrugged Basil, so casually that Mitch couldn¡¯t tell if he was playing along or telling the truth. But with his vision now adjusted to the dark, from the corner of his eye Mitch spotted the sock on the doorknob, like this was college. Several questions came and went, such as how long has this been going on? and when did you get here? and oh hey, are you alright?. But Basil seemed fine, it wasn¡¯t any of Mitch¡¯s business, and he really had to pee. ¡°Alright, cool,¡± he responded, then hitched a thumb towards the bathroom. ¡°Well, I uh¡­got plans,¡± he started with, then caught himself. ¡°Besides going to the bathroom, that¡¯s not what I meant. Fuck. Talk later?¡± ¡°Sure sure,¡± Basil gave a lazy wave as he disappeared into Jodie¡¯s room, which more or less verified his claim. flying too close to the sun While Mitch waited for the shower to heat up, he caught up on his missed messages. There was one from Calvin, which he¡¯d deal with when he possessed the bandwidth, but the most recent one came from Jodie, sent a few hours ago. Heeeey, I need the bedroom tonight Please don¡¯t ask questions rn But I made up the pull-out for you! It should be cozy! tysm love yooou~ He prayed that she¡¯d at least wash the sheets before he was allowed back into the bedroom. Considering that Basil didn¡¯t do commitment, at least there wasn¡¯t any threat of Mitch losing his spot in the bed. If only the attic had adequate insulation to get through the winter, then none of this would even be a concern. Since changing his outfit was no longer an option, Mitch took extra measures to clean up, which meant skimming from Jodie¡¯s most expensive bathing products. Yet again he didn¡¯t have time to shave, and he frowned at the stubble that made notable progress within the last 48 hours or so, grumbling, ¡°I look sleazy.¡± Once Mitch felt as though he was an acceptable level of Less Gross, he returned to Avi¡¯s room, opening the door a crack and poking his head in. ¡°Pssst,¡± he hoarsely whispered in the dark, and was met with incoherent grunting. ¡°We gotta get going if you wanna see the sunrise, man.¡± ¡°I¡¯m up, I¡¯m up,¡± Avi insisted, his voice still thick from sleep as he remained unmoving in the bed. ¡°You sure sound it,¡± he teased. ¡°Hurry now.¡± Mitch shut the door then hustled down to the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffee pot. In the time that it took Avi to catch up, the coffee finished brewing and had been poured into travel mugs: Mitch¡¯s left black and Avi¡¯s with a splash of oatmilk and a drizzle of maple syrup. ¡°It¡¯s gonna be chilly, so bundle up,¡± Mitch advised while he motioned to the coat rack in the hall, but faltered when he spotted what Avi had in his hand. Squinting, he asked, ¡°Is that one of the brownies?¡± If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Yeah. I need food, and it was right there. And they¡¯re really good!¡± He shoveled the entire thing into his mouth. ¡°You¡¯re gonna give me a complex.¡± Mitch rubbed his eyes, then pulled on a coat. ¡°That¡¯s fine, if you keep making food for me.¡± Mitch didn¡¯t respond to that comment, since he didn¡¯t want to start off the day by flying too close to the sun. Instead, he held onto both travel mugs while Avi zipped up his fleece jacket, then reminded him to grab a hat and gloves as well. ¡°Alright, Mom,¡± Avi rolled his eyes. ¡°What we¡¯re about to do isn¡¯t smart, it¡¯s very cold.¡± Mitch wandered towards the front door and observed the ice which covered the sidelite windows. He glanced back over at Avi, who was now bundled up in his running gear and defensively explaining the temperature ratings, how it could stand up to the elements just fine, and so on. Mitch didn¡¯t have the heart to tell him that most of that stuff was marketing buzzwords and no real match for the full force of New England¡¯s misery; instead, he handed over the mug while politely nodding and smiling. Before they stepped outside, Mitch made a final pitstop to the livingroom. As promised, the pull-out had been lovingly made up with a plush comforter and a small tower of pillows. He poached the blanket, folding it up and tucking it under his arm, then followed Avi to his car while they shared relief over the temporary absence of Jodie¡¯s creepy artwork. The cold was the biting sort that went right to the bone, though not as offensive as it was the previous day. Hopefully it¡¯d be warmer once the sun came up. And though Mitch wanted nothing more than to spend the day together with Avi, he offered a last out. Avi declined. ¡°No way. We¡¯re up, we¡¯re going to the ocean, and it¡¯s going to be amazing. It¡¯s so clear out, you can even see the stars. Just think how that¡¯ll look with the sunrise.¡± Following the path of Avi¡¯s extended arm, Mitch looked up at the deep indigo sky and the twinkling white lights strewn across it. He couldn¡¯t argue, and as long as Avi was fine with the arctic chill, Mitch could endure. He planned on doing this regardless, he just didn¡¯t want to drag anyone else down with his batshit insane tendencies. But Avi was also a little batshit insane, Mitch came to realize and accept, which sort of explained why he was so drawn to him. connective tissue Other than the anticipated congestion at Wrentham Outlets -where deal hunters prepared for Black Friday sales- the highway kept clear the whole way and they crossed into Cape Cod over the Sagamore Bridge much earlier than estimated. Though conversation stayed light, it wasn¡¯t a bad thing; on the contrary, Mitch appreciated the opportunity to let his brain unravel in a safe space with a friend by his side. Having the option to say something should he need to was a tremendous comfort, as was the lack of obligation to fill in the gaps. Having built up enough strength, Mitch opened Calvin¡¯s text. Hope you had a good Thanksgiving. Dealing with family sucks without you lol It wasn¡¯t the first time that Calvin contacted him since they officially called it quits, and Mitch kept his responses polite and brief; he had to be somewhat receptive, if only until he was approved for the state¡¯s health insurance. Calvin¡¯s messages were short, but always held an intimate level of familiarity that made Mitch deeply uncomfortable, drilling right into the marrow itself. It was as though they¡¯d never fully split, and there was some remaining connective tissue which the surgeon missed. He hoped to scrape it all away eventually. The worst part was how the temptation to engage overwhelmed Mitch, because Calvin could teach a master class on manipulation tactics. Of course he wanted to know how his ex was doing. Was Hot Yoga Guy even still in the picture, were his stupid tennis shoes in the foyer where Mitch¡¯s Chucks used to reside? Most of these messages were probably sent along out of boredom, but at his core, Calvin was always a lonely person. Friendship often eluded him; real friendship, anyway. He had his network of shallow people in high places, socialites and similar entrepreneurs that¡¯d been handed their start up capital from their wealthy parents, but somehow considered ¡°self-made¡± by Forbes and whatnot. Parasites, all of them. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. But Calvin knew this about the others that he surrounded himself with, and knew it about himself. Knew what was real and what wasn¡¯t. It didn¡¯t make him any less entitled or obnoxious, but sometimes he was vulnerable and open, and that always made Mitch feel¡­masculine. Strong. Like he had a role to play, a purpose, a use. A pillar for this other human. It beat aimlessly existing, or seeking out the next high. He also got a roof over his head, and sometimes he even plowed a hot twink. Of course there was all of the blatant fabrications and non-stop gaslighting. The way that Mitch¡¯s addiction spiraled out of control from the constant supply of drugs, which was Calvin¡¯s preferred method of placation. Because despite all of his wealth, Calvin could never afford earnestness or compassion. Sometimes Mitch wanted it back. Although not really, not in a way that drove or consumed him, just in passing. A fleeting blip, often gone as quickly as it surfaced. Was it truly desire, or was it a craving for the familiar when recovery led him into the unknown? But this was too much to consider, especially when his Not Boyfriend had literally been tossed out of his life some 12 hours ago, and now this. And Mitch didn¡¯t actually want Calvin back, nor the drugs. Well, sometimes the drugs. Always the drugs, honestly. Mostly, he just wanted to have a purpose again. He wanted the days to matter and to stop moving so achingly slow. To be useful to anyone, even if it was just barely. Maybe that¡¯s why he returned to Toby. Maybe that¡¯s why he agreed to Avi¡¯s borderline intrusive form of caring. When would he matter to himself? At last Mitch responded. Sorry man : / And then he powered off his phone. primal state The destination was Sandy Neck Beach, which had a good sampling of sand dunes and tidepools. Mitch visited a handful of times in the past, when Basil¡¯s grandparents lived nearby and they needed a house sitter for a week or two. But the house was sold off after Basil¡¯s grandfather passed, and Mitch hadn¡¯t been back to the area since. On one hand, these spots went mostly undisturbed due to the late season and lack of human activity; on the other, it was so chilly that there were not many signs of life in general. Avi parked, then they both eyeballed the dashboard¡¯s thermometer and exchanged wary glances. ¡°Well. Shall we?¡± Avi asked, and opened his door before Mitch could answer. A powerful gust assailed him, and he yelped. Mitch laughed while he gathered the blanket up into his arms, and followed suit. They marched past the long grass that swayed in the wind, and the further they trekked across the sand, the more intense that spray from the ocean hurled in their direction. Up above, the sky lightened with each passing second; orange clashed against slate gray, swallowing the lighter shade whole. Several meters away from the water¡¯s edge, Avi sat down on the beach and joked about having front row seats to ¡°the show¡±. Mitch stayed silent, quaking as he stood mesmerized by the huge waves that crashed onto the shore. He was so frightened that he would have bolted if his entire body didn¡¯t go into lockdown mode. ¡°Mitch?¡± Avi called out, so close and yet he may as well have been across the country and on the other coast. Mitch barely registered that Avi had gotten up and stood in front of him, until a hand grazed the side of his face. At first he flinched when the scratchy fabric of cheap Dollar Tree gloves dug into his skin where he¡¯d been slapped the day before, but then he caught the way that Avi went wide eyed and faltered. Time froze, and Mitch recognized the same exact thing in Avi that everyone else showcased in this position: the internal conflict, the realization of being ill-prepared to deal with¡­this. Mitch at his worst, raw and unpredictable and not all there. When Avi¡¯s hand retracted, it broke Mitch. He was no better than a wounded animal, startled and fighting and thrashing, rejecting assistance. Risking death as a self-preservation tactic. His hearing blew out, then returned in a rush as Avi repeated, ¡°Hey, are you with me? Are you OK? Mitch?¡± ¡°Ma m¨¨re -¡± Mitch shouted above the thundering waves, then shook his head. Fucking French and fucking trauma, of course his native tongue returned to him with the greatest of ease when he reverted to this primal state. Still, his mouth ran of its own accord, this time in English. ¡°I drowned, and my Mom wasn¡¯t there for me. I almost died.¡± He covered his mouth before a scream could tear itself from his throat, but he couldn¡¯t remain like that, not when his lungs burned for air. ¡°I couldn¡¯t breathe, and she wasn¡¯t there. She left me behind, and-¡° This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°OK,¡± Avi whispered, tugging Mitch so that they were both seated and facing away from the water. Mitch wasn¡¯t coherent enough to recognize the motions, but he went from being cold to warm, and felt the weight of Avi¡¯s arm across his shoulders and the blanket enveloping the both of them. One by one, the words continued to spill until he was a babbling mess, a fresh stab wound that nicked an artery and bled uncontrollably. While Avi rubbed circles on the center of his back, Mitch opened up about Toby, what happened a few weeks beforehand and what triggered all of this. An anecdote became several, and memories buried by his subconscious long ago continued to emerge, until the sun finally ascended from the horizon and into the sky. The fog that plagued Mitch¡¯s sickly brain finally lifted, leaving him with clarity about the stark truth of the situation. ¡°I ruined your sunrise.¡± He hugged his knees to hide his face. All that he was left with was stifling embarrassment for unleashing so much trauma on an unsuspecting bystander. Avi was his friend, not his therapist. ¡°I ruin everything, don¡¯t I?¡± ¡°No you don¡¯t,¡± Avi quietly asserted, but said nothing more. They sat huddled like that for some time, no words exchanged, no other sounds than the ocean¡¯s roar and the cries of distant gulls. Avi maintained a loose grasp on his shoulder, keeping Mitch in place for a short while. Though the physical contact was everything that he wanted, Mitch couldn¡¯t allow himself to indulge in it for any longer. If he stayed there, he risked getting delusional all over again and upending his progress. Avi wasn¡¯t his to have, he knew this. He needed to stay the course, and eventually it wouldn¡¯t hurt anymore. Still, it seemed like some kind of cosmic joke that his sources of tenderness and affection were gifted from those that could never reciprocate his feelings. Not in the way that he needed. Maybe this was the price that he paid for turning away from the grace of God, or whatever it was that his mother accused him of doing. So he pulled away from Avi and shrugged off the blanket. His legs wobbled when he stood up again, and he slowly dragged himself towards the water. ¡°Mitch?¡± Avi called, and Mitch stopped. ¡°One day-¡± Mitch cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. ¡°One day, someone is going to love me for me. With his whole fucking heart! And I¡¯m not going to settle for someone that¡¯s ashamed of me, or-or doesn¡¯t value me.¡± He screamed directly into the wind, his throat sore as tears welled up in his eyes. He hadn¡¯t come here with a plan -especially not this- but if something or someone in the universe was listening, he needed to make his case known. Jodie referred to it as ¡®manifesting¡¯; he didn¡¯t know if he was doing it right, but he hoped that by confronting what terrified him, he¡¯d be granted some favor for his troubles. ¡°And I¡¯ll value myself, too!¡± His shoulders slumped. It shouldn¡¯t be such an impossible thing to achieve. His breathing was so ragged that he barely heard Avi¡¯s approach, and initially wondered if he imagined it. But then there was a tug on his sleeve, and Mitch was relieved to have the companionship, no matter the form. ¡°Wanna take a walk?¡± Avi gently suggested. ¡°Sure,¡± Mitch nodded as he wiped his eyes. exposure therapy ¡°I think I came here to have a panic attack,¡± Mitch admitted, slowing down to readjust the blanket that draped over his shoulders like a cloak. They¡¯d made it about a quarter of a mile down the shoreline, with Avi positioned between Mitch and the water. Up until then, neither had said a word. ¡°On purpose?¡± ¡°Wanted to try exposure therapy,¡± he huffed, his shoulders hunching and then releasing. It was meant to be banter, but it just came across as a cry for help. ¡°So you would have driven 2 hours to be alone on the beach and freaking out, in the freezing cold?¡± ¡°Sure, yeah. Then crabs would have eventually eaten me, I think. And that¡¯d be it, nothing else to worry about.¡± Avi chuckled fondly. ¡°Glad you asked me to supervise.¡± ¡°Maybe I just wanted to spend the day with you,¡± Mitch half-joked, needing to reaffirm that he still possessed some agency after what transpired. Although giving it some thought, he wondered if that¡¯s why he¡¯d been compelled to extend the invitation. Years of being half or near dead, and his subconscious still worked tirelessly to try to save him from himself. But of all of the people to have as a chaperone. ¡°You know,¡± Avi cleared his throat, and he faced away from Mitch. ¡°When I lived in Washington, I did something similar. Got really into trail running during a rough patch with Charlie, because being in the same space got hard for a while. The first time, I ended up in the woods and on a mountain without any sort of plan. Made it up to the summit, and there was no one else around. So I just¡­screamed. Letting it all out was the best that I¡¯d felt in years.¡± ¡°So you don¡¯t think I¡¯m insane?¡± ¡°Oh no, you¡¯re insane. But I get it. That¡¯s all I wanted to say.¡± In that moment, Mitch stared down at Avi¡¯s empty hand and how it hung limply at his side. And for a fleeting instance, he considered taking it into his own, as a way of conveying that neither of them were alone and that the madness was mutual. He¡¯d give a reassuring squeeze then let go, and that¡¯d be the extent of it. But mention of Charlie¡¯s name and the past tense used -things were bad, which meant that they were probably fine now- made him so acutely aware that it wasn¡¯t his place for such measures of affection. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Another reminder that there was no need to stick the fork in the electrical socket again. Stay the course, he reminded himself, so he resisted the urge and did nothing. They stopped to investigate a nearby tidal pool. The inhabitants weren¡¯t anything exotic, mostly snails and algae, but Avi spotted a cobalt piece of sea glass. He took off one of his gloves, plucked it out of the shallow water, and held it up to the sun to get a better look. ¡°Oh, great find!¡± Mitch exclaimed. ¡°I¡¯ve never found one that color, it¡¯s probably from an old medicine bottle. There¡¯s a few factories in New England that made¡­¡± He trailed off, then worried his bottom lip between his teeth. ¡°Am I rambling again? You can tell me to shut up, I won¡¯t be offended.¡± ¡°You¡¯re fine.¡± Avi lowered his hand and grinned at him, all soft and warm. ¡°How do you know so much about sea glass?¡± ¡°Basil and I used to go hunting for it together when we¡¯d come here, so I researched it to learn about where it all could have come from, and what it might be made out of. We only ever found green and white pieces, sometimes a brown one here and there. Those are all really common colors. But blue is supposed to be pretty rare.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± The piece of sea glass tumbled between Avi¡¯s fingers, appearing as though it was dancing. Mitch stood mesmerized by this, then looked down at the ground when Avi closed his fist around it, feeling a little embarrassed for staring. And then Avi¡¯s hand entered his field of vision, catching him off guard. ¡°Uh¡­¡± Mitch looked up at him, unsure what he was supposed to do here. ¡°I think you should have it.¡± The seaglass reemerged between Avi¡¯s thumb and forefinger, presented casually. But to Mitch, it may as well have been a precious gemstone. Thankfully, he caught himself before blurting out something ridiculous, like the ways which penguins proposed to one another with pretty rocks and the like. ¡°I couldn¡¯t- you found it, it¡¯s yours.¡± In a panic, Mitch shoved away Avi¡¯s wrist. Stay the course. Stay the course. Stay the course. This didn¡¯t mean anything. Avi was nice, Avi was a friend, a good friend. A great friend. They weren¡¯t penguins. It was just a piece of trash that the ocean wore down and vomited up, not too unlike what life had done to Mitch himself. ¡°It means more to you than to me,¡± Avi pointed out, but Mitch stayed firm. Shrugging, Avi wound his arm back the way that a pitcher would. ¡°Alright then.¡± ¡°What¡¯re you doing?¡± ¡°Throwing it back into the ocean. I¡¯m not a ¡®superfluous guy¡¯, remember?¡± He had suspicious gleam in his eye, meaning he might be bluffing. Still, Mitch reacted. ¡°No!¡± The blanket fell off of Mitch¡¯s shoulders as he latched onto Avi¡¯s arm before it could be released. With a smirk, Avi handed the sea glass over, and Mitch graciously accepted both the defeat and his new prize. He stuffed it into his pocket and grumbled, ¡°Thank you¡±. unbearably sensitive ¡°At least let me take care of breakfast. There should be some open restaurants nearby,¡± Mitch pleaded on the way back to the car. ¡°Please? Pleasepleaseplease?¡± He whined until Avi could no longer deny him, otherwise it would be a long car ride back. With a heavy sigh, Avi finally responded. ¡°Somewhere with a vegan menu?¡± ¡°Do you know how many gay vegans reside in the Cape? No wait, why would you?¡± Mitch snorted. ¡°We¡¯ll find something. If we don¡¯t, I¡¯ll eat my own hat.¡± ¡°Oh no, don¡¯t do that, Jodie did such a great job on it.¡± ¡°Well we better find a place, then.¡± Instinctively, Mitch went to fish out his phone, but hesitated when his hand came into contact with the case. ¡°Actually, why don¡¯t you pick a place?¡± Avi let out a small laugh. ¡°I uh, forgot my phone back at the house. So I can¡¯t.¡± ¡°Fantastic! We¡¯re both doing great today.¡± Mitch slapped himself upside the head, then winced at the quizzical look that Avi gave him. No use hiding this, he decided. ¡°I got a text from Calvin earlier. And I fully anticipate that Toby will also try to get in touch in the very near future to try to smooth things over. I don¡¯t wanna be on the grid right now.¡± He left out the part about how he found out that his best friends were fucking each other, and knew that Jodie would try to contact him to explain it. He wasn¡¯t in the headspace for any of it. ¡°Lucky you. Not one shitty ex, but two of them,¡± Avi dryly commented. A short delay kept Mitch from immediately processing the words, but as his brain fought to catch up, his face burned while the rest of his body turned clammy. When it registered at last, Mitch wasn¡¯t sure if that was meant to be a criticism of his character; while he could stomach something like that from Jodie, it stung coming from Avi. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°I don¡¯t date good men,¡± he shot back, at a total loss of how he was supposed to respond, and Avi¡¯s mouth went agape. Whatever warmth that had accumulated vanished, leaving Mitch stripped bare and exposed to the elements. He rubbed his nose to check if it succumbed to frostbite. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t- that came out wrong. It¡¯s not what I meant,¡± sputtered Avi, who¡¯d fully turned to face Mitch. He stepped forward, prompting Mitch to take a step back. ¡°Just meant the timing was bad. I didn¡¯t-¡° ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Mitch cut him off, and this time powered his phone back on to focus on something else. His mouth went dry and he blinked back tears and triplechecked to make certain there was nothing too weird on the browser, then closed out a few open tabs just to be safe before handing over his phone to a distraught Avi. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong. It¡¯s fine. Just pick out a place to eat, please.¡± Vestiges of his accent faintly surfaced, adding further to the embarrassment; it occasionally manifested during times of stress or when emotions ran high. The last time he recognized it was during one of the earlier therapy appointments, but otherwise he¡¯d done a commendable job keeping it locked down. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Avi apologized again as he took the phone into his possession. His regret sounded sincere, prompting Mitch to flash a rueful smile. When did he get so unbearably sensitive? As he watched Avi type on his phone, Mitch almost considered taking it back because he¡¯d forgotten about the dating apps that he downloaded during a bout of loneliness and grief. Not that he ever even opened them. But at the same time, assumptions were already aired about him, so what was the point in acting otherwise? ¡°Mitch?¡± Avi¡¯s voice broke through his thoughts. ¡°Did you find a place?¡± Mitch asked, trying to keep his tone light and acting as though nothing was wrong. He¡¯d get over it in due time, after he had a little breathing room. ¡°Uh, yeah,¡± Avi mumbled. As suspected, the tension during the car ride was suffocating, but Mitch didn¡¯t have the energy to reconcile it; as far as he was concerned, that wasn¡¯t his job, either. The natural inclination to make things right before conflict arose was hardcoded into his DNA, and every second that passed where he didn¡¯t apologize for things that weren¡¯t his fault was a victory. Instead, he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window, ignoring all of Avi¡¯s little tics that indicated discomfort. unclenched The bakery that Avi picked was in the next town over, a darling little place both rustic and eclectic, the type of venue that Mitch played countless acoustic sets at. ¡°I thought you might like it,¡± Avi mentioned with the duck of his head once they set foot inside. ¡°It¡¯s nice,¡± Mitch nodded, not lying but also not being entirely honest. His preferred scenes had more emphasis on grunge and noise and less on the earthy and/or crunchy vibes, but that was also a part of his life that he couldn¡¯t partake in anymore. So this was acceptable, leagues better than the cafes and breweries that were sterile like Apple stores. It tracked that Avi would associate Mitch with this, since he wasn¡¯t around during the wilder years. So all things considered, it was very thoughtful. When Avi breathed a sigh of relief, Mitch unclenched at last. God, he couldn¡¯t continue the pity party, could he? Not when a minor misstep obviously threatened to be the undoing of this poor man. ¡°Are you still upset with yourself?¡± he asked. ¡°Yes!¡± Avi threw his arms up, drawing the attention of the staff behind the register; he shrunk back upon realization of the scene that he inadvertently made. Mitch barked out a laugh, then suppressed his outward amusement upon sensing the outright mortification which Avi radiated. Thankfully they had the entire place to themselves, which was a small mercy for his dignity. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t.¡± Mitch spoke in a hushed tone to keep prying ears at bay, otherwise neither of them would come out of this with their egos unscathed. But Avi¡¯s bottom lip stuck out as if remained unconvinced, which meant it had to be addressed soon. Just not right at that exact moment. To bypass further discussion until they had some privacy, Mitch approached the counter and chose the first thing that he saw on the overhead menu, a breakfast sandwich with arugula and a type of aioli. Whatever, it¡¯d probably be delicious. He gestured for Avi to come over, who then proceeded to order what may as well be half of the menu. Given his mass, no one appeared confused by this. Mitch didn¡¯t say anything, but when he went to pull out his card, Avi stopped him. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°You can foot the bill next time,¡± said Avi, and Mitch put up no resistance. Grabbing a seat in the far corner of the dining room, Mitch propped his elbows on the table while Avi tore at the corners of a napkin. ¡°I feel awful, though. I didn¡¯t mean-¡± ¡°I know, Avi. It¡¯s OK, really. Seriously, that¡¯s not the worst thing that anyone¡¯s said about me. Jodie calls me ¡®a fucking whore¡¯, along with several different slurs about a half a dozen times a day. You¡¯re not doing hatecrimes by saying that I¡¯m a slut or that I have bad taste.¡± Avi¡¯s head shot up and his jaw dropped, his cheeks becoming more ruddy with each word that exited Mitch¡¯s mouth. ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant,¡± he hoarsely whispered as he grasped the edges of the table so tightly that his knuckles went white. It beat the hang dog expression that Mitch was the recipient of for the last half hour, so he leaned back and folded his arms across his chest, eying Avi appraisingly. Either he¡¯d gone far enough with this and needed to cut some slack because Avi was too gentle to handle a little friction; alternatively the guy had a praise kink which he needed to sort out on his own. ¡°Let¡¯s drop it, alright? You¡¯re sorry, I forgive you, we¡¯re cool. The world keeps turning the same as it ever did. There¡¯s no need to martyr yourself here, sweetheart. Not on my behalf.¡± The term of endearment slipped in there, in the same way it would if he was having this conversation with Jodie or Louis, so he opted to play it cool. Avi said nothing, but nodded and stared off to the side. Still, even with the expostulation, things remained a bit sideways. Their food came out -Avi¡¯s order taking up the majority of the space on the table and provoking more apologies from him- they didn¡¯t talk, instead strictly focusing on getting through the meal without further incident. Sometimes Mitch reached into his pocket and discreetly fidgeted with the seaglass so that he didn¡¯t snap; the last 24 hours had been rough on both of them, and he didn¡¯t want to shoulder anything heavier while his paper mache heart patched up. Because the more that he faced this, the more he knew that he was being robbed of the option to bury it and move on. After finishing, Avi ordered a bunch of donuts and pastries to go, which Mitch did pay for despite the resistance. He¡¯d gone so far as to snatch Avi¡¯s credit card right out of his and held it hostage, raising it high above his head and out of reach until Avi begrudgingly yielded. It earned Mitch a hard laugh, even though he¡¯d made an ass of himself in the process. Still, he was pleased with his efforts. regardless They hit up a record stop that they originally passed on the way to the beach; it was more Avi¡¯s suggestion than Mitch¡¯s request, since Mitch worried about being a bore while he dug through crates. However, a large banner in the window advertised a Black Friday sale, and Avi insisted that Mitch do something to treat himself after everything that transpired. So Mitch indulged. He apologized multiple times, repeating some variation of ¡°this probably isn¡¯t what you wanted to drive two hours to do¡±, but Avi brushed him off. ¡°We saw the sunset. That¡¯s all I wanted,¡± he countered. ¡°Which I ruined,¡± Mitch countered back. ¡°You did not.¡± The little scoff from Avi came as a major relief, because Mitch knew that he finally annoyed him back into being normal. It was good, it was playful, it was carefree. It was everything that Mitch missed back when he was busy keeping his distance. He could now handle the bright smiles flashed at him from across the room, or when pressed about his interests (music, in this case), then allowed to freely rattle on (and with encouragement, no less). The butterflies and lightheadedness still accompanied these little gestures, but they didn¡¯t consume him to the point of madness. Nothing was ideal about this, but he tried the alternative, and in the end it wasn¡¯t worth it. Even if the smothering and tenderness occasionally drove Mitch nuts, or even if Avi¡¯s thoughts apparently leaned towards prudishness, Mitch wanted him around regardless. There were few people that he trusted enough to pilot a road trip that resulted in a breakdown, and Avi had offered his services twice on that front. And roughed up his shitty ex. As far as Mitch was concerned, that was someone worth holding onto, no matter the relation. When Avi was off poking around the wall of guitar supplies, Mitch came across a Paramore 7¡å that had been released during a previous Record Store Day. He wasn¡¯t familiar with the song and the price tag was far more than he was comfortable paying for a single, but it was pressed into a weird shape, making it more of a collector¡¯s item than something to listen to. Apprehension of giving something unsolicited chewed at Mitch, but Avi enjoyed the last surprise single, so perhaps this would also be appreciated. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. He returned a few vinyls he was one the fence about, then shoved the Paramore single below his remaining curated stack to keep it out of sight . While Avi stayed distracted by a pack of Ernie Ball strings, Mitch hurried to check out and requested that the clerk peel off the price tag. After they returned to the car, but before pulling out of the parking lot, Mitch fidgeted with the paper bag that held his purchases. Part of him wanted to wait until they were home before presenting it, or perhaps wait until Christmas, but so much had happened within the last few days that he felt obligated to give something which expressed equal measures of both gratitude and remorse. So he told Avi to hold on, then with a deep breath, he handed over the vinyl. To say that Avi was surprised would be an understatement. He flipped the record over and over, going on about how unnecessary it was for Mitch to do this, that they were friends, why wouldn¡¯t he be there for him? ¡°Would you just accept the gift?¡± Mitch laughed while simultaneously rubbing the side of his face to conceal how it burned. ¡°I feel like I don¡¯t deserve it. I don¡¯t collect these like you do.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to listen to it. You like the band, right? You said that you¡¯ve used their song as your theme?¡± Oh, that horrible guilt still lingered, but Mitch couldn¡¯t be honest about that one. Not yet, maybe not ever. Avi nodded. ¡°Great, then get a frame for it and hang it on your wall. Problem solved.¡± ¡°Is that OK to do?¡± ¡°Of course it is. Some people don¡¯t even open up their records, they buy them brand new and keep them on a shelf. It¡¯s fine, no one judges. I mean, I judge a little, but-¡° ¡°Are you gonna judge me?¡± gasped Avi, looking genuinely upset at the notion. ¡°No. Oh my god.¡± Mitch massaged his temples. ¡°Is this too much of a burden for you? Do you want me to return it?¡± Avi pulled the record to his chest and shook his head. ¡°Don¡¯t. I love it.¡± ¡°OK then!¡± Mitch threw his head back, refusing to allow the word ¡®love¡¯ cause further damage; he¡¯d already been fucked up beyond repair from the first time the word came from Avi¡¯s mouth. ¡°I¡¯m glad we established this.¡± He tried to ignore the fond side glance that Avi gave from over in the driver¡¯s seat, and how it caused his heart to hammer so intensely that his ribs were at risk of fracturing. But he couldn¡¯t keep his eyes off of the way that Avi¡¯s fingers grazed the vinyl¡¯s cover, and the longing to be caressed in that manner, to be possessed and protected- Stay the course. Stay the course. Stay the course. it mattered Between fixation on Avi¡¯s reaction and everything else that transpired since waking up, Mitch¡¯s thoughts were too incoherent to come up with any further suggestions for what else they could do on the Cape. It became more excruciating with each motel they passed that listed VACANCY in glaring neon letters. ¡°We can come back when it¡¯s warmer. I bet there¡¯s more to do¡­¡± Avi suggested, which didn¡¯t resolve anything in the meanwhile, making this trip seem like a huge waste of time. Dread swelled as a result of being completely inept at stalling. They would return to the house and this detour from the norm would be over. It must end. There wouldn¡¯t be any further opportunities to be lulled to sleep by Avi¡¯s snoring, or their legs touching when they woke up. He felt like he got a glimpse into the impossible, and he had to be willing to release it instead of being driven to obsession. He¡¯d get home, and Jodie would talk to him about Basil, but she wouldn¡¯t be Jodie. She¡¯d be another person or a thing wearing Jodie¡¯s skin, using a gentle cadence because Mitch was in full on blown out speakers mode and she was worried about him. And he¡¯d have to sit there and not make any sudden moves or freak out about it. And then eventually -not that night, but weeks or months down the line, after enough time passed from Thanksgiving¡¯s incident and whenever he considered dating again- Mitch wouldn¡¯t be a victim anymore. Not that he ever wanted that label in particular, or even fully accepted that it¡¯s what he was. But everyone that he loved surely had opinions on his tastes and habits. They¡¯d wonder who the next scumbag would be, and the extent of the awfulness. No one would ever trust him to make his own decisions. Did they talk about him behind his back? Were they ¡°worried¡± or just outright disappointed? If he kept failing, would they eventually ask why he couldn¡¯t just settle down with a nice guy? No one could fathom the terror he faced of having to go it alone. Toby was a staple in his life for the last decade, ever present when Mitch was available and there to pick up the pieces, only to shatter them further, into tiny splinters that burrowed under the skin. There¡¯d been moments where Mitch wondered if Toby was being unfaithful to someone else when they¡¯d hook up, because statistically the times that they were both single shouldn¡¯t have lined up so consistently. He never found the courage to ask, and he knew that he should have. Would Toby have answered honestly? There was no way to be certain. Did it actually matter? This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. His arm brushed up against Avi¡¯s on the center console armrest, and Avi asked for a donut. He thought about holding it up to his mouth as a goof, then remembered the celery stick and the brownie and Avi directly eating both from his hand. So he didn¡¯t get cute, and held one out far enough so that Avi could grab it for himself. It mattered, Mitch decided. Even if he didn¡¯t know what Toby¡¯s deal was with 100% certainty, it mattered, and he should have used critical thinking instead of feeling sorry for himself. Who knew how many other guys ended up getting hurt because of the arrangement. What a shitty thing to have a hand in, even if it wasn¡¯t intentional. When they got home, Avi loudly declared what a fun time he had. Mitch bit back the urge to point out they hadn¡¯t done anything, just drove for over four hours just so he could panic over phantom hands that still clasped tightly around his throat. Instead, he simply agreed and thanked him for the ride, then retreated into the sanctity of Jodie¡¯s room when he determined that Basil wasn¡¯t there anymore. As he crawled under the covers and held Cendre to his chest, Jodie mentioned that she brought Basil to the train a few hours back. ¡°Do you wanna talk about it?¡± she asked after Mitch didn¡¯t respond. ¡°Later. Not right now,¡± Mitch quietly answered. She nodded and didn¡¯t push it any further, then placed a kiss on the top of his head and gave him a worried look that almost made him burst into tears after she left the room. Minutes later, he heard Avi¡¯s door open, prompting him to stare at the adjoining wall for a short while. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and rolled onto his other side, fidgeting with the seaglass in his pocket. slapped with misdemeanors Krampusnacht arrived much faster than anyone felt prepared for, and roster members scrambled to come together for several long nights before the event to create a cache of holiday-themed props. There was a wide range to select from: candy cane striped kendo sticks, gift wrapped boxes filled with thumbtacks, baking sheets with fake gingerbread men glued onto them, and so much more. Louis in particular proved himself to be the MVP among the crafters; with his power tools and spray paint, he was able to whip up several enormous wooden cutouts for backdrop decorations without breaking a sweat. Mitch made an effort to swing by, partially out of obligation and camaraderie, and partially due to Nate¡¯s persistence that they meet up. Somehow -probably through Gianna- he found out about what happened on Thanksgiving. And ever since, he¡¯d been blowing up Mitch¡¯s phone, all attentive and worried. It was sweet and Mitch was touched by the concern, so he did nothing to dissuade the doting. There was almost no chance of anything actually happening because Nate¡¯s docility, but Mitch welcomed the attention and gifts of food and wholly unnecessary rides to and from the school. They played this game earlier in the year, after Calvin and Toby fucked and Mitch splintered apart. Flirting with Nate meant contending with the world¡¯s biggest safety net, but it shaved off the razor sharp edges of loneliness along with the impulse to make rash decisions for the sake of feeling anything at all. He really didn¡¯t need much else anyway, because wanting more only ever got him into trouble, and he was too old to keep getting slapped with misdemeanors all because his dick made unreasonable demands. When he wasn¡¯t getting lavished with the wholesome affection, Mitch nitpicked about his return to the ring. His opponent was Danilo, going by the name ¡®Mercy¡¯; he was Maya¡¯s sibling and a neophyte to Coven, so fighting Zevon would be his right of passage. And while he needed to make an impression, Mitch simultaneously needed to make a statement, just in case anyone thought he missed a step. Losing his first match back wasn¡¯t an option. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. On the growing laundry list for his comeback, Mitch added new pieces to his entrance gear; random things he found at a thrift shop that were probably in stock at some tween fashion store years ago, such as a bedazzled shirt and a pair of heart shaped glasses. During a test run, he found that his tights were more snug than he remembered them originally being. While he and Jodie got ready for bed on the night before Krampusnacht, he asked if she noticed any difference in his mass. She barked out a laugh. ¡°Dude, yeah. You work out for like 4 hours a day, you got a regular pair of skullcrushers now.¡± That seemed like an exaggeration, but she didn¡¯t come across as insincere, either. ¡°Do you stare at my legs? That¡¯s weird.¡± His face scrunched up, and in response, she ripped the duvet off and jabbed his thigh with her index finger. ¡°How am I not supposed to notice these, dipshit? You sleep in your underwear. For what it¡¯s worth, they¡¯re not freakishly huge, just muscular enough that they could press oranges into juice-¡± While she continued to explain, he covered his ears. ¡°Hey, I don¡¯t go off about how great your tits look in sleepwear,¡± he spat, then covered his legs up again. ¡°Well maybe you should! I paid good money for them.¡± Crossing her arms across her chest, she glared at him. ¡°The camisole or the tits?¡± ¡°Both, actually.¡± For some reason, her smug attitude burrowed right under his skin. ¡°Isn¡¯t that Basil¡¯s job?¡± Rightfully so, that earned him a pillow thrown at his face. ¡°We already hashed this out, and you said you were fine with it!¡± She screeched, then settled down with a scowl. ¡°Besides, it doesn¡¯t mean anything. Never has.¡± ¡°Yeah yeah, I know,¡± Mitch rolled over with a yawn. Sure, it was a mean comment, but considering the many times that Jodie harped on him about past grievances that were allegedly over, he was owed this. There weren¡¯t too many opportunities to get one on her. Overall, he was fine with it, he hadn¡¯t lied about that part. Far be it for him to judge how two consenting adults spent their time together, but it felt a little weird that it¡¯d been going on as far back as when he and Basil were roommates and he never picked up on it. This explained why it was never an issue when Jodie needed to crash for anywhere from weeks to months on end when she was between places or jobs or partners. Ultimately, he concluded that he was bad at telling when people were into one another; or worse, when they fucked all over his furniture. drown out Unfortunately, there wasn¡¯t any time to get a new pair of tights before his match, but Mitch made due since with his current pair and prayed that they didn¡¯t split somewhere embarrassing. When he met up with everyone on the morning of Krampusnacht, he commissioned Gianna for some gear. She said she¡¯d be happy to handle it, but also pushed a few new embellishments as well. ¡°I¡¯m thinking gashmarks in them, like a pair of distressed leggings.¡± Her hand clawed at the air to demonstrate her vision. ¡°Like, you¡¯re a werewolf, you just transformed-¡° ¡°So¡­a slutty werewolf?¡± Mitch clarified as he sent a deposit from his phone. He thought about it for half a minute, then shrugged. ¡°Sure.¡± Her laughter filled the entire warehouse, warm and raspy and raised up all the way to the rafters, making Mitch smile despite himself. As she departed to help get the decorations set up, she promised to have Wil draft up a concept later. Throughout the day, he more or less got the same round of questions from present company: How was he feeling? Was he excited? Nervous? Occasionally someone would offer up their own experience with returning from an injury, and he didn¡¯t know how to politely turn down the anecdotes because he didn¡¯t want to dwell on this any further. In a way, he hoped to go on as if nothing had happened, at least until the upcoming match was over. The amount of work he put in since he was cleared was his attempt to not only recover and improve, but to drown out his anxiety. For each sore rib from running the ropes, each scrape of skin from the canvas, each new bruise that bloomed and darkened on his hips and ass, he felt further removed from being too fresh for the ring. Yet, his nerves were frazzled, despite the countless hours he put in. He worried that he¡¯d get on the ropes and instantly forget his entire moveset. As he wound the wristtape over his palms, he warily eyed the cornerpost that he fell from in August, and a wave of apprehension washed over him. He just needed to get through this match, and then he¡¯d be back to feeling himself, which meant that Bad Moon Rising could refocus their efforts on getting the tag titles. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. When his thoughts became too loud for him to manage on his own, he sought out Jodie for a reality check. Perhaps he wasn¡¯t ready for this at all, and he ought to give it more time. Would it kill him to wait until the next event? Wouldn¡¯t it make more sense for him to return during Lupercalia in February, which prominently featured Bad Moon Rising anyway? Mitch approached the office, ready to burst in, but hesitated when he peeked through the cracked door. On Jodie¡¯s desk sat Maya, her face tilted upwards and lips puckered as Jodie stood in front of her and gingerly applied lipstick. It wasn¡¯t an unusual sight since there was always one roster member helping another out with gear or makeup, but this was Jodie¡¯s specific brand and specific shade, a matte wine color in liquid form that cost a small fortune. Not since Yasmin -Jodie¡¯s ex who left for Chicago years ago- had she appeared so reverent; it certainly wasn¡¯t the same nonchalance that she displayed when they discussed the situation with Basil, presumably she was being honest on that front. And Maya¡¯s normally strong lines, her sharp mouth and piercing gaze, looked outright malleable. Mitch didn¡¯t dare breathe as he watched; he quickly tore himself away, taking off to find Sandy or Louis, and put as much distance between himself and that private scene. He encountered Louis first, who was preparing for his own match against Avi. Their feud reached a fever pitch since Graveyard Smash, the last few weeks being an exchange of scathing words with Avi either interfering with or showing up at the end of Bad Moon Rising¡¯s matches. Hopefully, both parties could move on afterwards. This would be The Hunter¡¯s wrestling debut in Monster Mash, as well as the biggest match of Louis¡¯ career so far. Louis asked if Mitch had any insight on any of Avi¡¯s weaknesses since they were roommates, but the only thing that Mitch could recall with regards to wrestling was that Avi typically didn¡¯t play the bad guy; wrestling as a heel wasn¡¯t going to come as naturally to him as it would for Louis. ¡°For whatever it¡¯s worth, I¡¯ll be in your corner,¡± Mitch tried to assure him. Louis seemed appreciative, but a flash of reservation crossed his face, so brief that Mitch couldn¡¯t tell if he imagined it. They were close friends, brothers in arms, and the very idea of his loyalty being questioned stung, as if he¡¯d withhold information that¡¯d ultimately benefit the both of them. Best wishes were exchanged as Mitch took his leave, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek to dispel the stress that he¡¯d been encumbered with. negotiations An hour before the doors opened, Jodie went over the final draft of the card with the roster. Mitch and Danilo were scheduled to open the show; for as relieved as Mitch was to get this over with, it created extra pressure to set the overall tone for the night. Once the meeting broke, Jodie apprehended him. ¡°Come with me.¡± She grabbed onto his arm, and Mitch helplessly followed her lead. It came as no surprise that they ended up in her office. On the sofa awaited Avi, fidgeting with his big fuckoff hat and appearing as though he expected them at any moment. ¡°Hey man,¡± Mitch greeted, and Avi nodded. But his spine tingled as he recalled the last time that Jodie wanted to talk to him in here, and his skin broke out with goosebumps. ¡°Everything alright?¡± he asked while attempting to conceal his discomfort. ¡°I wanna shake things up a bit,¡± Jodie responded, shooting a sly glance over at Avi. ¡°Well, introducing a monster hunter was a good way to do that,¡± Mitch shrugged, because what could be more disruptive than that? ¡°Right, that¡¯s part of it. But we were brainstorming, and came up with something. Or rather, he did, I can¡¯t really take credit.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Mitch raised an eyebrow. He was still unsure why he needed to be present for this, unless they needed another party¡¯s feedback. ¡°So¡­¡± Avi started slowly. ¡°I have my match against Louis tonight, but being the Big Bad for now, I was thinking that the stakes should be higher than wins and losses.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Mitch mentally ran through several scenarios in his head as to what Avi could be alluding to. The disbandment of Bad Moon Rising wasn¡¯t an option, and he prepared to get defensive about that. ¡°How would you feel about putting yourself on the line?¡± ¡°Come again?¡± Mitch blinked. ¡°I¡¯m not your opponent.¡± Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°No, but like. As a captive. Like if Lucian wins, I leave you guys alone, and you get amnesty from being my targets. But if I win-¡° ¡°You can say no,¡± Jodie interjected, her head swiveling between the two of them as if an explosive round of table tennis were happening in the room instead of boyfight negotiations. ¡°And it wouldn¡¯t be forever,¡± Avi clarified. ¡°Maybe until the next big event, where you somehow get your freedom back. But in the meanwhile, it¡¯d help me practice, y¡¯know-¡± He looked down and swallowed hard, the hat between his fingers wrung and twisted. His voice dropped, then he followed up with, ¡°-Being a bad guy?¡± Mitch cleared his throat to buy a few seconds while he pieced the provided context together. ¡°Let me get this straight. If you win, I go with you for a bit? We basically pal around and stuff, promos and vignettes. Odd couple shtick. Do I fight your battles?¡± ¡°Maybe, I haven¡¯t thought that far ahead,¡± admitted Avi. ¡°And I wouldn¡¯t want to ask Sandy, since that might come across as -dunno- creepy? But the crowd has been sympathetic to you guys for a while, Zevon in particular. Doing this just when you come back would only elevate that.¡± ¡°And this is only if Louis loses,¡± Jodie reminded. Though Mitch had full confidence in Louis¡¯ ability, the idea of risking further separation didn¡¯t sit too well with him. However, this wasn¡¯t based on Mitch¡¯s decision, but rather on Zevon¡¯s reaction. And Zevon wouldn¡¯t hesitate to put himself on the line for Lucian¡¯s honor. ¡°Y¡¯know, maybe this isn¡¯t such a great idea. We can figure out something el-¡± Avi started to say, but Mitch interrupted him. ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± he nodded sharply, then let out a breath to steady himself. ¡°Just be aware that if you actually do manage to win and get Zevon, it¡¯ll be the full experience. I don¡¯t want to water it down. Sure you¡¯re up for that?¡± ¡°Think I can manage,¡± Avi smirked. ¡°Ah. Sure you can,¡± Mitch lightly cuffed Avi¡¯s arm on the way out. ¡°Gotta get ready for my match. I assume we¡¯re done here?¡± ¡°We¡¯re done,¡± confirmed Jodie, and Mitch took his leave, putting the conversation behind him for now. Or so he thought. As doors opened for attendees and the opening contest drew closer, Mitch became consumed by what-ifs. He reminded himself that Louis was much bigger, much stronger, making this whole thing a mismatch on paper. And Sandy and Mitch could play dirty, messing with Avi from outside of the ring to ensure that he couldn¡¯t win. It¡¯d be fine, they¡¯d persevere, they always did. Bad Moon Rising operated against every odd imaginable already, what was another obstacle in the grand scheme of their tenure at Monster Mash Wrestling? He armored himself with that self-assurance, wrapping it around his shoulders and tenaciously clutching the at edges so that nothing else could get through. hunger pains Behind the curtain, Mitch stretched and waited while Desiree¡¯s smoky voice boomed as she welcomed the raucous crowd to Krampusnacht. To his left stood Danilo, shifting from foot-to-foot in what could only be nervous anticipation. ¡°Hey,¡± Mitch whispered, and Danilo turned his head to him. ¡°Best of luck.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± Danilo whispered back with a small smile, but it faltered in the space between Desiree¡¯s ¡°the opening contest¡­¡± announcement and the introduction of a song over the PA. ¡°That¡¯ll be me,¡± he exhaled, and rushed through the curtain. Victor¡¯s voice rang in Mitch¡¯s head, a piece of advice given during one of his earliest classes: You have about 5 seconds to make your first impression on the audience; what a thing to figure out, when you still weren¡¯t sure of who you were in the ring. And what would be the impression as soon as Zevon emerged from the curtains? In the last two years, it¡¯d gone from boos and jeers, to applause and encouragement. Was that merely due to sympathy, or had Mitch actually won over the crowd? He stayed present since his injury to keep relevant, and so far this tactic worked. Now that he was back as a competitor, would he be forced to readjust his presentation due to expectations? He wasn''t against their acceptance, but he didn¡¯t want to compromise himself. More importantly -for Zevon- compromise wasn¡¯t an option. ¡°AND THEIR OPPONENT-¡± rang out over the speakers, accompanied by a few drumbeats. Shaking his wrists, Mitch whispered ¡°alright¡± along with the vocalist in the intro of his entrance song, and sauntered out to the strum of fuzzy guitars. The immediate ovation took him back after he stepped out of the staging area, and he smiled despite himself. Circling around the ring with deliberate strides, he kept the tip of his kendo stick trained on Danilo. Mitch then took an opportunity to ham it up while perched on the apron¡¯s edge like a gargoyle, shouting obscenities to rev everyone up. The referee urged him to get into the ring, and he eventually complied. While Desiree introduced the competitors, Mitch shed his entrance gear in one of the corners until he only wore his tights, boots, and elbow pads. Someone in the crowd wolf-whistled, and he adjusted his mouth guard to cover up his laughter. Despite the nerves, this felt good, like a homecoming of sorts. The bell rung, and the audience clapped to a rhythm as the opponents stalked one another. Danilo was young and obviously hungry to prove himself to his peers. Furthermore, he was Maya¡¯s, and that added a layer of expectations that Mitch couldn¡¯t begin to imagine. However, Mitch was starving, and those hunger pains rippled through his core. After an unsuccessful attempt at provoking Danilo, Mitch lunged first and shoved him to the mat. He bent over until they were face-to face, leering. ¡°You¡¯re not making your name off of me,¡± he spat. ¡°Eat shit,¡± Danilo hissed back, rolling forward then standing tall once more, all in one fluid motion. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. That¡¯s when Mitch got a glimpse into a bit of Mercy¡¯s character; Mercy was defiant, something that resonated with Mitch, and a much needed trait when pitted against Zevon. Being trained by the likes of Victor and taken under Nate¡¯s wing would give most any newcomer an advantage in the ring. The issue for him was that Mitch had all that, plus several more years of experience. Furthermore, Zevon and Yours Truly clashed countless times, and their rivalry stretched into a blood feud. So for every attempt at offense from Danilo, Mitch countered with the greatest of ease. Yet. Even as the ring rust dissipated and muscle memory carried Mitch through the bulk of the match, as he tapped into the well of familiarity and confidence blossomed in his own abilities, the ringpost loomed in the corner. It towered like a skyscraper, and its presence unsettled him. He avoided looking at it altogether. Throughout the bout, Danilo made several early pin attempts, and that rookie arrogance made Mitch want to knock him down a few pegs. Still, kicking out took so much more energy than he recalled, and his lungs ached within minutes. After sitting up for the third time, he rubbed his chest and internally griped about how he needed to quit smoking for good, and soon. Despite Mitch being more experienced, the both of them shared backgrounds. Danilo wasn¡¯t about to stay down, and though Mitch¡¯s shoulder physically healed, psychologically he wasn¡¯t quite ready to test it out by utilizing any submission holds. The only other option was to rely on a finishing maneuver -the strongest one being aerial- which meant he had to trust both himself and the ring. After grabbing Danilo¡¯s waist from behind, Mitch hoisted him above his shoulders. With one hand, he pushed Danilo¡¯s hip to spin him so that they now faced one another, the way that a pizza chef tosses dough. He then released the grasp to hook his arms around Danilo¡¯s thighs, and used gravity during the descent to slam his back onto the mat. As Danilo lay in shock and gasped for air, Mitch hurried away. He knew what he had to do in spite of all of his reservations, because spinout powerbombs never sealed the deal. Right then, he couldn¡¯t chance anything with a less than definitive conclusion. In the corner, the ringpost loomed threateningly. Mitch made a deal with the universe: if he fell from it again, then wrestling wasn¡¯t for him. The numerous people in his life that insisted what he did was stupid and reckless would be vindicated, and he¡¯d call them all up so that they could tell him this, starting with Calvin. But he needed to get through this match first. He rushed over the ropes and climbed them, fueled by pure adrenaline. Light on his feet, balanced like a bird on a telephone wire, and he spun in place on the top turnbuckle. So far so good. With both arms outstretched, his body coiled tightly then sprung loose. Once he was airborne, his knees pulled close to his chest, until the heels of his boots struck Danilo¡¯s prone form. He poured his entire being into covering Danilo¡¯s body with his own, hooking the leg as if his life depended on it, while the referee pounded on the mat three times. He won. He hadn¡¯t fallen and met his doom, he survived and conquered. No phone calls would be made to Calvin, at least not tonight. Thank goodness. To Danilo, Mitch mouthed ¡°good job, man¡± before getting up. To the crowd, he snarled, ¡°I¡¯m fucking back!¡± and hitched a thumb at his own chest. They roared his name at him. Principles be damned, he was one of their own. He waited until he was backstage and embraced by both Sandy and Louis before allowing pride to overcome him. "How about we make this interesting?" Though his match concluded, Mitch remained on high alert. Without enough time to shower before Louis and Avi were scheduled to fight, he freshened up with baby wipes and retouched smeared facepaint, his hands unsteady throughout the application process. Louis stood the better chance of winning, or so Mitch repeatedly told himself. Avi may be an incredible, a once-in-a-lifetime talent, but Louis had raw power and brutality on his side. Adjusting his jacket, Mitch debated either keeping or abandoning it. Ultimately, he decided that it may be a useful prop against Avi. Then again, what if Louis disapproved? Were they good guys now? He should have mentioned it earlier in the day, but that fleeting look that Louis gave left Mitch pinpricked with confusion, which threatened to turn to resentment. He proved himself countless times; hell, Bad Moon Rising was his idea, his stable. He didn¡¯t need anyone¡¯s permission to do this. On the flip side, Mitch hoped that Avi didn¡¯t take anything personally. Otherwise, the car ride back home would be weird. Convening with Louis and Sandy, Mitch refrained from discussing either his own personal strategy or the proposition offered behind closed doors. They stood together as a trio at the curtain and awaited their cue, Sandy shifting about while Louis cracked his knuckles. Mitch¡¯s palms sweat worse than during his own match, and he wiped them dry on his tights. He glanced around to discreetly seek out Avi, but could not spot him. The intro to their song played -the first time since the injury- and Sandy and Mitch flanked Louis, now in full Lucian mode and charging ahead. Sensing that this wasn¡¯t the time for antics, they refrained from accompanying him into the ring itself, where he paced and thrashed about as though he was prepared to maim for real. But anticipation and guilt thrashed about in Mitch¡¯s core, and he couldn¡¯t choke it down any further. He could hash this out with Louis later, but Sandy didn¡¯t always adapt to sudden changes so well. In the pause between one competitor¡¯s entrance in the next, Mitch nudged her. Under his breath he said, ¡°Hey, Jodie¡¯s looking to shake things up. Just roll with it, OK?¡± Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Her face scrunched and head titled as she stared back at him. She whispered, ¡°W- we¡¯re not breaking up, are we?¡± Mitch¡¯s heart rate escalated, but he gave a small shake of the head. ¡°No. Not quite.¡± The lights went down, and a solitary blue spotlight shone on the curtains. Unlike the Hunter¡¯s first appearance, there was no fog, but the first few piano notes for his entrance song were equally haunting and caught Mitch off guard. He expected pop music that Avi always gravitated towards, not blues guitar and the vocalist¡¯s soulful rasp that hit him directly in the gut and reverberated throughout the rest of his organs. Avi emerged calm and collected, his gaze steely and fixed on the ring while he was greeted with a chorus of boos. He moved in deliberate strides, unhurried as he passed Sandy and Mitch. Keeping in character for Zevon, Mitch bared his teeth and growled, forcing Avi to meet him eye-to-eye, who dropped the Hunter gimmick long enough to toss a playful wink. To say that he looked great would be an understatement. Gone were any traces of Avi Sher¡¯s flashiness, his favored gold gear traded for something far more sinister. Wil and Gianna had gone all out for this design, influences from the likes of Van Helsing and Mad Max evident particularly with the brown pleather tights and the various straps that criss crossed over his torso and thighs. He looked right out of some fetishist version of a Spaghetti Western fantasy. And of course, there was that obnoxious hat. When he finally got into the ring and the lights turned back on, Avi demanded a microphone and Desiree handed hers over. ¡°Wolf,¡± he addressed Louis, who did not appear to be interested in anything other than violence. ¡°How about we make this interesting?¡± Louis paused, but stayed in character with an unwavering bloodthirsty glare. ¡°If you win this, I leave you and yours alone. For good.¡± ¡°And if you win?¡± Louis asked in a low growl, fully embodying Lucian. ¡°I take one of yours.¡± Pantomiming eeny meeny miny moe between all three members of Bad Moon Rising, Avi¡¯s finger extended towards Mitch and stopped. ¡°He¡¯ll do.¡± Louis and Mitch exchanged uneasy glances with one another, while the audience murmured amongst themselves. ¡°You got this,¡± mouthed Mitch, then found his voice as Zevon again and repeated the statement, this time shouting, ¡°Lou, you got this!¡± Hesitation washed over the room, but Louis tapped back into being Lucian with resolve and agreed. ¡°Fine,¡± he announced with a firm jaw and gritted teeth. ¡°Fine,¡± was parroted back -not in the Hunter¡¯s voice but in Avi¡¯s- and something inside of Mitch tightened. a deals a deal After both parties shed their entrance gear and security collected it, the bell rang. From the get-go, it was as though someone fired off a shotgun. Avi was renowned for his intensity, and it only made sense that he¡¯d bring that to an antagonistic character whose modus operandi was to eliminate these creatures of the night. He exploded out of his corner, hurling himself forward and landing a running dropkick into Louis¡¯ sternum with such force that Louis staggered backwards into the ropes, then fell to his knees. Gum launched from his mouth and landed all the way across the ring and onto the floor, right where Sandy and Mitch watched in horror. ¡°Oh no,¡± Sandy uttered before the two of them sprinted over to check on their third, but Louis was back on his feet before they could get to him. He stumbled forward and attempted to grapple onto his opponent, but the attempt was for naught as Avi evaded him. Meanwhile, Avi launched upward until he traversed the top rope with the nimble grace of a cat, perfectly balanced despite Mitch¡¯s attempt to shake him off of it. ¡°Z!¡± Louis warned before a kick connected with Mitch¡¯s head. As he stumbled to the floor, the only thought that raced through his head was that Louis needed to pay more attention to the match; the concern solidified when Avi sprung backwards like a missile, arms outstretched ahead of him, palms and fingers splayed as though ready to receive a gift. They latched onto Louis¡¯ head with unfathomable precision and dragged him face down onto the mat with a harsh thud, shaking the entire ring. Every single bit of motion demonstrated by Avi was airtight. He executed some of the more impactful maneuvers in his arsenal first, rather than dazzle the crowd with his usual flash and style. It was as if he didn¡¯t want to waste any more time than necessary. But despite appearing calculated on the surface, a subdued desperation simmered below the veneer; how to crack and expose that was beyond Mitch¡¯s experience, even with the glimpse that he caught. He wondered if he imagined it. If Mitch could only gather up the naysayers in his life that clamored on about how wrestling was fake and lowbrow, he¡¯d sit them down in the audience and have them witness this showcase. Surely they would understand what he meant when he referred to this as art. For each devastating blow that Louis managed to land, ferocious as the beast he portrayed, Avi rose like a phoenix, airborne and driven by divine forces. He was a flame that could not be snuffed out, and only continued to burn brighter in the face of the ongoing efforts in what was effectively a three-against-one handicap match. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. He was so dangerous, so beautiful that Mitch at last allowed himself to doubt the ability of his tag partner. The guilt would eventually catch up -that much was guaranteed- but for a moment he ceased in participation of the attempted onslaught of the Hunter. With the opening available, Avi again went aerial, his body weightless as he defied gravity altogether and twisted midair far above Louis¡¯ body, then crashed down upon it with the force of a supernova. The match was over. Lucian lay pinned to the mat, and the referee beat down upon it three times, declaring the Hunter the victor. Chest heaving and covered in a sheen of sweat, Avi ambled over to where Mitch stood transfixed, having the higher ground from in the ring. He gestured for a microphone, and once it was in his possession, he tapped it several times. ¡°Wolf,¡± his voice was strained and breathing labored. ¡°A deal¡¯s a deal.¡± Mitch weighed his options: he could take off, or call foul or stand his ground and fight. With his chin held high, he ignored the audience¡¯s pleas as they begged him not to make good on his part. No less than six months ago had they heckled and ridiculed him, telling him to go fuck himself, relishing in his losses. And now they wanted him to listen to their demands? To act upon their whims? Fickle. In the ring, Sandy tended to their fallen partner as he struggled to get up from the beatdown he endured. Mitch¡¯s heart ached for his comrades, the only two people that he knew Zevon would risk and defy everything and everyone for. He kept his sight trained on them as Avi slipped under the ropes and approached him, grabbing onto his upper arm to further cement that he was a possession now. Wrenching his arm away, Mitch¡¯s entire body tensed as the instinct to retaliate swelled. Yet, Lucian made a bargain, and that warranted respect. ¡°A deal¡¯s a deal,¡± Mitch exhaled, and after a final glance at his teammates, allowed himself to be led away from ringside. unanticipated reaction ¡°Did I do alright?¡± Avi asked once they reached the locker room. Even though they were far from the showroom, the audience¡¯s displeasure still rang clear. Intermission was announced over the speakers, which briefly drowned out the booing. ¡°Oh yeah, everyone hates you,¡± Mitch chuckled while he peeled his shirt over his head, beyond ready to climb into the shower and wash the grime away. As he unlaced a boot, it dawned on him that he was being watched. He tilted his head upwards and looked over at the lockers, where Avi worried his bottom lip between his teeth. ¡°That¡¯s the goal, right?¡± ¡°Right,¡± Avi responded slowly, but the uncertainty persisted. Mitch worked on the other boot and tried to place where he¡¯d seen this before. It dawned after a few seconds: newer wrestlers rattled by an unanticipated reaction. Mitch¡¯s lip quirked. ¡°Shot in the dark here: have you really never been a heel?¡± Avi¡¯s face dropped, and his cheeks flushed as if he¡¯d been caught committing some type of wrestling sin. ¡°Seriously? Fuckin¡¯ Avi Sher, with two decades under his belt, never been a bad guy?¡± ¡°I-¡± Avi gulped, then rested the back of his head against one of the lockers while he stared up at the ceiling. ¡°No, not usually. I mean, yes. I did when I was starting out because I just wanted to get booked. I was like, 16 years old and desperate to prove myself. But it was also just after 9/11, and promoters ¡®needed¡¯ to have a guy that looked like me-¡° ¡°Oh, fuck,¡± Mitch blurted out and his jaw hung open. Avi now had his undivided attention. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, man. That¡¯s-¡° ¡°No, don¡¯t.¡± Avi waved it off and sighed, then scrubbed a hand down his face. ¡°Like it didn¡¯t matter that I¡¯m¡­not that. I¡¯m Indian and Latino, y¡¯know? But to a lot of people I was just brown and convenient. They yelled fucked up shit at me all of the time. And sometimes people in the crowd would threaten me or try to attack me during a match, it was terrifying. One time someone followed me out to my car¡­¡± ¡°Jesus,¡± hissed Mitch. ¡°Yeah, not a great time when you¡¯re not even an adult.¡± Avi grimaced, then shook his head to dispel the bad taste from his mouth. ¡°Anyway, I worked super hard so that I¡¯d be too good to be booked as a heel. I¡¯ve, well.¡± He looked back down, meeting Mitch¡¯s eyes as his own watered, then stared at the wall across the room. Voice lowered and creaky, he followed the anecdote with, ¡°Never told anyone about any of that. Not my family, my mom or dad. No one. I was so ashamed that it happened at all, but I also worried they wouldn¡¯t want me to wrestle anymore if they ever found out. I¡¯m still too anxious to check any database websites to see if I¡¯m credited under those characters.¡± Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Mitch¡¯s mouth hung open while he struggled to settle on an appropriate response. A selfish part of him was touched that Avi allowed for such a rare glimpse into his personal life, which he usually kept under lock and key. Remorse followed swiftly, and his stomach lurched. Because how dare Mitch think about himself after he¡¯d been confided in, entrusted with something so simultaneously heavy as it was delicate. What the actual fuck was wrong with him? ¡°Well,¡± Mitch stood up and kicked his boots away, then moved towards Avi and lightly grasped his shoulder. What he wanted to do was pull him in for a hug and never let go, never let anyone hurt him like that again; but Avi¡¯s eyes followed his hand, and Mitch became too self-conscious to commit to any other gestures. ¡°For whatever it¡¯s worth, that shit won¡¯t fly here. You know that, right?¡± ¡°Yeah, no. I get it, I do. Feels dumb to even think about, since it happened almost 20 years ago. But I still get¡­dunno, cagey?¡± Mitch snorted. ¡°There isn¡¯t a deadline on being messed up over something. It¡¯s not like ¡®oh, you didn¡¯t purchase the extended warranty on your feelings, now you can never be upset about this bad thing again¡¯, y¡¯know? Besides, you saw me at Thanksgiving.¡± They exchanged a knowing look, and the worried creases on Avi¡¯s face eased. ¡°But no one out there¡¯s judging you because of¡­¡± Mitch swallowed hard. ¡°Any of that. I promise. If they did, they¡¯d get blacklisted, and word would spread far and wide.¡± ¡°OK,¡± Avi nodded, and Mitch reached up and ruffled his hair, earning a soft laugh that raised his pulse. ¡°Meanwhile, we¡¯re gonna have a lot of fun being bad guys together, OK? I¡¯ll help you loosen up, it¡¯ll be great. By the time we¡¯re done with being a tag team, everyone¡¯s gonna feel sorry for you because you dealt with me.¡± It didn¡¯t feel like enough, but what would? There weren¡¯t enough meaningful words to articulate the rightful condolences when a person lay themselves bare like that. How does one express adequate compassion and sorrow over another person¡¯s account of their own humanity being degraded? Let alone when it was a loved one. Let alone that it was Avi. Although Mitch wasn¡¯t sure how much he believed his own assertion, or if it was the best time to make it, Avi broke into a smile so genuine that his heart ached. Finally, he retracted his hand before it risked overstaying its welcome. If he kept it there any longer, he¡¯d have a hard time fighting back the urges to card his fingers through the damp strands, running them down the sides of Avi¡¯s face, slide down his neck- Mitch stepped back. The air¡¯s density became suffocating, making him acutely aware of the proximity between his body and Avi¡¯s. Couldn¡¯t have that. It¡¯d never be the time for that, not with Avi, but especially not then. Goddammit, he needed to get it together. Clearing his throat and desperate for some space, Mitch changed the subject. ¡°Great. Anyway, I¡¯m disgusting. Gonna go hit the showers.¡± ¡°Uh, Mitch,¡± Avi spoke up before Mitch rounded the corner. He stopped in his tracks and craned his neck back. ¡°Thanks.¡± Mitch cocked his head. ¡°For?¡± ¡°Just-¡± Avi paused. His adam¡¯s apple bobbed under his beard, and Mitch fixated on that for a fleeting few seconds. ¡°Being there. For me. Listening and stuff.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Mitch responded, aware of the dopey grin that threatened to spread across his face despite his efforts to appear nonchalant. He hurried away to hide his shame. morbid subjects After physically pulling away from Avi, Mitch reached the showers and hastily stripped out of the rest of his gear. Never had he been more grateful in his life for anything than he was the recent installation of dividers and shower curtains (though a grimy film already formed on them due to neglect). The last thing that he needed was for the world to see that he was half hard, since he couldn¡¯t keep his hands to himself. The second to last thing that he needed was Avi taking the shower stall next to him, despite another vacant one being available. Any attempt at getting off now dashed, he conjured mental images of morbid subjects: Estrella¡¯s hairballs, Louis¡¯ beer farts, Rosa¡¯s funeral, hot yoga guy¡¯s tennis shoes, etc. The only consolation was that Avi wasted no time in showering and leaving, instead of being his usual chatterbox self. Logically, Mitch knew that mind reading wasn¡¯t a real ability, but the irrational part of his brain slammed the panic button with reckless abandon because what if? Or rather, what if he¡¯d given something away with his body language? Avi must have figured out something at this point; if he hadn¡¯t, he would if Mitch didn¡¯t exercise caution. Once he settled down, Mitch turned off the water then slowly dressed, drawing out the time and space between himself and Avi so that he could get his head right. He took a few deep breaths and went to exit the locker room, but collided with Louis in the doorway. ¡°Hey, you alright?¡± Louis asked while Mitch stumbled away before further scrutinization. ¡°Yes? No?¡± he responded with a wet laugh that bubbled out of his throat, and Louis frowned. ¡°So can we talk later?¡± ¡°Mhm. Sure. Yeah.¡± That seemed to be a satisfactory answer for Louis, who continued to the lockers, and Mitch exhaled in relief. Clinging to the shadows, he kept to the back wall where a few other roster members lingered as intermission wrapped up. In the ring, security finished setting up some of the larger props, meaning that all of Louis¡¯ hard work was about to be annihilated. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Last year, the main event of Krampusnacht was between two participants selected to fight on behalf of Santa and the Krampus; this year, the main event was Santa vs the Krampus. Victor called dibs on being the Krampus, so the role of Santa was determined via random name pull, and Nate won the honor. To no one¡¯s surprise, the match was as delightful as it was violent, and both competitors fulfilled their roles perfectly. Nate with his stature and bravado, came out to Santa Claus is Coming to Town and held a large plastic candy cane high above his head. Victor followed, with his practiced gait that came with many years of experience of portraying monsters. Naturally, this audience rooted for the Krampus. They immediately got to work on attacking one another with an assortment of items, from presents to an entire christmas tree. By the end of the match, there was fake snow and glitter and blood spilled all over the canvas. It played out similar to Louis and Avi¡¯s match: though Nate was bigger, Victor¡¯s speed and experience secured him the win, and the audience cheered. Rather than hit up a local dive, the roster congregated at Fighting Spirit due to its proximity to the school. Mitch sat at the corner of the bar with a seltzer and toyed with the pull tab while everyone around him conversed. Louis took the seat next to him, and explained that Sandy already took off for the evening. ¡°She¡¯s upset,¡± he grunted after ordering a beer. ¡°Figured as much,¡± Mitch winced. ¡°I¡¯ll call her later and make it right. It was all really last second, you know.¡± Louis hummed affirmatively, but didn¡¯t look at him. They sat in silence for some time, until Mitch couldn¡¯t stand it any longer. ¡°Lou, I¡¯m sorry. I should¡¯ve said something.¡± ¡°Woulda been nice,¡± Louis muttered, tensing briefly then dropping his shoulders. When Mitch withdrew instinctively, a large hand clapped the center of his back and rubbed small circles. ¡°So how long you gonna be in this arranged marriage?¡± ¡°Oh my god. Fuck off.¡± Elbows planted on the bartop, Mitch hid his face while Louis chuckled. ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound like it¡¯ll be for too long. A few months at most? Jodie promised that it wouldn¡¯t be permanent, just gotta get Avi comfortable with doing heel work. After that, we¡¯ll be together again.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re not picking him over me?¡± ¡°Do I detect a hint of jealousy?¡± Mitch raised an eyebrow and took a sip from his can, then swallowed and shook his head. ¡°No. I¡¯d never.¡± ¡°Glad to hear it.¡± Stretching until his hand reached Mitch¡¯s bicep, Louis pulled him in tight for a side hug. With a heavy sigh and no strength or urge to protest, Mitch closed his eyes and leaned into it. "With you." Reconciliation came easy between Louis and Mitch, as it always did. Conversation stayed light, as did the occasional -entirely warranted- ribbing. Eventually, Desiree collected Louis, leaving Mitch to his own devices. ¡°Call Sandy,¡± was Louis¡¯ departing comment. Mitch waved him off, assuring that he would. He spent a little extra time nursing his seltzer alone, hunched in a way that hopefully communicated to the rest of the room that he wasn¡¯t interested in socializing. A few instances occurred where he and Nate made eye contact from across the bar and exchanged small waves with one another; other than that, he kept his head down. Too bad he¡¯d never be able to hit it, considering how much he could use a bigger guy to throw him around for a night. The longer that Mitch sat there the more that his disorientation elevated, and he wondered if one of the bumps from the match didn¡¯t land quite right. He decided that he needed a cigarette, but his pack was back at the school. Sliding off the stool, he braced himself for the cold and headed outside. Though his hair mostly dried since the shower, the remaining damp strands froze once exposed to the air. On the walk over, he called Sandy and got sent to her voicemail. It was probably better that way. A robotic voice instructed that he leave a message after the tone, and he sucked in a breath, unsure what to say. But a text didn¡¯t seem right, either, so he talked. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s Mitch. You don¡¯t have to call me back, but I wanted you to know that I am sorry. Should¡¯ve ran it by you guys first, and it was shitty that I didn¡¯t. I¡¯d really like to make it up to you, maybe go get some ramen in Cambridge or something? No pressure though, it¡¯s fine if you need some space.¡± He paused, then swallowed hard. ¡°Love you dude. And again, I¡¯m sorry.¡± By the time that the call disconnected, he reached the school¡¯s door. Thankfully it was still unlocked, confirmed by a tug on the handle. ¡°Mitch!¡± Nate¡¯s voice called out, stopping Mitch in his tracks. He turned to watch him jog over, noting a flush that darkened his cheeks, presumably from the combination of drinking and running. ¡°Are you leaving?¡± ¡°Not yet,¡± Mitch answered. ¡°Probably soon, though. Bars aren¡¯t my scene these days.¡± Nate¡¯s mouth formed a circle, and Mitch raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why?¡± Nate blinked a few times as though the question rendered him mute, then he cleared his throat. ¡°I uh- I wanted to talk.¡± The last part of that sentence was punctuated with a huff and smile. His large frame shrank, and clearly saying that had cost him something. After sizing him up for a moment, Mitch shrugged. ¡°Sure,¡± he smiled, and allowed Nate to hold the door open for him. ¡°I¡¯m getting my stuff, come walk with me.¡± ¡°Alright!¡± Nate perked up and trailed closely behind. They cut through the staging area, now so clean that little evidence existed of any event taking place. The place was eerily quiet when devoid of people, and the echoes of their footsteps ricocheted off of the tall metal walls. For someone that wanted to have a conversation, Nate stayed quiet for the duration of the trek. Not that Mitch minded any. Finally reaching the locker room, Mitch collected his duffel bag and slung the strap over his shoulder. He tapped out a cigarette from the pack, twirling it between his fingers, and cast a glance upwards at Nate. ¡°So what¡¯d you wanna talk about?¡± he asked, curiosity at last getting the better of him. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°Um, well,¡± Nate looked off to the side, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear which Mitch intently watched. Several scratchmarks from the earlier match now marred his forehead and jawline, cleaned up since then but the blood had barely yet congealed. Across the room, water dripped from a leaky faucet, the plops louder than gunshots and interrupting the silence. Somehow, it synced up perfectly with a twitchy fluorescent overhead light that was in desperate need of being replaced. An eternity passed until Nate spoke again, and the words raced from his mouth like a dam that burst. ¡°Would you ever consider going out sometime? Uh. With me?¡± ¡°With you?¡± Mitch teased with a sly smile, as a way of covering up his shock. ¡°Like a date,¡± Nate clarified, a little desperately. Maybe it was a little cruel to draw it out, but when Nate was flustered, Mitch found him quite charming. And maybe -just maybe- Mitch got off a little on making bigger men sweat for him. ¡°I¡¯d really like to take you out.¡± Nate brought his hands together and stared down at them as he spoke. ¡°Is that so?¡± murmured Mitch while he gauged the situation that unfolded before him. Recently, he begged the universe to grant him someone kind and understanding, that adored and respected him. Realistically, was there a better option than Nate, who was always so very sweet? Who spent the last few years presumably summoning the courage for this exact moment, even if the setting was a gross men¡¯s locker room? It made sense. Out of anyone, Mitch could see himself growing old with Nate, riding with him on his motorcycle and adopting pitbull mixes from animal shelters. Getting fed a lifetime supply of Eastern European pastries. Nate was as nice as he was hardworking, the specific type of guy that¡¯d earn everyone¡¯s approval. This could be Mitch¡¯s chance to prove that he was a stable adult that didn¡¯t need pity or to be babied. That he could make good life decisions. That he wasn¡¯t a hopeless slut that¡¯d end up in a gutter sooner rather than later. Besides, he couldn¡¯t have exactly what -rather, who- he wanted. Assigning another human being the role of a consolation prize felt utterly wrong, but for whatever it was worth, Mitch did like Nate. A lot. Might have not fallen so hard for Avi if he had any certainty all those months ago that this could be an option in the future. Mitch took a step forward, shrinking the gap between them. His hand rested on Nate¡¯s forearm, causing Nate¡¯s eyes to flick up. ¡°I think I¡¯d like a date. With you,¡± Mitch confirmed, amused by Nate¡¯s facial journey from skepticism all the way to elation. ¡°Yeah?!¡± Nate searched Mitch¡¯s face for any signs of insincerity; it was the same expression a mortal might give if Apollo offered the sun to them, all the reverence and the disbelief. Mitch inched even closer, until they were almost flush with one another, and a stuttery little noise from Nate went straight to Mitch¡¯s dick. ¡°Although,¡± Mitch started to trail his fingers from Nate¡¯s forearm to up his bicep. ¡°It¡¯s a bit late to go out now, obviously.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Nate nodded sharply. ¡°But there¡¯s a couch in the break room. Any interest in heading over there and, y¡¯know, staying in?¡± He hated how easy he already presented himself, but if Nate could be courageous and forward, Mitch knew he should do the same. Nate¡¯s eyes were as wide as saucers, because he played a pennyslot and walked away with the casino¡¯s grand prize. And Mitch didn¡¯t even have to push up on his tiptoes for a kiss, Nate made the effort to lean down, engulfing Mitch with his arms and pressing their lips together, a little whimper escaping and making Mitch go insane. There was no game nor rules to follow, just real want and real heat, and Mitch couldn¡¯t remember the last time he had any of that without strings attached. He dragged Nate into the breakroom while still remaining attached at the mouth, then turned off the light and locked the door behind them. on the down low A few obstacles stood between Mitch and Nate when it came to opportunities for intimacy, namely that neither of them had their own space. Sharing a room with Jodie as well as her disapproval of Mitch fraternizing at the school (he¡¯d figure out how to address this at some point), along with Nate still living with his parents, meant semi-frequent trips to the closest Motel 6. They passed the threshold of having gone on a few dates to actively dating, while engaged in the balancing act of keeping their blossoming courtship on the down low and doling out casual affection. Though hand holding or swapping spit in front of everyone were strictly off limits, the flirting remained more or less the same. Sometimes Mitch went out of his way to stroll by when Nate would be in the middle of instructing a class, lightly grazing a fingertip up his spine, then keep walking. And Nate made a constant effort to be near Mitch during team meetings, even when he was the only one leading them. They sparred together more often, sneaking in a bit of playful tickling or sometimes braving a kiss in the hollow of one¡¯s necks during a pin attempt. And if they hadn¡¯t arrived at the school together, they left as a unit. Although outside of the school¡¯s walls, discretion varied. Since Nate had to get up at some ungodly hour to open the bakery, sometimes it was easier for one of them to park behind the school and fool around back there. On one of those nights, Mitch was halfway through giving a really spirited blowjob; his body stretched across the center console while Nate sat in the driver¡¯s seat, key in the ignition but the engine not yet turned over. The original plan involved hitting up a diner after a grueling training session, but Mitch was too keyed up after being manhandled for the last hour and he went for the fly of Nate¡¯s jeans once they got to his car. Partway through, Nate cussed up a storm and his hips bucked, which Mitch took to mean that he was close. Naturally he redoubled his efforts, until Nate finally figured out how to speak and choked out, ¡°Someone¡¯s coming.¡± Mitch wanted to retort with ¡°Is it you?¡°, but with a mouth full of cock he couldn¡¯t really say anything at all. He processed the warning a second later and sat up straight while Nate hurried to adjust himself. The someone in question was Maya, also parked out back. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°You kids having fun?¡± she shouted. Mitch rolled down his foggy window as she approached, and with a grin he exclaimed, ¡°Loads!¡±. Though he didn¡¯t turn to look over at Nate, he could feel the nuclear levels of heat that radiated from the poor man¡¯s face. On another night as Mitch got ready to take off, Jodie dropped a comment about how he and Nate were hanging out ¡°a lot¡± recently. Mitch coolly responded that he was allowed to have other friends, and prayed that he came across as detached enough so that she¡¯d get off of his back. The fact that she brought it up at all unnerved him, because with Jodie it was often impossible to tell if she was just being obnoxious or hinting at an observation. Besides, Nate wasn¡¯t yet a boyfriend, although the idea crossed Mitch¡¯s thoughts a few times. After all, he liked Nate a bunch, though in a way different from Calvin or Toby or other flings he¡¯d had in the past. Nate was gentle -almost timid- as if Mitch were delicate songbird cradled in a pair of meaty hands. ¡°You can go harder,¡± Mitch often found himself breathlessly coaxing, but the trepidation remained nevertheless. Some things were much too early to form any sort of opinion on or become invested in, but they tugged at Mitch¡¯s peripheral vision. With Christmas right around the corner, he began to wonder if he¡¯d be extended an invitation to go to Nate¡¯s, which snowballed into worrying about his personality and his past, what questions might be asked of him, and how he¡¯d inevitably botch it all. He always had a tough time winning over parents, as if they could see right through him and all of the faults that he tried so hard to keep buried. But after a bit of artful prying, Nate admitted that he hadn¡¯t yet come out to his family. There would be no meeting the parents event for the holidays. Mitch wasn¡¯t entirely concerned, since they¡¯d yet to determine if they were even going steady. It was fine, even if Mitch had sold himself on the idea that Nate would more likely than not be the guy he could safely spend the rest of his days with. The man may be a little awkward, but he treated Mitch like he was royalty, lavished him with affection when away from prying eyes at the school, and his dick game was sufficient. What more could one need from a partner? So Mitch played it cool, and continued to look forward to his little holiday staycation with Estrella. "Its not a date." Having already spent plenty of time with Avi made it easy to gel with him as a tag team partner. Mitch became a sponge and absorbed every bit of wisdom offered to him, because how often did a rookie get unlimited insight from someone that lived and breathed this industry for as long as Avi had? That wasn¡¯t to say that Victor¡¯s tutelage was ineffective -far from it, the man was a genius- but there were different strengths at play between the two veterans. Where Victor focused more on teaching the execution of wrestling -clean movement into and out of holds and the footwork- Avi focused on the presentation. He was all about visual snugness and the big picture, giving pointers on showing the audience the character¡¯s story, tips on ring awareness and effectively using distance: when, where, and how to present. For the first time, things clicked into place that until then eluded Mitch in the few years he¡¯d been training; Victor gave him the toolset, but Avi was the one teaching how to use it effectively, constantly refining what the work put onto the canvas. It reminded him of when Dylan first taught him how to play guitar when they were teens, but Basil introduced him how things were supposed to sound versus dicking around and making noise. Staying true to his word, Mitch held Avi¡¯s hand throughout the process of what he referred to as ¡°heel acclimation¡±. He tapped into what may as well be a past life, combing through his old college email account that for some reason he still had access to, and found various materials from the improv classes which he took. At the time, they were instrumental for getting him out of his shell, and without them he may have never taken the chance on open mic nights or burlesque or even wrestling. So he invited Avi to the attic to practice exercises in private together, promising not to judge as a bargaining chip. Because for whatever reason, being greased up and half naked in front of hundreds -sometimes thousands, in Avi¡¯s case- was far less daunting than possibly having a stray witness perceive you. Mitch got it, though, and let Avi set the pace. They exchanged various monologue and rant techniques, inventing new characters and experimenting with song lyrics and the like. And Avi got into it because that¡¯s what he did, adapt and then perfect any challenge handed to him. He started demure and stiff but turned vocal and animated as soon as he recognized how to harness the power of pushing the metaphorical pedal to the floor. Once the initial awkwardness subsided, Mitch found a local group that held weekly drop-in classes, which Avi surprisingly agreed to attend with him. And for as much as this was for Avi and helping him loosen up, Mitch found that re-engaging with this previously-buried part of himself to be invigorating. It took some hearty shakes to get rid of the layers of dust and cobwebs, but all of the masks and pageantry came quite naturally to him. As long as he presented someone else for public consumption, Mitch Calvert¡¯s crumbling self-worth and neuroticism remained safe and away from any spotlights or criticism. But before they¡¯d even gone to the class, Mitch already fixated on how the rest of students may benefit from a few lessons as well. He floated the idea of asking Jodie and Victor to hire an instructor to come to the school, while simultaneously considering that he ought to wait and see how Avi fared, and if there were any notable improvements. Unbeknownst to him, Avi had a similar train of thought. Towards the tail end of a Monument Wrestling Academy staff meeting, Mitch swung by to meet up with Avi so that they could get going to the class afterwards. Normally students weren¡¯t allowed to attend anything staff related, but Mitch had unspoken privileges which he tried not to abuse all that much. He snuck in and sidled up next to Nate, and was pulled into a discreet side hug while Avi went on about, of all things, the improv exercises. ¡°Yeah and-¡± paused Avi, smiling when he caught sight of Mitch. ¡°Oh, hi! I was just telling everyone how helpful you¡¯ve been, and about our date tonight-¡± Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Mitch froze. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s not. It¡¯s not a date,¡± he wheezed a little, acutely aware of everyone¡¯s eyes on him. Especially Nate¡¯s. All of the oxygen in the room depleted and the walls began to close in. ¡°Huh? Yeah, no. I didn¡¯t-¡± Avi huffed out a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. It wasn¡¯t the first time that he¡¯d used that term, throwing it out playfully when they ran errands or grabbed coffee, but it was the first time that Mitch ever drew attention to it. And suddenly, he was the world¡¯s biggest asshole for putting Avi on the spot like that, after already dragging him far away from his comfort zone. Avi swallowed and continued as if he hadn¡¯t missed a beat and wasn¡¯t scared shitless, but Mitch knew otherwise. Because he¡¯d already disclosed his fears about doing this. ¡°Um. We¡¯re going to a class tonight. It¡¯s gonna be fun. I think we should talk about setting something up like this in the future for the students.¡± When everyone broke at last, Mitch pulled Nate aside to a dark corner of the school, and stood on his toes to kiss the side of his face. ¡°Have a nice date,¡± Nate joked, a touch of Yours Truly bleeding through, and that didn¡¯t sit well with Mitch. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± Mitch frowned and something in his stomach curdled over the very idea of needing to apologize on behalf of Avi. The sensation worsened when it dawned on him that he wanted to be worthy of a little jealousy. Still, he further explained. ¡°He says that about almost everything that we do together. I think grocery shopping was ¡®a date¡¯ one time¡­¡± ¡°I believe you. But for real, enjoy yourself.¡± After planting a kiss on the top of Mitch¡¯s head and ruffling his hair, Nate sent him on his way. He bumped into Avi in the lobby, who didn¡¯t seem bothered in the slightest, still all cheery and enthusiastic as usual. But once they reached his car, the facade peeled back enough for Mitch to catch a glimpse of the nerves that he so carelessly prodded. ¡°Avi, I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said, unsure how to further elaborate. But he needed to break the tension. ¡°Hm? For what?¡± Avi sat up straight and blinked a few times, then nodded as though he¡¯d been struck by a sudden realization. ¡°Oh, was it the ¡®date¡¯ thing? I should use better phrasing, huh. I¡¯m sorry if it made you uncomfortable, won¡¯t do it again.¡± He held a hand to his chest, demonstrating a promise, his palm pressed against the fabric of the stolen black hoodie. And yet, the gesture only made Mitch¡¯s heart hurt, as if an invisible chain was attached to it and had been yanked. ¡°That wasn¡¯t-¡± Mitch started, but he¡¯d been so caught off guard by the apology that he retracted all together and curled in on himself in the passenger seat, as he¡¯d done so many times before in that very spot. He came close to insisting that the phrase itself wasn¡¯t the issue, but knew there wasn¡¯t any way for him to either 1. appear sane or casual about actually liking the term, the fact that he had an opinion on it to begin with, or 2. avoid bringing up Nate, which he wasn¡¯t supposed to do until they had things better sorted. That latter point caused further unrest. Vague deja vu manifested, its source most likely from dealing Toby for over a decade. But Nate wasn¡¯t Toby, Mitch reminded himself. Not by a long shot. He needed to bring it up during his next therapy session, so that he didn¡¯t mess up something potentially good. ¡°It¡¯s cool, I got you.¡± Avi reiterated as he adjusted the volume knob. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m excited to try this in a group. Thanks for helping me out so much, man, you¡¯ve been really great.¡± Just like that, Avi continued in the same way that a river flowed unbothered by time or space, perhaps having gotten more out of the private exercises than Mitch realized. He must have misread the situation, which both soothed and stung like analgesic applied to a cut. No lasting harm had been done to Avi¡¯s ego, which was what mattered most here. But the idea of nothing being a ¡°date¡± anymore, even in jest. That Avi at last reached something off limits between them¡­ It was bound to happen eventually, Mitch concluded. And though he didn¡¯t care for the bitter taste in his mouth, he knew that it was probably for the best. dream gig Another night of tapings meant an afternoon of tag team practice beforehand. Avi¡¯s mannerisms as The Hunter improved by leaps and bounds than the weeks prior, although he still preferred that Mitch handle the bulk of the talking when they filmed their promos. But at least the banter came far more naturally now, with elements of slapstick tossed in for good measure. Once they wrapped up their segments and Jodie reviewed the footage, she gave the OK for them to skedaddle until the belltime. As they passed by the announce table, Rod declared ¡°Ah, there he is.¡± Next to him stood Ingrid, who stopped talking and stared at them. ¡°Me? Or Avi?¡± Mitch half-laughed and hitched a thumb at himself, then towards Avi. ¡°Or me?¡± he repeated, and Rod gave a single nod while holding a hand over his mouth to cover any evidence of amusement. Score. Mitch noted smugly that he got a good grade in popping Rod. ¡°Rod said you used to be a radio host.¡± Ingrid muscled her way past Rod and crowded into Mitch¡¯s bubble, forcing him to take a step back. He hadn¡¯t anticipated an interrogation. ¡°You were a radio host?¡± Avi asked with a little gasp. ¡°College radio,¡± Mitch clarified to the three of them. ¡°Not the same thing as radio radio. But yes, for a few years. Why?¡± ¡°Do you have any demo reels from back then?¡± She folded her arms across her chest, and Mitch shrunk under scrutiny. If anyone perceived Rod¡¯s stoicism to be intimidating, they¡¯d never dealt with his ex wife¡¯s intensity. ¡°Oh god, somewhere I¡¯m sure,¡± he groaned, then scratched the back of his head as he tried to make sense of whatever he¡¯d been dragged into. ¡°Wait, why?¡± ¡°Any interest in doing it again?¡± she asked, then before Mitch could answer, added, ¡°On an extremely part time basis? For not a whole lot of money?¡± ¡°Possibly?¡± He shot Rod a helpless glance, then looked back at Ingrid. ¡°What¡¯s the job, exactly?¡± ¡°You haven¡¯t told him what the job is, Ingrid,¡± Rod pointed out and she sharply inhaled, the tell-tale sign of a practiced gesture when dealing with an obnoxious co-worker and former spouse. ¡°The job-¡± she breathed out, pausing to glare at Rod, who shrugged in return. ¡°So there¡¯s a new slot opening up on Sunday nights at my station. Finally dropping that fucking Jesus talk show since the host is retiring at looong last. The guy may as well have been present during the actual crucifixion, he¡¯s that old.¡± Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not interested in covering god stuff,¡± Mitch shook his head. ¡°No shit, ya heathen.¡± She burst out laughing, and slapped him on the back. ¡°I got the greenlight from my boss to produce something more local. Indie. Weird. Not Dr. Demento weird, but good weird. Old school, like a high school mixtape. We¡¯re trying to appeal to Gen Xer¡¯s and older millenials, and you fit that bill, my man.¡± Mixtape lit up every dopamine receptor in Mitch¡¯s brain. He blinked furiously, unsure if this was a prank. ¡°You¡¯re serious?¡± He asked for clarity, needing it. In his disbelief, he barely registered that Avi¡¯s hand landed on his shoulder. Tilting his head, he met Avi¡¯s eyes, and could have sworn they were actually sparkling. Dweeb, he thought. Face now flushed, Mitch turned back to Ingrid. ¡°Yeah man. I mean, it¡¯s a 3 hour block, starting around 7 at night. And it¡¯s public radio, so the pay is dogshit. But I¡¯d rather get someone that I know would be cool on board than trying to find someone and like¡­trying to build a rapport, worrying about if I¡¯m gonna gel with them, etc etc.¡± Pointing at her open mouth, Ingrid gagged. ¡°Ho-hold on, you think I¡¯m cool?¡± Mitch sputtered. ¡°I¡¯ve been telling him this,¡± Avi cut in, and Mitch lightly cuffed his arm in embarrassment. ¡°You¡¯re the only rock star we got here.¡± She motioned around the room. ¡°So yeah. You¡¯ll still need to be interviewed and we need the demo reel, so make that happen. But like, c¡¯mon man. What are you even up to on Sunday nights? Say yes. Do it for me.¡± Mitch looked from Ingrid¡¯s pleading face and clasped hands to Rod¡¯s indifference and then finally to Avi, who was outwardly brimming with so much enthusiasm that it may as well have been him that¡¯d been offered the position. ¡°OK,¡± he surrendered and shrank at the joyous reception to his answer. They hashed out some more details, in which Ingrid admitted she needed a little time to pitch him as a candidate to her boss, and Mitch admitted that he probably needed to make a reel from scratch. Since band practice was in a few days, he could use some of Darius¡¯ recording equipment to produce a suitable demo. Ingrid and Rod went their separate ways, and though Mitch tried to maintain his composure, Avi rejoiced on his behalf. Guilt gnawed while he continued to indulge in the high praise. ¡°What¡¯s going on over here?¡± Nate¡¯s voice came from behind them, already in his gear for the tapings. He didn¡¯t have a match, but presumably he¡¯d be doing stuff with Coven. ¡°Mitch might have landed his dream gig,¡± Avi answered. ¡°And that is?¡± Raising an eyebrow, Nate looked at Mitch. ¡°It¡¯s¡­it¡¯s not quite like that.¡± Mitch quietly explained what Ingrid¡¯s offer entailed. He realized that he never shared this part of his past with Nate, despite knowing one another for at least three years. His face burned as he spoke but he was unsure why. Then it dawned that Avi¡¯s hand never left his arm, which he only noticed when Nate¡¯s eyes flicked to it, and his insides vibrated uncomfortably. ¡°That¡¯s great,¡± Nate grinned and reached down to ruffle Mitch¡¯s hair, showcasing a bit more affection than usual within the school¡¯s walls. His shoulder became lighter, and he didn¡¯t need to look to see that Avi no longer held onto it. ¡°Tell me all about it later?¡± ¡°Yeah, later,¡± Mitch agreed, and watched Nate walk out of sight before he exhaled and dropped his shoulders, only becoming aware of how he tensed up after it bled out of his system. "Are you still trying to?" Darius insisted that Mitch come over early on band practice day, eager to help out with the demo reel. In exchange for Darius¡¯ generosity, Mitch lent a hand with finishing the soundbooth setup. ¡°Babies, man,¡± said Darius with a shake of the head, his way of explaining why no further progress had been made. Not that Mitch asked, the answer was fairly obvious. A mix of old, new, new-old stock high fidelity and recording equipment were arranged, rearranged, and at long last tested out. According to Ingrid¡¯s directions, Mitch only needed to come across as laid back and approachable. Simple enough. Basil gave it a listen when he arrived in the evening, then pulled out his Macbook so that he could tweak the audio file. ¡°You¡¯re lucky we¡¯re friends,¡± he said. ¡°My services usually don¡¯t come cheap.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve given you how many rides?¡± Mitch teased, taking the headphones from Basil so that he could listen to the adjustments. ¡°I¡¯m queer, I can¡¯t drive,¡± snapped Basil. ¡°It¡¯s literally illegal. I can cook and I can do math, those are my two. We don¡¯t get three.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t do math,¡± lamented Mitch. ¡°You¡¯re both so, so sad,¡± Darius pity-chuckled, and in return Basil blew a raspberry at him and shouted something about hatecriming. Finally Basil finished his edits, then handed Mitch a USB drive with the edited reel on it. As he stuffed it into his backpack for safekeeping, his fingers grazed the ancient composition notebook which housed all of his songwriting throughout the last decade. Once thought to be lost forever, it¡¯d been unearthed by Jodie during an argument over Mitch¡¯s reluctance to fully settle in. Apparently, past Mitch was smart enough to entrust her with its stewardship. Along with lyrics and tabs, there were notes and scribblings. He¡¯d even tucked in a few photographs for safekeeping, which slid out and fell onto the floor as soon as he opened it. And then came the incredulous ¡°Holy shit, is that fucking Dylan?¡± from Jodie, along with a ¡°Who¡¯s Dylan?¡± from a curious Avi, who happened to be wandering through the foyer at the exact moment. Face now hot, Mitch wordlessly gathered everything up and hid away in the attic until his embarrassment subsided. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Sans photographs which were now hidden away from well-meaning but nosy loved ones (not tossed out, that still felt wrong, and he was still too pathetic and too sentimental over this one particular boy all these years later), Mitch pulled out the notebook and presented it to his bandmates. ¡°Been uh, working on new material,¡± he said sheepishly while Basil lit up and made grabbyhands, but Darius intercepted and flipped through the pages. ¡°Was hoping to try some of it out tonight, if that¡¯s cool with you guys.¡± ¡°How old¡¯s this thing?¡± asked Darius, careful with the fragile paper. ¡°Old. I gave him that Lisa Frank unicorn sticker on the front, back when he was in BLOODBLISTER and I was trying to fuck him.¡± At last, Basil snatched away the notebook while present company stood there and gawked. ¡°W-wait, what? For real?¡± Mitch sputtered. ¡°You never figured that out?¡± Basil raised an eyebrow at him, then snorted. ¡°Heh. That tracks. You suck at telling when someone¡¯s into you. But yeah, I smartened up real quick about it.¡± Darius chimed in with, ¡°Are you still trying to?¡±, and Mitch found himself torn asunder between wanting to crawl into a hole to die and the most morbid curiosity he¡¯d ever experienced in his life. ¡°Jesus Christ, no,¡± Basil laughed. ¡°No offense, Mitch. Too clingy for my tastes. Did you ever even get over what¡¯s-his-name? Shit, you told me about him when we were roommates¡­¡± He snapped his finger a few times as he tried to recall the name. It wouldn¡¯t take a wild guess on Mitch¡¯s part about who Basil referred to, and he bristled. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry, I thought this was band practice and not a trial over all of my life decisions?¡± Darius squeezed his shoulder sympathetically. ¡°It¡¯s never not that, though.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± deadpanned Mitch, pulling away to ready his guitar and take a second to settle down. ¡°Dylan!¡± exclaimed Basil with the glee of a serial killer toying with their quarry, and Mitch considered throwing a drumstick at him. How many times could his teenage crush be brought up in a single week? And then he remembered that Jodie and Basil talked. Fuckers. too perfect to be random When Mitch got home he forwarded the reel to Ingrid. The next day, she reported back that her boss liked it, then followed up by asking what day worked best to swing by the station with emphasis on sooner rather than later. He half-joked that he could be there tomorrow, not expecting the idea to land; minutes later she confirmed that it worked and threw out a few times to meet. ¡°What the fuck?¡± he huffed a laugh while reading the text out loud. For the next 24 hours, Mitch¡¯s anxiety shifted into overdrive. At first he sat in denial that any of this was happening at all, because how could something so coveted emerge from out of nowhere? Not that a weekly 3 hour public access radio spot would be life changing nor fiscally sound, but getting paid for a hobby was enough for him. Even the slightest amount of steady income would be a godsend, if only to cover extra expenses a month. Mostly he wanted to be able to throw extra cash at Jodie, who he¡¯d never be able to repay at this rate. And though Mitch hardly believed in fate, he toyed with the idea that this could possibly be a sign which he ought to pay attention to. The idea of leaving Monument still hung heavy because all of the full-time, well paying gigs were in larger cities. But with Nate factoring into his future, he had a reason to stick around. The slot might not be much to start with, but neither were seed packets prior to their contents planted. It was based around potential, and for once he dared to be optimistic.
The interview passed quickly. Mitch sat at a conference room table, across from Ingrid, who wore an enviable threadbare cardigan with a band t-shirt and jeans, and an older man named Tom with a long gray ponytail and a goatee. There were hardly any inquiries at all, to his surprise, mostly keeping it to shop-talk at a languid pace. Mitch found it easier to keep up than he expected, and on several occasions Ingrid reiterated that there wasn¡¯t much of a difference between college and public radio. ¡°Are you familiar with doing pledge drives?¡± she asked with a knowing smirk. God, was he ever. ¡°Oh yes,¡± Mitch laughed. ¡°Very much so.¡± They touched on Mitch¡¯s career for a few minutes, and then Tom asked what bands he liked. Earlier, Tom waxed poetic about the glory days of being a Boston DJ through the 70s to the 90s; with that in mind, Mitch played it safe and answered with the likes of Cheap Trick and Lou Reed, then took a small gamble by throwing Supergrass into the mix as well. He wasn¡¯t lying, at one point or another these all took top slots on his listening shelf. Less so, lately, but that was neither here nor there. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Once Mitch finished, Tom nodded and appeared to briefly digest this list, then turned to Ingrid and said, ¡°Well, it¡¯s your project. I¡¯m fine with signing off if you wanna do a test run with him.¡± Mitch thanked both of them for their time, shaking Tom¡¯s hand a little too enthusiastically before taking off. The second he stepped outside, he had a cigarette ready to go and lit it with trembling hands. Seconds later, Ingrid joined him. ¡°Can I get one of those?¡± she asked, and he was all too happy to comply. ¡°Can I ask you something?¡± he asked while she took a drag. ¡°Have at it,¡± she answered after blowing a few smoke rings. ¡°This kinda thing- did someone put you up to this? It seems too perfect to be random. It¡¯s like you found my high school journal or something.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± she grinned. ¡°No Mitch, I didn¡¯t read your diary. Although I wish I did, I bet you were a pill back then.¡± ¡°I was a bundle of gay anxiety, not much different than now.¡± She burst out laughing at the response, and a smile crept up on his face. ¡°Hm, so yes and no for the randomness factor. Jodie put a bug in Rodney¡¯s ear a few months back about work when you were shelved and apparently going through some other shit.¡± ¡°That¡¯s putting it mildly.¡± ¡°Hey, none of my business if you¡¯re not advertising.¡± The sentiment was appreciated. She flicked some ash, then put the cigarette between her lips again and readjusted her loose bun. ¡°Anyway, he passed the message onto me since I¡¯ve been counting down the days since Jesus¡¯ 13th apostle announced his retirement. Originally we were gonna hire another person to keep running that program, but I told Tom that I¡¯d quit if we kept it up.¡± ¡°Oh, so your brilliant idea for a replacement is the antithesis of that?¡± Mitch joked. ¡°A few old people¡¯ll be mad, but fuck ¡¯em. We¡¯ll lose some donors at first, but we¡¯re in desperate need of new blood anyway. And after the last two years of this hellhole country¡¯s bullshit, I don¡¯t care. Fuck them and fuck their god, the sky one and the orange one.¡± ¡°Amen,¡± Mitch folded his hands in prayer, popping Ingrid yet again, her braying laughter elevating his ego. ¡°You¡¯re a good kid. Oh, I¡¯m glad you let me bully you into this. This¡¯ll be so fun,¡± she assured him, but he could tell that he didn¡¯t need it. deeper territory Since paperwork hadn¡¯t yet been signed and Mitch didn¡¯t want to jinx anything, he refrained from telling anyone about the job offer. Although he did send Rod a text to express his undying gratitude. The response that he received was a single with the thumbs up emoji and nothing else. He specifically wanted to keep the information from Jodie until after her trip, because she deserved to focus on herself for once. Her life was such a whirlwind that she forgot to set up an appointment to get her hair touched up prior to the flight, and this nearly resulted in a massive breakdown. But Mitch dyed her hair countless times in the past, and though he was by no means a pro, he considered himself competent enough in this arena. After gathering up all of the supplies to fulfill the task, he dragged her away from whatever trashy supernatural drama that she and Avi obsessed over that week. She gasped when she saw the bathroom, presumably at Mitch¡¯s painstaking efforts to cover every possible surface; the first time they used Manic Panic together, his entire dorm bathroom turned violet from the dye. He knew better now. ¡°Oh my god,¡± Jodie whimpered, almost breaking out into a sob while Mitch pulled on a pair of blue nitrile gloves, letting the cuff snap against his wrist. ¡°Shhh, it¡¯s alright.¡± He gently shushed while handing her a ragged t-shirt to wear over her clothes. And though anyone else may dismiss it as a lot of energy expelled over hair dye, there was a tremendous significance. It was Jodie¡¯s first way of expressing herself to the world after she escaped from her mom¡¯s household of destruction, and something she kept up on ever since. So as she wailed about the recent stress and how overwhelming it¡¯d all gotten, along with vents that spiraled into a much deeper territory that stayed between the two of them, Mitch stayed quiet and let her get it out of her system. And when she tried to apologize for the outburst, he stopped her from doing so. The bathroom was their safe space, after all. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. When all was said and done -after the processing and the shampoo and conditioning and blow drying- the job was adequate enough. As suspected, it wasn¡¯t on par with her usual stylist¡¯s efforts, but Jodie gushed for the next few days, all aglow and far more relaxed than before. Ultimately, all that mattered was that she could now breathe easier.
Hours before Jodie was due to leave, she and Mitch exchanged gifts with one another. She presented him with the scarf that matched his hat, and he gave her the photograph that he took of her on the dock, professionally framed and matted. Being of one mind, they both gifted one another edibles as well. ¡°I¡¯ll miss you,¡± she whined. ¡°Just crawl into my suitcase and come with me! What¡¯re you even gonna do all by yourself here? I¡¯m offering a free trip to the Caribbean, and you don¡¯t even care.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± Mitch asserted. ¡°Marie¡¯s coming to visit before she goes to Logan. After that, I¡¯m gonna take my own little trip right here.¡± He shook the container of gummies that Jodie handed to him a few moments prior. ¡°You need a vacation, Jo. Don¡¯t worry about me. Please?¡± ¡°That¡¯s all I ever do. It¡¯s my identity at this point.¡± ¡°I¡¯m so flattered,¡± Mitch rolled his eyes. The blubbering continued until Victor and Nora came by to collect her and Mia, but not without Victor joining the theatrics about how much he¡¯d miss Mitch as well. ¡°Go,¡± Mitch waved the family off after getting tag-teamed with affection by the father-daughter combo. After they left, Mitch leapt onto the couch and stretched out, relishing in the unusual peace and quiet. It was so still that eventually Estrella wandered over and made herself at home on his chest, gently kneading away at his shirt until she passed out. He dared to reach up to lightly scratch her behind the ears, and was rewarded when she leaned into the contact. The light vibration of her purrs and solid weight of her small body, not unlike a space heater in the drafty old house, caused his eyelids to grow heavy.There are worse ways to spend a holiday, he thought mere seconds before passing out. a joke ¡°Look at that,¡± came Avi¡¯s voice from the doorway, not a whisper but quiet enough to not disturb the scene. Mitch stirred from his nap and his eyes fluttered open. Rolling the back of his head against the arm of the couch, he faced Avi, whose eyes crinkled at the corners and lips curved upwards ever so slightly. Caught entirely off guard by the attention, Mitch¡¯s chest clenched, an unfathomable pressure forming cracks of concern like fissures in the earth. ¡°Ready to see the family?¡± Mitch asked. Avi ran a hand down his beard, as he always did when he needed to buy time. ¡°Yeah,¡± he nodded at last, his voice gruff. ¡°Don¡¯t sound too convincing,¡± Mitch stated. At some point they¡¯d reached a level of candidness with one another, and this nature of observation no longer felt intrusive. Avi shrugged. ¡°Traveling across the country this time of year is stressful, y¡¯know?¡± ¡°You could always ditch them and hang out with me.¡± It was a joke, a mere joke. Mitch laughed to drive home the nature of this, nothing more than a joke. ¡°God, maybe,¡± Avi closed his eyes and broke into a smile, the response doing something rancid to Mitch¡¯s guts. Countering this treachery, he reminded himself that Nate would be by in a few days. Without another soul around to worry about, they could get loud, and the very idea got him half-hard. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. But the thought dispelled when Avi asked, ¡°What about you? Are you gonna be alone?¡± ¡°My uncle and aunt are visiting family in Valence, and after all this time I still haven¡¯t built up the fortitude to see my mother. So, yes.¡± Mitch snorted when this answer earned him a frown. ¡°I¡¯ll manage, I promise.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be. I get a few days to myself, blazed out of my skull. Now that¡¯s a real holiday.¡± ¡°Fuck, maybe I actually should stay. That sounds much better than flying across the country.¡± Though Avi kept his tone light, his furrowed brow and the way that he rubbed one of his elbows read as if he actually considered the non-option. Mitch¡¯s mouth went dry, unsure how to respond. Of course he wanted Avi to stay, and of course Avi staying would fuck up his original plans. Or maybe not, maybe he and Nate could just be really quiet. He could be selfish and want to have a little bit of everything, right? What he needed to do was ask if everything was OK. Instead, he changed the subject. ¡°Oh. By the way, I got the job.¡± ¡°You did?¡± Avi lit up. ¡°Well shit, we gotta celebrate.¡± ¡°It¡¯s really not that big of a deal.¡± So much for the original plan, his brain supplied while dealing a healthy dose of self-flagellation. ¡°Can you not tell anyone, though? I still gotta actually do a show. After that¡­¡± he trailed off. ¡°Celebration?¡± Avi¡¯s eyebrows waggled. ¡°For a part time job?¡± Mitch¡¯s voice elevated, startling Estrella. Her claws sunk into his skin as she launched off and skittered away, and he rubbed his chest. ¡°Maybe. I dunno. Hey, don¡¯t you have a plane to catch?¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Avi dismissed, but turned on his heel and slowly ascended the staircase. ¡°Still considering staying¡±. The words echoed in the stairwell. ¡°Maybe you should,¡± Mitch muttered under his breath. inches away A few minutes later, Avi returned with his luggage and a new burgundy scarf around his neck, knit in a pattern identical to Mitch¡¯s. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re leaving now? I thought you had a late flight.¡± Thought there¡¯d be more time, he didn¡¯t say, as if it even mattered. ¡°Jodie sent me a text. Traffic¡¯s already bad, so I¡¯m gonna go now and wait around the airport for a few hours. Fun times.¡± ¡°OK,¡± Mitch nodded. While Avi pulled his jacket on and slipped into his shoes, Mitch rolled off of the couch and wandered towards the foyer. He stood at the door with a hand near the knob and rocked on the balls of his feet, uncertain why he¡¯d gotten up at all other than restlessness. Avi turned to him with a mischievous glint and cheeks lifted, causing Mitch¡¯s pulse to rise. He thought he¡¯d be over this by now. He wasn¡¯t. ¡°Seeing me off?¡± Avi teased, standing close, the tips of their toes inches away. ¡°That¡¯s my role today, yes,¡± Mitch attempted to joke, but his voice choked and his head was too light to land any sort of punchline. There was a long pause while Avi juggled his luggage, and he presented something wrapped in brown kraft paper to Mitch, thin and rectangular and solid. ¡°Here, for you. Since I can¡¯t give it to you the day of.¡± ¡°Oh!¡± Mitch stared down at what he assumed used to be a grocery bag, judging from Avi¡¯s tendency to recycle as often as possible. ¡°I like the ribbon,¡± he said in reference to the poorly drawn bow that was scrawled in permanent marker. ¡°Hey, I worked really hard on that. But also don¡¯t look at it.¡± Avi¡¯s nose wrinkled. ¡°Fine, fine.¡± Running fingers along the seam, Mitch undid the tape strips that held the paper together and opened it up. He didn¡¯t recognize the colorful psychedelic art or the kanji on the hardcover book¡¯s cover, but it piqued his interest. ¡°So-¡± Avi cleared his throat. ¡°This is by an artist named Tadanori Yokoo. When I lived in Japan, I visited one of his art exhibits and was blown away. He does fine art now, but back in the 60s and 70s he did a ton of pop art for really famous musicians, like album covers and concert posters.¡± While Avi explained, Mitch flipped through the pages and landed on surreal collages of the likes of Earth, Wind, and Fire and Cat Stevens and The Beatles. ¡°It seems like the kind of thing you¡¯d be into?¡± Mitch¡¯s head shot up. ¡°This is¡­shit, Avi, this is really cool.¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°Yeah, oh my god. Dude, my gift¡¯s so lame,¡± huffed Mitch. How could he have known that he¡¯d be the recipient of such a thoughtful present? ¡°I didn¡¯t expect anything, though,¡± Avi tried to assure, but his modesty only caused the shame to further deepen. Reluctantly, Mitch went to the kitchen and retrieved a small satin box from the fridge. The container itself was by far fancier than its contents, not for a lack of trying. For the last week or so, Mitch invested more effort than he cared to admit at learning how to make vegan candy. The resulting messes that he made in the process often left him discouraged, but he was determined to get it right after he invested in an assortment of Pokemon molds and various other supplies for what may be a one-time attempt. But what mostly tripped him up wasn¡¯t the process itself, it was he became blinded by ambition and attempted to use edible paints. That was when they went from acceptable to looking as though a child took a stab at it, but he¡¯d run out of funds and time by then. ¡°Um.¡± Holding the box between his hands, he brought it back to Avi and refused to make eye contact. His grip tightened, fingers threatening to crush the cardboard. ¡°It¡¯s not much. It¡¯s not even really a gift? You mentioned the red eye, and I¡­¡± As Mitch stammered, Avi reached out and coaxed the box from out of his grasp. Were these even characters that he liked, Mitch wondered. Did people have preferences? He didn¡¯t know much about the game or the cartoon or the little critters, but he supposed that some of them were sort of cute. According to the internet, there was a wrestling cat, which seemed neat. Should he have gotten something with that for Avi? As panic manifested, Avi slid the lid off and gasped. ¡°Did you get me Pokemon chocolates? Where did you even get-¡± ¡°I made them,¡± Mitch blurted, then winced. ¡°They¡¯re coffee flavored, because. Well.¡± ¡°Because of the flight?¡± ¡°Because of your deal with coffee. And because of the flight, yes. But it¡¯s not an amazing artbook. It¡¯s not much at all.¡± But before Mitch could spiral any further, Avi pulled him into a fierce hug. His arms fixed tightly around Mitch¡¯s midsection, warmth bleeding through all of the layers of clothing. ¡°Merry Christmas, Mitch,¡± Avi whispered, his broad hand running up and down Mitch¡¯s spine, nails occasionally snagging the threads of his ragged knit sweater. He wondered if Avi could feel the way that his heart hammered against his ribcage, how it always did when they hugged. As if it begged to be inside of Avi instead, to belong to him. ¡°Merry Christmas, Avi,¡± Mitch whispered back, swallowing the urge to convince him to actually stay and hating himself for still being so soft and so weak for this one particular person. When he couldn¡¯t have him, when he -when they both- had someone else. Not that Mitch had Nate, they still weren¡¯t official. Hopefully that would change in the near future. He tried not to consider that maybe he was the problem, that it wasn¡¯t his lousy reputation, but rather Nate needed more time. When he brought it up to Ann, she reminded him that it¡¯d only been a few weeks. But the sooner he had confirmation, something affirmative where he could cling to and focus his attention elsewhere, the sooner he could finally move on and stop being an awful, selfish friend. He needed to be good to Avi, and he couldn¡¯t fully do that with ulterior motives forever lingering in the background. At last, Avi released him. Mitch quickly patched up his crumbling resolve by smearing it with a heaping portion of manners as a form of emotional spackling paste. Swallowing hard, he said, ¡°Give Charlie my best.¡± Avi blinked a few times, then responded with a casual, ¡°Sure thing¡±. Seconds later, he was out of the house and long gone. Mitch watched him leave from the doorway, rubbing his temples for yet again making things so awkward. perceived A knock interrupted Mitch while he wrapped up his third attempt at re-organizing the livingroom that morning. He took one last look around and pulled down the godforsaken Suehiro print that Jodie hung back up, sliding it behind the couch and before scurrying over to the front door. When he threw it open, he was met with his Aunt¡¯s bright smile. ¡°Mon rayon de soleil!¡± Marie exclaimed before the standard faire la bise exchange, and Mitch beckoned her to come inside. ¡°I¡¯m making tea,¡± he announced while taking her coat. After hanging it on the hall tree, he rummaged through a cabinet to find an inoffensive mug to offer and settled on one covered in floral print. No doubt it once belonged to Rosa. ¡°Do you need any help?¡± Marie asked, and Mitch declined. Adding a splash of milk and drizzle of honey to her tea, he brought the steaming mugs over to the coffee table and took a seat next to her on the couch. She thanked him, and reached over to cradle his cheek with her palm. ¡°It¡¯s so good to see you. How have things been? You look well.¡± ¡°Everyone says I look tired,¡± Mitch chuckled, then relaxed his shoulders and sat up a little straighter. With a hard time limit for the visit, Mitch gave an abridged version of the events in his life since they last saw one another. Which was nearly a year ago, if his math was correct. God, he was a shithead for not carving out more space for her and Roland. But she alluded to being worried, so he owed some honestly to her. After all, Marie handled motherhood better than Bernadette -his biological mother- ever had. When he was 16 years old, she accidentally discovered him fooling around with one of his classmates. Later, she pulled him aside and asked no questions, but assured him with an embrace that he was loved and supported no matter what. Years later, a devastating phone call took place with Born Again Bernadette; he found the courage to come out to her, and she informed him matter-of-factly that he was sinful and needed to repent or else he¡¯d end up in hell. Her final act of devotion to her new lord and savior was quoting a bible verse to her own son about being an abomination before promptly hanging up. When he told Marie about what took place and tried to downplay the emotional devastation, she responded by driving all the way out to Cambridge to console him. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. While Mitch relayed the past year¡¯s events, he realized that he never noticed fine lines on Marie¡¯s face, and how the last remaining traces of her once brunette hair were now gray; physical reminders that time stopped for no one. He loved her, and she deserved to know much more than the rare fragments which he allowed to slip past his guarded gates. It was unfair to keep her in the dark just because he was afraid of being perceived. Steadying his nerves, he told her about the breakup with Calvin and the injury. Her jaw went slack, prompting Mitch to apologize for not sharing either pieces of information sooner. But on a better note, he happily reported that he hadn¡¯t relapsed, and that his roommate was helping him develop better habits. ¡°I thought you looked bigger. Healthier,¡± she noted. After a bit of risk assessment, he mentioned that he was seeing someone nice, someone that he liked very much. Marie lit up, but Mitch curbed it with, ¡°It¡¯s not- we¡¯re not a thing yet, I don¡¯t think. But he¡¯s very sweet, just a bit-¡± he paused, avoiding the term ¡®inexperienced¡¯ or anything suggestive. ¡°Well, reserved, I suppose. I¡¯m trying to not rush it, like I always do.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the hardest part when you really like someone,¡± Marie agreed. ¡°It¡¯ll be worth it, if he¡¯s good for you.¡± She asked about Jodie, and was relieved to hear that things improved, albeit slowly. Mitch inquired about Roland and their trip, and Marie¡¯s diplomacy was most admirable. ¡°What would you like me to say if Bernadette should bring you up?¡± she asked. ¡°Ideally, nothing,¡± Mitch grimaced, then sighed. ¡°Say I¡¯m fine, I guess?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I was thinking,¡± she pat his hand. When it reached the final stretch before Marie needed to take her leave, she jumped in place and exclaimed that his belongings were in her car. ¡°I was so terribly excited when I saw you, that I nearly forgot!¡± she laughed. And though Mitch insisted that he could get it all out on his own, she insisted that she was as fit as ever and lent a hand with ferrying everything inside. Her car was nearly packed to the brim with an ample assortment of Mitch¡¯s collected life: vinyls, instruments, miscellaneous goods like posters and books, concert DVDs and VHS tapes. Back when they made this plan to see one another, he requested that she bring a few things as his way of dipping his toes into staying put. He hadn¡¯t anticipated the entire attic. Among the bounty was a wrapped gift, which she made him promise to wait until Christmas to open. When Mitch went for his half of the exchange, she requested that he mail the present since she didn¡¯t want anything staying in the car for the duration of the trip. ¡°That, or come visit when we get back. Juno misses you, and the garden¡¯s so large now,¡± she added with a wink as Mitch helped her into her coat. ¡°I will,¡± promised Mitch, his heart aching at the thought of the sweet border collie now being a senior. ¡°Je te aime tr¨¨s beaucoup,¡± Marie reminded him on her way out. ¡°Je t¡¯aime aussi,¡± Mitch responded. ¡°Give Roland, Grand-m¨¨re et Grand-p¨¨re my best.¡± ¡°Yes! And tell Jodie we say hello!¡± She turned around and blew a few kisses at him, which he caught. Yet another departure down. freeze up Since the bakery was closed for the period between Christmas and New Years Day, Nate spent a few nights over. It¡¯d be insane to not take advantage of this rare stretch of privacy while no one else was around. At Mitch¡¯s insistence, they made the trek downtown to see the lit trees in city square before the year¡¯s end. Normally he didn¡¯t care about the display, but he¡¯d been cooped up in the house and stoned out of his mind for the last few days so he wanted fresh air. That, and he was making the effort to appreciate Monument and all of its charm. Apparently, they weren¡¯t the only ones with this activity in mind. The small park was crowded with families and other couples, along with a few food truck vendors and a band on the gazebo. Their fingers laced together as they walked under the lights, and Mitch nursed the contentment that blossomed in his core. But without warning, Nate sucked in a breath and froze in place, then hastily withdrew his hand. Mitch cocked his head and scrunched his nose in confusion as he tried to determine what could have startled him so; before he could ask, he heard a woman call out Nate¡¯s name. ¡°Hey Mom, hey Dad!¡± Nate responded, his voice high and nervous. ¡°What¡¯re you guys doing here?¡± And suddenly it was as if Mitch didn¡¯t exist. There were brief introductions of course, where Mitch was ¡°a friend¡± and ¡°someone from the school¡±, but he mostly went ignored during the few minutes that the family chatted. So he excused himself and wandered over to one of the food trucks, not hungry but needing to be anywhere else. Nothing looked appetizing, so he lit a cigarette in an unoccupied corner and waited around. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. On the walk home, Mitch kept his hands in his pockets while Nate slung an arm around his shoulders. The incident went unaddressed before and after Mitch got bent over the majority of the furniture downstairs. There was no explanation before or after Nate eagerly requested that Mitch be the one to top, although perhaps that could be construed as some form of placation or overcompensation. Regardless, Mitch obliged and shortly had him begging for more. Good to know he was still half decent at fucking, despite not having railed anyone since Calvin. When they crashed on the pull-out sofa, Mitch attempted to bridge this expanding gap by telling Nate that he really liked him. He silently prayed that it¡¯d be the start of something. ¡°I like you, too,¡± Nate responded with a yawn. ¡°I, uh, told my aunt about you. She was over a few days ago-¡± Nate¡¯s body stiffened as Mitch said that, and his heart leapt into his throat. ¡°I just told her I was seeing someone, there wasn¡¯t any details or anything-¡° ¡°It¡¯s OK,¡± Nate replied with an amiable tone, and yet it was tinged with caution. He pulled Mitch a little closer, keeping him tucked under his arm. And then at last came the acknowledgement, which brought little relief. ¡°I still haven¡¯t talked to my folks yet. I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to freeze up like that earlier.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Mitch lied, upset with himself for getting caught up in a label of all things. Past him would be ashamed for being so fragile. His chest tightened as the words exited his mouth. ¡°But if you want or need help with that, I¡¯m here. And y¡¯know, I don¡¯t mind if-¡° ¡°I know,¡± Nate kissed the top of his head, but said nothing more. Mitch bit his bottom lip, wanting to add that he didn¡¯t mind if Nate¡¯s parents didn¡¯t know yet, they could work up to that. But instead he closed his eyes, and tried to get some rest. all of the potential Louis and Sandy visited the next day, bringing an armload of Studio Ghibli movies along with them. ¡°Loulou gave me a set for my birthday,¡± Sandy announced as she showed them off, catching Mitch off guard by the quantity of them. They planned on doing this movie marathon to celebrate, but kept the theme a secret until now. ¡°Are they all good as Spirited Away?¡± he asked while examining the various box art, all of which had similar color palettes and character designs. Most of them looked whimsical, although a few seemed more based in reality. ¡°They¡¯re all great, but-¡± With a nervous laugh, she plucked away the one that he currently held with two children on its cover. ¡°We¡¯re not doing Grave of the Fireflies.¡± Mitch shrugged, unsure of the significance. ¡°Whatever you say.¡± Princess Mononoke was selected first. Sandy proceeded to explain how it was the inspiration for her wrestling character, which Mitch understood so much better after watching it. After that, another was loaded up. By the time it ended, they all agreed on a quick break to stretch and place an order for pizza. Once snacks were refilled and bathroom breaks were taken, they tackled My Neighbor Totoro. Part way through, as the sun set and the room grew dark, Nate slung an arm around Mitch¡¯s shoulders and pulled him in tight. All at once, Mitch melted into his side, wondering if things were finally leading towards where he so desperately wanted to be. ¡°Hi,¡± Mitch quietly giggled, a little lightheaded at the gesture. ¡°Hey,¡± Nate nuzzled the side of his face lightly with his nose, then turned his attention back to the film. To Mitch¡¯s delight, the same black fuzzy creatures from Spirited Away appeared in this film as well, and Sandy enabled his excitement as he pointed them out. She stood up and scrambled to get her backpack, and told him to close his eyes and open his hands while she fished through it. Seconds later, she placed something soft onto his palms. ¡°OK, you can look now,¡± she urged. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. He complied with the request, and staring up at him was a huge pair of cartoon white eyes attached to a soft black orb with spindly little arms and legs. It clutched a pink star-shaped bead in its tiny hands, and he gasped at it. ¡°Happy holidays!¡± she shouted as he stammered his gratitude at her. ¡°I made that for you after we went to the movies a few months back, ¡¯cause you liked them so much.¡± ¡°So you don¡¯t hate me?¡± he blurted, then flinched because that was a question meant to be asked in private. But Sandy shook her head and grinned at him. ¡°Nah. You drove to Cambridge and paid for ramen and boba and let me make fun of you. We¡¯re good.¡± Then they hugged, which felt as if it was the final piece of atonement. His eyes prickled as the weight lifted and release had at last been granted. He was so caught up in all of it, the warmth and love shared in that room in that moment and from all the days prior. Caught up in the movie as it resumed, the solid weight of Nate next to him, the reminder on his phone that in a week and a half he¡¯d be on the radio, all of the potential which the future held¡­ That he didn¡¯t notice the lights in the driveway, or that the front door opened until a rush of cold air swept into the livingroom. ¡°Pizza?¡± Louis asked with a concerned glance. ¡°Hello?¡± Mitch shakily greeted, checking his phone but saw no missed calls. ¡°Just me,¡± Avi¡¯s voice croaked out, sounding as though he hadn¡¯t slept in days. Shutting the door behind him, he looked over at the group and quietly greeted them with a dejected, ¡°Hi guys.¡± ¡°What¡¯re you-¡± Mitch untangled himself from Nate and hurried over to meet him in the foyer, and spoke in a hushed tone. ¡°What¡¯s going on? I thought you weren¡¯t due to come back for at least a few more days.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Avi blinked a few times, his eyes glazed over, then he shook his head. ¡°Came back early. There was some kind of bug going around home. Everyone¡¯s got it right now so we weren¡¯t exactly spending time together. Didn¡¯t want to risk catching it.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Mitch nodded, watching Avi take his coat off. ¡°Is there anything I can do? Do you need anything? We¡¯re watching Totoro, if you wanna-¡° ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± Avi declined. ¡°Just gonna go lay down for a while. Probably shouldn¡¯t be around anyone if I might be sick.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± Mitch swallowed hard. ¡°But, if you need anything, you¡¯ll let me know? I have my phone on me.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± Avi left it at that, and head up the stairs, his luggage in hand and loosely trailing behind him. At a loss of what to do, Mitch stared until Avi disappeared onto the second floor, then begrudgingly returned to the couch. As he resettled, Nate raised and eyebrow at him, and all Mitch could do was shrug. all was well Although Jodie wouldn¡¯t be back in time for New Years Eve, she encouraged everyone to use the school if they still wanted to have a party. The roster took advantage of her offer, since they¡¯d thrown a party for the last few years; breaking what became a tradition was unfathomable, especially considering the promotion¡¯s healthy growth and prosperity. No one credited these festivities for that good luck, but wrestlers were a superstitious lot and erred on the side of caution. Also, she laid it on pretty thick, so Mitch took the hint and decorated on her behalf. If nothing else, it¡¯d make for great social media content. And then a miracle occurred. For the first time in days, Avi left his room. Up until then he¡¯d been quarantining, just in case he caught whatever mystery illness plagued his family. Mitch placed countless meals and beverages outside of his door, attaching Post-It notes with doodles that he drew on them. No one else on this planet put so much thought into a scribble, but it was all he could do as he fretted in solitude, at a total loss of how else to help. Sometimes the sparse plinking of guitar strings came from behind Avi¡¯s door and filled the otherwise silent house, melancholic in a way that Mitch couldn¡¯t define. So when Avi showed up at the school to join in on the festivities, looking far less harrowed than the night he returned from Everett, Mitch was relieved. Fighting Spirit supplied a keg, Jodie scheduled a food truck to park in the lot for the night, and everyone showed up ready to go. They somehow all gathered in one shot for a video call to Jodie and Victor, which Louis handled the videography since he was the tallest of the bunch. All was well. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. A few hours before midnight, Mitch looked up at Nate as their fingers linked together for the first time within the walls of the school. He thought about how eager he was to be rid of 2018 altogether and move forward. And when Nate looked back at him, breaking into a smile and tightly squeezing his hand, his heart fluttered. Unbridled elation overcame Mitch, for at last there was real kindling for someone other than Avi. He was capable of moving on as it turned out, something that he feared may never happen because his heart always lingered much too long where it wasn¡¯t welcome. He excused himself to hide away in the office, needing some privacy to decompress. While sprawled out on the sofa and savoring this sweet victory, a text arrived from Jodie. She asked him to grab some extra cash from the safe to tip the food truck employees. Springing up, he went to her desk to fetch the key and sat in her chair, spinning around for one good rotation before he opened the middle drawer. He peered inside and groped around, pulling out some miscellaneous supplies as he tried to locate the inconspicuous container with the key hidden inside of it. But he paused when he spotted the flap of a white envelope tucked around an unsealed greeting card. On it was Jodie¡¯s handwriting, chunky bold letters that spelled out NATE. Curiosity struck, though he resisted the urge to look because it wasn¡¯t any of his business. He was about to put it down and move on with the assigned task, until he turned it over. The front of the card stared him in the face: an illustration of a cow, and in bold text below it read ¡®You¡¯re Moo-ving On To Greener Pastures¡¯. when ¡°What the fuck?¡± Mitch choked out a noise that was akin to a laugh but not quite. Throwing caution and respect to the wind, he opened it up. There was a small soulless Hallmark blurb about leaving printed on the right side, and on the left was a note from Jodie. Something something ¡®The Fed¡¯, a joke about betrayal, a line about Monument being home, and so on and so forth. Except Mitch couldn¡¯t comprehend any of it. His hands violently shook and his vision blurred as he attempted to read the words. Setting it on the desk before he ruined the card with either his tears or by ripping it to shreds, he continued to rummage, coming across a receipt that contained a few items. On it: a greeting card. The date: a few weeks ago. A dagger to the heart would have been gentler, kinder. Putting emotions aside, he moved mechanically and found the key, grabbed the cash, and delivered it to the truck. The entire time, his breathing shallow as he focused on keeping it together long enough to- Fuck, he didn¡¯t know. Not implode? Not break down? The world spun, and he knew that he needed to get away and fast. To make matters worse, his cigarettes were back in his car. ¡°There you are!¡± Nate¡¯s voice cut through his thoughts, sending Mitch directly over the cliff that he¡¯d been avoiding for the last few minutes. Thankfully, they were in the parking lot, and currently a good distance away from everyone else. ¡°When did you get signed?¡± Mitch asked through his teeth, cutting to the chase. ¡°Huh?¡± Nate¡¯s face scrunched, and then dropped. ¡°Oh-¡° ¡°You¡¯re going to Florida, right?¡± ¡°Mitch, I-¡° ¡°Which happened first, Nate? You asked me out, and then you got the news? Or was it the other way around?¡± While he pieced together the timeline, his voice cracked. ¡°You let me-¡° ¡°Mitch,¡± Nate reached for him, but Mitch jolted away. ¡°You didn¡¯t think to tell me? You just let me¡­you strung me along? Why? When the fuck were you going to tell me?!¡± ¡°I was trying to figure that out.¡± ¡°Why didn¡¯t you leave me alone?¡± He¡¯d now reached full hysterics, and Nate began to shrink. ¡°You had a tryout and you knew, and-¡° The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°I like you, and-and I thought I¡¯d shoot my shot, I didn¡¯t expect to get signed! Mitch, please,¡± Nate pleaded, again reaching out. Mitch slapped his hand away in a panic, the sharp noise echoing loudly. ¡°Don¡¯t touch me, you fucking asshole!¡± He became acutely aware that the raucous drunks near the school quieted down, the silence in the parking lot now deafening. Of course tears welled up in his eyes, because why would his body grant him the decency to be able to wait until he had some privacy. ¡°You know what¡¯s absolutely unreal about this? In the last year, I¡¯ve been cheated on, dumped, injured, and abused by my fucked up ex. But this?¡± He kicked some loose gravel on the ground. ¡°This might be worse than any of that. Congrats. You win.¡± Nate stood frozen in place as he tugged at his hair. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± his voice creaked, as if the full weight of the situation settled upon him. ¡°Get fucked!¡± Mitch spat, not at all interested in considering anyone else¡¯s feelings while he bled out of his nicked arteries. No longer would he console those that caused him harm. As he turned around to get into his car, tired of everything -of all of this, of Monument, of his entire life- the sound of feet on pavement hurried towards him, and he braced himself to swing if necessary. ¡°What¡¯s going on out here?¡± Avi shouted from a distance, and Mitch flinched when he heard his voice. His legs turned to lead, which kept him from walking any further. Then there was a hand on his back. He knew it was Avi before contact was made, he¡¯d recognize the cologne from a mile away. ¡°Hey, are you alright?¡± asked Avi as he rubbed small circles. Mitch didn¡¯t answer, and kept his face hidden as shame threatened to eat him alive. ¡°Mitch, what happened?¡± How could he even begin to explain any of this? He elected not to, and instead asked, ¡°Avi, do you know how to feed Estrella?¡± ¡°Yeah, what¡¯s it- quarter cup of dry twice a day, and half a can of wet in the morning, right?¡± Avi recited. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I need to go away for a little bit. I¡¯m gonna stay up in Vermont. I can¡¯t be here.¡± ¡°Wait, hold on. Talk to me?¡± Avi requested. His gentle tone, gentle touch, gentle everything. May as well be shards of broken glass impaling every vital organ. ¡°You promised you would, if you needed something,¡± he reminded. Mitch shook his head, his eyes squeezed tight. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± ¡°Mitch¡­¡± ¡°What I need is for you to trust me, because I can¡¯t do this right now,¡± Mitch begged, finally turning to face Avi and grabbing his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle as he attempted to convey his desperation. His head hung low, still unable to make eye contact as embarrassment and anguish continued to assail him. ¡°Please, Avi. I need you to do this for me. I¡¯ll be alright, but not if I¡¯m here. Not now.¡± Whether seconds or minutes or years passed, Mitch couldn¡¯t tell, but finally Avi surrendered and breathed out ¡°OK¡± with uncertainty and fear. That may as well have been Mitch¡¯s death knell. In a small, defeated tone, he asked, ¡°Can you please text me when you get there? So that I know you¡¯re safe?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Mitch agreed, nodding sharply, anything to be granted leave. He ignored the worried look he was the recipient of by impulsively performing faire la bise on Avi, not even aware he¡¯d done it until finishing with the left cheek. ¡°You¡¯re a great friend, I hope you know that,¡± he choked, then spun around and made a dash to his car before Avi could respond. In his rearview mirror, he witnessed Avi¡¯s unsuccessful attempt to corral Nate, who turned his back and took off as well. the resolution Had Mitch not needed his medication to live, he would have driven directly to Pisgah Lake. He considered getting a refill at the CVS in downtown Rutterburg, but decided against it since everything was bound to be closed. So instead, he stopped by Jodie¡¯s house to grab the vitals: meds, change of clothes, his laptop, and Cendre. Everything else could be sorted out later. He overcame the impulse to break the speed limit, since cops were all over the place that night. And he only had half a tank of gas, which he needed to stretch as best he could until he got paid. Ultimately, nothing was nearly as dramatic as he would have liked it to be. It wasn¡¯t satisfying when Nate didn¡¯t put up any kind of fight or defense during the confrontation. It was all terribly depressing. A few minutes before midnight, he pulled up to the cabin. A few more minutes passed before he killed the engine, but he stayed put in the driver¡¯s seat. Provoked by nothing other than his spiraling thoughts, he punched the dashboard, and the plastic groaned in protest from the impact. The blow wasn¡¯t enough to cause any real damage to the car, but his knuckles were scraped and a bit of blood pooled up where the skin broke. No doubt it¡¯d hurt once the shock wore off. Part of him wished that he swiped a nip or a beer so that he¡¯d have some way to ring in the new year, but the universe deemed him too pathetic to drink because he couldn¡¯t handle his shit. Instead, he sat on the car¡¯s hood and sparked a joint that he didn¡¯t even want to smoke. It hung from his lips while he stared up at the stars above. ¡°No more letting people in. That¡¯s the resolution,¡± he grumbled. The original resolution was to stop smoking. So much for that. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. He went inside and didn¡¯t bother taking anything off until he got to the master bedroom. Normally he¡¯d sleep in his old room, but not then; while he may be miserable, he could at least treat himself to a decent night¡¯s sleep. After kicking his shoes off in the corner, he dropped his coat and jeans on top of them, forming a haphazard pile. He tossed Cendre onto the bed and flopped down afterwards, burying his face into a pillow. Memories from a few months back surfaced, of Charlie¡¯s muffled giggles and Avi¡¯s drunken inquiries, but he didn¡¯t have the energy to stop them from manifesting. Simultaneously, he didn¡¯t have the bandwidth to give a shit anymore. However, he still needed to keep his promise. That much he could manage. ¡®Made it.¡¯ He typed and sent to Avi. The response came almost instantly. ¡®I¡¯m glad to hear that.¡® Mitch rubbed his eyes. The pressure built up and he needed to cry, but the valve rusted shut and wouldn¡¯t budge. ¡®We¡¯ll talk later, I swear.¡® he added. ¡®Take whatever time you need. I¡¯ll be here.¡® Again, the response came within seconds. It was followed up with, ¡®Sleep well, OK?¡® And just like that, the faucet ran with no trouble at all. Tears rolled down Mitch¡¯s cheeks and dropped onto the phone screen. For whatever reason, his piece of shit brain had more of a trigger reaction to kindness than it did to actively being hurt. ¡®You too.¡¯ was his final message before he powered off his phone. He held onto the stuffed rabbit with all of his might, and wept until finally passing out. add it to the pile The next morning involved various checklist items. Mitch sent a message to Roland and Marie to let them know he was at the cabin and would be there for some time. Then he ripped the bandage off and informed Jodie as well, making sure to emphasize that he was perfectly safe, despite not being well. Ideally, he would have been able to wait until after she returned from her trip, but he didn¡¯t want her coming home and finding that he was gone. Or -god forbid- if Avi was put into a position where he had to explain what happened. Of course, she responded with a wall of text, asking when he¡¯d be back and if there was anything she could do, and the like. He didn¡¯t have answers for her, but said he¡¯d call when she was back home. And once more, he emphasized that he was safe. The next step involved getting food, and he knew that may be a tall order on New Year¡¯s Day. But the lone gas station at the edge of town was open year round, so he drove out that way. When he got there, the lot was full of locals with their green and white Vermont license plates, the majority of the cars half eaten by salt and old pickup trucks with plows attached to the front. He used to love it when Roland filled up here, since the station had an extensive and strange assortment of candy, carrying things like Razzles and Sour Skittles, which none of the stores back in Burlington stocked. In the summer, he and Jodie rode their bikes to there armed with anywhere from a five to a ten-dollar bill (whatever Roland or Marie had on hand to spare). Fueled by can-do attitudes, they pushed past the rolling hills and the pavement¡¯s heat, but the sweat and exhaustion dissipated once they entered the small lone building with its rattling AC unit that smelled like must and cigarettes. They splurged on enormous slushies and ice cream bars, which usually involved a small tug-of-war match between Jodie¡¯s ego and Mitch¡¯s love for her, since he figured out that she didn¡¯t have any money of her own. Or when he realized that she hadn¡¯t eaten that day. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Sometimes she dug in hard, so he¡¯d buy something and pretend that he didn¡¯t like the taste of it, then hand it over. That usually satisfied the requirements of the ritual. She got a job there the summer before college started, and she¡¯d sneak him freebies when he came by to keep her company during overnight shifts. In the winter, the odors were pungent as ever and it made him nostalgic nearly two decades later. The bell attached to the door jingled as he pushed it open, and the first stop he made was to the coffee counter. It may be the world¡¯s worst coffee, but it was also 50 cents; with enough sugar and creamer added the battery acid and dirt mixture came close to palatable. He browsed the sealed assortment of pastries, checking the expiration dates before settling on a honey bun, then grabbed a few other overpriced goods that would at least carry him until the next day. Satisfied with his selection, he stood in the long line of people picking up milk or eggs or flour, things that you might run out of at the last second when hosting people during the holidays. Finally at the front, he set his items down on the counter. A familiar voice that came from behind distracted him. His first instinct was to turn his head at the origin of the sound, but paused before looking too quickly and possibly drawing attention to himself. Instead, he tilted his head only enough to see from the corner of his eye, and in his peripheral vision he spotted her: Jodie¡¯s mother. He hadn¡¯t seen her in over a decade now, but she looked mostly the same with her round face, tired eyes, and long, mousy hair, always braided and went all the way down her backside. The only feature that she and Jodie shared were their noses, but it was dead on. If she wasn¡¯t wearing long sleeves due to the weather, her tattoos would be on full display, a patchwork curation of her beloved winged things such as fairies and angels and butterflies. To her leg clung a child, not any older than 5 or 6, who she kept shushing each time they made a noise. The cashier didn¡¯t bother saying his total, and Mitch didn¡¯t ask for it. He practically threw the cash down and tried to scurry away while also not standing out. Once he was back in the safety of his car, he peeled out of the lot and buckled up about half a mile down the road. ¡°She has another kid?!¡± he shouted. Did Jodie know? Was he supposed to tell her if she didn¡¯t? That was a problem for Future Mitch, he decided, and instead focused on freeing the honey bun from its wrapper with his teeth to take a huge bite out of it. But in his heart of hearts, he knew that for the rest of the day -rest of his life- he was destined to fret over a child that he¡¯d never even met. Add it to the pile. striking distance A blank word document stared Mitch in the face. He¡¯d been assigned an album review of an artist that he was unfamiliar with, which initially excited him. Usually he wrote other pop culture drivel, such as celebrity news regarding someone that he didn¡¯t care about. It¡¯d been his ongoing punishment after posting one too many opinion pieces that leaned into things like politics and ethics over current events. His editor claimed that she didn¡¯t want him fired, but Mitch knew that her boss was waiting for any excuse to cut ties with him. So for now, he kept a low profile and played by the rules until something better came along. But their newly acquired sister publication needed the review done ASAP, since they were stretched tight after a round of layoffs during the sale. Despite his reservations due to moral conflicts, his editor pushed him to take the assignment, treating it as if she was doing him a favor. ¡°You enjoy doing reviews,¡± she reminded him. He didn¡¯t have the energy to argue the nuances. But even after a few rotations, he still couldn¡¯t focus. And the words weren¡¯t coming out even when he finally did absorb what he was listening to. ¡°Who actually cares about this?¡± he shouted at the otherwise empty room, and his head dropped into his hands. Several days passed since his temporary relocation. He spoke with Jodie on the phone, and she barely held it together. It took many attempts to clarify that she hadn¡¯t caused this, that he was overwhelmed and needed a little space. After that conversation finished, he called Ann to reschedule an appointment that he missed, and expressed his remorse to her. Avi continued to touch base, mostly sending pictures of Estrella or short videos of himself practicing guitar. Mitch was barely able to get through the first one, and couldn¡¯t bring himself to watch anymore since he kept breaking down when he¡¯d go to watch them. Without Avi, he was utterly disconsolate; not so much in a longing way, but in the way that Avi made him feel safe and free of judgment, like a shawl that he wrapped around his shoulders with on a frigid night and warmed his soul. It was similar to how he missed Jodie, but also entirely different. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. When the absence grew so potent that he could feel an ulcer forming, Mitch came within striking distance of admitting to Avi how much he missed him. The text was drafted and ready to be sent, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself to commit to it. The grief-stricken look on Avi¡¯s face before Mitch took flight haunted him incessantly, and he didn¡¯t want to add anymore to that weight. He thought about Nate too often, and every time he did, he went out for a smoke. In a deliberate act of self harm, he combed through Nate¡¯s social media to try to catch a glimpse of remorse or sadness. When that didn¡¯t satisfy him, he pulled up old text messages as both a way of reminding himself to never fall for anyone again, but to also look for any possible red flags that he should have noticed. The various heart emojis exchanged in the past nauseated him, and there were so many of them. ¡°Asshole,¡± he muttered, gaining nothing other than pain. That¡¯s what you get, you stupid slut, his mind helpfully supplied. Broken. Impossible for anyone to love. Only useful for a good time. He threw his phone to the other side of the sofa, and once more returned to the blank document. During the onslaught of intrusive thoughts -where he entertained the idea of quitting journalism to either open a head shop, or take a job at the regional hospital because the options in Rutterburg weren¡¯t exactly plentiful- he remembered the radio gig he had that upcoming Sunday. ¡°FUCK!¡± he yelled and went horizontal on the couch, clawing at his face and kicking his legs due to frustration. Now he had no idea if he¡¯d even make it. Another thing to throw onto his monument of failure. Dragging himself upright, he readied another cigarette and started the slow crawl to the front door; he¡¯d need another pack of American Spirits by the end of the day at the rate he was going. As he pulled on his coat and hat, the sound of tires squeaking on snowpack caught his attention, and he looked out the kitchen window to see if someone made a wrong turn. Unsurprisingly, it happened often out here since the poor reception often rendered GPS satellites useless. An old green Subaru Forester pulled up the dirt road and parked under the carport. Moments later, Roland¡¯s lean frame came into view, and trailing him was Juno, the family¡¯s elderly Border Collie. Mitch scrambled over to the door and threw it open. what brought you here ¡°Salut!¡± Roland greeted with a wave, and Mitch ran to meet him in the front yard. He was enveloped in a tight hug, and Roland¡¯s fingers lightly stroked the back of his head. ¡°What¡¯re you doing here?¡± asked Mitch. ¡°I would have bought more groceries if I knew you were coming. Do you want to go to lunch?¡± ¡°No no, that is quite alright,¡± Roland chuckled, and steered Mitch back inside by placing a hand between his shoulders. ¡°Forgive me for dropping in like this. I wanted to see you, it has been some time.¡± Something about Roland¡¯s refusal to adapt to contractions caused Mitch¡¯s heart to swell with fondness. He adored how his uncle always came across as a bit formal when he spoke English, as if being casual was a concession too far for Roland. Mitch himself lacked that tenacity, having put great efforts into assimilating when he as a teenager to avoid getting picked on by his classmates. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯ve been meaning to visit. Life hasn¡¯t been so great,¡± Mitch admitted. He stashed the cigarette pack into his coat pocket before Roland could see it, not needing to advertise more of his shame for consumption. Although his clothes must have reeked of smoke and nicotine by now. ¡°I understand,¡± Roland assured with a kind smile, then puttered about the kitchen and pulled out the kettle. After setting it on the stove, he pulled out a painted tin container and eyeballed it. ¡°I see we need to stock up. Is chocolate mint alright? I believe this is left over from the herb garden at home.¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Typically, Mitch wasn¡¯t much of a tea enthusiast, but he¡¯d drink with his aunt and uncle. Per Roland¡¯s suggestion, he sat at the kitchen table and lavished Juno with attention, whose tongue lolled and tail wagged in broad sweeps. Minutes later, Roland slid the mug with the leaf imprints in front of him, then took a seat across the table with a cup of his own. As they shared their tea together, Roland took long glances at Mitch that were loving yet concerned. Like Marie, his hair turned gray, and his slender fingers were more knobbly and spotted than Mitch remembered them being. Still, even with the silver, he was handsome as ever; Mitch could only hope to look so good, if he ever reached that age. ¡°We have missed having you around,¡± Roland finally remarked. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Mitch apologized once more. ¡°I¡¯ve missed being around, I just¡­¡± he trailed off and swallowed, then stared down at the steam that wafted from his cup. ¡°Just what?¡± Roland calmly asked, triggering Mitch to look away and grind the heel of his palm into his eyes. He couldn¡¯t very well avoid it any longer, he realized, and his chest seized up as terror gripped his heart and bones and turned his insides to ice. Something thrashed about wildly, perhaps his soul trying to escape for self-preservation purposes. If he died at that very moment, he wouldn¡¯t need to address this. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. But despite trying, he stayed alive. ¡°I¡¯ve screwed up so much,¡± Mitch spoke at last, his voice fragile as he tried not to choke. With each word, the cracks spread further out and compromised what little stability that remained. ¡°You and Marie took me in, spent a small fortune to try to make me well. I repaid you by repeatedly fucking up.¡± ¡°Oh Mitch,¡± Roland started. ¡°It is alright-¡± ¡°It¡¯s not, though!¡± He cried out and slammed his palm down, startling Roland. ¡°It¡¯s not alright that I upended your lives and thanked you by pissing mine away. I¡¯m such a disappointment, I can¡¯t get my shit straight for the life of me, and you continue to give me these chances.¡± His arms folded onto the table, and he dropped his head onto them. A few moments passed, and he felt fingertips graze his hands. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he whimpered. ¡°I¡¯m sorry that I¡¯m like this, that I¡¯m not better.¡± Roland exhaled. ¡°Is that really how you see yourself?¡± He paused, and when he spoke again there was an uncharacteristic tremor in his voice. ¡°A burden? A disappointment? How you think that Marie and I see you?¡± ¡°How could you not?¡± sobbed Mitch. ¡°Because we love you, Mitch.¡± Roland¡¯s words only provoked more tears, more hysterics. ¡°You have overcome difficult odds, but you continue to deny yourself support. I cannot imagine how difficult that must be, but it certainly hurts to see you hurt like this. Did we say something to make you think that you could not come to us in moments of need?¡± ¡°No!¡± Mitch¡¯s head shot up. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, then took a moment to collect himself to articulate as best he could. ¡°God, never. That¡¯s just it, you¡¯ve done so much, and it¡¯s wrong to take advantage of that over and over while I keep running into the same walls.¡± A few moments of silence passed, and Roland¡¯s thumb gently rubbed the inside of Mitch¡¯s wrist. ¡°Just so you know,¡± his voice was low, even for as soft spoken as he was. ¡°We have never once been disappointed in you. I know you hold yourself to impossible standards, but never have we ever regretted bringing you into our lives.¡± Mitch let out a wet laugh. ¡°How? You both have doctorates, and I almost failed out of college.¡± He nearly spoke aloud the reason -the breakdown during his senior year and the habits that followed which nearly killed him- but stopped himself and swallowed it back, the suppressed words feeling like razorblades as they tore down his throat. Because it was a pain that his uncle didn¡¯t need to relive, so Mitch spared him out of love. ¡°I barely have a career, but you¡¯re a professor. Marie runs an entire research laboratory for a university, for crissakes.¡± ¡°We were able to establish our careers when the market was favorable and the future was not so grim. It is hard to be a young person, I would know, I teach them.¡± Roland offered a sympathetic smile. ¡°But we -I- have always, always been proud of you, and the man you have become. You have not had an easy path, and yet you still march forward. A lesser person would have crumbled by now, and still you somehow always persist. Your resilience is both terrifying and admirable, and despite that, you remain soft and kind.¡± Yet, crumble Mitch did as he wept harder. Roland came around the table and threw his arms around him, and they stayed like that for several minutes until Mitch began to calm down at last. ¡°I only wish you would come to us,¡± Roland said mournfully. ¡°OK,¡± Mitch sniffled, and the tension drained from his body. ¡°I¡¯ll do better, I swear.¡± ¡°Good,¡± Roland kissed the top of his head, then took the seat next to him, the rims of his eyes red and swollen. He cleared his throat. ¡°Now then, could you tell me what brought you here?¡± home Mitch hadn¡¯t expected to address any of this right away, but he needed to try. So he opened up about Nate, and then Toby, and then the breakup with Calvin, and then Calvin in general. Occasionally, he stopped to ask if Marie relayed any of this to him already, but Roland urged him on. Unlike the conversation with his aunt, the tone and context now was far less optimistic; bleaker, more raw. Before, he painted a picture of an upward trajectory, a person not to be worried about. Now, he was at rock bottom with nothing left to lose or sell. He talked about the injury, and that he started smoking again, and how he shared a bed with Jodie because otherwise he¡¯d be homeless (Roland interjected to remind him that he¡¯d always have a home with them in Burlington, and Mitch apologized). He mentioned that he stayed mostly clean for nearly a year, and how therapy helped because otherwise he was sure he would have fallen back into it by now. He spoke about his hobbies, how for a while wrestling was the only thing that kept him going when everything else died out. But also that he recently returned to things that he used to love, like music and photography. When he mentioned Avi, he could hear the reverence in his own voice. Roland mentioned that Avi sounded very nice, Mitch kept his eyes fixed on the table. ¡°He is,¡± he nodded. ¡°He¡¯s¡­unique. I¡¯m really glad we met.¡± And when Mitch said those words, something inside of him finally unlocked. Yes, he loved Avi with his entire being, but no longer was it something horribly consuming that left him aching with hunger pains. For the first time since he¡¯d been unfairly blindsided by these feelings, it felt comfortable; peaceful, even. Avi¡¯s existence and companionship were much too important to Mitch, and at long last his heart accepted that it didn¡¯t need to grieve over the failure to captivate and possess what it would never be allowed to have. With this newfound strength, Mitch fortified himself enough to ask how Bernadette was doing, and Roland let out a heavy sigh. ¡°Still Catholic,¡± he answered, and Mitch openly grimaced, pulling a sad laugh from his uncle. It was the longest they spoke in years, and the most that Mitch ever revealed about himself, at least with regards to his adult life. Eventually, they migrated from the kitchen and into the living room, where Roland started a fire in the hearth and Juno kept Mitch company, insisting on attention when he delved a little too hard into emotional territory. He noted the gray on her face as well, and regret continued to assail him over the time that he¡¯d never be able to get back. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°You are welcome to stay however long you would like,¡± Roland informed him as the sun began to set. ¡°But how long were you actually planning to?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Mitch responded. ¡°I didn¡¯t really think any of this through. But Jodie¡¯s blaming herself, though. And I have a new gig at a radio station in Wickburg on Sunday, so I probably should-¡± He bit the inside of his cheek. ¡°I should go back home.¡± ¡°Home is a wonderful thing,¡± Roland commented. Mitch let the word settle on his tongue and in his mind. He¡¯d spent the last few months being close to so many people he cared about, and that cared about him. Though there were trials and tribulations aplenty, he¡¯d never actually been alone during any of them, even when he convinced himself that he¡¯d been abandoned. Monument was home, whether he wanted to accept that or not. ¡°You¡¯re right. Roland, I¡¯m sorry, I gotta go back.¡± He ran a hand through his hair and stood up, pacing frantically. ¡°Do not,¡± laughed Roland. ¡°Go where you are needed. I will phone Marie and tell her that I am staying for the night.¡± After retrieving his meager items from the master bedroom, Mitch hugged Roland with a ferocity and asserted that he¡¯d be in touch more often. He gave Juno a final pat between the ears, sending them flopping to and fro. They exchanged final goodbyes at his car, and he inserted the keys in the ignition. The engine, however, did not turn over. ¡°You¡¯ve gotta be fucking kidding me!¡± Mitch shouted after several attempts, but it refused to start. He rested his forehead onto the top of the steering wheel. ¡°Goddammit. C¡¯mon, Pokey,¡± he whined at the Volvo, trying to will it to live. He got out, and Roland attempted to troubleshoot what the issue could be, but a battery jump yielded nothing. Letting out a string of curses, Mitch grumbled, ¡°I can¡¯t believe it shit the bed NOW. This is exactly my luck.¡± ¡°It is quite old, I am surprised it has lasted this long,¡± Roland offered as consolation. ¡°Do you want to spend another night, and try to get it to a local garage tomorrow? It may cost more to fix than it is worth, however.¡± ¡°Lemme¡­I¡¯m gonna call Jodie,¡± Mitch exhaled. ¡°I wanna let her know that I actually intended to come home, so she doesn¡¯t think I hate her or left forever.¡± The conversation lasted exactly 41 seconds. He told her that his car died in Rutterburg, and she told him that she was already out the door and coming to pick him up, leaving no room for argument. Roland cracked up when Mitch relayed this information. ¡°She has always been so¡­so ready to go, yes?¡± Mitch shook his head fondly. ¡°You said it.¡± good for once An hour and a half later, Jodie pulled up to the house, and she practically tore the car door off of its hinges to get to Mitch and drag him into a hug. Their reunion was far more emotional than anticipated, and Mitch swore up and down that she wasn¡¯t the cause of why he needed to escape. Regardless, she continued to blame herself; in an appeasement bid, she promised to figure out how he could have his own room at the house. ¡°Maybe we could convert the dining room? I barely even use it,¡± she offered. ¡°The attic¡¯s still gotta get finished, I¡¯m gonna get to it this year. You could have that once it¡¯s done.¡± ¡°Jodie, I don¡¯t need any of that,¡± he tried to assure her, although having his own place to sleep would be nice. But they could sort that out later. Roland made his presence known once the blubbering died down, and he embraced Jodie. After the two of them caught up, she addressed the elephant in the room. ¡°So your car¡¯s fucked, huh?¡± Jodie stated. ¡°Unfortunately,¡± Mitch grimaced. A lot of hemming and hawing later, they settled on Mitch leaving it there. Being under the carport would keep it safe from the elements, provided there wasn¡¯t a tornado or hurricane. He could either deal with it when he had the time or money, or Roland and Marie would get it to a garage at a later date. Until then, Jodie said Mitch could use her car whenever he needed it, since she was pretty much chained to being in Monument on account of having two businesses. ¡°If all else fails, I can always borrow Dad¡¯s car,¡± she added, and Mitch had no other choice but to accept these favorable terms and conditions. Then they exchanged farewells with Roland and Juno, and Mitch emphasized that he¡¯d be in touch soon. ¡°Did you know that after died, Roland and Marie sent me flowers?¡± Jodie mentioned once they were on the road. ¡°Like, a dickton of them.¡± Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°I believe that,¡± Mitch stifled a yawn. ¡°You¡¯re lucky to have them.¡± ¡°I know.¡± The response seemed to satisfy her, so she hummed contentedly. Of course, the peace didn¡¯t last, not with Jodie¡¯s restlessness. She allowed the remainder of a song on the radio to pass before speaking up once more. ¡°So if I didn¡¯t cause this, what did?¡± Mitch stared out the window, at the passing streetlights and moon that hung above. ¡°Nate,¡± he sighed. ¡°You fucked Nate?¡± Jodie wheezed a little. ¡°I didn¡¯t know he was leaving because he got signed. He neglected to mention that part.¡± ¡°Oh, so you were fucking him for a while.¡± She gave a low whistle. ¡°A few weeks. Right after Krampusacht.¡± Hugging his midsection, he couldn¡¯t hide his sorrow. ¡°I thought we had something. I thought things were finally going to be good for once.¡± ¡°Oh, sweetheart.¡± Jodie put a hand on his knee. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, that¡¯s an awful¡­wait, how did you find out?¡± ¡°The card in your drawer.¡± ¡°Oh, goddammit,¡± she spat. ¡°That¡¯s shitty, he didn¡¯t even tell you?¡± ¡°No,¡± Mitch huffed out a bit of air. ¡°He¡¯s so fired. What the fuck! I mean, he¡¯ll be gone after Lupercalia anyway, but-¡° ¡°You can¡¯t fire him for a consenting adult¡­whatever it was between us. A fling, I guess?¡± ¡°I can fire him for fraternizing. He¡¯s at will, I don¡¯t need a reason.¡± ¡°No,¡± Mitch held firm, despite Jodie¡¯s whining. Half of the roster fooled around with the other half anyway, but he didn¡¯t point that out. ¡°He¡¯ll be gone in less than two months, I won¡¯t wrestle until then. It¡¯s fine.¡± ¡°How is that fair? You just got back from an injury, and started a storyline with Avi. Fuck Nate, he sucks. Lemme fire him.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t want him fired,¡± Mitch reiterated. ¡°So what do you want then?¡± ¡°A no DQ match. Something violent.¡± He hadn¡¯t given it any thought whatsoever, just threw out the very first thing that came to mind. ¡°We can do that,¡± Jodie responded without hesitancy. ¡°Wait, I was mostly joking.¡± ¡°We gotta write him off anyway.¡± She pointed out. ¡°He¡¯s gonna get tossed from Coven, which was gonna be the final angle, but a no DQ with Zevon kinda makes more sense. You both have way more history. It could even tie in with the Hunter¡¯s MO, y¡¯know?¡± She glanced over at him. ¡°It¡¯d be quite poetic, at the very least.¡± Mitch bit the inside of his cheek as he dwelled. She was absolutely correct. ¡°Sure,¡± he conceded. ¡°How about a dog collar match? That¡¯d be fitting.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll talk to him later. If he doesn¡¯t agree to it, I¡¯m just gonna have him killed off in a really stupid way.¡± "really, very" When they pulled into the driveway, Avi¡¯s car wasn¡¯t there. Jodie warned that he¡¯d been withdrawn since she got back, alternating between apologizing and berating himself for not doing a better job at convincing Mitch to stay. ¡°I can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s because I¡¯m his boss and he¡¯s worried that I¡¯m upset with him, which I¡¯m totally not,¡± she clarified. ¡°Or if he just expects too much of himself, like he can personally fix everyone¡¯s issues by being a ray of sunshine.¡± If Mitch had to guess, it was more of the latter (although Jodie being miserable probably didn¡¯t help, either). He asked where Jodie thought he may have gone off to, and she shrugged, saying that the only place she could think of this late would be the school. So instead of further guessing games, Mitch sent Avi a text to ask where he was. A reply came minutes later: ¡®at a bar w/ lou. y?¡® Letting that hang for a moment, Mitch¡¯s shoulders tensed up and he squeezed his eyes shut before allowing himself to type and send the following: ¡®I¡¯m back home. I missed you.¡® Because Avi deserved to know that he¡¯d been missed, after all. He deserved the world, really. A string of crying emojis and a few hearts flooded the entire text message window, and then a minute later Mitch received another followup message: ¡®Hey babe, it¡¯s Lou. He handed the phone to me because he¡¯s a little drunk. I¡¯ll get him home safe.¡® Mitch sent his gratitude, then relayed that information to Jodie, and she cackled at drunk Avi¡¯s overuse of emojis. ¡°I¡¯m gonna stay up and wait for him, OK?¡± Mitch mentioned during her laughing fit, and she gave him a heart pat on the back. ¡°Great, because I am McFuckin¡¯ tired. Don¡¯t you disappear on me in the middle of the night.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± Mitch assured, but she still eyed him warily while ascending the stairs. He shook his head and took a seat on the sofa. Curling up under a throw blanket, he found the remote and browsed PBS for something to watch. About half an hour later, there was some commotion on the front porch, and then the door swung open. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°World¡¯s densest shortstack delivery,¡± Louis¡¯ voice boomed. He stepped inside and turned towards the living room, holding Avi upright by keeping a hand under his arm. Barely keeping his giggles contained, Mitch got up to meet them in the foyer. ¡°Avi, are you trying to steal my man?¡± Mitch joked, putting a hand on his hip for full effect. ¡°No, I wouldn¡¯t do that,¡± Avi slurred in protest, but Louis cut in all matter-of-factly. ¡°You ran away. I have needs, Mitch.¡± ¡°What does he have that I don¡¯t? Huge tits? Anyway, why¡¯s he smashed?¡± Mitch asked, changing the subject. ¡°I tried to keep up,¡± whined Avi. ¡°He tried to keep up,¡± Louis confirmed, nodding grimly. ¡°Oh, you shouldn¡¯t try to keep up with Loulou, Avi,¡± Mitch winced. ¡°And yet you¡¯re sober, Lou?¡± ¡°I stopped drinking like an hour ago, when I realized that he was trying to keep up.¡± ¡°Alright well, I can take him from here,¡± Mitch offered, but as Louis tried to pass him off, Avi nearly toppled over. ¡°Uh, help me get him to his room?¡± ¡°What about the couch?¡± Louis asked, tilting his head in the direction of the livingroom. ¡°Bathroom¡¯s upstairs. If he¡¯s gotta puke or piss, y¡¯know?¡± ¡°Yeah, alright,¡± Louis finally agreed. They made two efforts to climb the stairs, but Avi kept sliding out of their grasp. ¡°OK, hold on,¡± Louis grunted when they were back on the first step; in one motion, swept Avi off of his feet and carried him bridal style to the top. Though Louis was staggering 6¡¯3 and a certified meat castle, his gentleness made it easy to forget his awesome strength. Mitch went ahead and opened Avi¡¯s bedroom door for Louis, then hurried downstairs to get a cup -selecting a mug due to the handle- and filled it with water. When he returned upstairs, Louis was failing at getting Avi tucked in. ¡°You should probably stay with him for a bit. He had a lot,¡± Louis emphasized. ¡°That¡¯s the plan,¡± Mitch sighed and set the mug down on the nightstand. ¡°Thanks for getting him home safe.¡± ¡°IS AVI OK?¡± Jodie¡¯s voice boomed from the room next door. ¡°I¡¯m really¡­very drunk!¡± Avi answered, while Mitch ducked out to let Jodie know he would be keeping an eye on him. ¡°How drunk is he for real?¡± She grinned like the fiend that she was. Mitch deadpanned, ¡°You heard the man, ¡®really very¡¯.¡± ¡°Christ, I don¡¯t need my head trainer dying,¡± she groaned. Mitch didn¡¯t bother to respond and left her room to return to Avi¡¯s. After he gave Louis a hug goodnight, it was just him and an inebriated Avi, who was tangled in his own duvet. glad to be back Standing over the mattress, Mitch held the mug near Avi¡¯s mouth. ¡°Drink that,¡± Mitch said. ¡°You came back,¡± Avi croaked, staring up at Mitch as though he could be a mirage. Mitch let out a soft laugh. ¡°Did you think I wouldn¡¯t?¡± He watched Avi struggle to grasp the handle, opting to hold the bottom steady for him while he sipped. Once Avi finished, Mitch placed it on the nightstand. ¡°I didn¡¯t know.¡± Throwing his arm over his eyes, Avi rolled onto his back. ¡°Oh no, don¡¯t do that.¡± Mitch moved fast, crawling onto the mattress and pulling Avi until he was on his side again. But when he went to stand back up, Avi¡¯s arm flailed about until it landed along Mitch¡¯s flank, almost as if he was trying to keep him there; in the process it turned to dead weight, nearly knocking the wind out of Mitch. ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Avi weakly protested. ¡°You¡¯re so fucking drunk.¡± Mitch tsk¡¯d under his breath. ¡°Sorry,¡± Avi murmured, and Mitch snorted. Surrendering to his fate, Mitch sat down then scooched up until his back was against the headboard. Avi¡¯s arm dropped and repositioned across Mitch¡¯s legs, staying in place since nothing else kept it propped up anymore. At the very least, Mitch served as a physical barrier to keep Avi from attempting to move around any further. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Finally Avi settled with his knees drawn up, and his forehead rested against the side of Mitch¡¯s thigh. Mitch broke the silence at last. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t communicate better. I was in a really bad place. But it¡¯s not your fault. You know that, right?¡± A small whimpering noise came from Avi, the most pitiful thing that Mitch had ever heard outside of the noises that he made himself. He lightly stroked Avi¡¯s hair in an attempt to sooth him, which eventually did the trick. They existed in a companionable silence for a while, and Mitch swore that Avi¡¯s steady breathing indicated that he was asleep, so he closed his own eyes and his thoughts started to drift into nothingness. And then Avi spoke up. ¡°Why¡¯d you kiss me before you left? Was that the uh¡­ the French thing?¡± ¡°The French thing?¡± Mitch huffed a small laugh. ¡°Faire la bise, you mean? I uh¡­dunno. Was kind of caught in the moment, sorry that I didn¡¯t ask beforehand. Most people I¡¯ve met in America are weirded out by it.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve never seen you do that with anyone aside¡­Jodie, maybe?¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Chuckling nervously, Mitch rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°Yeah, I kind of only save it for family, I guess? The VIPs in my life,¡± he joked. ¡°Am I a very important person?¡± Avi craned his neck to look up; as far as Mitch could tell, the inquiry was entirely serious. Before responding, he took the opportunity to remove the glasses from off of Avi¡¯s face so that the frames wouldn¡¯t dig into his leg anymore, and set them next to the mug. It bought him a little time to contemplate an answer. ¡°You¡¯re the most important person, Avi,¡± Mitch settled on -partially teasing but mostly being honest- and Avi said nothing for a while. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯re back,¡± Avi finally spoke in a whisper. ¡°Glad to be back,¡± Mitch replied, then slid down to get comfortable, assuming that he wouldn¡¯t be going anywhere for some time. ¡°Let me know if you need anything, alright?¡± ¡°Yup,¡± Avi nodded, resettling so his forehead was against Mitch¡¯s shoulder and his arm stretched across Mitch¡¯s midsection. After giving the arm a few reassuring pats, Mitch closed his eyes again and passed out with ease. feedback The radio gig went well; a first for Mitch after such a long string of bad luck. Though it¡¯d been years since he sat in a DJ booth, most of the equipment remained the same. Ingrid gave him a quick primer on what he wasn¡¯t familiar with, and he caught on fast. ¡°Oh shit, we need a name,¡± Ingrid laughed between bites of a burrito that she ordered for dinner. ¡°You got anything?¡± Mitch gave it a few minutes thought, and looked over the playlist that he¡¯d spent the last few weeks painstakingly curating; were he still in high school, he would have been proud to burn it to a CD and offer it as a gift. ¡°How about Mixtape Lounge?¡± he offered. She pursed her lips and mulled it over, then responded with, ¡°Love it. Thank you for making my job easier.¡± After another bite, she added, ¡°By the way, for next week?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Ditch the button up, you look like a fuckin¡¯ dweeb.¡± Mitch¡¯s face flushed, but he appreciated the feedback. ¡°Noted,¡± he laughed. ¡°By the way, can I give shout outs?¡± The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Hey, as long as you play the music and don¡¯t get us in trouble with the FCC, have at it,¡± she waved dismissively. At 6:59pm, they straightened up and took positions. As the seconds neared the top of the hour, Ingrid counted down via hand gestures. Mitch put the headphones over his ears and greeted whoever may be out there listening, giving special thanks to all of Monument Wrestling Academy. Since Jodie donated for a sponsorship spot, he was allowed to advertise for Monster Mash Wrestling¡¯s next set of tapings. Jodie sent him a string of excited texts, saying that she had his show playing over the school¡¯s PA system. The three hour timeslot blew by so quickly that Mitch was startled when Ingrid gave him the 5 minute warning to wrap things up. The songs he picked were mostly in relation to his fellow roster members, so he closed it out with ¡®Twilight Zone¡¯ by The Golden Earring, as tribute to Rod, since Mitch knew he was scheduled to be at the school helping students with their promos. Ingrid fell apart behind her station, which delighted Mitch, and he muted his mic once the song started. ¡°He can¡¯t stand that song,¡± she gasped for air and wiped her eyes. ¡°No, I know,¡± Mitch giggled. After he signed off, Ingrid joined him outside for a cigarette. She congratulated him for a good job, and said Mike had already sent a text with his assessment. ¡°A text means he¡¯s impressed, considering that he still has one of those flip phones. He¡¯s gotta hit that 7 button a thousand times to get to the ¡®s¡¯.¡± ¡°Honestly, that¡¯s the main reason that I upgraded to a smartphone,¡± Mitch exhaled. Then, while attempting to maintain a very serious expression, he asked ¡°So, you sure you don¡¯t wanna go back to God talk?¡± Ingrid responded by whacking him upside the head, and shouted, ¡°Calvert, you¡¯re not allowed to leave me. Ever!¡± with these chains At the next set of tapings, Mitch ignored Nate¡¯s entire existence. Though his heart felt like it may implode at any moment, the task itself was surprisingly easy. Nate made several attempts to get his attention, until Jodie ran interference and dragged him into her office. When he re-emerged, his head was low, and if he had a tail it¡¯d be tucked between his legs. Aside from not being with Sandy and Louis, the other downside to this huge blowoff with Nate was that Mitch couldn¡¯t participate in Lupercalia¡¯s Tournament of Revelry. It was Mitch¡¯s favorite event by far due to the absolute chaos that it wrecked. These were the rules: The winner of the Krampusnacht battle royale chose their tag partner ahead of time, but the other participants were paired up via a lottery system and it led to many random pairings that wouldn¡¯t happen otherwise. At the end of the tournament, the victorious team could either 1) Stay together as a team and challenge for the Waxing/Waning tag team titles together at the next major live event, or 2) Split up and fight one another that very night, when both competitors were already run ragged from wrestling multiple times that evening. Then the winner of that bout would get a future Full Moon title shot. Zevon and Yours Truly had actually been paired up a year ago, won the tournament, and then chose the latter option. Yours Truly won, but failed to capture the Full Moon title from The Dark Lord. But that wasn¡¯t the final match of Lupercalia. An unsanctioned hardcore match took place at the end, referred to as ¡®The Sacrifice¡¯. Due to the nature of Yours Truly and Zevon¡¯s rivalry and match stipulation, they were offered the spot. So Mitch couldn¡¯t complain too much, because it was a tremendous honor and much more prestigious than anything else he¡¯d done so far in his wrestling career. Nearly everything was all set, agreements made between Mitch and Nate and contracts signed. All that remained was to announce it, and Mitch found himself nervous on the night that was due to happen. He and Avi waited for their cues from behind the curtains. Meanwhile in the ring, Coven surrounded their dear leader for the coup d¡¯etat. After the beatdown was over, they¡¯d get the signal to go-ahead and finish the job. Mitch¡¯s palms sweat under the tape, and he was unusually itchy. In one hand, the pillowcase stuffed with the chain and collars grew heavier, almost unbearable; in the other was his kendo stick, light as a feather and dying to be swung, to draw blood. But at least now he had his new tights with Gianna¡¯s sexy little embellishments to make him feel a little better; admittedly, he got off on the idea of being a tease to someone that couldn¡¯t touch him anymore. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. The general idea was for both of them to cut promos so that both characters got some satisfaction out of this, or at least that¡¯s how Jodie pitched it. However, Avi had a different idea. ¡°Hey,¡± he tugged on Mitch¡¯s jacket sleeve, and Mitch turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. They were due to go out any second, but his expression was urgent. ¡°Don¡¯t make this about me, this is your moment.¡± ¡°But-¡° ¡°I don¡¯t need this. It¡¯s all you, you¡¯ve earned it.¡± Mitch wanted to protest, but before he could, they got the signal to move. Rushing past the remaining members of Coven that just finished their brutal assault, Avi slid into the ring first and propped up Nate¡¯s limp body from behind, pinning his arms behind his back. With his kendo stick, Mitch wound up and slammed it across Nate¡¯s chest several times, letting out a string of profanity while the violent snap of wood against meat echoed in the room. By the time he finished, parts of Nate¡¯s white t-shirt had holes in it from where the kendo stick made repeated contact. He tossed the weapon to the side and leaned down, firmly grasping Nate¡¯s chin and forcing them to make eye contact. ¡°What¡¯s the matter, YT?¡± came Zevon¡¯s voice, raspy and saccharine, but in the way that was obviously a ruse. Below the thin veneer lurked the sadism, the insanity. ¡°All alone? No friends, sweetheart?¡± Nate went to open his mouth, but Mitch slapped him before anything came out; he reminded himself that Nate consented to all of these spots prior to the segment, it was the only other time they¡¯d interacted between New Years Eve and now, so Mitch continued to lean in. Because though he may still be livid, they were co-workers, and he was nothing if not professional. ¡°Let me make something so very clear: you don¡¯t get to die unless I kill you,¡± he snarled, tasting copper and bile in his mouth. ¡°And what do you know? The festival of my people is right around the corner. So at Lupercalia, you¡¯ll be the sacrifice.¡± As he hammed up the exposition, he turned the pillowcase upside down and the contents spilled out, dropping onto the canvas and rattling. ¡°We¡¯re bound together, you and I. And with these chains, we¡¯ll formalize our bond with a fucking dog collar match.¡± Cheers erupted from the crowd, but it was less excitement for the sport, more guttural and feral. Primitive. It resonated with Mitch in ways that he wasn¡¯t entirely comfortable embracing, but knew that he needed to come mid-February if he wanted to bring the most ruthless version of himself and -more importantly- prove a point. He and Avi took their leave, and Desiree¡¯s voice boomed out that the match was official. out of practice As if things weren¡¯t busy enough, a new project dropped into Mitch¡¯s lap. During a recent title defense, Gianna fractured her ankle during a routine hurricanrana to her opponent. Her frustration was two-fold, for not only did it mean that the titles could potentially be vacated, but she¡¯d been working her ass off to get a horror-themed burlesque show ready in time for Valentines Day. It was her very first production for the new troupe that she assembled, and Jodie gave her blessings to use the school as a venue. Originally, Mitch signed on to play music, but declined any other roles that¡¯d been offered to him on account of not being quite ready to do the whole striptease thing again. His ego was still bruised from Calvin, and showed little signs of healing. ¡°C¡¯mon, you¡¯re great at it,¡± Gia begged. ¡°I can only do so much now, but I know you have experience. I¡¯ve seen you perform.¡± ¡°Jesus fucking Christ,¡± Mitch muttered while Gia hobbled after him on her crutches. ¡°Mitch, I¡¯m injured. We¡¯re friends. Just show your tits to strangers, for me, your dying friend. That gave you an incredible deal on your sweet new gear!¡± ¡°It¡¯s tits AND ass, and I am extremely out of practice,¡± Mitch rebuffed. ¡°C¡¯mon, you¡¯re a babe and you¡¯re talented,¡± she attempted to coax. ¡°We can reconfigure my part to have you do it instead. Please?¡± ¡°Do I get to make out with Wil?¡± teased Mitch. ¡°Fuck, I wish you would, actually. We should do a collaboration,¡± Gianna gasped and put her palms together in prayer pose, making Mitch burst out laughing. But she was nothing if not persistent, and after a few more incentives were dangled in front of him -more pay, some free gear, and a healthy slathering of flattery- he agreed. He wasn¡¯t exactly surprised when the role ended up as an assistant manager position, but he actually enjoyed that aspect of the work. Between the radio show, Liner Notes¡¯ reunion, fine tuning the new tag team with Avi, and now this burlesque show, he found himself re-invigorated. He hadn¡¯t experienced this amount of living since just after college, in the limbo between Toby and Calvin where he indulged in every creative whim imaginable. And when Gianna or Ingrid asked him for a little extra help -be it picking up fliers for the show or stepping in for someone else at the station if they called out due to it being flu season- he leapt at the occasion. Either Jodie or Avi or Victor were always happy to loan a vehicle to him, and he was so grateful to his family, his VIPs. For the first time that he could remember, he felt content, if not complete. He was so busy that the idea of dating became unfathomable, and loneliness no longer held him in its teeth, no longer at risk of clamping down and swallowing. And perhaps that was due to being on the cusp of 30, which he never expected to make it to. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Yet, his heart still belonged to Avi. Spending more time with him hadn¡¯t exactly tempered the emotions, but he¡¯d come to appreciate his sweetness and endearing qualities without mourning how they didn¡¯t mean more for him personally. Wildflowers didn¡¯t need to be picked to be admired, he determined; if anything, they ought to remain intact in their environment, beautiful and whole. He was just grateful to have any experience at all with him, nevermind to be blessed with constant access. To Ingrid¡¯s chagrin but everyone else¡¯s delight, he made a stronger effort to smoke less, and once Avi became yoga instructor certified, attended his new classes at the school. At home, he unpacked more and continued to settle in, even if he didn¡¯t yet have his own bedroom. As he went through a box of miscellaneous items and Avi kept him company via guitar practice, he came across a small trophy and burst out laughing. Avi looked over Mitch¡¯s shoulder and read the words on the small engraved plate. ¡°Horniest Match: The Dark Lord vs Zevon? Well that¡¯s a first.¡± ¡°Jodie¡¯s idea of an awards ceremony. Lotta unusual categories¡­¡± Mitch trailed off and shook his head, then put it to the side. And to their credit, it¡¯d been a hell of a bout, happening shortly after Maya and Louis broke up and Calvin had called for yet another break. It was the first time that Mitch truly had Zevon figured out, an unruly hot mess of a creature, simultaneously masochistic and sadistic, bloodthirsty and never satiated. The energy that night was impossible to describe, though Mitch gave it his best shot when Avi asked for more details; eventually he found the match online and played that rather than talk about it, which Avi watched with rapt attention. (Of course, Mitch left out what happened later that night, after the show when everyone gathered at a bar and Maya propositioned him. Not for him to do anything to her -she knew better, and laughed sharply as he stammered out apologies about being flattered but not swinging that way- but for her to test out her new strap. ¡®I wanna blow off some steam and you seem like you¡¯d be fun to fuck, Calvert,¡¯ she said point blank. Mitch appreciated the candidness, and also appreciated that she wasn¡¯t looking for foreplay or for him to do even really anything aside be her test subject for the night and get railed. Temptation nearly overcame him to ask if she¡¯d ever done this to Louis, but he respected his friends¡¯ privacy. Also it was hard to think when he was getting the dicking down of a lifetime.) But not everything went smoothly. The situation with Nate, however, still hurt. Then again, he still wasn¡¯t entirely over Calvin, either, despite all of the bad aspects of that relationship. Sometimes he¡¯d zone while doing the dishes or laundry, and when he came back to, realize he¡¯d been crying for some undetermined amount of time. He brought this up to Jodie and how stupid he felt for still being attached, she told him that having a big heart and being able to love easily weren¡¯t negative traits. What was important is that he stayed the course and didn¡¯t return to anyone that hurt him. He relayed all of this to Ann, and she commented that he radiated a new confidence. At the end of that session, they decided that he only needed to come in every other week. It made him nervous, but she assured him that this was a positive development, and reminded him that they could always return to a weekly schedule if he needed it. By the time February came around, he could dare to say that the scales at last tipped in his favor, and pros in his life outweighed the cons. Mostly, he looked forward to putting his 20s behind him for good. favor Somehow, he let Calvin talk him into meeting up one last time. Naturally, he hadn¡¯t meant to, but Calvin¡¯s silver tongue could rival the serpent in Eden. The fatal error was made when Mitch decided to call Calvin instead of sending a text about how he¡¯d finally gotten approved for health insurance via MassHealth. He didn¡¯t want to talk, but he did want to convey his gratitude; Calvin not only allowed Mitch to stay on his plan, but covered it as well, and that warranted actual appreciation. To his surprise, Calvin actually picked up his phone. They chatted for a few minutes, which was surprisingly pleasant, and then Calvin said the following: ¡°You know, I¡¯m going to be passing through the area later this week. We ought to get lunch, before we never talk again.¡± Mitch laughed, convinced it was a joke. It was not. ¡°I dunno¡­¡± he stalled, and then Calvin reminded him of the favor that he owed. Though his tone was playful, it was also forcible. There were worse favor requests, Mitch decided. Way worse. Especially from Calvin. So he agreed to it all: the date and time and the location, whatever Calvin wanted, whatever would meet the requirement to cleanse his hands and gain freedom at last. And then he silently panicked for every waking minute until the day arrived and he was seated at the trattoria that Calvin picked out, a place he¡¯d never even heard of that had no street signage to advertise its existence. The kind of place that he was somehow simultaneously under-dressed and overdressed due to it being out of his wage bracket. Calvin sat across from him at a small table, studying the menu under dim lighting. Earlier he¡¯d shrugged off his peacoat and leather gloves, which were taken by the hostess, and placed an order for an entire bottle of wine. Something red and vintage that had no price listed. ¡°You¡¯re gonna have to polish that off yourself,¡± Mitch commented, and Calvin appeared as if he wanted to say something but refrained. The lack of sniping remarks set Mitch on edge, who came all-too ready to defend himself, all of the tension wound tightly inside of his body and begging for release. Calvin was still so irritatingly beautiful, Mitch noted, but he hadn¡¯t expected anything less. His long black hair that once came down to the middle of his back had been cut to the shoulders, which perfectly framed his high cheekbones and delicate profile. Mitch almost complimented it but said nothing, not wanting to create an opening. And then Calvin started talking, mostly at Mitch rather than sharing a conversation. It was about the ski resort in New Hampshire that he and his father were considering investing in, something about potentially of rehabilitating it, or converting it into a wellness retreat center for nature detoxing or whatever it was that wealthy people could afford to do with their money and their issues and their guilt. Mitch thought about climate change and how the ski industry in New England was suffering, but instead let his tongue slip and said, ¡°Did hot yoga guy give you the retreat idea?¡± Calvin threw his head back and let out a solitary laugh. ¡°Oh Mitch, I haven¡¯t seen him since, what September? He wasn¡¯t your replacement, if that¡¯s what you thought. Just a way to pass the time, but nothing more.¡± ¡°Have you been with anyone since?¡± Oh god, he didn¡¯t care, he really didn¡¯t. Then Calvin arched an eyebrow at him, and maybe he cared a little. ¡°Not seriously, no. I don¡¯t have the time to commit to anyone.¡± He scoffed, then set the menu down and gave Mitch his undivided attention, and Mitch didn¡¯t enjoy the scrutiny one bit. ¡°You do know that you¡¯re the first person that I¡¯ve ever been in any long term situation with, don¡¯t you? Did I never tell you that?¡± Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°No,¡± Mitch shook his head, feeling the way that his eyes bugged out at the revelation. Why did that infuriate him, and also make him a little hard? He readjusted his pants and tried to recall if that had ever conversation. Maybe it had, but Calvin had a talent for hiding things that he felt cast an unflattering light on him. ¡°And probably the last, frankly.¡± He smiled, resting his chin on his fist. ¡°I don¡¯t care much for things that I¡¯m not good at.¡± At that, Mitch didn¡¯t know how to react, either wanting to crack up until he asphyxiated or flip over the table and storm out of the building. But he was also fascinated by this admission. The waiter came over and took their orders, which Calvin selected and placed for the both of them without consulting Mitch beforehand. But Mitch accepted this because he wasn¡¯t above a free meal (his only request ahead of time was that it be vegan, since he was still making the attempt. Thankfully, Calvin didn¡¯t comment). ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Why what?¡± Calvin poured himself another glass of wine and eyed it. ¡°Why me? Why was I the one?¡± The look Calvin shot him screamed don¡¯t flatter yourself. ¡°I tried getting rid of you multiple times.¡± ¡°Yeah, but-¡± Calvin interrupted with a heavy sigh and took a drink. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Mitch. You were a challenge and I was bored, I suppose.¡± ¡°A challenge? Really?¡± ¡°Yes. You¡¯re a mess, and always so ready to bolt. I wanted all of your heart because I thought I¡¯d be fulfilled if I possessed that, had your undivided attention. But I wasn¡¯t satisfied at all. And then I¡¯d be irritated that you had other options vying for your attention, that you always had someone like Toby waiting in the wings. I found that I didn¡¯t want to hand you over so easily, but I also didn¡¯t want you around.¡± He paused. ¡°Is that what you wanted to hear?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Mitch answered after a bit of contemplation. After biting the inside of his cheek, he asked, ¡°Calv, how much thought have you given this? That¡¯s quite an answer.¡± ¡°Too much,¡± Calvin shot back quickly. ¡°I¡¯ve¡­been in therapy. Ever since we-¡± He gestured between the both of them, ¡°-ended.¡± ¡°Oh god, me too.¡± At that revelation, Calvin¡¯s expression at last thawed and he smiled. ¡°Am I the main character of your sessions?¡± ¡°Occasionally, yes,¡± Mitch teased, not quite wanting to give the satisfaction of confirming Calvin¡¯s suspicion. He found that this was what he missed about Calvin, these quips, the dry humor when he wasn¡¯t being a child. He spoke in a way that made things seem glamorous, and it was easy to get caught in the illusion. If they didn¡¯t have the extensive history and baggage, Mitch might be charmed all over again. ¡°I do miss you, sometimes. The conversations, your salt-of-the-earth approach.¡± Calvin said, as if he¡¯d read Mitch¡¯s mind, then threw in, ¡°Jodie as well. It seems as if she¡¯s made quite a name for herself up here. I¡¯m happy for you both.¡± While Mitch tried to figure out a way to dissuade further get-togethers, Calvin continued, ¡°But life is full of arrivals and departures, is it not?¡± ¡°That it is,¡± Mitch nodded in agreement. They paused the conversation as their food arrived, and after the waiter checked on them and left. He briefly observed Calvin, now full of even more questions, curious as to whether or not it could ever truly be amicable between them again, tempted to suggest that they didn¡¯t have to lose touch. If they weren¡¯t meant to be lovers, perhaps they were meant to be friends. But he also knew better. They ended poorly, were never actually good for one another, could probably never be healthy together, even in a platonic sense. This man had done unspeakable things to him, unleashed unspeakable horrors that plagued him to the very day. No prescription strength rose tinted glasses could unsee that damage, even if the lunch was free and the man was hotter than the fucking sun. Besides, Jodie would kill him if he tried to mend anything with Calvin. He¡¯d already tested her loyalty enough for a lifetime with Toby, and he wouldn¡¯t do that again so soon, if ever. Calvin raised his glass of wine, and with a little hesitancy but a lot of triumph, declared, ¡°Well. To good endings, Mitch?¡± And Mitch softly grinned, raising his glass of water and clinking it against Calvin¡¯s wine. Their ending wasn¡¯t good back in August, but this one was, he supposed. He wondered if Calvin ever truly loved him, if any of this was genuine or if it was some sort of exercise suggested by his therapist, what the purpose of their 5 years together, and so on. And none of it ultimately mattered, did it? After that afternoon, they¡¯d go their separate ways for good. He set aside his pride and conceded. ¡°To good endings, Calvin.¡± rigid ¡°Absolute madness¡± was the only way to describe the week leading up to Valentine¡¯s Day. Mitch hadn¡¯t expected to be in a position where he¡¯d headline not one, but two events, and so close to his birthday nevertheless. The Saturday before was the burlesque show, Die My Darling. Every square inch of the showroom had been covered in a combination of pink and red hearts and Halloween decor. Gianna spared no expense, nearing buying out every local Dollar Tree¡¯s Valentine sections. She offered it all for Jodie to reuse it for Lupercalia, who declined, saying she¡¯d rather die than be forced to stare at so many Cupids. Besides, yet again Louis loaned his talents to Lupercalia via giant plywood cutouts and painted backdrops. No one asked him to do it, he just enjoyed the work and had a massive collection of materials provided by his father, who salvaged them from the demolition job sites that he worked at. Although Mitch told himself that he was fine, during Die My Darling he straddled the knife¡¯s edge of an anxiety attack. He managed to get through his intermission setlist without a hitch, but after that was over, he needed to get into his outfit and makeup and the right headspace. But Wil proved to be the best partner imaginable. When Mitch¡¯s hands trembled as he applied eyeliner, Wil intervened and took over for him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I do know how to do this, I promise,¡± he apologized. ¡°I¡¯m not gonna fuck this up, I swear, I just-¡° ¡°You¡¯re just in the middle of trying to quit smoking, and my wife strongarmed you into doing something that you haven¡¯t done in years? It¡¯s cool man, I got you.¡± Wil gave a dazzling smile while he finished up the rest of Mitch¡¯s makeup. ¡°Been a minute since I wore lingerie, too,¡± he noted. ¡°This shit barely fits anymore,¡± he said as he pulled at the bralette strap and let it snap against his skin. ¡°Well, you look great in it.¡± The compliment made Mitch blush. ¡°Just try not to have a wardrobe malfunction.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m using extra tape. It¡¯s gonna be a bitch to pull off.¡± ¡°We got plenty of baby oil, you¡¯ll be fine.¡± Mitch tried to not think too much about oily pubes and how stained his clothing would be later when he got dressed. Despite the anxiety, their routine was a concept that Mitch really enjoyed. It was inspired by masked murderer films of the 70s, but much cheekier. Mitch portrayed the helpless victim to Wil¡¯s stalker/slasher, and once the music hit, muscle memory kicked in and he became considerably less anxious. And as his bathrobe slipped off and applause broke out, he found himself relishing in feeling sensual for the first time in so, so long. He loved this, and he¡¯d forgotten how good it made him feel, even if it was tawdry and low-brow. And he knew that he was a great performer, always had been; whatever reservations he had about being mostly naked in front of the majority of his fellow roster and strangers alike were gone by the time he was in nothing but pasties and panties, and pretending to slit Wil¡¯s throat with a fake knife after they shared an overly dramatic kiss. They finished the number and bowed, met with whistles and screams. Like a true gentleman, Wil gathered up Mitch¡¯s clothes for him from off of the stage, handing him his robe so that he could cover back up. After curtain call, Gianna approached Wil and Mitch and exclaimed, ¡°You guys were wonderful!¡± At first she gushed at Wil, then she thanked Mitch profusely for stepping in. Once her attention was elsewhere, Mitch disappeared into the locker room-turned-green room to clean up. Taking a seat at the mirror, he slumped back momentarily to catch his breath and gather his scattered thoughts. He then leaned forward and grabbed a wipe from one of the many packages of makeup remover that were scattered about, and began to drag it down his face, starting with his eyes. While he examined himself, there was a knock that grabbed his attention, and in the doorway stood Avi. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°What¡¯re you doing back here?¡± Mitch asked with a grin, propping his elbow on the laminate counter and rested his jaw on his knuckles. ¡°It¡¯s supposed to be for performers only.¡± ¡°Oh, uh, Gianna gave me permission,¡± Avi cleared his throat. After staring at him for a moment, Mitch turned his attention back to the mirror, swiping another clean wipe. ¡°So what¡¯s up? I didn¡¯t even know you¡¯d be at this queer show, thought you¡¯d still be in the Mexico for your big event. Sorry that you saw more of me than you probably ever wanted to,¡± he joked. ¡°Wha- you were great!¡± declared Avi, causing Mitch to duck his head a little in embarrassment. ¡°You¡¯re so passionate when you¡¯re in your element, and-¡° ¡°Dude, you gotta stop. You¡¯ll give me a complex.¡± Putting his head in his hands, Mitch groaned. He peaked through his fingers when Avi didn¡¯t respond, and watched him shift in place with his eyes fixed on the floor. It made Mitch realize that his robe was open and more of him was on display to give an eyeful for a lifetime. ¡°Oh shit,¡± he muttered and readjusted himself quickly, holding the front in place since the tie had gone conveniently missing. ¡°Sorry about that.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Avi still wasn¡¯t looking at him, but after a bit more observation, Mitch noticed he kept a hand behind his back the whole time. ¡°What¡¯cha got there?¡± He asked without any forethought. They reached the point where intrusive questions were no longer much of a concern. ¡°Um.¡± Slowly, as though he were afraid of dropping something precious, Avi revealed what he¡¯d been clutching onto: a bouquet arranged with sunflowers and irises, matching two of Mitch¡¯s tattoos. The contrast of the cheerful, bright yellow petals juxtaposed against the rich indigo sepals caused his heart to actually skip a beat. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± he asked when he found his voice, which stayed barely above a whisper. His body went completely rigid, his eyes the only body part that weren¡¯t paralyzed as they frantically darted from the flowers to Avi¡¯s face. ¡°Well, uh. Louis-¡± Avi started, hurrying through the words as if he needed to clarify as soon as possible that he wasn¡¯t the one responsible here. ¡°He wanted me to give these to you, since he couldn¡¯t be here tonight. As a congratulations for going through with this.¡± ¡°Ah.¡± The blood that rushed through Mitch¡¯s ears came to an immediate halt. He never worked so fast in his life to rearrange his features into something normal, and it took all of his strength to not launch into the nastiest mental flaying for daring to allow himself to hope, especially after all of the progress he made to stop being consumed by his longing. ¡°That cheeseball, of course he did.¡± He stretched out an arm to accept it and Avi crossed over, but stood barely within reach. After taking the bouquet, Mitch brought them to his nose and inhaled, lightly caressing the velvety petals with the tip of his finger. ¡°You know, I really wish he¡¯d loosen up about being straight and just let me blow him. He¡¯s definitely earned it at this point, but he¡¯s so fucking stubborn.¡± ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Avi huffed a laugh, and Mitch squeezed his eyes shut with realization over how horribly inappropriate that comment was, hoping that the shame would diffuse out of body before he completely vaporized into particles. How the hell was anyone supposed to even respond to something like that? They may be close, but it was still unwarranted. ¡°Sorry,¡± Mitch glowered. ¡°TMI, I know. Sorry.¡± ¡°You¡¯re-you¡¯re fine,¡± Avi stammered. ¡°Well, anyway. Thank you for delivering these for him. I¡¯ll find something to put them in after I clean up.¡± After stealing one last look at them, he carefully laid the bouquet down on the makeshift vanity bench. ¡°Right. I¡¯ll leave you to it,¡± Avi said while backing away. He lingered around the door a split second, looking as though he wanted to say something, but left. All the air in the room left with him. Mitch watched him go and exhaled once he was alone again, ignored the weight in his chest, and continued to scrub at his face. "are you busy" After Die My Darling, Mitch practically lived at the school. Unfortunately the decorations were taken down; the sight of them could have been used to fuel his anger and determination, but alas. A lot of his routine alternated between hitting the punching bag and getting in as much cardio endurance training as possible. Nate had an advantage in power due to his enormous stature, meaning that Mitch needed to be faster. He consumed matches such as Eddie Guerrero vs Brock Lesnar and Aja Kong vs Manami Toyota dozens of times as both inspiration and reference points, but all the while knowing what little good psychology would do in a match where you¡¯d be tethered to your opponent the whole time. So he also watched a few horror movies for good measure as well, seeking out Jodie¡¯s expertise in that arena and getting a few obscure Italian slashers for suggestions (though not quite able to stomach the Japanese torture films that she put on, asking ¡°what the fuck is wrong with you?¡±, to which she replied ¡°hey, you asked.¡±). He threw himself at training so hard that he lost track of the days entirely, until Thursday came along and Louis dragged him out of the gym to get a bite to eat. ¡°It¡¯s Valentine¡¯s Day, you walnut,¡± Lou chastised while they picked a place, opting for a nearby sub shop. ¡°You¡¯re getting some human interaction, whether you want it or not.¡± ¡°So romantic,¡± Mitch rolled his eyes before taking a bite of his sandwich, which Louis ignored and inquired about his plans for the night -outside of pushups and jumping rope. ¡°Actually, I have a motel room that I¡¯m gonna stay at.¡± Louis¡¯s forehead scrunched, and Mitch snorted. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s just me. I reserved it when Nate and I were, y¡¯know. Trying to plan ahead.¡± He winced, then continued. ¡°Anyway, things got crazy, and I forgot about it until recently. I was clearing out old emails and found the confirmation, and it was too late to cancel by then. So Jodie¡¯s letting me borrow her car and I¡¯m gonna treat myself.¡± What Mitch didn¡¯t mention was that Jodie at last summoned the nerve to ask Maya over, so he wanted to clear out of the house regardless. And Louis doesn¡¯t need to hear about his ex, anyway. ¡°That¡¯s really nice,¡± Louis responded, not bothering to hide his relief. Mitch couldn¡¯t even take offense, after the string of guys he¡¯d been with, anyone that knew him was probably deeply relieved that he wasn¡¯t dating for the foreseeable future. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. When they finished up, Louis dropped him back off at the school. ¡°Have fun with Des,¡± Mitch teased after he¡¯d been crushed by a bear hug. Louis flipped him off, then peeled away. To Mitch¡¯s surprise, Jodie¡¯s car wasn¡¯t the only one in the lot that evening: parked a few spaces over was Avi¡¯s Honda Fit. ¡°Huh,¡± Mitch remarked, wondering if someone requested extra training since there were no classes scheduled. He pushed open the front door and made his way back towards the training area, shouting ¡°Hello?¡± once he got back there. His voice echoed in the vast space. Seconds later, Avi emerged from the breakroom, looking surprised but not unhappy about his presence. ¡°Hi,¡± Avi greeted, crossing the room until he stood a few feet away. It may have been Mitch¡¯s imagination, but the smell of his cologne was slightly more potent than usual. It wasn¡¯t unpleasant by any means, he rather liked it. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m actually relieved to see you. Are you busy?¡± Mitch asked, and Avi shook his head. ¡°Uh, no. Not at all. Why?¡± ¡°I wanted to get some sparring in, but,¡± he looked at Avi¡¯s clothing, noting the skinny jeans in particular. It made him realize what an absolute slob he was in his shorts and t-shirt, despite this being a gym. ¡°Shit, you¡¯re not really dressed for it, huh? That¡¯s alright-¡° ¡°No, it¡¯s fine!¡± Avi insisted, still caught off guard. ¡°I¡¯ve wrestled in jeans plenty of times, lemme just¡­¡± He peeled the hoodie off and the t-shirt underneath it in one fluid motion, and Mitch made an honest effort to not stare at his abs or the v lines of his hips in the moment that his head was obscured by clothing. Because he¡¯d been good about not lingering, even with the minor setback that the bouquet did to his nerves. ¡°OK, so what can I help with?¡± ¡°Most of the stuff I¡¯ve been doing is solo, so I just need another body to practice with before Saturday. There¡¯s a few moves that I wanna try, too, but I don¡¯t know if they¡¯ll be any good when Nate and I are trying to literally choke one another.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Avi listened, then hopped on the apron and sat on the ropes, holding them apart for Mitch. ¡°Oh, for me? Thank you,¡± Mitch chuckled and hoisted himself up, then ducked to get between them and stood in the center of the ring. ¡°Do you want me to actually come at you?¡± asked Avi, already bent at the knees and naturally poised for a match. ¡°Yeah, maybe we can do a little warmup beforehand? Might get me in the right mindset before I start trying to pull off top rope stuff because I saw a Joshi wrestler do it.¡± ¡°Ah, returning to that old well,¡± Avi commented, his tone wistful while he stretched his hands out and looked expectantly. Mitch took a breath and tried not to let the fanboy part of him get too excited, for at long last he was getting something that resembled a match with Avi Sher, even if no one was around to see it. hunger Mitch took hold of Avi¡¯s hands and locked up, but was caught off guard by being instantly overpowered and driven back into the ropes. ¡°Keep up,¡± Avi taunted, already the arrogance of his wrestling persona shining through. With a shake of his head, Mitch dispelled all of the doubt that overcame him. They locked up once more, this time hands went to one another¡¯s necks as they pivoted around each other a few times. Avi continued his attempts at dragging Mitch down to the mat, but Mitch was able to counter by driving his shoulder into Avi¡¯s chest, keeping him both close and upright. It was like trying to guide a stubborn bull by the horns. Losing focus on Avi turned out to be a fatal error. Within the blink of an eye, he got behind Mitch and put him into a chokehold; Mitch tried to stay calm, because if he lost any more control, Avi would win. But that strategy was much easier said than done, considering that Avi¡¯s been doing this for well over half of Mitch¡¯s lifetime. At last, Mitch managed to slip out of the hold after a well placed elbow to the gut, but he grabbed onto Avi¡¯s wrist and used that to wrench his arm behind his back, effectively trading places. A twinge of pride shot through him when Avi dropped to one knee. By now, Mitch grasped that Avi turned this into a technical bout, which suited him just fine. Relying on the fundamentals may grant him some type of advantage against Nate, who¡¯d surely rely on his strength and size. Hopefully Mitch could keep a cool head and outpace him, but there¡¯d be no guarantee once the bell rung. He considered trying to go high once Avi inevitably escaped the hold, but Avi¡¯s experience and overall cleverness made him a dangerous opponent. Strategizing meant taking his attention away from the present, and the next thing Mitch knew, his leg¡¯s been swept out from underneath him and he crashed down. As his body made contact with the canvas, a loud snap echoed throughout the building. All of Mitch¡¯s momentum came to a halt with Avi¡¯s knee digging in his back, keeping him firmly pinned in place. It¡¯s as if he¡¯s a mouse that a cat¡¯s finally caught up to, trapped under a paw and awaiting a torturous death. Both of his arms were pulled and stretched back into some type of modified surfboard position, and Mitch grit his teeth, hissing while fighting through the pain and on the cusp of screaming. Avi was so vicious, able to manipulate joints with laser-like precision, and for a moment Mitch found himself afraid of his shoulder getting hurt again. Panic caused him to further tense up, but he reminded himself that Avi was a professional and wouldn¡¯t dare go so far. This was what Mitch loved about wrestling, what drew him to it in the first place. Being suspended far enough over a safety net that he could miss the landing, which happened during his injury. Needing to put your faith into the person that¡¯s trying to kill you. Just enough danger to sweat and reconsider his wellbeing versus how badly he actually wanted this. Just enough to make it exciting. Sometimes -such as right then- it made him a little hard. He¡¯s able to ignore that because it¡¯s not the first time during a match that he¡¯s chubbed up, it happens to everyone. He¡¯s grateful that he¡¯s faced away from Avi. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Until he¡¯s not. Avi, probably sensing that Mitch wasn¡¯t in any position to return fire, flipped him onto his back. How he¡¯s able to move as though he¡¯s not restricted by his stupid skinny jeans was truly beyond Mitch, but he couldn¡¯t focus on that when his left leg is hoisted into the air and Avi¡¯s body was over his own, barely any room between them. As he mentally counted down¡­ ¡­1 Avi¡¯s face was so close to his own, the beard fibers scraping against his cheek. ¡­2 Avi¡¯s head swiveled, and their eyes met. There¡¯s something dark and unreadable there, the adrenaline turning Avi into something else: an animal, a predator, like his namesake lion, the one printed on his trunks. Possessed by the god of wrestling or combat, or Ares or Mars, perhaps? Mitch didn¡¯t know. But Avi looked as if the most intense hunger took him over, and maybe that¡¯s why he was such a natural at this, why he won so many of his matches, why he had all the renown and respect. He was a wrestler, after all. Avi licked his lips, and Mitch stared, too struck by awe to look away. His breath gone, lungs burning. He knew that he could not win this match, and he made peace with that, but still he must try. ¡­ The number 3 never crossed Mitch¡¯s mind, because in that exact moment, nothing did. He didn¡¯t kick out, which was his original plan, because he¡¯s paralyzed. It¡¯s as if a bolt of lightning targeted him, and now he couldn¡¯t function at all since his brain shut down and failed to reboot. And though he couldn¡¯t fathom it -or anything else, really- in the back of his mind, he¡¯s certain that Avi¡¯s lips are on his. Disoriented, Mitch tried to say something. But as his mouth opened, he felt a tongue touch his own. He¡¯s definitely sure that they¡¯re kissing. Avi no longer hovered, his weight firmly planted on Mitch. Their chests touched, and Mitch couldn¡¯t tell where his heartbeat ended and where Avi¡¯s began. After a delay, he registered that there¡¯s a hand in his hair and he thinks that he likes that, but he couldn¡¯t be certain because he wasn¡¯t cognizant of his own body anymore. Everything was too hazy to make sense, the blood which thrummed so hotly from the match now dispersing to other parts of his body and causing his skin to sharply tingle, as if he¡¯s being punctured by a thousand needles. A gasp escaped his mouth as Avi ground against his hips, the hard line of his dick flush against Mitch¡¯s. Then Avi¡¯s other hand touched his waist, fingertips grazing the skin under his shirt, burning like a new tattoo. A flashback surfaced. He¡¯s taken back to Graveyard Smash, the drunken stupor and the hand on his thigh, the shame and anguish that still kept him up at night. Panic seized him by the throat, icy and jarring. Out of instinct, Mitch shoved Avi away and slid backwards on his hands and elbows -the mat scraping his exposed skin- until he reached the ropes. He grabbed onto them as if his life depended on it, his breathing ragged and skin clammy. He could feel his eyes bulging out of his skull as he stared down Avi. Anger and confusion swirled about in his guts as he processed what he¡¯s experiencing, but he couldn¡¯t pinpoint why his emotions manifested this way. It felt like betrayal, for whatever reason, not like the euphoria that he would have expected from finally getting to experience this. ¡°Mitch,¡± Avi whispered, frozen in place and looking shocked and hurt, and Mitch didn¡¯t think he had any right to. ¡°No,¡± Mitch shook his head, hot tears welling up as rage and grief at last overtook him. ¡°No, you don¡¯t just get to- I¡¯m not-¡± he couldn¡¯t get out the sentiment as words failed him. Avi tried to approach, his movement slow and deliberate, but Mitch rolled out of the ring before he could get closer. ¡°Fuck you, that¡¯s not what I¡¯m here for!¡± he shouted as he grabbed his gym bag from off of the floor. Racing to the exit, he escaped into Jodie¡¯s car and drove away before Avi could catch up, not turning back once despite how many times his name was called. somehow Turning the shower temperature at its max setting, Mitch stood under the scalding water and zoned out. He pressed his head against the tile wall and felt nothing other than numbness that made his limbs heavy to support. Eventually, he crouched on the floor of the tub and waited for the water to run cold, not yet wanting to leave the sanctity of the bathroom and face reality. After the world¡¯s least refreshing shower, Mitch pulled on his underwear then hid under the hideous comforter provided by the Motel 6. The TV was on but he paid no attention whatever played on it, idly flipping through the channels but seeking nothing in particular. He only needed background noise to drown out the amplifying intrusive thoughts that strongly suggested he throw himself onto Route 2. Even when he went to great lengths to be respectful and mindful, even when he no longer pursued a cure for his loneliness, it was something. Even though he stopped sleeping around in order to get his head and heart together, there was always, always something. It happened all the time in college, it happened whenever Calvin needed a ¡°break¡±. It ruined his friendship with Nate, and now Avi¡­ He didn¡¯t think he had anymore crying left in him, but sure enough an aquaphor must have been tapped. Yet again, he was a wreck. Anyone else? Fine, he¡¯d manage, always did even if it broke him for a while. But Avi was supposed to be different. Avi was kind and supportive. Harmless. Off limits. And Mitch eventually accepted that, even made peace with it. Avi was supposed to be his friend. The person that defended him from Toby, saw him at rock bottom, heard him scream some of his deepest insecurities at the ocean after the assault. The worst part for Mitch was how bad he wanted it, too. A split second later and he would have been begging to be fucked right there in the ring, or at the very least offering to suck Avi off. But he was trying to be good, trying to value himself for once in his life, trying to make some progress so that he could break this cycle that he kept falling into. Why else did he pay a stranger and reach into the depths of his soul, exposing the murkiest parts, reliving his worst traumas? Because he liked it? Because it was fun? He wasn¡¯t sure how he was gonna get through this one without something in his system by the end of the night. Edibles weren¡¯t going to be enough. Someone at the motel must have had pills or coke on them, and he¡¯d be willing to blow or eat someone out to be incapacitated. Even if they did, how would he go about getting them? Knock on all of the doors until finding someone that had his fix? If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. He thought about calling Jodie, but didn¡¯t want to ruin her chances at finally moving on from her own ex. Plus, he couldn¡¯t keep dragging her into his issues like this, just because a stupid boy hurt his stupid gay feelings. Again. But he knew he needed to get in touch with someone, since the allure of using continued to barrage him like this. It meant looking at his phone, where many missed calls from Avi waited. As far as Mitch was concerned, Avi could go fuck himself. However, amongst the calls was one from Louis, which was odd considering that he should be balls deep in a MILF at that moment. Mitch didn¡¯t bother to listen to the voicemail left by him, and opted to hit the phone icon instead. The phone picked up after a single ring. ¡°Hey,¡± came Louis¡¯ voice through the phone, and Mitch covered his mouth to keep from making any obnoxious wailing noises. ¡°Mitch?¡± ¡°I¡¯m here,¡± Mitch said with a sniffle. ¡°OK, good,¡± Louis exhaled. ¡°Avi just called me in a panic, did something happen?¡± Mitch let out a high pitched whine, and Louis tutted. ¡°Mitch-¡° ¡°Remember what I said at Graveyard Smash? How guys sense that I¡¯ll put out, so they-¡° ¡°Mitch,¡± Louis repeated a little more firmly. ¡°I¡¯m a human being, OK! I have feelings, and¡­and it¡¯s like they don¡¯t matter. Ever. People think-¡° ¡°Mitch,¡± Louis repeated a third time. ¡°You¡¯re at the motel, right?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Mitch replied, deflating a little. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I should be here, I might relapse.¡± ¡°Shit, are you safe?¡± ¡°For now, yes. I¡¯m by myself. I already deal with this every day, today they¡¯re just¡­stronger.¡± ¡°Stay put, don¡¯t go anywhere. Listen, I don¡¯t know what happened, but I told Avi where you are, and he should be there soon¡­actually, he¡¯s probably already there if he didn¡¯t get pulled over for speeding.¡± ¡°WHY?¡± Mitch sat up and shouted. ¡°Lou, what the fuck?!¡± ¡°He told me what happened, and look, Mitch-¡± ¡°You told me you didn¡¯t know!¡± ¡°I know a little!¡± Louis snapped, then exhaled. ¡°I know this is tough, but I need you to really think about this: Have I ever put you in harm¡¯s way? Once?¡± ¡°No,¡± Mitch reluctantly admitted. ¡°Do me this solid: hear him out, OK? Give him like, 5 minutes. And if you¡¯re still ripshit after that, call me and I¡¯ll come get you right away. I¡¯ll gay marry you, whatever you need. We¡¯ll go to city hall tomorrow morning, bright and early, sign the paperwork.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not into guys.¡± ¡°Babe, I will make it work. Somehow. Please? Do this for me?¡± Mitch didn¡¯t want to agree, his blistered heart angry and agitated. But without a doubt, Louis cared about him, always looking out for his well being even if his bedside manner sucked ass. So Mitch conceded and hung up, then after settling down, called Avi. That time the phone didn¡¯t even ring, Avi picked up immediately. ¡°Room 117,¡± Mitch said before Avi could speak. ¡°Call me when you get to it.¡± ¡°OK,¡± Avi responded, his voice raw. A few minutes later, headlights shone through the flimsy curtains, briefly illuminating the room before going dark again. Avi¡¯s name flashed on the phone screen, and Mitch considered ignoring it. But he swallowed his pride and answered the call. fully disarmed ¡°Mitch-¡± Avi started, but when Mitch heard his name, all of the sorrow and anger descended upon him again with the force of a typhoon. ¡°You¡¯re a fucking asshole,¡± he spat with a mouth full of venom. ¡°You have a girlfriend, Avi.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t, actually,¡± Avi responded matter-of-factly, and that information caught Mitch off guard. His instinct was to ask what happened and when, but the fury raged too hard for him to be compassionate. Then, Avi continued. ¡°I broke up with Charlie in December, when I went home for Christmas.¡± ¡°Well I¡¯m not¡­I¡¯m not an experiment! I¡¯m not a tool for you to satiate your curiosity,¡± he yelled, unable to keep his emotions on a tether. ¡°Find some other guy to get that out of your system with, not me.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not,¡± Avi¡¯s voice shrank. ¡°I-I¡¯ve known that about myself for years, but I¡¯ve never been in a place before where I could open up about it.¡± Fuck, he wasn¡¯t making this easy. ¡°I¡¯m not a rebound,¡± Mitch continued to lambaste, fighting for his life as the magma that flowed out of him quickly lost steam, and his empathy started to override. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna be that. I deserve to be more than just a way to pass the time before something better comes along.¡± Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. A few seconds went by, and the silence was so heavy that Mitch couldn¡¯t tell if he¡¯d been hung up on. When Avi spoke again, his voice creaked in the way that brittle wood does before splintering apart. ¡°Do you really think that I think so little of you that I¡¯d¡­¡± He trailed off and went quiet. ¡°Mitch, after the last few months, you¡¯re maybe the most important person in my life.¡± The blood ran from Mitch¡¯s face and he went speechless, not knowing how to respond to something that he¡¯d never been told before. ¡°Please,¡± Avi quietly begged. ¡°I can explain everything, let¡¯s do this face-to-face.¡± Fully disarmed now, Mitch allowed for it. He didn¡¯t bother to get dressed, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders like a cloak and to make the long trek to the door. When he threw it open, Avi stood next to his car. One of the floodlamps above illuminated his face, casting unflattering harsh shadows and highlighting fine lines. His glasses were slightly fogged, but even through that, Mitch could see that his eyes were wet. He¡¯d been crying. Mitch stood aside and so that he could enter the room, then shut the door and returned to the edge of the mattress while Avi removed his coat and shoes; in Mitch¡¯s opinion, that was awfully bold of him. But Avi also remained standing, which he appreciated. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me any of this?¡± Immediately, Mitch became defensive once more, the hackles now back up. ¡°Why? Why would you think it was OK to do¡­any of that without even asking me?¡± ¡°Do you want the abridged or unabridged versions?¡± Avi asked. ¡°Unabridged.¡± Mitch folded his arms across his chest, and Avi sighed heavily. ¡°Everything. Literally everything.¡± Avi ran a hand down his face, then nodded. ¡°Fine. Alright. But I¡¯m sitting down for this.¡± "Is this real life?" Avi looked around for a seat, settling for the one at the flimsy desk that every cheap motel room came equipped with. Clearing his throat, he began with, ¡°First, I¡¯m really sorry about what I did-¡± But Mitch held his hand up. ¡°No. Start explaining.¡± Avi¡¯s shoulders slumped in resignation. ¡°Alright. So I didn¡¯t tell you about the breakup because I¡¯m still processing it. And when I got back from Everett, you were going through your own stuff. I didn¡¯t want to add more weight to the cross that you carried. Anyway, Charlie and I weren¡¯t happy together for a long time, a few years at least? It got fucking dark, man.¡± ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t have to-¡± Mitch started, but Avi shook his head. ¡°No, I owe you a bit of honesty after everything. And I kind of want to talk about it, actually,¡± Avi chuckled bitterly. ¡°Can¡¯t give all the details, and I¡¯m trying to figure out how to word this without¡­¡± He pursed his lips. ¡°So she came back from an assignment in Gaza that went. Badly. I took a year off from wrestling to try to help her, but that wasn¡¯t enough. She needed counseling, professional help, but her parents had her convinced that she didn¡¯t need it. That¡¯s just the kind of people they are. I tried to support her by myself, and then she started taking her issues out on me. It was like she¡¯d get aggravated, and then a switch would flip and next thing I knew she¡¯d start berating me, making comments about uh, my appearance. Sounding a lot like her dad.¡± The implication hung heavy as Avi used the same tone from Krampusnacht when he explained what he endured during the first few years of his wrestling career. As he spoke, it was as if someone put Mitch¡¯s heart into a vice. Avi continued. ¡°We were engaged for a while, actually. She broke it off, but we stayed together because I thought that enough elbow grease could repair this. Relationships are hard work, right? But then¡­¡± He squeezed his eyes shut. ¡°She randomly decided to stop taking her birth control, and didn¡¯t tell me. I don¡¯t know what she was thinking, we both agreed a long time ago that we didn¡¯t want kids, but all of a sudden she changed her mind. Maybe it was her idea of fixing what went wrong? Anyway, I freaked out after she casually detonated that nuke, and we got into a huge fight. Her reasoning was that I¡¯d ¡®step up as a man¡¯ if I became a father. I didn¡¯t¡­I didn¡¯t think I was doing a bad job? I know I¡¯m just one guy, but I really tried.¡± The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Holy shit,¡± Mitch uttered, practically having to pick his jaw up from off of the floor. Avi wiped his eyes and nodded. ¡°Yeah. And when I tried to break up with her, but a bunch of people intervened, including my mom. A whole barrage of guilt trips, it was great. We went to couples therapy for a while, I resumed wrestling because I needed to get away. Things seemed normal for a bit. Until the beginning of last year, when she brought up marriage, and. Dude, I couldn¡¯t. I still didn¡¯t trust her enough to make that sort of commitment. I tried to explain this as gently as possible, that I don¡¯t think that¡¯s in the cards. We get to May or June, and she hits me with ¡®well if you don¡¯t propose to me by the end of the year, we don¡¯t have a future¡¯. I tried to rip the bandage off, and my sister agreed that I should cut ties.¡± ¡°Well thank Christ someone in your family is sane.¡± ¡°Oh, you¡¯d get along with Cat. She wants to meet you.¡± Avi smiled for the first time since he¡¯d gotten there. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize that she had a name,¡± Mitch teased. ¡°Cut me some slack, I¡¯m new to the whole ¡®opening up¡¯ thing,¡± scoffed Avi. ¡°But yeah, my mom begged me to reconsider, and my brother spewed some shit about being an adult and needing to settle down. I decided to stick it out, because I thought that maybe I¡¯d change my mind, maybe it wasn¡¯t all that bad. Except it was.¡± He rubbed his neck, appearing exhausted after his lengthy anecdote. Mitch resisted the urge to yet again assure that going to such depths wasn¡¯t necessary; because despite relaying such harrowing accounts, the further Avi went, the more relaxed his body language became. How long had he kept this bottled up, Mitch wondered. ¡°Charlie moving out here was supposed to be a compromise, and then we¡¯d see where we were at after a while. Obviously, that didn¡¯t take. And I should have gone through with the breakup years ago, but I wouldn¡¯t have ended up in Monument if I did. So I don¡¯t entirely regret it.¡± ¡°Wait, so. That¡¯s why you came home early? Not because everyone was sick?¡± ¡°Right. I had a total breakdown and left. It¡¯s also part of why I didn¡¯t get on the plane at Thanksgiving.¡± ¡°Ah, your flight wasn¡¯t canceled.¡± Mitch raised an eyebrow. ¡°What¡¯s the other part?¡± ¡°You,¡± Avi said softly. ¡°Well it was everyone in Monument, but mostly you. I knew that I had feelings for you, and the idea of being away, willingly subjecting myself to being miserable instead of being where I knew where I was happy and accepted was¡­it was too much. I couldn¡¯t do it.¡± He looked away, covering his eyes with his hands while the ghost of a smirk crept onto his face. ¡°And also, when I heard Jodie mention Toby¡¯s name, I may have gotten jealous and made some rash decisions at the last second.¡± Mitch¡¯s head whipped around. ¡°Is this real life? Am I about to get Punk¡¯d? There¡¯s a camera crew in the bathroom, isn¡¯t there?¡± Avi cracked up. nervous energy ¡°It¡¯s all true, I promise.¡± Avi held a hand over his heart. ¡°Scout¡¯s honor. And I was an Eagle Scout, so that matters.¡± Mitch snorted. ¡°You dork.¡± But it took everything to refrain from launching into questions about Avi¡¯s scout past. A few seconds passed where they held one another¡¯s gaze, and then Mitch looked away. ¡°Still not thrilled about the kiss, though,¡± he sighed. ¡°What if I didn¡¯t want it? You should have said something.¡± ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s my bad. I fucked up big time,¡± admitted Avi. ¡°So check this out, I had this whole list.¡± Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper, and handed it to Mitch. On it were several bullet points:
  • have Louis distract Mitch
  • decorate break room
  • play song
  • confess
  • kiss?? (please)
¡°This cannot be for real,¡± Mitch read it over several times, torn between amusement and being moved by Avi¡¯s efforts. ¡°An actual list? You fucking wrote ¡®kiss¡¯ on here? And you planned all this on Valentine¡¯s Day? Why are you like this?!¡± ¡°It¡¯s for real. Well, actually, I wanted to do this on Sunday, but-¡° ¡°The bouquet?!¡± Mitch exclaimed. ¡°Yeah, I lost my nerve. Those were from me. Anyway, this is what the break room looks like right now.¡± Avi passed his phone over, and on it was a picture of the room covered in crepe paper streamers and balloons and more flowers. Mitch couldn¡¯t stop staring at the picture. ¡°I got mixed up when things deviated from my plan because you wanted to spar. I was a nervous wreck, and you were so close. When I pinned you and we made eye contact, I thought you got it. Or like, you wanted to. Thought we were on the same page. And I remembered when I talked to Louis earlier, how he kept telling me that I was wasting my time with all this prep and that I should just go in for the kill, because actions would mean more than words. But that wasn¡¯t cool of me. I¡¯m really sorry.¡± While Avi apologized, Mitch handed the phone back to him. ¡°OK, but what if I didn¡¯t want to kiss?¡± He teased, his knees playfully swinging apart then coming back together, and he savored the way that Avi¡¯s eyes flicked towards his legs before hastily looking back up, a blush now darkening his cheeks. Then it was Avi¡¯s turn to fold his arms and give him an incredulous look. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Mitch, full offense, but I had more than a vague idea that you were into me.¡± Mitch opened his mouth, but Avi continued without letting him talk, ¡°It still was absolutely not acceptable of me to do that without us discussing things beforehand, but in the moment it did seem like the world¡¯s safest bet.¡± ¡°One last question,¡± Mitch held back from grinning, satisfied with Avi¡¯s explanation but still needing to get one last rib in. Avi went wide-eyed, as if he couldn¡¯t figure out how else to break this further down. ¡°What?¡± Avi asked, holding back exasperation. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you do all this sooner? If you¡¯ve been all-knowing this entire time?¡± He thought it was a slam dunk joke, and Avi would join him on the bed where they¡¯d kiss and laugh forever. ¡°Ah,¡± Avi reached up and rubbed his beard in contemplation, and Mitch cocked his head in confusion, because he hadn¡¯t expected a serious reaction. ¡°So when we went to the Cape, you said you wanted someone that valued and appreciated you, and I gave that a lot of thought. I told myself that I wouldn¡¯t make my move until I settled a few other affairs first. So¡­I decided that meant coming out to my parents, because I didn¡¯t want to keep anything a secret if this-¡± he gestured at the both of them, ¡°-actually worked. But that ended up being much harder to approach than I originally thought, so it delayed things.¡± ¡°You- hold on!¡± Mitch sat up straight and squawked, ¡°You came out to your parents? For me? We¡¯re not even together, are you actually insane?¡± ¡°Happy Valentine¡¯s Day?¡± Avi shrugged with a sheepish laugh. ¡°Dunno. Yeah it¡¯s kind of because of you, but I was also tired of not being me. My dad¡¯s trying to use correct terminology and I have to remind him that I¡¯m bi and not gay, and my mom¡¯s very much overcompensating with her acceptance. But. Yeah. You -everyone at Monument- make me feel like a better version of myself. An authentic one. So even if you reject me, at least there¡¯s that peace of mind.¡± ¡°One more question.¡± Avi groaned, and Mitch struggled for his life to hold back a laugh. ¡°For real, I promise this time.¡± ¡°What?¡± Avi gave an undignified whine, sounding like helium leaking from a balloon. ¡°Can you come over here and kiss me now?¡± ¡°Oh, are you sure that you want to? Because you know, you definitely don¡¯t telegraph super hard or anything.¡± Still, Avi stood up and crossed the gap between them, and his legs slotted between Mitch¡¯s, the denim of his pants scratching against Mitch¡¯s inner thighs. ¡°I¡¯d really like you to.¡± Mitch dropped all humor and did the only thing he¡¯d ever wanted to do: observe Avi without any shame or guard in place. One of Avi¡¯s knees propped up on the mattress and Mitch slid backwards, giving him enough room to straddle his lap. His arms went around Avi¡¯s waist to hold him steady while Avi leaned down, and their lips softly grazed. Nervous energy radiated off of the both of them as they determined how they fit against one another, but it was perfect nevertheless. All of the sentiments that ceaselessly weighed heavy on Mitch¡¯s mind -ranging everywhere from ¡®I love you¡® to ¡®please god don¡¯t hurt me¡®- were mercifully silent for once, and he was allowed to just feel. invitation They stayed like that for a while, making out until Mitch¡¯s arms grew uncomfortable. He reclined so that his back met the mattress, and Avi went along with him, his thighs bracketing Mitch¡¯s hips. Mitch only wished that he had more hands so he could touch them, touch everywhere, but the only two that he possessed skimmed the wide expanse of Avi¡¯s shoulders, trailing lower and lower until they reached the lumbar region. There they stayed. What he really wanted was two handfuls of ass, but he also didn¡¯t want to be presumptuous. His fingertips rested at the hem of Avi¡¯s jeans, tangling in the belt loops and gently tugging at them as he fidgeted. Avi finally pulled his tongue out of Mitch¡¯s mouth, and with a knowing smirk asked, ¡°Are you waiting for an invitation?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Mitch answered very seriously. ¡°Alright,¡± laughed Avi. ¡°Actually, I¡¯m gonna-¡± He lifted off of Mitch and rolled to the bed¡¯s edge, then stood. The lack of contact had Mitch ready to fuss, but was silenced when Avi undid his belt then shucked his pants off, then stood there in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of briefs. ¡°What about the shirt?¡± Mitch blurted before thinking, and had to fight to keep himself from running out of the room for that braindead remark. But Avi cracked a smile, the flush on his face further darkening; like all of a sudden he¡¯s a shrinking violet with modesty, despite the amount of time he¡¯s wandered around the house in tiny athletic shorts or sometimes just a towel. It felt as though someone was supposed to make a comment or a joke about the situation, but Mitch was too stunned to be witty as he watched Avi go along with the suggestion. After he pulled the shirt over his head, he kept his eyes fixed off to the side. And the quip did come -albeit delayed- when Avi finally made eye contact; with a sly grin, he pointed out that Mitch was staring. ¡°I am,¡± Mitch quietly admitted, his heart pounding out of his chest. He stayed propped up on his elbows and kept perfectly still when Avi returned onto the bed, crawling on hands and knees until he was over Mitch once more. It all overwhelmed Mitch to the point of paralysis, because he had so much that he needed to say while simultaneously he was afraid to show his hand this soon. And then Avi touched his neck, sliding his palm up the side and triggering shivers to ricochet down Mitch¡¯s spine. If Avi wanted to, he could break him with the greatest of ease. Surely he must have sensed it. Terror seized Mitch, and he¡¯s back to being a rodent at the mercy of a bird of prey. Despite hearing Avi¡¯s story -and believing it, even- his instincts stayed on edge; much too loud, much too eager to spring away. In recent months, he experienced both tenderness and sadism, and concluded they were too similar to tell apart. Avi went in to resume from where they left off, but before he made much progress, Mitch spoke up. He asked what Avi meant by ¡®play song¡¯ on the list?¡®, and Avi patiently explained that he learned a new song. When pressed for which one, he exhaled and admitted that it was crushcrushcrush. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°When did you realize that you had feelings for me?¡± Mitch asked as a follow up, and Avi¡¯s mouth formed a line. ¡°Are you going to keep asking questions?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Mitch nodded. Avi closed his eyes and gave a small smile. ¡°Why?¡± The inquiry wasn¡¯t out of annoyance, Mitch could tell that much. Avi appeared to take it all in good stride, his infinite patience a godsend right then as Mitch waded through the depths of his own self-sabotaging trepidation. ¡°I want to know everything about you,¡± Mitch finally responded, scared but honest. He was relieved when Avi¡¯s smile spread wider. ¡°OK, fire away. I¡¯m gonna keep doing this though.¡± He peppered kisses along the side of Mitch¡¯s face and then lower, down his jaw and grazing the corner of his lips. Taking a risk, Mitch dared to rest one of his hands on Avi¡¯s flank and kneaded the muscle there. ¡°I think sometime around Graveyard Smash. Couldn¡¯t stop thinking about you in that dress, then I just. Couldn¡¯t stop thinking about you.¡± When a kiss landed at the hinge of his jaw, always a sweet spot for Mitch, a hungry whimper made its way out of his throat. Avi¡¯s fingers splayed on Mitch¡¯s chest, his sternum scar positioned between the index and middle. ¡°Can I ask how you got this? I¡¯ve been wondering.¡± The scar remained a source of discomfort for Mitch, despite carrying it for his entire lifetime. Addressing it in a vulnerable state would normally be unthinkable, but Avi being his only audience made it tolerable. He liked telling Avi things, after all. So, with an even tone, he explained that it was from two open heart surgeries, one when he was an infant and the other at 19 years old. He explained his birth defect, his faulty heart valves and how they¡¯d been repaired and how he might live a reasonable lifetime if he could get his shit together and stop smoking. After finishing, he apologized for dampening the mood. Avi responded by pressing his lips to the scar, traveling down its length and causing Mitch¡¯s breath hitch. It went on for a while longer like that, breathlessly divulging secrets and making confessions to one another, things they¡¯d been both dying to either ask or say but were too personal in nature for someone other than a partner. After a few more rounds of questioning, Avi settled Mitch¡¯s frightened rabbit¡¯s heart by gently reminding that they had all of the time in the world. Presumably, he meant that he intended to stick around. Mitch went to protest, but Avi was faster, taking him by the wrists and guiding his hands to his ass, insisting that Mitch grab hold. He didn¡¯t need a second demonstration, and pulled Avi tight enough until they were flush with one another. ¡°Please just let me do this?¡± he pleaded, whispering into Mitch¡¯s ear before nipping at the lobe and grinding against him. Thin layers of fabric was all that separated them, but Mitch could feel every inch of Avi¡¯s dick dragging against his own. A damp spot on the fabric of his briefs made contact with the bare skin of Mitch¡¯s belly, nearly killing him. ¡°OK,¡± Mitch agreed at last and shut up, half of his body and all of his brain turned to jelly from Avi¡¯s choice of words. He wanted nothing more than to reveal the sentiment that¡¯s burned him up for months, especially right then. But he knew better. So instead, he reversed their roles and got Avi onto his back, praying that his actions -the touches, the tastes- did a competent enough job to showcase his devotion. The noises that he pulled out of Avi sounded promising, and if he could continue to deliver, maybe it¡¯d tide him over until the moment was perfect. In the meanwhile, the confession would stay between his teeth, wedged like a popcorn kernel that needed to be extracted. But he could wait. brighter than the sun In the early hours of the morning, they lay sweat drenched and exhausted and clinging onto one another. Avi continued to press lazy kisses to exposed bits of Mitch¡¯s skin around his neck and face, but the intent was purely affectionate rather than an attempt to initiate yet another round. Mitch sought out Avi¡¯s hand and twined their fingers together -like he wanted to do many times in the past- and Avi raised that to his lips and kissed it as well, the knuckles and meat of Mitch¡¯s thumb and some of the palm. ¡°You¡¯re staring again,¡± Avi pointed out with no heat, only a hint of amusement. ¡°It¡¯s hard not to,¡± Mitch responded with a bit of gravel in his voice, and Avi¡¯s flushed cheeks lifted from smiling once more. ¡°Sorry, you¡¯ll have to get used to it.¡± Avi giggled, and the sound made Mitch¡¯s heart swell. It¡¯d been so long since he¡¯d been intimate with someone that laughed and entertained his ramblings even if it wasn¡¯t the most appropriate venue for them. ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll manage,¡± Avi responded, bumping their noses together, and Mitch gave a contented hum. Each of his words held promise of longevity, as if he somehow knew exactly when Mitch needed to hear them; every time they were spoken, they soothed the ache in Mitch¡¯s chest and the worry in his brain. After everything, Mitch thought for certain that he¡¯d sleep easy, but unfortunately that remained elusive as always. Next to him, Avi curled into his side and threw off heat like the sun that Mitch orbited. In the past, he¡¯d been accused of being difficult to snuggle or embrace on account of his bony limbs and sharp joints, so he paid close attention to the placement of his elbows and knees. But Avi seemed dead to the world and unbothered, which allowed Mitch to further observe him without it being pointed out. He wondered what the future held, dreading that he¡¯d have to come clean and tell Jodie before she figured it out for herself. Would she lecture him? He¡¯d be deserving of it, since his recent string of relationships also impacted several of her friendships, and that was a shitty position for someone to be in. Hopefully, Avi would be spared from her wrath. Mitch would see to that, even if it meant being evicted. Maybe it¡¯d be an incentive to get a job that provided a steadier paycheck and his own place, like a little studio apartment. The car situation remained dire, but he¡¯d figure it out. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. His thoughts drifted to the upcoming match, which up until a few hours ago consumed him entirely. And perhaps it was due to the afterglow and Avi being in his arms, but the rage and despair all but vanished, diffusing into the atmosphere high above. As far as he knew, the concept that it was bad to have sex before a fight was no more than a myth; besides, they hadn¡¯t actually fucked, since neither party came prepared with lube and condoms, just done a little bit of everything else over the course of the night. But he couldn¡¯t deny that emotionally he felt satisfied, and a hardcore match demanded that he be anything other than that. The sharpness and hunger and madness were absent, meaning his edge was gone. Meaning that the match itself had become all the more dangerous for him, if Nate was smart and prepared for the monster that Zevon could be. The only advantage that Mitch may have now was if Nate felt guilty enough to hold himself back, but he didn¡¯t want that. He wanted a real match. He wanted them both at their best by being their worst. He closed his eyes, suddenly uncomfortable with watching over Avi. Having no idea what Saturday would bring -and the condition that it¡¯d leave him in- gnawed at his conscience. Were their roles reversed and it was Avi¡¯s match, he knew he¡¯d be eaten alive by distress from seeing Avi effectively enter the Colosseum of his own volition. He only prayed that it wouldn¡¯t come up beforehand, and hoped that Avi, as a fellow wrestler, understood what Mitch so desperately needed to do. For the rest of the night, he fretted, waking up at random hours and wondering if he should call it off. Up until then, he hadn¡¯t been scared, hadn¡¯t doubted his ability to dish out and endure pain. At some point as he stressed, he watched as Avi¡¯s eyes fluttered open. ¡°Hi,¡± Avi said sweetly, almost shy and demure. Despite the rancid morning breath, Mitch leaned in and kissed him, which Avi happily welcomed. ¡°We should take a shower,¡± whispered Avi, adding ¡°together¡±, as if he knew that Mitch would need the clarification. ¡°Alright,¡± Mitch agreed, allowing for Avi to lead the way so that he could admire his backside. The fury and indignation that originally fueled him were long gone, making their getaway in the dead of night. Mitch needed to accept that and move onto either a new strategy, or prepare to work harder than ever. Then Avi rounded the corner into the bathroom and poked his head around the corner, a nervous smile on his face and his hand outstretched as Mitch approached, silently begging to be taken. Accept it Mitch did, and he was pulled into an embrace. He wondered if he could somehow use love -one which burned brighter than the sun and all of the stars- as a new source of fuel. a good sport As Mitch taped up his wrists, a million different thoughts raced through his head. He hadn¡¯t watched any of Lupercalia¡¯s matches, and a vague sense of guilt overcame him since both Louis and Sandy were in the tournament. At some point, he¡¯d make it up to them. Until then, he applied his face paint then isolated himself in a storage closet that reeked of cold, damp concrete and musty wood from the palettes scattered on the floor. After clearing some space towards the back, he stretched and tried to keep strict focus on how to destroy Nate. It didn¡¯t work. He knew it¡¯d be futile, but it was worth a shot. Mostly Mitch thought about Avi, who he asked to keep away until the match. Avi, being a good sport, obliged. Avi was a good sport about so much, Mitch came to find in the last 48 hours. After checking out of the motel, they went out for breakfast and addressed a few immediate¡­challenges, to put it gently. Namely Jodie. Mitch needed more time to figure out how to break the news about this very new situation while somehow keeping their friendship intact. It meant asking Avi to keep things discreet in the meanwhile, which pained Mitch to request of him. Hurt flashed across Avi¡¯s face, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he smiled brightly to cover it up. And as soon as Mitch saw it, he almost scrapped the idea entirely, ready to throw caution to the wind and call Jodie that very second. He stammered apologies and tried to excuse himself from the table, assuring that he¡¯d take care of it, but Avi stopped him. ¡°It¡¯s OK, I get it,¡± he said with a kiss, and Mitch stayed put. When they got back to the house, Avi disappeared into his room for a good while as Mitch holed up in the attic and staved off an anxiety attack, idly picking away at guitar strings. As far as he knew, he¡¯d already fucked this up and lost Avi before anything even really started. Why couldn¡¯t he just be smarter and braver? Consumed by guilt, he combed through Craigslist ads for studio apartments in anticipation of telling Jodie and possibly getting kicked out. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. And then Avi sent a text with a link to a spreadsheet. It contained Jodie¡¯s work schedule and his own, and he¡¯d highlighted the cells where the two didn¡¯t overlap. A few minutes later, he ascended the attic stairs and asked if Mitch got his message; Mitch responded by leaping to his feet and kissing every inch of Avi¡¯s face. He copied the schedule into his own calendar, and swore that he¡¯d be around the house during those gaps, come hell or high water. One thing was for certain now: he¡¯d rather be fooling around with Avi than getting prepared to be choked out by a chain. The match was good idea at the time, he reminded himself, and according to Jodie they were set to break the attendance record. At least this wouldn¡¯t be for nothing. He attempted to tap into the indignation and fury from New Years Eve, but his brain continued to sabotage his efforts by reminding him that if he was still with Nate, he wouldn¡¯t be with Avi. Yes, at the time it was humiliating, but everyone made mistakes. Besides, did he even ever have feelings for Nate, or did he just want to be wanted so desperately that he was willing to bypass what his heart needed in order to settle? A safe bet, more or less. ¡°Fuck,¡± he muttered. He couldn¡¯t say for certain, but in hindsight, he guessed that his hands weren¡¯t entirely clean in this scenario. Although Nate still shouldn¡¯t have lied by omission for nearly a month. They were friends, for crissakes. Back to being agitated, Mitch stoked that spark as he went back even further and threw memories of Toby and Calvin and even Dylan on for kindling, allowing it to erupt into a bonfire. If Nate was up to it, they could bury the hatchet after the match. Until then, he allowed this slight to be the worst imaginable transgression that one man could commit against another. Settling differences in the ring was the whole point of kayfabe, wasn¡¯t it? sanctuary Desiree¡¯s voice boomed over the speakers, wrenching Mitch out of his own head. She informed the audience that there would be a short intermission before the main event, and encouraged everyone to buy merchandise from the wrestlers during the break. Mitch stood up straight from where he was crouched, his hands clasped to keep from touching his face and smearing the paint. He hadn¡¯t put his jacket on yet since his skin was much too hot and tight for his liking. With nothing better to do, he paced about like a tiger enclosed in a cage, every passing second more unbearable than the last. The door handle jostled and grabbed his attention. His head whipped towards its direction; seconds later, light from the main hall poured into the closet. In the doorway stood Avi in his Hunter¡¯s gear, stupid big hat and all. Mitch¡¯s immediate reaction was to chastise him for showing up now when the match wasn¡¯t for at least another 20 minutes, but he reigned it in. He¡¯d be committing relationship suicide by being an asshole to the guy that was eternally out of his league and hadn¡¯t figured it out yet. Not when they hadn¡¯t yet established what this even was. ¡°Hi,¡± Avi greeted once the door shut behind him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I-¡± ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Mitch responded somberly, the irritation already gone. They stared down one another for a moment, the silence hanging heavy in the space between. Finally, Avi stepped forward and took one of Mitch¡¯s hands between his own. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°C¡¯mere.¡± He guided Mitch over to the short stack of pallets towards the back and sat down on them. Putting up no argument, Mitch followed along, his bicep flush against Avi¡¯s as they sat together. Avi freed his hand and reached behind Mitch¡¯s back to pull him in close, until he rested on Avi¡¯s shoulder. No further words were exchanged, but Avi kissed the top of his head every so often. Though the gentleness drew Mitch away from the aggression that he needed, he guessed that the gesture wasn¡¯t specifically meant to make him feel better. So he continued to say nothing and allowed Avi to keep doting however he needed to. The only sound that filled the small room was their respective breathing, and Mitch prayed that it stayed that way. He didn¡¯t want to ask Avi¡¯s thoughts on what loomed ahead, because he didn¡¯t want an answer. If he hesitated in the ring for any reason or -god forbid- tried to be careful, he couldn¡¯t win. He¡¯d probably get even more hurt. Never before had Mitch been apprehensive about abusing himself in the ring. Usually he looked forward to it. He squeezed Avi¡¯s hand as tightly as he could. ¡°Five more minutes!¡± Desiree called out, and Mitch let go of a breath that he¡¯d held in his lungs for the last few days. ¡°That¡¯ll be me,¡± he remarked, already moving to stand up. He went to take a step forward, but found himself still anchored by Avi. Again, neither of them said anything, but Mitch paused and waited, not bothering to protest or struggle or make assurances that he couldn¡¯t truly know. Eventually, Avi released his grip, giving Mitch the opportunity to pull on the bomber jacket and grab his kendo stick from out of the corner.He turned back to Avi, whose normally open expression was unreadable in that moment, and wished that he could kiss him. But between the facepaint and the need to want for something, he refrained. Instead, they hugged tightly before leaving the sanctuary of the closet together. partner Nate was already in Gorilla position, and he looked elsewhere once Mitch and Avi joined him. ¡°Why¡¯s he here?¡± he mumbled. ¡°He¡¯s my tag partner, he¡¯s allowed.¡± Mitch responded curtly, putting strong emphasis on ¡®partner¡¯. That was only half true. The other half was that Jodie wanted The Hunter to come across as looking strong and relevant, regardless of the match¡¯s results. But this answer either satisfied Nate¡¯s curiosity, or he didn¡¯t have a better response prepared. Not that his approval mattered to Mitch, and he preferred the absence of conversation anyway. After the announcement from Desiree that it was time for the main event of the evening, the familiar guitar riff of Yours Truly¡¯s theme started; when the drums kicked in around the 30 seconds mark, Nate was out of the curtain and met with loud boos and jeers. Mitch wondered if Nate would miss this, and what role The Fed would have him play on their already bloated roster. Then Nate¡¯s music faded and Mitch sharply inhaled, his entire body vibrating. A single piano note played, followed by another. Avi raised an eyebrow, for it wasn¡¯t Mitch¡¯s usual theme. ¡°Thought I¡¯d switch things up,¡± Mitch winked. Florence Welch¡¯s strong voice sent chills up his spine, and he could hear the crowd clapping and stomping along to the beat, and he grinned despite himself. He waited until the chorus before bursting out the curtain, one arm extended while the other clung to the kendo stick that he held across the shoulders. Applause erupted when he appeared, but rather than savor it he marched forward; one eye on his opponent that loomed, and the other on the chain that lay in the center of the ring. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Avi trailed behind, his saunter slow and deliberate while Mitch climbed the steps and passed between the ropes. Desiree announced the respective stats: Yours Truly¡¯s first, and he climbed onto the turnbuckle and antagonized the audience, whipping them into a frenzy. He¡¯d be fine in the big leagues, Mitch thought. Zevon¡¯s introduction followed, which included ¡°accompanied to the ring by The Hunter¡± (of course the crowd booed Avi¡¯s character, even more deafening than they had Yours Truly); but once she resumed, so did the excitement. Mitch took to the ropes and hoisted the kendo stick up high, then jumped down and immediately got into Nate¡¯s face, chest to chest and already snapping at one another. When they made eye contact -the first time in over a month- the gravity of the situation unfolding dawned on both of them. Conflict and regret reflected back at Mitch, how senseless this all was. Those late night conversations and all that time spent together and the tenderness and the bonding meant nothing now. The referee wedged himself between the two to create some separation. Once there was order, he attached the respective collars to their necks. He checked his handiwork, then gestured for the bell to be rung. nowhere to run, nowhere to hide The first thing that Mitch noticed was the chain¡¯s weight as it sagged between them. He loosely grasped his end and wiggled it, both to test its hold and to antagonize Nate somewhat. There¡¯s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Can¡¯t stray too far, must stay close lest the chain went taut and became a threat to the both of them. They exchanged wary glances, and Mitch assumed that Nate worked out similar strategies in his head. With a bit of distance, Nate attempted to rush forward and kick Mitch in the face; being far more agile, Mitch ducked the attack. Nate¡¯s impatience left him vulnerable, the chain now between his legs, and Mitch yanked it with all of his strength. It lifted up fast and sharp, not only tugging on the collar and choking Nate but also crushing his balls. The audience gasped, and Nate dropped onto his knees, wheezing. Whoops. ¡°Gotcha, bitch,¡± Mitch cackled in Zevon¡¯s voice, albeit saddled with a bit of guilt. After getting to his feet again, Mitch bunched up a section of chain and repeatedly whipped Nate¡¯s back with it, the dull thud of heavy metal again flesh sickening. But despite Mitch¡¯s assault, his effort to maim Nate and put this whole thing to bed, Nate was still very much in this. On hands and knees, he turned around enough to reach out and grab one of Mitch¡¯s ankles, then pulled him down to the mat. And as soon as Mitch was horizontal on his back, Nate stood tall over him and tugged at the chain. It wrenched Mitch up into the air, and the collar tightened around his neck, briefly suffocating him. Fuck. He hadn¡¯t even taken that into account. His legs flailed about in a panic while his fingers wedged under the collar, all of his instincts screaming at him to get out of this any way possible. Undo the collar, forget the match, leave. But before he could get coordinated enough to do that, Nate released the chain and his body fell again. The thing about Nate was that once he was in the ring, he became outright mean. It was easy to forget if you knew him personally. A safe worker, sure. And he¡¯d always been Mitch¡¯s favorite to have a match with, because everything he did was so sound, so tight. Generally he came out of each of their bouts as a better wrestler. And then he¡¯d go and do something like wrap the chain around his fist, staddle Mitch¡¯s chest, and punch him in the face with it. Over and over again. ¡°Fuck you!¡± Mitch yelled between blows, spit and blood ejecting from his mouth and spraying Nate in the face. As Nate wound back, Mitch wrenched his shoulder and arm up, colliding with Nate¡¯s groin for the second time that night. ¡°Aw, c¡¯mon man,¡± Nate groaned as he rolled backwards, giving Mitch the clearance to wriggle out and free himself. Using the valuable few seconds that Nate needed to compose himself, Mitch grabbed a length of chain and wound it around Nate¡¯s neck. He planted a foot between Nate¡¯s shoulders and yanked harder, using the leverage to his advantage. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Tap!¡± Mitch snarled, both hands now on the chain as his midsection twisted so far back that he could feel his spinal column protesting. Sweat poured down his body, pooling at his hands and compromising his grip. He could see red gathered up at the corners of his vision, and determined that he must be busted open at the forehead, likely from one of the earlier punches. It wouldn¡¯t be long before he needed a new strategy, but he gave one final tug to try to buy himself more time. However, it wasn¡¯t enough. Again, Nate swept him off of his feet and gained the upper hand in the process. The vicious cycle continued that way throughout the match: Nate using his size and strength to brutalize Mitch, forcing the chain into his mouth and around his head, trying to make the experience as claustrophobic and miserable as possible. Mitch was always faster, manipulated the chain more often as he paired it with moves. Sometimes it paid off, like when he used it with a springboard neckbreaker. Other times it did not, like when he attempted to dive and Nate dodged; what would have normally been a spill to the outside of the ring turned into him getting effectively getting hung by a noose as Nate kept the chain taut from his position in the center of the ring. But either Nate didn¡¯t want the match to end in the world¡¯s saddest count out, or he heard the terrified noises that Mitch squawked and took some pity, reeling him back inside as if he¡¯d hooked a dying fish. There¡¯s no strategy once Mitch returned, just the need to survive and win. They continued to abuse one another¡¯s bodies, and during a brief moment of calm, the only sound that Mitch could make out was his own ragged breathing mingling with Nate¡¯s. He spotted the crimson of blood covering half of Nate¡¯s face, and felt the rivulets of his own going past his jaw and down to his neck. Nothing ever weighed as much as that leather collar, growing heavier with each strike and blow. The vigilance of keeping a panic attack at bay further wore Mitch down. He should have picked any other match stipulation, not the one that preyed so acutely on his greatest fear. Yet, Nate seemed equally sluggish as they took turns with elbow strikes and chops to the chest. It couldn¡¯t end like this, not in a weak hockey fight, but it did need to end. Mitch couldn¡¯t even see anymore; it was as if every bone had been ground to dust, every inch of skin grated away, every bit of oxygen turned to water when he breathed it in. A final elbow cracked Mitch across the face with enough force to tear his head from his shoulders. Nate had reinforced his forearm with the chain, Mitch realized a little too late, and the force of it knocked him backwards and into a heap on the mat. The ref¡¯s voice called out, but Mitch didn¡¯t hear them until around the number 6. His body was much too mangled to move, but from the corner of his eye he could see Nate attempt to drag himself closer with the chain sweetly jangling along with every bit of motion. ¡°Mitch,¡± Nate¡¯s voice rasped out when he was just a few feet away. ¡°8!¡± counted the referee. ¡°What?¡± Mitch asked, closing his eyes and already accepting defeat. If Nate had enough energy to close the gap, he would be the victor. ¡°9!¡± Nate got within a few inches, his head near Mitch¡¯s, but he didn¡¯t bother to sit up or extend an arm or make any motion whatsoever to go for the pinfall. They made eye contact, and Nate went still. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he hoarsely whispered. ¡°10! Ring the bell!¡± The referee shouted, ruling the match a no contest. ¡°You fucker,¡± Mitch let out a soft laugh, then relished in the absence of urgency for a few seconds. Moments later, there was a commotion, and then a hand on his face and Avi¡¯s voice asking him if he was OK. ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Mitch responded, allowing his head to be cradled. Soon after, Louis and Sandy joined as well, and between the three of them they managed to get him on his feet. The crowd exploded into cheers. everythings good ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be out there selling merch?¡± asked Mitch, half joking while Avi continued to look over his wounds and clean him up. It was just the two of them in a quiet corner of the locker room, finally alone after Louis dragged Sandy away and Jodie had come around to check up on him, her concern palpable until Avi assured her that he had it under control. ¡°Nah,¡± Avi lied; Mitch could tell, but he put up no argument. Everything was excruciating, and he wanted Avi there for some kind of support while the brain fuzz continued to amplify. He scratched at his neck then stared down at the dried blood under his fingernails, and thought about Nate doing the same elsewhere in the building. The mental image quickly dissipated when Avi¡¯s thumb pad grazed a few tender spots. Despite Avi¡¯s gentle touches, Mitch was too sore for this. ¡°Think I¡¯ll need stitches?¡± asked Mitch, and Avi shook his head. ¡°No real lacerations, surprisingly,¡± Avi commented, his tone carrying both relief and annoyance. ¡°I think you¡¯ll be alright.¡± His hands cupped Mitch¡¯s chin and tilted his face upward. Mitch assumed he was due for a kiss, only to be met with a rude snort when he closed his eyes and puckered his lips. ¡°I¡¯m gonna clean your face, goober. Just wanted to see if there were any bad cuts.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± Mitch deflated, keeping his eyes shut so that Avi could work. A wet napkin dragged across his face, and he kept his expression neutral while Avi scrubbed. Some spots were more stubborn than others, a familiar sting meant that clumps of coagulated blood were being disturbed. Based on how his face went from tacky to damp, Avi¡¯s thoroughness shone through and Mitch appreciated it. There¡¯s a pause, and he wondered if Avi found a particularly nasty spot, but was pleasantly surprised when he¡¯s at last the recipient of a kiss. He¡¯s able to slip a little tongue as Avi¡¯s fingertips pressed a little firmer under the hinge of his jaw. ¡°You need a shower or you¡¯ll get a staph infection,¡± Avi whispered into Mitch¡¯s open mouth. ¡°Wanna join?¡± Mitch waggled his eyebrows. Being lightheaded made him more willing to entertain risks than normal. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Oh-¡° ¡°But no.¡± Avi pressed his lips to the tip of Mitch¡¯s nose, and Mitch sighed in frustration. Shirt already long gone, he stood up and put his hands to his waistband, then began to push them down. Avi laughed. ¡°Are you doing this right here?¡± ¡°Is that an issue?¡± Mitch teased. ¡°I¡¯m gonna go like. Anywhere else. Yell if you need me.¡± He clamped his hand over Mitch¡¯s mouth as it opened. ¡°I¡¯ll be right around the corner. Don¡¯t be a smartass.¡± ¡°Alright,¡± Mitch conceded, but shoved his tights down regardless, drawing a shake of the head from Avi. Mitch finished undressing and dragged his carcass inside of the stall. He hadn¡¯t gotten a good look at himself in the mirror. If he missed any spots, he had faith in Avi being able to handle it later. The water cascaded over his battered body, tracing all of the small cuts and making him shiver. Resting his forearms on the stall¡¯s wall, he watched the fresh blood drip down his body and swirl into the drain below, until the water eventually ran clear. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. He wasn¡¯t too interested in meeting up with everyone at Fighting Spirit, but he needed to see if things would ever be cool between him and Nate again. Considering that this was the going away party, it may be the last opportunity. Though his entire body protested at the idea of leaving the hot water, he finished up, toweled off, and got dressed, not caring that Avi was present the entire time. He was so tired and only wanted to collapse onto a flat surface, but Avi crowded him against a locker and planted another kiss, and that gave him enough energy to be vertical for a little while longer. Taking one last look in the mirror, Mitch was satisfied by the open wounds that no longer oozed. He accompanied Avi to Fighting Spirit, where the rest of the roster waited. When Mitch walked through the door, he was greeted by raucous applause from his peers. Zevon¡¯s bravado vanished, and all that remained was Mitch, shy and withdrawn. But he loved them all from the bottom of his heart. He made small talk when approached, though still disoriented from the match and unable to put himself out there too much. Avi grabbed seats for them at the bar, but before Mitch sat down with him, he spotted Nate across the room conversing with Jodie and Maya. ¡°I¡¯ll be right back,¡± he said to Avi, patting him on the back before weaving through the crowd. He lingered nearby within peripheral vision, and Nate¡¯s eyes flicked up and they held one another¡¯s gaze for a moment. Once the girls left, Nate cautiously approached. ¡°Hi,¡± Mitch greeted. ¡°Hi,¡± Nate parroted. Up close, he looked equally beat to hell and exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes like bruises to match the rest of his battered body. ¡°You said ¡®sorry¡¯ in the ring.¡± Mitch elected to cut to the chase. ¡°I did. I am.¡± Nate solemnly nodded. ¡°I-I really should have told you everything from the get-go.¡± A moment passed, and Jodie¡¯s laugh rang out from over at the bar, making Mitch consider this, consider the surroundings. Consider all of it. Monument wasn¡¯t so bad. Everything might be alright. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Mitch agreed. ¡°But it¡¯s done, and I¡¯m ready to move on. So,¡± he stretched out his arms, because how could two people that nearly murdered one another not have some sort of bond after their shared ordeal. ¡°Bygones be bygones?¡± ¡°Fuck yes.¡± Nate accepted the hug, clutching Mitch tightly for a few seconds before holding him at arm¡¯s length. ¡°I¡¯m gonna miss you,¡± he admitted. ¡°Eh, you won¡¯t have time to think about me when you¡¯re in Florida,¡± Mitch chuckled. ¡°But try to keep in touch. Visit sometimes.¡± ¡°Will do,¡± was all Nate said before Mitch slipped away for a final time. For a second time, he wound and wove through the throng until he returned to Avi¡¯s side, grazing his fingers across those broad shoulders before sitting on the stool that¡¯d been saved for him. ¡°Everything good?¡± Avi asked once Mitch was seated, his brow furrowed in concern. Propping an elbow up on the bar, Mitch rested his head on his hand. With his other, he reached under the bar and sought out Avi¡¯s, then linked their fingers together. Avi smiled brightly, brilliant as always, the source of warmth and light that Mitch basked in. ¡°Yeah.¡± He gave a smile of his own, running his thumb along Avi¡¯s knuckles. ¡°Everything¡¯s good.¡± epilogue ¡°Do we have everything?¡± Avi asked, his hand on the open rear hatch door as he peered into the trunk. To placate him, Mitch checked his bag and confirmed that all of his medication was inside of it. ¡°We¡¯re good,¡± he nodded. ¡°Even if we missed anything, we can get it up there. Not like we¡¯re going into the wilderness.¡± ¡°Alright.¡± Shutting the trunk, Avi turned to Mitch with crinkled eyes, looking adorable in the hat that Jodie knit for him as a Christmas gift. ¡°So¡­we¡¯re off, I guess?¡± Mitch was about to respond, but felt eyes on him. He looked towards the house and saw Jodie at the front door with a shawl pulled around her shoulders. With a bright smile, Avi waved at her, and she responded in kind. ¡°Just a minute, and then yes.¡± He planted a kiss on Avi¡¯s cheek, then jogged up the walkway and the steps, slowing down once he landed on the porch. ¡°Salut,¡± he greeted. ¡°You guys better have the most fun,¡± she pouted with crossed arms, and Mitch rolled his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m serious, I¡¯m gonna miss you!¡± ¡°It¡¯ll be three days,¡± Mitch squawked in exasperation. Though she pretended to be frigid, she yielded once he pulled her into a hug; affection had always been her kryptonite, after all. ¡°Thank you for being OK with this.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not getting out of having a party,¡± she warned. ¡°I know,¡± sighed Mitch, slumping. That¡¯d been the agreement: she wouldn¡¯t take offense to him not being home for his 30th birthday -despite it being on a Saturday (¡°the world¡¯s most perfect timing to have a party for a milestone¡±, she lamented repeatedly)- so long as she could throw him something big and extravagant the following weekend. ¡°But I think you need this more,¡± she quietly admitted. ¡°You could come with? It¡¯s not too late, Maya¡¯s welcome as well-¡° ¡°Nooope,¡± Jodie cut him off. ¡°Babygirl, it¡¯s your birthday. Go get nasty over every imaginable surface with your man.¡± ¡°Gross,¡± Mitch stuck his tongue out at her. ¡°Well, on that note, I¡¯m gonna get going.¡± ¡°Love you,¡± she said with one last squeeze. ¡°I am really happy for you both, I promise. Even if it¡¯s the world¡¯s worst timing.¡± ¡°Love you, too,¡± Mitch laughed, kissing both of her cheeks. ¡°And I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯ll consult your schedule next time I fall for someone.¡± ¡°No, you¡¯re stuck with him. This is the last one,¡± Jodie shouted while Mitch laughed even harder and bounded down the stairs. He heard her take a deep breath before she shouted, ¡°LOVE YOU.¡± If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. ¡°LOVE YOU,¡± Mitch shouted back. ¡°AVI, TAKE CARE OF MY BOY.¡± Oh god, the dramatics. The entire neighborhood was about to be aware of their newly christened¡­whatever it was. ¡°I will,¡± Avi responded, not quite as loudly. Mitch grabbed his arm, ushering him into the car as quickly as possible. They both buckled up, and Mitch let out a breath once they were on the road and there was some distance between him and the house. ¡°So, she didn¡¯t wanna come?¡± ¡°Nah,¡± Mitch responded, not willing to repeat what she told him. ¡°Uh, thanks for being the one to break the news to her, by the way. You¡¯re much better with words than I am.¡± ¡°Of course. I mean, I didn¡¯t wanna tiptoe anymore, but I¡¯m also not nearly as close to the source as you are, so I thought I¡¯d take advantage of that.¡± Avi took his right hand off of the wheel, and rested his arm on the center console. ¡°You know the Vermont trip was her idea, right? Don¡¯t tell her that I told you, though.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t know that,¡± Mitch marveled while he stared at Avi¡¯s free hand from the corner of his eye, longing swelling in his chest while a thousand other emotions swirled about: equal parts uncertainty and certainty, gratitude and reverence. A peaceful calm, but with wariness that a new storm could emerge any moment. And then he remembered that it was permitted for them to hold hands. ¡°Say, if I pull up the Starbucks app, could you place an order for us?¡± Avi passed his phone over before Mitch could make his move, the app already loaded. ¡°Not really giving me any choice,¡± Mitch teased. ¡°Fine. What do you want?¡± As Avi recited his order, a text arrived and distracted Mitch. Catarina god, excuse me for checking in! well have fun with your BOYFRIEND, i guess Mitch blinked a few times. ¡°Boyfriend?¡± he squawked. ¡°Me? That¡¯s me, right? Am I the boyfriend?¡± ¡°What? Did Cat send something?¡± Mitch held up the phone, and Avi nervously chuckled. ¡°I mean like¡­you are, right? Is that out of line? I just assumed when two people are in love with each other, that¡¯s a relationship.¡± Avi frowned when Mitch didn¡¯t respond. ¡°Am I reading this all wrong? We¡¯re together, right?¡± ¡°I love you,¡± Mitch blurted out as if his life depended on it. ¡°I¡¯m-I¡¯m in love with you.¡± Avi laughed. ¡°I know that,¡± was all he said, and Mitch felt all of his organs seize up as he waited for more. The most excruciating pause followed, a whole lifetime passing by, where he died and then resurrected, and at last decided that he was perfectly OK with confessing and not having it yet be reciprocated. Then, with a twinkle in his eye, Avi grabbed Mitch¡¯s hand again. ¡°Oh, I love you too. Duh. I didn¡¯t come out to my parents for nothing.¡± ¡°Thought you wanted to be more you?¡± Mitch raised an eyebrow. ¡°Oh my god, that was a total bluff. Not the telling them part, that¡¯s real. But if you didn¡¯t want to be with me, I would have -Iunno- left the country for good and started a new identity? Maybe go wrestle in Mexico full time. But I love you. Thank you for loving me back.¡± And Mitch could breathe again. He eventually found his voice, which betrayed his emotions by creaking as he spoke. ¡°Great,¡± he laughed and wiped his eyes. ¡°Anyway, sorry, I wasn¡¯t listening earlier. What kind of drink do you want?¡±