The Infinite Nothing

VI : like sorrow and happiness, we belong

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In all honesty, even though he was adored by many and constantly plastered to be the greatest hero of a place no one cared about at a time that would matter absolutely nothing in a few years, Ryder wasn't even that great of a friend.

It was no secret that Ivan hated the way he treated his girlfriend.

Diane was adored by many too, not for the things she did but the things her parents had done, or God, or her genes, or whatever else got to decide her appearance. Either way Diane had that kind of smile that brought wilted flowers back to life and meaning to that special kind of dread one only felt in the school's hallways on Monday mornings.

In every way possible Diane was an angel, and if angels didn't exist then she was a Goddess, and if those didn't exist either she was the reincarnation of everything loved and lost.

Ryder probably didn't share any of these thoughts. He probably didn't even understand them – Ivan barely grasped their meaning too; he just knew they sounded pretty, and everything pretty-sounding could easily be connected to Diane.

Maybe Ryder and Ivan got along so well because neither of them were exactly smart. Ryder knew how to dribble a ball and block a rival and shoot a basket. Ivan knew how to put in just enough effort in class to get a decent participation grade and how to avoid running into his mother when she was having a particularly bad day.

It pretty much ended there for both of them.

Ryder didn't know how to save an anniversary date in his phone's calendar. Ivan didn't know not to get into other people's business.

When Ivan climbed the stairs to the rooftop on an especially chilly summer evening, Tristan was surrounded by a cloud of smoke. He acknowledged Ivan's presence with a short smile before finishing the cigarette in peace. Once he was done, he joined the boy on the chairs.

"You're crying," Tristan stated, his gaze drifting over the city he still hesitated to call his home.

Ivan sniffed. He wanted to speak but his lungs felt tight, and he wondered if he could even still fill them with air. When he remembered to breathe deeper and into his stomach, his chest slowly started to relax.

"I'm stupid as the night is dark," he said at last, his voice shaky and awkwardly squeaky.

Much to his dismay, Tristan chuckled. "Did a five-year old tell you that?"

"My best friend, actually."

"That Ryder guy?"

Ivan was surprised Tristan remembered his name. "I told him he's undeserving of his girlfriend."

"And he said you're stupid as the night is dark?"

"Yes."

"The night's not even that dark. What a dumbass."

"That's beside the point," Ivan muttered, hugging his legs to his chest. "He's sensitive because his cousin just recently passed. That wasn't very sensible of me."

Tristan raised a brow. "You're supposed to treat him like fragile porcelain just because he suffered a loss?"

"I know you don't care for these things, but yes," Ivan replied, drying the tears on his cheeks with his sleeve and ignoring the new ones escaping from the corners of his eyes. "And I was rude to Diane too, in some way. I told her she was stupid for settling for someone like Ryder."

"In some way," Tristan repeated, chuckling softly. "Why try to be liked by everyone? You don't even like everyone."

"Not everyone. Just my best friend," Ivan muttered. His heart felt heavy and his body limp, as if all the energy that had kept him going up to this point suddenly decided to leave him. Ivan wanted to close his eyes and fall into an eternal sleep without responsibility, without consequences.

Tristan disregarded his depressive episode with a tired sigh and lit up another cigarette. Ivan watched him through narrowed eyes.

"Are you not going to say anything?"

Tristan watched the small flame dance on his lighter. "Because my love for you is higher than my words, I have decided to fall silent."

Ivan stared at the tall boy with short hair and more earrings than his mother could ever accept, and he tried to ignore how his chest tightened once more at the sight.

"That's from Nizar Qabbani," Tristan stated, releasing a cloud of smoke into the chilly air. "I'm not a romantic, but I must admit his words make even me feel something."

Ivan's gaze drifted back to his hometown. "Maybe I was so mean to Ryder because I'm jealous of him. I could never get a girlfriend like Diane."

"See, I don't even need to say anything. You solve your issues all by yourself."

"Ryder and I are like Winnie the pooh and piglet. We just belong together."

"How sweet."

"And Diane doesn't fit into that picture. Maybe that's why I'm upset with Ryder. And my mom. All she does is bitch about how I'm nothing like my sister. She's always on my back about everything, telling me to clean my room and put more effort into school. And my dad bought Dorothy a scooter, a whole ass scooter, and all I got was a pat on the shoulder. He told me I'd get there someday. He can go fuck himself." Ivan wiped the rest of his tears from his cheek. "They can all go fuck themselves."

Tristan smiled at Ivan, his eyes studying him without either of them noticing. "Isn't it funny how you have all the foundations to living a happy life and yet here you are, crying on my rooftop?"

"I don't think it's funny."

"Bitter irony. Quite sickeningly amusing."

"Stop, Tristan," Ivan groaned, burying his face in his arms and wishing that just for one second, everything would refrain from being so damn annoying. "Just stop."

Tristan glanced at him, once again being reminded of why he usually sat on his rooftop alone. He wouldn't willingly describe himself at all, but once again, if he had to, the word 'empath' wouldn't apply. "Do you want a cigarette?"

"I want a hug."

"Even if it means nothing?"

Ivan raised his head just enough to glance at the boy next to him. "Why would it mean nothing?"

"I don't understand your sorrow, so I can't help you with it."

Ivan knew Tristan was weird. He liked death and weird quotes and hanging out in the mortuary, and he liked his life without meaning. But after inviting him to his house, in one way or another, and offering to spend time with him had given Ivan the impression that Tristan at least cared enough to form a friendship of some sort.

He hadn't expected Tristan to act so careless upon seeing Ivan cry. He doubted Tristan was even aware of it. He just sat there smoking his cigarette, filling the night air with warm smoke as he purposely chose to hurt his body with every drag he took. Tristan noticed his stare and glanced at him, that same humorous and bitter glint in his eyes Ivan had gotten so used to by now.

Ivan stared until there was nothing left to look at. "A hug please, and another quote from that guy."

Tristan tossed the cigarette to the ground and got up from his chair, offering Ivan his hand. The shorter boy didn't hesitate to take it, allowing Tristan to pull him to his feet. Once they were both standing Tristan wrapped his arms around his shoulders, pulling him up against his chest and allowing Ivan to wrap his own arms around his waist.

Tristan smelled like nicotine and sleep and cold nights and empty beds. Ivan buried his face in his shoulder, hugging him a little tighter. He wasn't sure if it meant something, anything; his rapidly beating hard was ignored by both of them.

Tristan chose ignorance in situations like these to feign contentment with himself. Ivan was too embarrassed to acknowledge it because once again he was nothing but a dreamer, falling for illusions simply existing in his head and aching chest.

But when Tristan spoke, Ivan wasn't so sure if he was just dreaming anymore.

"Had I told the sea what I felt for you, it would have left its shores, its shells, its fish, and followed me."

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