//Author's note: Omg! Chapter twenty already? I'd say this can be considered officially HALFWAY DONE. and then maybe a part two? ;) to those still reading, thank you! ~especially one person, you know who you are!~ all feedback is so appreciative and it really means a lot. what im writing here is genuinely some really personal stuff  when it comes to roy's depression and anxiety concerning his disability ,and mental illness in general, and knowing people respond to said art, albeit not always historically accurate art (MacKenzie is given a lot more freedom than she would've had in 1915 as a woman, the speech is written pretty modern,  phone calls are a bit sketchy, I'm a few years early with flapper references, and there is no stationary train route three states from Cali to Oklahoma), it's touching. anyway, crazy things will be happening in the second half, I hope ya'll stick around for more. in that case, enjoy...//

* * *

Roy was rather disappointed at the prospects of his newly found friendship with Stela being abruptly discontinued. He was thoroughly convinced she was related to Jeffrey, the Jeffrey, and it rather saddened him more than he was already saddened. But his mental state was less saddened than usual. It was filled to the brim with uneasiness and stifling anxiety. The anxiety consumed his being when he arrived in the all too familiar Oklahoma town and pulsated around his core when he realized, alone at the train station with nothing but a suitcase, just how alone he really was. And he didn't have a plan. Not if they didn't accept him. If he couldn't actually come home, if he wasn't welcome. There was no way in hell Roy could go back to California. Not now, anyway, even if he wanted to.

Roy had forgotten how much he loathed this wretched place. He had forgotten why he'd left the town mostly dedicated to wheat farming and cattle raising; just how his parents wanted he and Whit to be. Like everyone else. A monotonous profession made in jeopardy by how the land decided to treat them each season. Nothing his devout Catholic parents couldn't pray over. Just as they had prayed when Roy left. And in a way, Roy felt as though he committed the ultimate sin, disrespecting his own family. It made him feel even more sick, despite not having a regret for leaving, and all the reasons to want to leave. There was nothing for him here. He selfishly thought he was too good, even now, and even now there was nothing for him either.

He wondered what Dade would say, his best childhood friend, what he would say to him now. Or Dahlia, his fine gem of a sister. What a gem she was, too rare for Roy, for anybody in that town. She could've joined Roy in California, she could've been a leading lady, but for her own reasons unknown to Roy she chose not too. She never told him why, she simply said no. And for a second Roy regretted not writing.

Dade never owned a telephone, and Roy had no idea if he ever had one installed. Still he knew the address by heart, the one story cabin-like ranch that he rode his bicycle to for years, got blackout drunk, and experienced his first kiss with Dahlia on the back porch. Roy smiled in remembrance but tensed as the cab stopped at the residence. Everything eerily looked the same. It was too similar to how everything had been before he left. Roy had expected some change and felt out of place.

He hesitated before forcing himself to knock. Dade was the last person he'd seen before leaving for California. He was the only person Roy said goodbye to as well. Roy swallowed heavily as the door slowly opened.

"Can I help you?"

Roy offered his hand, lowering his gaze in embarrassment.

"Hi Dade. It's been awhile."

His eyes widened. "Roy?"

"Hi."

"It certainly has been awhile, hasn't it? You got, er..." He scanned Roy's body. "Shorter."

"You're bald," Roy commented and smiled.

"People change," Dade smirked and rubbed his head. "Why do you want me to shake your hand? Come here." He leaned in for the biggest bear hug of Roy's life. It was so sincere and Roy sighed. The worries in his consciousness dropped and he suddenly felt whole, welcomed. Worried for nothing. And strangely enough he wanted to cry.

The modest home hadn't changed inside either. Roy felt as if he'd never left and Dade welcomed him in like two years had never even gone by. The only thing changed was Dade who had lost some weight and shaved his head. Roy didn't feel threatened anymore as they sat at the kitchen table.

Dade cleared his throat. "Now, I'm not gonna ask what happened. It's none of my business. We can start back where we left off, we can."

"No, Dade," Roy said. "You deserve to know. I screwed up. That's what happened."

"I reckon that's why you're back."

"Sort of."

"How long has it been?"

Roy sighed. "Nearly two years, Dade, you know it."

"I was gonna say since, you know, you screwed up..."

"Oh. Since that. Several months. Yeah, several months I think."

"You're still my friend, Roy. I ain't gonna judge you for anything."

"I don't think my family wants me back," Roy blurted out.

Dade raised an eyebrow. "How so? You're still family."

"I talked to Whit. I don't think my folks will be too happy to see me. That's partially why I came to your place first. I wasn't sure if you'd reject me or not but I think I would've taken it better rather it be my parents, honestly."
"If you need a place to stay, so be it."

"I think I'm gonna go tonight. Or tomorrow. Actually I'm not sure, Dade. I'm not quite sure what I'm gonna do."

Dade unexpectedly lay his hand upon Roy's. He began to feel vulnerable again, despite Dade's tone not being remotely patronizing.

"You are okay, right?"

Roy frowned. "Yeah. I'm okay."

"Promise me you're okay."

"I promise."