Someone Like True

VIII

The freckles on Marlowe's nose and cheeks had vanished, and with it the warmth and leisure of summer.

The boys walked on campus with two pumpkin spiced lattes between their glove-covered hands. Classes had started two weeks ago, and although they were tired, stressed and over-worked, neither of them had ever been happier.

"Rio called me yesterday," True began, stepping sideways slightly on the leaf-covered pathway, just enough so his shoulder brushed against Lowe's.

"How's she doing?" Lowe asked, ducking his nose beneath his- True's- scarf to protect it from the nipping breeze. True'd all but strangled him with it on their way out the door this morning- mumbling something about Marlow 'catching his death out there' as he wound it around his neck. He would've complained more if it hadn't smelled like True and if the entire action hadn't made his heart ache with love.

"Really great. She loves it up in Toronto, and she met a guy." Lowe whistled slowly and the two let loose some laughter.

"That's good to hear. I'm happy for her."

"Me too." Once inside one of the lounges on campus, the two were able to seek refuge in its warmth, tucking themselves at a table in the corner.

"I have something I should tell you," Lowe murmured, closing his textbook slowly. True looked up, concern dashing over his features, pulling his brows together. "Don't be worried, it's just about Nick." True relaxed, but only slightly.

Nick was a figment of his foggy childhood- Marlowe's older brother. He'd only met him a few times that he remembered, and in all of those faint memories, Nick never came across as a good guy.

Marlowe's parents had gone as far as to practically ban his name in their household.

No one spoke about the eldest son, the one who was sent away. From a young age, Nicoli had always been a troublemaker. When Marlowe was born, Nick was 7 years old. Things were alright, for a while, but when the jealousy began to kick in, Nick became impossible to handle.

His first suspension at school was from a fist fight. It was followed quickly by expulsion when he was only 11. Boarding school came at 12 and living with Marlowe and Nick's aunt and uncle up in Quebec didn't come far after. Since then, Nick hadn't returned home.

As if it wasn't bad enough, Marlowe always had to live up to his parent's expectations. They'd always feared the same would happen to him, and that stress played a major part in shaping who Marlowe was now.

"What about him?" Their voices were soft, gentle in the near-empty area.

"He reached out to tell me he's coming out here." True nodded slowly, reaching out to play with Lowe's fingers soothingly.

"Yeah? How do you feel about that?" Lowe shook his head, freehand springing up to tug mindlessly at his smooth brown hair.

"Dunno, I mean, he's just...he's been gone forever, you know?"

"I understand." True didn't, really. His only siblings were younger than him, quite so, and he never had someone he loved disappear like that. But he could empathize as much as possible. He knew Lowe well enough to feel everything he felt just by being near him.

"I don't know what to think about him, about anything that involves him." Lowe's voice was soft, too soft, and True smiled sympathetically at him, smoothing his thumb over his knuckles.

"Yeah? Well, that's alright, you know. You don't have to have the whole world figured out." Lowe smiled a bit and nodded.

"Guess you're right."

"And whatever you choose, it's okay. You don't owe your parents- or Nick- anything." And Marlowe knew he was right.

True had always had a level head, even growing up. Being kids, True was able to handle anything. Lowe could always look to True for reason, stability, even when nothing made sense. Opening his book again, he felt a heaviness lift off of his shoulders.

He didn't owe his parents or brother anything. But to True, he owed everything.