Moonbow | Tyrus

Five

TJ's POV

"Why do you look so happy?" Amber questions.

Amber and I have a Jack-and-Jill bathroom connecting the two of our bedrooms, so she's able to easily pass into my room without going into the hall. Usually, I don't mind it, but right now, it catches me off guard, for I'm in the midst of reliving the daydream that was also my reality. 

"Am I not allowed to be happy?" I snipe. 

"Shit, okay. I just mean I haven't seen you this cheery in a while."

She leans against the doorframe to the washroom, her arms folded over her chest. She's right though. I haven't been this happy since long before things started going downhill with Reed and Lester and my grades and my sleep and, well, everything. Cyrus is something new, and not just new. He's something good, something I can look forward to that won't land me in a police station if I'm not careful. 

"I just had a good day. That's all," I say.

Amber nods. "Okay, well, then I'll leave you alone with your good day."

She steps out of my room, pulling the door shut, and I suddenly feel a loneliness sprinkle the space. I wish I could be honest with her, but I'm scared. I'm scared I'll lose my sister if I am. 

I stand up and go toward my closet. I divide the hangers with shirts and see the tiny rainbow flag stuck to the wall. Making sure not to rip the edges, I peel the tape off the wall and bring the flag out and over to the bulletin board above my dresser where I stick a thumbtack through it to pin it up. It hangs there, so quiet yet so loud. It threatens to change my entire life the second its seen. How can such a simple thing be so bold?

I take the paper down from the board and return it back to its home in my closet. I'm not ready to let my life change that way yet. 

_______________________________________

One of the most amazing things about nature is how trees understand the concept of personal space, a quality that makes them better than many humans. Their branches won't extend into another tree nearby. Instead, they form a maze of bareness between the leaves of each tree, allowing each other room to exist and breathe. 

Cyrus and I are the exact opposite of that now as we stare up at the branches from where we lie on the dirt. Our heads are beside each other, but our legs extend in different directions. Keeping us connected, his hand is intertwined with mine, our own kind of inosculation as two branches that should've always been together. 

Sunlight peers through the breaks between the trees, beaming down in lines on the soil. One ray crosses Cyrus's eyes, and while he squints, I'm busy staring at him, thinking about how beautiful he is. Even while he continues talking, it's all I can think about. 

"So in conclusion, if anyone ever tells your you're girly, check first to see if they have auto-correct turned on."

When I don't respond, he tilts his head to me and smiles. 

"What?" he wonders. 

Rather than answer verbally, I push myself off the ground and shift myself to so that I can bend  down and kiss him. The rush of dopamine stirs through me, and when I lift up, Cyrus is left smiling. 

"I see," Cyrus says. "That's what."

I laugh, and he does the same. After falling down on my back, I lock my hand with his again.

"Can I ask you a question?" Cyrus says after a moment. 

"Depends on the question," I reply. 

"My dad isn't particularly fond of you," he starts. "Is there a reason for that?"