Ian handed me a little paper from under the dinner table. Luella had just served everyone a generous portion of spaghetti and everyone was digging in already. I glanced under the table and unfolded the little note: 

Stargazing? 

(  )              (    )

yes             no 

I nodded softly, hoping he would notice. So far, I barely stayed home, and barely ever had time to think about things that could make me sad. I hung out with Luella and Cherry and Moe, Nile came sometimes, but more often than not it was just the four of us. Ian would be there sometimes, shadow in the room, glancing at me as if I couldn't see him. 

We hadn't exactly properly talked since the date gone wrong. 

And I mean, it was mostly my fault. I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to talk about why I ran off when I saw Harry, or why I had been so antsy when he came out of the restaurant. I felt so dramatic and it felt pointless to already burden him with all my mental illnesses. 

I just wanted to have my nice little gay summer romance. I wanted to fall in love, to be an idiot, to kiss and cuddle and have insane adventures, but it felt like life would let me have anything but that. I didn't necessarily want a relationship. I just wanted a kiss-buddy. 

Luella and Cherry sat next to each other at the table, laughing loudly. I caught myself completely dissociating, and now I felt bad. I barely ever listened to anything anyone was saying. I felt like I was in a completely separate reality than the rest of them. 

"... and then Nile threw the first punch and chaos ensued and..."

I got up, swiftly leaving the table, walking as fast as I could to join the bathroom. I was feeling dizzy again, and I didn't like it. My shoulder bumped against the wall and I let myself slip to the floor. I couldn't breathe. I pulled off my shirt, my shoulders aching, and pulled off my binder. My ribs were insanely sore, and I could see marks of bruises lining over them. This was not a good sign. 

I leaned against the wall, my vision getting blurrier. 

This sucks.

I heard faint knocking on the door. My main-character-syndrome told me it was going to be Ian, ready to save the day— or alternatively just be handsome but in a worried way. But it was Lu. She came in, saw my ribs, and immediately knelt by my side. 

" How long have you been binding?"

I counted the hours mentally and gulped. 

" Uh... I think almost a week."

" BRO. NO. That is literally so unsafe? What were you thinking!"

I coughed, pain warming up my chest. 

" I genuinely forgot I was wearing it."

Which was true. Sometimes I just forgot I wasn't cis. 

" I need to take you to the ER. Does it hurt to breathe?"

Yes. 

" No."

" Don't lie to me, Leo."

" Okay, okay. Yes. It hurts."

" Maybe you bruised a rib. I'm gonna take you to the hospital, okay? But please, take a break from binding for a while. I promise your chest isn't noticeable."

" I'll try my best, Lu."

The ER doctors were douchebags, and by douchebags I mean I never want to go there again. Aside from being the most judgmental people I ever encountered in my life, they were useless and just told me to stay there for a day because they needed to make sure I was able to properly breathe. 

Falling asleep on hospital beds is very difficult. It's stiff, extremely uncomfortable and nurses keep popping in to check on you and adjust things. Plus they keep deadnaming me. Everything about my stay there was absolute hell. 

The positive point was seeing Ian come in the room with a crooked flower and a hospital card that reads " Get well soon!". The card had carebears on it. Adorable. He stayed the whole day after my night there, talking to me about the things he did during his video games. I zoned out for half of it because of painkillers the nurses had ended up giving me, and I felt bad. But he looked happy talking to me, even if my brain was too numbed out to process anything. 

The negative point was seeing my mom come in with Harry. He'd driven her here because her car was in maintenance. But that wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the worry on his face. And I hated him. I hated him for caring about me, after being such a douche. So I threw a box of tissues at his face. He left, annoyed by my reaction. And I was content. I didn't want him to pity me. Not if he didn't accept me as a whole. 

Hating my best friend was a very foreign concept to me. But I guess I would get used to it eventually, right?