When Hands Touch

1. impressions

CHAPTER ONE

IMPRESSIONS

—

"Boy, if you don't shut the fuck up, I'm gonna chop all your toes off."

Milo's eyes widened as he stared at Jude. "What?"

"You heard me," Jude affirmed, rubbing his hands together for dramatic effect. "Loud and clear."

Choking on air, Milo sputtered out a series of coughs, before clearing his throat and breathing deeply. "Keep your foot fetish to yourself, thank you very much."

Jokingly pouting, Jude ruffled Milo's hair. "Would it be that bad if I did have a foot fetish? I don't, by the way. Hate feet, they're gross."

"Nah, we respect everyone's fetishes here!" Milo swatted Jude's hand away, grumbling as he tried to tame his hair. "As long as everyone's comfortable, of course," he added.

Jude grinned, crystal white teeth contrasting his skin. When they were younger, Milo used to trace the light patches on his best friend's face, imagining his skin to be a giant planet with little people living on it. He used to make up random stories about the lives of the people on Jude's skin, he even went as far as to coming up with names for each of them.

Too bad Milo wasn't as poetic anymore. Or as cute. 

"Anyway. Shut your trap, you know you're forced to go to your dad's business dinner, no matter how stupid it is to call the whole fuckin' family. Might as well make the best out of the situation. Free food and shit, right?"

Milo pursed his lips. "Yeah, mayb— oh shit, before I forget." He rummaged through his bag, before yanking out a stack of papers stapled together. "Mr. Friar gave us these notes, and they're fucking handwritten. I tried, but I can't read any of this shit." He looked up at Jude, who was examining the notes for himself. "I asked him if he could type it out and email it to me, but the bastard said no. And he's giving us a test on it in a week! It's literally the beginning of the school year, what the fuck?"

Typically, teachers would be willing to tell Milo the name of the text book which they were using to teach, so that he could download a version of it and listen to it instead of reading it. But the American education system fucking sucked sometimes. And Mr. Friar was a fucker who didn't give a shit about his students.

Whoever made up that shit about History teachers being the best teachers in high school was so incredibly wrong. And a liar too.

Humming to himself, Jude shoved the notes in his own bag, and nodded. "I'll send you a voice message in around two days or so, is that cool?"

"Yeah, that works. My dad's hella busy for the next two weeks, and Lia has just started high school, so I don't wanna bother either of them," Milo mumbled, and then added, "Thank you."

He wished he could express his gratitude for Jude, considering he put up with a ton of Milo's shit, but he didn't exactly know how to vocalise his emotions in front of other people.

Except anger. Milo was good at that one. He just cried until people realised that he was angry.

And while Jude kept trying to convince Milo that he didn't have to be thankful, and that it was no big deal, Milo still felt bad. He hated having to depend on Jude, or on his dad, or on his sister. His younger sister.

Shit was embarrassing as fuck.

"Milo!" Jude grumbled. "What do I always say? Don't fuckin' thank me for shit like this. Now, come on. We have class," he reminded, fake-gagging on the last word.