Slate | ✓

TWENTY-FIVE | WILL

Athena doesn't push me again. The day passes the two of us by as we cohabit my room. We watch old movies, and I fall asleep. When I finally wake up, I'm still on auto-pilot, but I'm able to take a shower. My sister agrees to help me with the laundry.

We're folding a bedsheet when Damien appears in the doorway of the laundry room. He's missing his usual energy. "Hey." He stretches out the word as he stares between the two of us. He carries a textbook and a stack of papers in his arm, which is wedged against his chest like a shield. "I tried to call, but nobody answered. Annie let me in. I, uh, brought your homework for you."

"Thanks." I hadn't asked him to.

"Can we talk?" His gaze falls to Athena when he says this, asking a second silent question.

Athena seems to sense something different is in the air as her eyes dart between me and Damien. She looks to me first. When I nod, she hands the sheet over to Damien and places a skimming touch on his arm. "See you around, man." She glides out of the room, but sends me a strange look behind Damien's back as she exits.

I indicate which way to fold the sheet, and Damien wordlessly follows my lead. We mechanically fold until we have a perfect square between us. The air sweetly smells of fresh linen and fabric softener. I'm unable to think, so I just speak. "Damien, I—"

"Are you okay?" He cuts me off.

"I'm—" I cast aside the sheet and lean my back against the folding table. "No, to be honest. Not really."

He mimics my position, but carefully keeps space between the two of us. "I was worried. The only thing I could really think to do was grab your homework..." He trails off. "Sorry," he says, embarrassed.

"No, it's fine. Thank you, really." I stumble over my own words. "I— I don't really know what to say here." I meet his eyes with a look that I hope communicates everything I don't know how to say.

"That was pretty stupid— what we did, huh?" His head is down, but he peeks up at me through the corner of his eye. "I got scared that you'd disappear on me again, like in the spring." He pauses. "Do you regret it?"

My mind instantly lands on the easy way out: I don't know. A middle ground between truth and protecting his feelings, or rather, preserving his good opinion of me. Yet, I'm aware I've already ruined things, and honesty is what I owe him. "Yes," I respond, watching him straighten beside me. "Not because it was bad, but because it was dumb. I— I took advantage of you, Damien. You told me how you felt, and I wasn't thinking about you. I just knew how bad I needed to be out of my own head."

Damien's head bobs in understanding. "Will, if you used me, then I let you use me. It's not like I thought you were having some moment of clarity or whatever. You're still into Ella."

I place my face in my hands. My fingers massage deep into my temples.

"Look," Damien continues. "You don't have to feel guilty for my sake, okay? Cut that shit out. I'm not sorry, and I knew exactly what was happening the whole time." He pauses. "I'll get over it, and then we can go back to normal, alright?" His words are certain, but his eyes aren't.

Somehow, I find myself thinking about Victor. Damien's words have a veiled desperation to them that reminds me of Dad. It's the same fear of losing people, and doing whatever it takes to keep others close. It's the knowledge that once someone is lost, nothing can be done to bring them back. I feel a slight pressure on my shoulder, where Damien has placed his hand. "Will?" There's a note of concern in his voice.

"You know, you're my only, like, proper friend," I say.

Damien drops his hand, and instead stuffs it in his sweater pocket. "I know."

"You know?"

He nods.

"Thanks for sticking around, I guess."

Damien shrugs. "People need people."

"I thought you would hate me for this." I say as the simplicity of his statement swims around my head.

Damien shakes his head. "I'm still figuring it out." He holds my gaze and I grow suddenly afraid of whatever he's about to say next. "I'm going to need some time, though." His voice lingers just above a whisper.

"Yeah." He's leaving too.

"We're going to be alright."

"You know that?" I ask, unable to keep the cynicism from my voice.

Damien shrugs, and his dark eyes ply me with their usual mischief. "Not really, but all things pass, right? I'm not ashamed." He smiles at me as if we're both in on a secret. "You're gonna feel good one day, William Slate, and so maybe I'm a little bit not straight, who's to say?"

"Who's to say?" I repeat, returning the smile without having to think. I forgot what that feels like.

Damien drops his hand, backing out into the hallway. "Well, it's a new day, isn't it? I'm sober, I'm..." He trails off as his eyes fall on something down the hall. I understand when Charlie pops into view and shuffles around Damien to continue down the narrow hallway. Charlie briefly catches my eye over Damien's shoulder before moving on. The levity in Damien's demeanour drops. "That's Charlie?"

Any hint of my smile fades. "Yeah."

"How much longer...?"

"He's leaving tomorrow." I turn back to the laundry, which begins to feel like a Herculean task. I want to yell at Athena for changing the sheets. All I want to do is go back to bed.

"Do you want me to hit him for you? I think Athena would back me up," Damien suggests as his eyes track Charlie down the hall. When I don't respond, he asks, "Have you talked to him?"

I shake my head. "Not really, no."

"Maybe that's for the best." Damien backs out of the room. "It can be like none of this ever happened."

"What do you mean?" Something icy crawls down my neck.

"I only meant that, at this point, maybe it's just better for you to forget, you know?" Damien answers. "You've been so down, Will, since he got here. I don't think it's done you much good."

I lean back against the folding table and cross my arms over my chest. "Maybe not, but I was bad even before I knew he was coming. I've been having panic attacks for over a month now."

"I wish you told me."

"I was scared. I— I am scared," I admit. "I didn't want to be a fuck up."

"You're not." The certainty in his voice is unwavering.

"It doesn't matter if I want to forget, I can't. I don't think I can go back to what it was like before." The resolution solidifies in my mind and chest even as I'm speaking, like medicine I didn't know I needed.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

There has to be a reason for why I feel like a different person now than I did even yesterday. If there's no purpose for all the bullshit, I might as well make my own. My mouth opens, then closes. "I think I need to talk to my Dad," I say.

Damien smiles. He says his goodbyes, but my mind is racing and I forget what he's said the second he's finished say it. Soon, I'm knocking on my bedroom door, and without waiting for a response, I enter. Athena sits cross-legged on the floor, poring over the photographs scattered around her. I recognize myself and John and Charlie and Mom— all of us confined in our printed squares.

Athena looks like she's about to reproach me for not waiting, but stops once she catches the look on my face. "Will?" Her grey eyes latch onto me with concern. "What's wrong?"

She's cleaned my room in the short time she's been here. Folded clothes and opened windows. She's allowed light to finally spill into the darkened nest I've created over the past few days. It casts a warm haze over the entire room.  "I need your help," I say.

Athena straightens. "With what?"

"I want to call a family meeting."

"Now?"

"Now."