It's late. I haven't even bothered to turn on my bedroom lights. I just sit in the dark, listening to my parents speak in hushed voices.

"I've never seen him so torn up over breaking up with a boyfriend," my dad is saying.

"I think he really loved Orion," my ma replies.

"Do you think we can do anything?"

"What he said is a very real thing," my mom replies sympathetically. "I know he loves Orion, but...With someone so volatile, it takes a certain type of person to be able to handle that. I'm actually proud of Tristan for realizing he's not up to it."

"I haven't seen him this upset since Tyler."

I intake a sharp breath at my dead brother's name.

"I know," my mom says, and I barely even heard her reply.

"I just want Tristan to be happy, yaknow?" my dad says, and honestly that surprises me.

"I know, but...I think it's probably for the best, in the long run. I think...I think Orion would just hurt him, over and over again."

There's a pause. When my dad repeats himself, he sounds outright miserable. "I just want him to be happy."

I can't stand this. So I grab my jacket and my old skateboard that was still leaned up against the corner of the room, right where I had left it by the door. When I walk out into the living room, my parents look at me, surprised.

"I wanna go clear my head," I tell them. "I have my key; I'll come in quietly."

"If that's what you want," ma says simply.

I nod and leave. Tossing down my board, I quickly put on my jacket. I hesitate for only a second. It's been years since I've been on my skateboard—can I even do it? But I get on and it's easy. I'm not going to try any tricks...no. This was simply my preferred method of transportation.

The Amarillo night has a biting chill to it, and I'm happy I brought my jacket. The weather in Amarillo is absolutely unpredictable. I know when people hear Texas, they think hot. Our summers are hot, sure. But in general, it's windy as all get out, which makes it feel a lot cooler than it actually is. We get Arctic blasts somewhat regularly, too.

I'm sure the weather would be a bit much for some. For me, it's all I've ever known. Living in constant fear of tornadoes (even though a major one has never come through since I've been alive), never knowing what temperature fluctuations the day will bring. Hell, sometimes it was ninety degrees on Monday, and by Wednesday it was thirty two and snowing. When I was younger, the weather reports were pretty accurate. These days? I think the meteorologists just throw darts at numbers and weather patterns.

A good chunk of the city streets are still paved with brick. It's half the reason why I love riding here; I love how the bumpiness feels against my skateboard. It's late enough where there aren't very many cars, so it's fine for me to be in the street.

Amarillo has a bad rap for being a bit sketchy. It is--or at least certain parts are. It's like that anywhere though. You have your good parts and your bad parts. As I got older, and my sexuality started to become painfully obviously not straight, I started to feel self-conscious and worried for my safety. Being gay in the country's Bible Belt historically was not kosher. It was the original reason I got into sports; I quickly became the guy people knew not to mess with, because I'd smear you into the pavement. However, I quickly realized my fears were unfounded.

Steer clear of the bad parts, and you'll find absolutely nothing but kind, true Southern hospitality. I love it here. All the perks of big city life, none of the usual conundrums. We have a bus company because that's really all that's needed in the ways of public transportation. No commuter trains. Really most things are in walking distance, or bike riding. Amarillo is the type of place where you'll be walking down the street and if you drop something, a complete stranger will grab it for you and flag you down. It's the type of place where people will wave out their cars to you as they pass you by, and you'll have no idea who they are; doesn't matter, though, because you'll be friendly and wave right back.

The other thing I love about my home city is where I live in it. I live just a few short blocks away from the John Stiff Memorial Skate Park. It's where I spent a good chunk of my youth. It's where my friends and I would all hang out. One of the best things about it are the hours—it's open every day until midnight. Midnight! So long as we checked in with our parents using selfies, we could stay there as long as we wanted on non-school nights.

It was the best. It felt so freeing to be in high school, and to have a place where curfew didn't matter. We knew we were lucky. We also were smart enough not to blow the privilege, and in general my friends and I were pretty straight laced.

Not to say we were completely innocent. One of my best friends, Paul, used to sneak out a lot. He discovered that, after a point, they no longer secure the park entrance. Many of my summers were spent sneaking out at two AM, and skating until four AM. It was the best because we had the entire skate park all to ourselves.

It was currently three AM. Sure enough, there was no one around. Although as I got closer to the skate rink, I heard someone skating. For a minute I was tempted to leave. I was really hoping to have the place to myself.

Curiosity won though, and I wanted to see who it was. Probably just some high schooler, just like I had been last time I was here this late. However as I got closer, I noticed two things.

One was the style the guy skated in. It had always made me nervous. They had a perchance of waiting until the very last second to start or stop a trick. I was perpetually convinced this guy would wipe out, but he never did.

I whistled loudly and grinned, deciding to comment on the second thing I noticed. "Yo, Lee! Still wearing that same ratty leather jacket, huh?"

The skater abruptly stopped what he was doing and sauntered over. A huge smile was pasted onto his face. "No shit, Tristan Smith."

We shook hands, and pulled each other in for a quick hug and pat on the back. I was grinning from ear to ear, as was he.

"I thought you moved?" Lee asks.

"Eh, for a little bit," I divulge with a shrug. "I'm back to try and figure some stuff out."

"Oh?"

"Mainly, what I'm doing with my life."

Lee gives me a sidelong look. "You moved because of...a job, right? Am I remembering correctly?"

"Yeah," I reply gruffly and look away.

"Fell through?" Lee presses innocently.

"You could say that," I say.

Lee looks surprised. "Everything okay, Tristan? You're usually not this uptight. It's kind of freaking me out, not gonna lie."

I want to laugh but I can't. So instead I just shake my head at my friend. "Look...Not trying to be rude, but I came here to clear my mind. Some messed up stuff happened and I just wanna fart around on my board and try to forget it for a while."

Lee holds up his hands. "That's fair. Mind if I skate with you?"

Now I do laugh. "If you wanna... last time I was on a board was years ago."

"I'm sure it'll be just like riding a bike," Lee encourages over his shoulder, walking towards where he left his own skateboard.

"Right," I reply with a chuckle.

Turns out it was. I didn't want to do anything crazy, but I only ended up spilling once. It felt good to do this again. It was really nice, felt like old times before everything went to hell.

When we were done, we were sitting on the lip of the keen ramp. Lee had brought his backpack, and handed me a beer. I can't tell you how many times I've done exactly this, skated for a bit and then shared a beer or two with my friends.

"Ah," I say with a grin after taking my first swig. "It feels good to be back."

"Why did you come back?" Lee tries again.

I suppress a sigh. Lee was one of my core friends. We'd been friends since grade school. As such, I knew he wasn't going to let up until he got the truth out of me.

"Er, you ever heard of a band called Saturn Mutants?"

Lee laughs. "Who hasn't? I love them!"

Now I did sigh. "Of course you would."

"Huh?"

I shake my head. "My job was being a roadie. The band was picked at random. I got assigned to them."

For a second I think my friend is going to explode in excitement. But Lee composes himself before he becomes a total fanboy. "That is so awesome! How did that work? What did the job entail? Did you have the same bus? Did you get to meet the band?"

"Oh, I met them..."

"Woah, for real?! Did you get to meet Orion?"

"Yup." I take a deep swig of my drink.

"Dude!"

"I got to know him—Er, intimately."

"Are you guys friends?!"

Before answering that, I quickly down the rest of the bottle and put it next to me. I look at Lee. "Got anymore beer?"

"No, sorry. I thought it would be just me tonight." He puts a hand on my shoulder. "So tell me about Orion! Is he as much of a mess as they make him out to be?"

I frown. "And then some."

"Did anything crazy end up happening while you were with them?"

I pause. Without giving a dissertation, how do I even answer that? "We ended up dating. Orion and I."

Shocked silence. Then Lee starts laughing. He gives me a look like he doesn't believe me. "Whaaaat? Tristan, get outta here."

"I'm serious."

"Pfft, no, you're not."

"I am."

Lee is starting to look like he may believe me. "Orion's straight."

"Trust me, he is very not straight."

"Whatever, man."

"I swear on Tyler's grave."

With those words, Lee's eyes go wide. He knows me well enough to know that I wouldn't have said that if I were lying.

"He seems like a lady-killer."

I tut. "He's bisexual. He's actually pretty private—if nobody asks outright, nobody's gonna know."

Lee makes like he's zippering and locking his mouth and throws away the key. But then he screws up his face. "How did that happen? I mean, no offense."

Chuckling, I shake my head. "None taken. I pursued him. Kinda wish I hadn't, now."

Lee puts a hand on my shoulder. "Dude, I'm sorry he broke your heart. What a bastard. I'm burning all his albums."

I laugh, shooting him a look rife with indignation. "Hey now, back it up; who said anything about getting my heart broken?"

Lee hasn't moved his hand. "It's written all over your face, guy."

I look at his hand and then glare at Lee. He quickly retracts it and laughs. "Look—Easton is in town. He's throwing a party tomorrow. You should come."

I grin. "No shit. He's back from New York?"

"Yup, just to visit though."

I roll my eyes. "Right—Mr. Hot Shot writer for Broadway can't be bothered with us plebeians."

Lee cracks up. He then gets to his feet, grabbing his board. "Seriously, come Tristan. It'll be like a reunion. I won't tell anyone—you can surprise everyone."

"I'm there."

After we shake hands, and we start to head our separate ways, I turn around. "Hey, Lee!"

He stops and turns around.

"You weren't serious about burning your albums, were you?"

He grins. "Maybe."

I shake my head. "Don't do that...Orion doesn't deserve that."

Without waiting for a reply, I walk away.