Girls are so confusing.

First, she's kissing me, then she seems to regret the whole thing, which is kinda painful.

And then my mother gives me a whole talk about I don't even know what.

And then we're being brought back to the camp in an awkward silence. Lelia did spend the night, but on the couch. And I swear I offered the bed, but she was... slightly pissed and refused to take it.

I think I even made her more pissed. Why? No idea.

Anyway— we immediately make our way to the cafeteria in more silence, and see Lyndon and Newt already there.

I thought they were staying at Newt's 'till Wednesday.

So I tell them exactly that.

"We were too curious about that Snap," Newt says. "We need to know what the hell happened and—"

"Really thought you'd leave the begging for Lyndon," I mutter, pulling the boy off the bench as I do so. "Come on. You are going to explain to me why," I lean closer so Lelia won't hear, "your sister is acting this insane, and I am gonna make sure Newt's wishes get fulfilled before he buries himself alive."

"I'm sorry— what..?" Lyndon tries, but I'm already pulling him further away from the table, to the Tower, below the burning sun.

"Oh God—" he then says. "Can we go somewhere else than up there?"

With a sigh, I turn us toward two swings beside the Homestead. Sit him down, then sit down on a swing myself. I'm too impatient. "Okay, please help me out."

"Explain that Snap first—"

"That was a prank."

"You didn't do anything with my sister?"

"Well, we kissed, but—"

"You what?"

"No, we didn't, not really—"

Some kind of relief relaxes his face.

"...I'd rather call it making out."

The relief drops, just like his jaw.

"I'm sorry!" I peep, then frown. What the hell? "I'm not, never mind."

As if Lyndon would hurt me or anyone in the world else in the world (on purpose).

"You made out with my sister," he repeats. I can see his jaw tighten now, as he looks up at me. "And you're currently not being a happy couple or anything."

"She got pissed. Not me. That's why I need your help? Why is she pissed? Why did she kiss me and then regret it? Why did I kiss her while I hate her—"

"Hey, I'm not an oracle."

I bury my head in my hands. All this craziness is making me turn into freaking Thomas. "Just tell me something. Does she have a weird past with another boy or something?"

"No. Plus, you don't even hate her."

"Okay, I don't. But she clearly hates me. Tell me something and I'll give you advice."

"Advice on what?"

"Lyndon, doesn't matter right now. Help. Me."

He frowns, then his eyes soften, and then he laughs.

"What?"

"I never thought I'd see you panic over a girl."

"I'm not panicking. But for the love of god, help."

Lyndon's laughs slowly fade into a sigh, added with a shrug. "My sister is hard to understand. Except for the part that she regrets the kiss. She definitely doesn't like you."

"That really helps."

"You asked for it." He shrugs again. "Why is she pissed? I don't know. There's three reasons. She could be seriously angry at you, she could dislike you so much that she gets angry at every single thing you do, or she's been building up too many things and feelings, which makes her burst out when she gets the chance."

It's almost scary how well he knows her.

Damn, I want to know her like that.

Yet I am still staring at him like he's an idiot. I blink. Groan. "That doesn't really help. Unless you know her so well that you can tell what could make her bottle things up."

"I can. Most of it. So I guess option three is very likely. But I think the second option also has a big chance."

If it's the second option, that at least means she isn't bottling things up and is alright. It does mean that she really hates me.

If it's the third option, she's bottling things up, but she doesn't really hate me.

What's better?

"What is she worrying about, then?" I urge.

"That's none of your business."

"Hey, I want to fix things. Help me, as I said. Help me and I'll help you."

"On what would I need help?"

The closet is made from glass. Newt seems to have the most patience in the world, yet I'm starting to feel bad for him. It's freaking time to speed things up and make you figure your shit out, but I don't tell him that. Don't want to be the one to give him a heart attack.

"Lyndon— first, please give me some advice."

"Well, talk to her."

"I have! You think that worked? No. Instead she went to talk to my freaking mother."

His face lights up. "Awesome! Do they get along?"

"Sure, but—"

"Even more awesome." The boy smiles even wider.

"Lyndon, stay with the subject," I tell him, shaking his shoulder. "For the millionth time, please help me. It's starting to get ridiculous how crazy I am going."

"Make Lili... not hate you," he says. "That'll work."

"How the fuck do you make Lelia Blake like you when you're not gay, family, a girl, or dumb and unintentionally funny?"

With raised eyebrows, he looks up at me. "Do you want me to give you a freaking manual?"

"I mean, if you could—"

"Jeez. As I said, just make her like you. Make her trust you, make her want you to stick in her life, make her want that relationship or whatever you're rooting for."

"I don't know, man." I pause. "What are her standards? Because I doubt there's things you don't know about her." 

"Oh, she wants a guy who'll respect her. She'd like to be richer than him. She only wants to start permanently dating people when she's twenty five and has got everything under control. Like a job, her own house, nice life, no problems."

"I'm not waiting seven years."

Dryly, Lyndon looks up at me again. "She also likes guys who are ready to do anything for her."

"Well, if you don't mind, I'm also kind of in the state of wondering why half of my body says that I hate her and half of my body says that I like her, so no time for that at the moment."

"Then you can give up on my sister already."

"She literally does have a manual at this point."

"She also doesn't like guys who act like girls are objects," Lyndon states.

"I never said that. It was a joke—"

"Neither does she like guys who joke about races, feminism, and things like that," he added, eyes full of amusement.

I sigh. This freaking boy. "Alright, got it."

"Oh, she likes it more spontaneous, too. Don't be the man who acts like someone he's not—"

"How does Newt handle being around you all the time? Gosh." I nearly jump off the swing.

And then I kinda regret those words. Not only because his eyes turned a bit sadder, but just in general. "Sorry," I say. "That was sarcastic."

It was, sort of. I was not having his jokes because I'm too stressed out—it's awful—but normally, I would've made it sound sarcastic. Lyndon's a good guy.

"About Newt and you," I then go on, fast. "He won't act until you give some kind of sign that it's okay."

His nose scrunches along with his eyebrows. "Huh?"

"Do you like Newt?"

"Of course."

"Do you trust me?"

"I don't want to be mean, but—"

"Okay, you don't trust me. Do trust me on this, yeah? It's okay to be a little more confident."

"That really passes my comfort zone, Minho," he says, not even trying to be funny. His tone is in between serious and clueless.

"Sometimes, that's necessary. Please figure things out. Newt—"

"Don't assume what I am."

"What?"

"You're assuming things. I hate that."

"What do you mean, assuming?" 

"You're saying I'm gay. You've said it before."

I frown a bit. I don't exactly remember that.

"You said 'all the fruits together'."

I have no idea when and to who I said that. All this does is make me stunned— shocked, that Lyndon can perfectly recall my words from days ago.

As if he has been repeating them in his mind.

"Hey, dude, I didn't mean to make you feel like that," I say slowly. If I want Lelia to like me, I'm also gonna have to be nice to her brother. "And I'm sorry if I did. All I'm saying is... it would help a lot if you just let go of everything and do what your... heart... wants you to do."

What the fuck was that? Some kind of poetry shit?

Lyndon only looks confused.

And I lost it. "Ah, come on, man! No one here will hate you for anything. Figure shit out, especially with Newt."

☀︎︎

The talk with Lyndon ended up longer than expected. I gave him even more advice (I had no idea what I was doing), and then we walked back to the cafeteria.

The sight of Lelia hugging Newt shocks me and Lyndon both.

Like, a very tight hug. I think I see her shoulders shaking. Newt's rubbing her back. His lips are moving, but I can't read them, especially not from such a distance.

I may hope her shoulders are not shaking because she's crying. I swear, if I'm the cause—

"He's taking care of her," the words leave Lyndon's lips in a whisper. If he hadn't sounded so happy and... in love, I would've called it cliche. But he sounds absolutely amazed, and his eyes are gigantic and twinkling.

Thank God Newt is gay and clearly crushing on Lyndon, though. Not to be too possessive or anything, but if he hadn't be—

Then she yelps, and my eyebrows shoot up. Lyndon and I both follow her with our eyes, watching her jump at Thomas and hug him.

Thank God he is crazy in love with Teresa.

"I'm going to Newt," Lyndon says. "Asking what happened while we were gone."

"Kiss him while you're at it."

Almost afraid, he looks at me, wide-eyed.

Right. I forgot Lyndon's not the right person to say things like that to. "Never mind," I call. "And I'll just stand here, watching your sister... hug people."

She talks with Thomas for a while. I'm about to leave, when someone calls her name, and both of our heads snap toward whoever it is.

Blonde curls. Tall. An excited smile. Kind eyes.

"Eli?" She gasps.

Forget what I said— greasy ass curls. A slender man. A cheesy smile. Perverted eyes.

She runs over to him, too. Luckily, she doesn't embrace him into a hug, but she is smiling.

Except her smile fades a bit when she looks down at his arms. "Oh, wow!" She brings out, surprised.

"I figured after you literally lost everything, I just had to bring you something. I could hear my mom's voice, yelling at me that I wasn't a gentleman." The boy laughs, pressing some clothes in her hands.

Pressing. Some. Clothes. In. Her. Hands.

My legs move before my brain works. Basically my whole body acts before my brain does, and then I'm next to the duo, arms crossed.

"She already has new clothes," I tell him, tone colder than I expected it to be.

He chuckles. "Well, can a girl ever have enough clothes?"

I can't laugh. My fists start clenching, but I relax them as fast as I can. Yet my jaw won't relax. I'm biting the inside of my cheek so hard that I eventually move on to pinching my arm before my cheek will start bleeding. "Can a guy ever have enough money? Just bring them back to the store and save some money. She has gotten plenty of clothes."

"I think I'm perfectly fine with some clothes," Lelia says, pressing the pile closer to her chest. "Thank you, Eli. Bother leaving us alone, Lee?"

Lee. Not very good.

"I haven't heard the name Lee before," Eli says. He holds out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

I shake his hand. I squeeze it. Not hard. Just a friendly squeeze from which Eli's face twitches in pain. "Likewise. And it's Minho. Minho Lee."

His mouth shapes into an 'o' as he turns to Lelia. So this is him, he mouths.

Ah-ha, I have been mentioned. He knows who I am.

I doubt I have a very good reputation, though.

"I already got her clothes," I say.

"I don't think I have the receipt, man. Sorry." He shrugs. "It's just a few pieces anyways. Sorry if I ruined your... spotlight."

That only makes me more annoyed. "Never mind. Let her enjoy all the free clothes," I bite out. "Do we need to check if there aren't any doubles?"

"I don't think we have to worry about that. I went to stores that are far away."

I take one a shirt off the top of the pile. Rub the material between my fingers. "Did you find Temu located somewhere? That must've been a lot of work to find. Cool you put so much effort in it, dude."

Lelia rips the shirt out of my hands. "Shut up, Minho. Thank you, Eli. It means a lot. And the quality is fine, don't worry."

"Is the size, though?" I ask sweetly. "Maybe you didn't get it right."

First, he looks a bit puzzled. Then his gaze hardens. "I'm sure I know a lot about her size. Pretty small. Or tight, whatever you want to call it," he says triumphantly. "Both works the same for the satisfaction—"

He isn't even trying to hide what he's actually referring to. Disgusting little shit. Fucking user. I know I was playing around and challenging him, but these words can hurt more people than me. Worst thing is, Lelia is right next to us. I know for sure his words hurt her. Me? They make me angry.

I can't even stop myself from throwing the first punch. It feels so satisfying on my knuckles that I want to do it again, but then I realize. No, no. It's stupid. Lelia hates me at the moment already. I'm making things worse. I don't owe her. We aren't together or anything— no need for me to defend her.

But then he tries to hit me back, and I snap.

I manage to hit him one more time before I'm pulled away by a pair of arms. I can tell it's Newt. If I want to, I can easily slip away from his simple grip, but I don't.

"Minho!" He hisses. "You idiot. Really have a wish to go to the Shack again, huh?"

Just got out of the Shack and want right back in, I guess.

"You don't know what he just said—"

"Get away from here first. Don't want Janson to see. That guy will flee."

"What about—"

"Lyndon's got her."