For a moment, Lee lingers, stock-still on the porch, torn between slamming the door and asking a million questions. (He ends up choosing Option Three: keeping quiet and staring like an idiot.)

"Fuck," Cory bites out, rain plastering his dark hair to his forehead. "Sorry. Wrong house." The sclera of his brown eyes is bright red, and for a moment, Lee wonders if he's high. Then Cory's damp hand balls into a fist at his side, a tear rolls down his cheek, and Lee realises---Oh. Shit. Not high. Just crying.

And then, Oh, shit. I'm not good with crying.

"H-hey, Cory!" Lee manages to get out. He snatches Socks up from the ground to stop her from flying at Cory with the intention to kill. (She'll probably end up licking Cory's hand and whining into his jeans, but Lee can't take any chances.) "What are you doing here?" Because there's no reason for Cory Perez to be on his doorstep, absolutely drenched in rain and tears, at nearly nine p.m. Unless it's to duke it out over Jon, in which case, Lee mentally reminds himself to invite Cory in to chat about it over a nice cup of tea. (Or wine. Lee's old enough to raid his father's secret stash, after all.)

He wishes Jack were here. Remembers that Jack's even worse at dealing with emotions than he is. Takes the wish back immediately.

"Mierda. Of course you're rich as well." Cory turns away angrily, swiping rain from his long lashes. "I'm such a fucking coño to think---"

"I am not trying to steal your boyfriend!" The words come out as a yell as Lee rushes forward, clapping one hand over Cory's soaked shoulder and spinning him around so he's looking him straight in the eye. (Lee notes how Cory's nearly three inches shorter than him with more than a little satisfaction. Even though it's not really the time for height comparisons now.) "I'm not into Jon that way, okay? I'm in love with the stupid idiot fucker of a prefect called Jack Sang, so you don't need to worry about me trying to steal your boyfriend! Okay? Now can you shut the fuck up, calm the fuck down, and tell me what the fuck is going on?"

("Swearing is excellent for getting shit down," Yumeko always claims. Lee's inclined to agree.)

All the fight seems to go out of Cory, his shoulders slumping deflatedly. Rain stings Lee's face, and he steps back into the safety of his shaded porch---more for Socks' sake than his own, really. (He should really put her down. It's hard to hold a full-grown dog with one hand and a rather small, very volatile guy's shoulder with the other.)

Cory glances up at Lee through soaked lashes, gaze lined with suspicion. "You're not...into Jon?"

"Pinky promise. Can't break that." And because Lee's mouth is too big for his own good, he blabbers on, "I mean, he's cute and all, but I don't have any interest in taken guys. I'm not a homewrecker and---" Once he notices the look on Cory's face, he lets go of his shoulder and gulps nervously. "---and I'm going to stop talking now."

For a moment, Cory just stares, rain lashing his bangs to his face. Lee stares back, a little unsure of what to do, flinching against the droplets flicking against his cheeks. In his arms, Socks lets out a low growl. He briefly wonders if he'll have to call for backup. (Not that there's anyone to call: Yumeko's terrible with situations like this, and although he supposes Jon would be great at handling this kind of stuff, he can't text him for...obvious reasons.)

Before Lee can pull out his wallet (after all, the one thing his father's taught him is that money fixes everything), Cory sighs, shoulders sagging. "Fuck." He kicks at the nearest curb, and Lee doesn't miss how muddy his sneakers are. He must have been in the rain for a while. "Sorry. I'm just---" He trails off, dragging a damp hand over his face angrily. "Shit."

"Take your time," Lee wisps. He should really invite him inside, but he's not that dumb. He's already started the horror movie. He doesn't want to finish it.

"I just---fuck, no quiero hacer esto---didn't mean to bother you with this shit---damn my stupid sense of direction---"

"Hey, it's okay. You're not bothering me." Lee almost tacks on an obligatory, After all, what are friends for? onto the end of his sentence, before quickly reminding himself that Cory currently sees him as a potential love rival and therefore, establishing camraderie would only probably make him even more agitated. (But jeez, it's hard picking a gun in a game of russian roulette that you didn't even know you were participating in.)

Cory blinks, weariness sewn into the fold of his eyelids and the clench of his hand. It's an expression Lee's seen far too many times before, tattooed over the reflection in the mirror. Glass boys with stars for hearts, bound to explode and die. Chlorine smiles and fluorine jealousy, yellow-green dripping over chins pointed up at the sky. People with far too many secrets to hide.

"Jon's house is around here." Damn, I didn't know Jon was a rich kid too. Cory wrinkles his nose. "I think. Fuck, I'm horrible with directions." He coughs, the noise reverberating through the cavern of his mouth. Shit. I forgot he had asthma.

Lee hesitates, hand twisting itself in the doorknob. Mind made up, he yanks the door open wider despite Socks' agitated barks. Calm down, honey. If I get murdered, I probably deserved it, anyway. "Get inside. We'll talk about this after you dry up a bit."

٩( ᐛ )و

Five minutes later, a very bedraggled Cory sits in Lee's living room, one of Lee's towels wrapped around his shoulders. "Why'd you invite me in?" he asks, both caution and gratitude flickering in his brown eyes, toeing the line between suspicion and relief.

Lee reclines back in his favourite armchair---the yellow one, the one his mother had loved so much before she'd left. Socks growls softly in his lap as he strokes her chocolate fur. "My cousin has asthma," he says. Had, maybe? Lee doesn't know. He hasn't talked to her since his mother stopped picking up his calls. "She used to get really bad asthma attacks whenever she got caught in the rain, and I'm nowhere near medically equipped enough to deal with it if you get one. Do you have your inhaler?"

Cory scrunches up his nose. "Yeah. Mine's not that bad, though. Kind of mild, to be honest. Did Jon tell you about it?" He seems calmer now, more willing to listen to reason, but something flickers in his shaky gaze. Sadness. Anger. Despair. A million emotions Lee's long learned to lock away in the bowels of his mind.

("You may fall into the crotch of life, darling boy, but always keep your chin up," his mother had preached, smiling at him like he was the only person in the world. Lee's always taken her advice to heart.)

Lee shrugs. "Yeah. Still not trying to steal your boyfriend, by the way. So what's got your panties in such a twist?"

"Mierda." Cory drags one exasperated hand over his face, trailing water droplets as it goes. "Papá said he couldn't have his son shacking up with another chico in his house. Said he wasn't responsible for my bad choices. Los cojones, as if it's a fucking choice---"

"I understood like twenty percent of that."

Cory sighs. "My bad. I'm gay. I told my parents that I'm gay. They kicked me out. And now I'm---what's the word for it again?---homeless. So there. Eso es eso."

The statement, said as casually as reciting a shopping list, doesn't quite match Cory's puffy eyes and quivering lips, the dam pressed behind his teeth almost ready to burst again. His fingers grip the edge of the towel until his knuckles turn white. Even Socks flattens her ears against the top of her head, as if sympathising with him.

"Fuck. I'm sorry," Lee says. There's not really much else he can say, nothing he knows how to. (After all, his father doesn't even talk to him enough to know anything about his sexuality.)

Cory shrugs, but even his shoulders tremble. "I kind of expected it. That's why Jon already said I could crash at his place if everything went south...which it did." He hugs his soggy backpack---how had Lee not noticed it until now?---to his chest, swaying a little. "Fuck," he mutters, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I really didn't think they'd kick me out. I mean, Papá and I---we've always been close---and---and---I knew he'd see me differently---but---no pensé que---"

His voice breaks off in a sob. Lee glances down at his hands awkwardly. He wishes he had something to sip on right now. It seems easier than looking Cory in the eye. After all, Lee's not exactly sure how to sympathise with something he himself hasn't had in years.

So instead, Lee reaches out and gingerly pats a shaking Cory on the back, his fingers pressing into damp cloth. He's shocked to realise how sad he is, the melancholy in the air soaking into his blood and sinking beneath his skin. There should be a bright side to this situation---a silver lining to roll off his tongue---but for some reason, he can't find one. Maybe there isn't one. Lee doesn't really know. Nowadays, he doesn't really know anything. What to say, what to do, how to pluck the love he craves so much from the sky and hold it without it slipping through his fingers all the time.

He rubs circles along Cory's shoulder the same way he does for Yumeko when she's in a particularly bad mood. "You sure you don't need a shower?" Lee asks, watching clear little rivulets drip down Cory's jeans and sink into the plush carpet. That's the night maid's problem, he thinks. How she hasn't heard all the commotion is beyond him. Even though she's deaf as hell and probably vacuuming the fourth floor right now, he and Cory have collectively made enough ruckus to wake up a small country. Or maybe it's just him.

Cory shakes his head. "Fuck," he forces out through clenched teeth, tears rolling down his face even faster. "You're too---nice---and I just---"

Danny's pulverised face flashes into Lee's mind, the memory clasping its ebony claws around Lee's neck and pulling. He runs his fingers over the scar curving over his knuckles, raised and sharp, still healing, half-fresh. Would you still think I was nice if you knew what I did? And because the dark side of his thoughts are starting to grow from beneath the armchair, wrapping thorny branches around Lee's ankles, wrists, waist, he pushes them away. Buries them in the endless abyss of his head and flings them into the tornado of his nightmares.

"It's okay," Lee says quickly, flashing Cory his brightest grin. He wonders how long the sunshine in his smiles will be able to chase away the demons in his mind.

"I'm sorry," Cory bursts, the syllables glancing off his tongue like bullets to Lee's brain. "I'm sorry, sorry, sorry..." His voice trails off in serrated sobs, echoing from somewhere deep in his chest, guttural as the cries of a wild animal. He doesn't say what for. Maybe for thinking Lee's trying to steal his boyfriend. Maybe for refusing to lend him his coloured pens. Maybe for accidentally ending up on his doorstep at nearly nine p.m. Maybe for everything.

Lee doesn't push it. He just continues rubbing his palm over Cory's back, hating how small Cory feels beneath his touch---small and fragile and helpless. And even though muscles mark Lee's arms from shoulder to wrist and the triumph of all the fights he's won stains his skin like invisible blood, Lee hates how Cory feels so much like him. The wounded and the dead. The hunted and the prey.

"Do you want me to call Jon?" Lee questions softly.

When Cory nods, Lee reaches for his phone.

٩( ᐛ )و

Jon shows up twenty minutes later (turns out, he's nowhere near as rich as Lee and certainly does not live in the same neighbourhood---apparently, Cory's just really shitty at directions) in his father's car, leaning over to the driver's seat and holding one casual hand down on the horn.

The rain's died down by now, nothing more than a drizzle. By the time Lee's managed to get both himself and Cory (and Socks, who seems entirely unwilling to miss out on the fun) out the door, Jon's flying across Lee's porch to scoop Cory up in a giant hug. "Cory! Are you okay?"

Cory glances nervously at the man still in the car, a broader version of Jon, concern written all over his face. "What about your---" he starts.

"Dad's fine," Jon interjects hastily. "He knows." He bends down, gently wiping the tears and rain from Cory's cheeks. "It's okay, okay? I'm here now. It'll be okay, alright? You're safe. It's okay. I love you."

As he'd done the first time he'd caught them kissing, Lee hovers on the fringes of their personal bubble, one foot on the porch and the other in the doorway. He lingers, a little jealous, so lonely it hurts. But he can't say that, of course, so he just watches as Socks sniffs his ankles and Cory nods like a very tearful bobblehead doll.

Jon looks up at Lee, gratitude dancing behind the boxy frames of his glasses. "Thanks so much for taking care of Cory," he says, relieved sincerity flooding his face. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to him. I'm so glad you were the one to find him."

Lee smiles as wide as he can. "Hey, what are friends for?" And then, "I'm glad I was the one to find him too. Dangerous world out there."

Jon chuckles. "Yeah! You could fall into a really big drain like Danny and his friends did!"

(Lee does his best to not scream.)

He waits on the porch until his unexpected company leaves, apologies still falling from Cory's mouth as he goes. Jon hops back into his father's car---in the backseat this time, Cory right next to him---with a far-too-cheerful, "Thanks again, Lee! See you on Monday!" and a giant wave that can probably be seen from Jupiter. Lee waves back just as enthusiastically. (It's the polite thing to do, after all. And Jon's always been nice.)

Once they're gone, Lee steps out into the night drizzle, uncaring of the coughing fits that are bound to follow eventually. The wind caresses his face like his mother always used to, wrapping him in its cool embrace. Not for the first time, his house feels too big. Too empty for just him, his dog, and the shattered thing behind his ribs.

I love you. The sentence feel so foreign to Lee, almost false. And even though he hears them every time his father hangs up, they're decidedly artificial. I, selfish, so much like Lee himself. Love, so easy to say, so hard to mean. You, someone else, a million possibilities, a name written on the rings of Saturn and a face sketched out in the stars. Three words that smoulder like celestial supernovas, scorching fire across the earth and scattering embers over each open heart.

Love is for the ones who burn.

But Lee does not burn. He sinks, the drowning man, all the lightning strikes of adoration only serving to electrocute him. Every time he comes up for air, the waves crash over his head, over his heart, over the fire engulfing his limbs. Too old to die, too young for his feet to find land again. Too stupid to know what love really is.

And, Lee thinks, the thin rain lashing his face like a whip, maybe I don't deserve to be loved.

٩( ᐛ )و

"Rough night?" Yumeko asks, crouching down to give Socks a friendly pat.

"How'd you guess?"

"You only ever come over when you have rough nights."

"That's not true! I come over all the time!"

"Exactly, you leech." Yumeko stands up and tilts her head to the side, staring at him through her heavy dark bangs. Concern flits through her gaze, ever so slight. "So, what's so bad that jacking yourself to sleep can't fix it?"

"I've jacked off five times today. Give me a break."

"Go for a sixth instead of bothering me."

"Please, Yu, my dick is literally about to give up on me."

"And so am I, so your dick's not special. What's up?"

Lee shrugs. "The sky?"

Yumeko lets out an exasperated sigh. "Just because we're married doesn't mean I can read your mind. What's wrong?"

Everything. Nothing. Everything and nothing all at once.

"Nothing," Lee replies.

"Nothing my ass. You big fat fucking liar. Do you want to stay the night or not?"

"Yes, please?" It comes out as a question. Lee hopes the answer isn't no.

"Then start being truthful with me, you donkey." Yumeko steps aside, opening the door wider. Lee notices how threadbare her black shorts are and makes a mental note to buy her new ones. "Mom's already asleep, so you can come upstairs today. But I'm only letting you in because you brought Socks."

"Who's the liar now?" Lee teases. "You let me in just fine on Monday."

"Temporary lapse of judgement."

"And the week before that, and last month, and the month before that, and---"

"Shut up, Lee," Yumeko mutters, flushing hotly. "Did you eat?"

"Um..."

"Never mind. Fuck that. Get your ass in here. I just made mac and cheese, so you'd better eat some or I'm tying you up and forcing it down your throat."

"Kinky."

"Shut up."

The 'just made' turns out to be a complete lie, judging by the way Yumeko practically pushes him into the living room once he's inside and dashes to the kitchen to toss a fresh, completely unopened box of mac and cheese into a random pot. The action makes Lee's chest so full he worries it might burst.

After supper---dinner for him, he supposes---they end up in Yumeko's bed, a single that's way too small for two fully grown kids lingering on the cusp of adulthood, Socks curled on the blanket over their feet. Lee remembers when sleepovers had been something special, a coveted privilege, instead of a weekly affair like it is now. They'd treasured their moments together in Yumeko's (and occasionally Lee's) bed far more then, whispering secrets in the dark of their own little world.

(They've only been best friends for about three years, but it feels like it's been forever. Up until now, Lee's not exactly sure why their parents had let them sleep together. But then again, he supposes his father had been slipping out of his reach even then.)

"So, what's wrong?" Yumeko asks, her quiet voice permeating through the silence and striking every chord of Lee's ribcage like a hammer. His bones vibrate uncomfortably, jailed beneath his skin, his best friend's nearly-bare skin warm against his own. Lee reaches out, Yumeko's shoulder round to his touch. He grips it gently, crescent nails skimming across her flesh, as if it's a lifeline to keep him grounded. Something solid. Something real.

"Nothing. I told you that already."

"It's obviously not nothing. Come here." Yumeko's hands glance off his chest until they wrap around his back, nearly accidentally tugging his shirt off in their hasty efforts. Lee feels her press a light kiss onto the top of his head, uncharacteristically gentle, her fingers seeking out his scarred knuckles. "I won't bug you about it anymore, but if you ever want to talk, I'm always here, okay?"

For a moment, Lee considers telling her everything: how he's in love with a guy who'd never love him back, how his father keeps a fifty-foot pole between them, how his mother hasn't called him back in four hundred and five days, and how everything hurts, hurts, hurts. And okay, okay, okay, and I love you more than the stars and all the planets and you are literally my fucking lifeline.

But because every word only pushes him further beneath the surface of the ocean, Lee answers with a soft, "Okay," hugs Yumeko tighter, and thinks about how some people are worth more than others.

translations!!
mierda — shit
coño — cunt
no quiero hacer esto — i don't want to do this
chico — boy
los cojones — bullshit
eso es eso — that's that
no pensé que — i didn't think that

i hope it's correct! i don't know much Spanish outside of what Dora The Explorer taught me, and as you can guess, Dora didn't exactly teach me any of these words.

Cory is probably my first bilingual character who uses a language other than English in his dialogue so it was pretty interesting writing his dialogue! as someone who's trilingual myself, i tried to make it as realistic as possible, including randomly switching languages in the middle of sentences and occasionally forgetting English words (which i do too even though English is my first language T_T too many Chinese lessons xD)

i am literally in love with Lee and Yumeko's friendship. i do think you can really love people platonically, and i wanted to show that between a guy (well, mostly) and a girl because like, they don't always hafta hook up. sometimes you can just sleep next to the homies and kiss them on the forehead w/o having any romantic involvement with them

also fun fact: i wrote this on very little sleep, so one sentence ended up becoming "Lee does his best not to cream." fortunately, i actually had time to edit today, so y'alls get like. sentences that actually make sense

NOW FOR SOME SHAMELESS SELF PROMO do you need graphics? do you want a graphic made by yours truly for your book? if so, go check out Russian Roulette, a Kakegurui-themed graphic shop set up by me where you can play games to win a slot! (please do check it out! i have very little players atm T_T)

sorry i've been so inactive this week! remember my audition last week? i passed! so i get to show my sexy side to the school now ;) unfortunately that also means practice. lots of it. which is why i haven't been so active lately :( cause the performance is next week!

as usual, let me know what you think of this chapter! i'd love to hear any feedback or criticism you might have!

that's all from me today! stay safe, stay healthy, and i love y'alls sm <333

xoxo, Alex