Black Mirror

Chapter 7 - Gimme What You Got

***ALEX***

The rest of the holiday weekend goes by without too many new and/or unwanted developments in my life. But not too many wanted ones, either. Of course, I can't really blame Juliet for not getting in touch with me, not when I'm not reaching out to her either. Meanwhile, after I helped get rid of the water louse infestation at Smythe and Darknell's, I wanted to hang out with Aron, but that never happened either. At least I got to have another basketball game with Luca, Gio, and Kyle...but even that wasn't as fun as it would've been with Paul, or Gabe. (Although Gio's gotten much better over time...and hey, since when did I start calling him "Gio?")

But still...I can't help but worry about Aron. I don't think it's helping him at all to have to stick with his parents. I don't think they're allowing him to grieve like he needs to. Not that I'm saying it's okay for him to want to subtract seven minutes of life for every cigarette he steals from Darknell and smokes, but-

"You say something, Alex?"

I look up, startled, then I realize I've been talking to Luca and not even realizing. What was I supposed to be doing...oh yeah, curating the Tuesday breakfast playlist for this week. Now that Luca and I are seniors and have successfully made ourselves the official music masters of the cafeteria, everyone else is signing up to fight back on Guest DJ Mondays with all the Shawn Mendes, 5 Seconds of Summer, and Justin Bieber I need to lose my appetite. (At least Kyle hosted this week's takeover and made it Lady Gaga Day just because he could.)

What even got me on the subject of Aron...oh yeah, my song choices. I've narrowed it down to half a dozen, with Panic! At The Disco's "Nicotine" on top. That's not gonna stay there for long, I don't think - too many F-bombs to be safe for work. But I love that song so much...Panic! was always mine and Gabe's thing. (If you're a grammar Nazi, or any other kind of Nazi, kindly fuck off right now.) Okay, if I gotta start with a catchy and clean cut off Too Weird To Live, I suppose I could start with "Vegas Lights." Or maybe "This Is Gospel." You know, "for the vagabonds, ne'er-do-wells, and insufferable bastards?"

"What the hell did you just call me?" Luca's got his eyes narrowed at me, and he's scratching his head. He pulls his fingers out of his curly hair with some difficulty.

"My favorite asshole, besides mine."

"Okay," Luca laughs, cracking his knuckles and sitting up on the edge of his bed. "Dude, I can't tell if you're being a dick or just plain mean."

"I'm already lean, so mean comes with the territory." Before he can add a "green" joke, I get in another comment of my own. "And by the way, your balls are showing."

Right away, he gets up to put on his Warriors-colored basketball shorts over his boxers, even though he knows I was just yanking his chain. "You must have a good reason to be worried about Aron," he says. "Can't stop thinking about him, huh?"

"Might as well tell him I love him and ask him out."

He snickers into his hands, like Stefon from SNL. "Damn, I just realized how...yeah, sometimes it's easy to forget you're the straight Snow Bro." He sits down, manspreading all over again. "You think he's gonna try and hurt himself or something?"

I turn away, not wanting him to hear my thoughts. "I wanna help," I mutter to myself. Then I say it again, projecting my voice a bit more. "I wanna help, but...but I'm the guy who saw his brother cutting himself and joined right in."

Luca spends a few minutes taking that in. I can't remember exactly when I told him the truth about where my scars came from, but I know I did, years after I gave him all those bullshit details about it. He was no less surprised by that revelation, I don't think. "Just...don't feel like it's all your responsibility," he says. "If I can help-"