perf*ct (boy × boy) ✔

twenty-four: i can't read

solar clarke's pov:

I vacuumed the floors, cleaned the surfaces and dusted the entire apartment until everything was shiny and spotless. Then I took a shower, changed my outfit thrice and paced around, unable to finish anything I started. Nathan was coming over to my home, in just 23 minutes. Give or take, of course.

I woke up early just to make sure I had well enough time to stress myself out of my mind. I kept telling myself it was only going to be a study session, no big deal at all, but it was as good as nothing. I couldn't stop the nervous fidgeting or slow down my fluttering heart.

We had known each other for.. what? 26 days. Give or take. We had held hands and hugged, and we were going to have a study session together. And already I felt more nervous than I had felt with any other of my previous crushes around Nathan. If we kept this up, I would be head over..

My thoughts were cut short - before I had time to start thinking about weddings and all that - by the sound of the buzzer. It was early, but Nathan was the only one who was supposed to be coming today. I pressed the button, letting him in, and waited for what felt like an eternity, until the doorbell finally rang.

I took a deep breath and wiped my palms against the worn fabric of my jeans. Then I waited for another unbearably long second before opening the door, so that I wouldn't come out too enthusiastic.

"Hi. S-sorry, I'm early." Nathan apologized when our eyes met. "I left early in case I got lost.. and.. um, turned out I didn't."

"It's fine." It was more than fine, it was great. Like really great. I moved away from the door, giving Nathan space to enter the hallway: "Come in."

Nathan was craning his neck and taking in every detail, not even trying to hide his curiosity. The marvelling look in his eyes made me smile: he was like a kid on a snow day. When he noticed my gaze on him, he smiled self-consciously.

"It's so different from o-our home." Nathan rushed to explain. He noticed the souvenirs my parents had bought from all the countries we had traveled to. A black clay pottery from Mexico, a Hookah Waterpipe from Egypt, beadwork from South Africa, crystal wine glasses from Sweden, Daruma dolls from Japan,.. "Do you guys travel a lot?"

"I guess, but only when my parents aren't working." I shrugged. "They practically live in the hospital."

"Are they doctors?" Nathan paused, seeming to recall something: "Or nurses? 'The real heart and soul of the healthcare system'?"

He flashed me a smile so cute I melted like wax. And to think that he had actually paid attention to my words and could remember them now..

"My dad is a Nephrologist, he's working with kidney diseases, and my mom is a transplant surgeon." I answered. When Nathan looked almost too impressed, I quickly added: "It's not that miraculous. They just work long hours and brag about saving lives."

"I would brag too if I -" Nathan stopped short, gaping at my grandma, who had just appeared to the living room.

"Oh, right. This is Sheila, my gran." I gestured towards her and then turned the volume up so that she could hear: "Gran, this is Nathan."

When you think about grandmothers, the picture of Sheila isn't the first thing that pops into your mind. She's 66 years old, but she looks years younger than she is. She can't go to work or live alone anymore. It's because of early-onset Alzheimer's, which mainly causes her to think she's still 25.

Sheila's shiny black hair has a short bob cut and she wears round glasses with thick black frames. All her clothes have flower prints unless they're tie-dyed. She chain-smokes and drinks too much wine, which was apparently what she did in her mid-twenties.

"There's wine in the kitchen, Jaxon." Sheila wandered to the balcony door and pulled a silky nightgown, which she always uses when she goes for a smoke, over her flowy flower dress.

"It's me, Solar, and we don't drink." I smiled and watched her closing the door behind her. Then I turned to Nathan. "What did you want to study?"

We sat down on the living room floor by the coffee table and Nathan pulled Crime and Punishment out of his bag. He was biting his lower lip again and it wasn't difficult to tell something was bothering him. I hoped it wasn't the fact grandma was home, but either way I chose not to importune him about it.

"I-I still need to read this.. a-and I've barely started." Nathan shook his head slightly, looking down. "There's just been so much on my mind and I'm shot after the s-shifts at C&B's."

"Why won't you quit then?" I realized how stupid that sounded only after I had blurted out the words. It wasn't like everyone had the privilege to quit working if they felt like it. I was lucky enough to have wealthy parents, so that I didn't have to work my ass off.

"I had to start working so that we could manage with Jonathan's treatments and I hated the idea.. But now that he isn't sick, I guess working there isn't actually that bad. I'm taking less shifts though, because I don't want to repeat senior year." Nathan chuckled, looking down at the book in front of him. He didn't look too enthusiastic about reading it.

"Oh, okay." I could sense Nathan wasn't too keen about the topic either, so I picked up a notebook and a pencil case. "You can read and I'll do chemistry."

I hated chemistry and I sucked both at it and math, which is unfortunate since both my parents are geniuses in them. I guess you just can't have it all, but at least I was good at theoretical subjects.

It took me almost half an hour to finish the first exercise and I had been so focused on it that I hadn't checked how Nathan was doing. When I turned to look at him, I found him staring at the page and furrowing his brows. He followed the words with his fingertip, but mostly he just sat there staring at the page.

"You don't like the story?" My curiosity got the best of me, and I just had to ask.

"No." Nathan mumbled and closed his eyes. His cheeks tinted red and he let out a heavy sigh. "I m-mean yes, but.."

I couldn't understand why he was so upset all of a sudden, and I couldn't think of anything better to do than place my hand on top of his. Nathan looked like he was going to cry, and all I wanted to do was to tell him it was okay. Even if I had no idea what 'it' was.

"I can't read." Nathan whispered, so quietly I could barely hear it.

"What?"

"I mean.. I-I can, but i-it is.. t-the letters keep moving a-and.." Nathan hung his head. Then he let out a defeated sigh: "I'm dumb, I-I know."

"Hey, no. You're not dumb." I frowned. And then, after seeing his crestfallen expression, I pulled him into an embrace, not giving myself time to hesitate or second-guess it. I brushed the back of his head with my hand, inhaling the scent of his shampoo, and hoped he believed those words. Nathan wasn't stupid, anyone could tell that much.

"I think you might have dyslexia."