Josh
Ezra was infuriatingly good company. He could keep a conversation going, even while walking, as we were now.
We’d ditched the party completely, after stealing a case of what was masquerading as ‘firewhisky’, and we were in our room. Ezra was at the open window, looking out into the thematic rain as he took long drinks from his bottle.
He’d already finished one, though I was carefully nursing mine, and he was quickly burning through the second when I asked, “Is something wrong?”
“Something’s always wrong,” he responded cryptically.
I frowned at that. “I meant with you. Specifically. Right now. Or recently.”
“Nah, I’m fine. Mostly. Just… confused about something.”
“What is--”
“You can’t help,” he snapped harshly.
I was taken aback. “Oh. Okay.”
“Sorry about snapping at you,” he said a little more quietly. “I’m not in a great mood lately, sorry.”
“It’s fine. I get not being in a good mood.” I tried not to think too harshly of him. He was dealing with something. Everyone dealt with things at some point in their life. Why would Ezra be any different?
There was silence for a short while.
“I understand letterman jackets now,” Ezra finally said. “Yours is… it’s comfortable.”
“And your hoodie is…” I held up my hands, the overly long sleeves sliding down onto my lower arms. “Well-loved, no?”
“Definitely,” he agreed. “You can appreciate having a favourite piece of clothing, right?”
“For sure.”
I held one of the sleeves to my nose, when he wasn’t looking. It smelled like a mix of spices I’d never tasted before, added to the smell of orange blossoms and eucalyptus.
“Don’t take this a weird way, but… you smell like coffee,” Ezra said a little awkwardly. “Coffee and wet grass and sweat.”
I stared at his sleeve as I replied, “And you’re spices and orange blossoms and eucalyptus, so I can’t judge you much.”
He turned to look at me, and gestured with his head for me to join him at the window. As I headed over, he said softly, “See, we could be friends if we could do this more often.”
I sat next to him in the window seat, my red-socked feet mixed up with his purple socks. “I guess…”
He nudged the side of my foot with his toes. “Come on, Josh, admit it. We’re not so different, are we? You might be a jock, and me… well, admittedly, I’m goth, but we’ve got stuff in common. We go to the same school, right, which means we both had to be smart enough to get in.”
“I guess that’s true,” I conceded. I looked around our room: it was dark except for the moonlight coming in through the window, and a scented candle of Ezra’s that he’d lit with a lighter he wasn’t technically allowed to have on campus. The smell of the candle was one I couldn’t quite place, but it smelled weirdly like the season of autumn.
It was strange, this. Hanging out with Ezra, in the dark of our room, my legs all mixed up with his on the window seat. The light of the moon, half-covered by clouds, lit up only his eyes, which were a rich brown when he wasn’t wearing eyeliner.
I looked away, taking another, longer drink of my ‘firewhisky’ (which was really grape soda) when I realised that I’d been staring. You’re jeopardising yourself, Josh. Look away. Maybe he looks… a little less weird, in the moonlight, and the way your jacket hangs off of him is…
I choked on my next swig of grape juice, having inhaled a decent portion of it. I had suddenly had the burning urge to take my jacket off of him, and I wasn’t sure whether that was because I hated seeing someone else in my jacket, or… something else.
“Are you all right?” Ezra put a hand on my arm, his brows creased with worry, as I continued coughing.
Once it had calmed down a bit, I rasped, “I’m fine.”
“You’re sure?” he frowned at me, taking the bottle from my hand and setting it aside.
“I’m fine,” I repeated, more firmly, and pried his hand off of my arm. “I just…” Quick, come up with a good excuse… “…realised what’s going on. Get out of my clothes.”
I stood, tearing his jacket off of me and tossing it at him, as he stared at me in shock. “What?”
“Get out of my clothes.” I sat on my bed and pulled off my socks, with much difficulty, then chucked them to the ground next to my bed and started pulling his shirt over my head.
“Wha-- now? In front of you?”
“Yeah.” I let the shirt fall to the floor on his half of the room. “Take ‘em off.”
He pulled the jacket tighter around himself. “I don’t… I don’t like undressing in front of people.”
“Tough luck.” I padded over to the window and leaned over him. “Unless you want me to undress you.”
I couldn’t tell in the dark, but I was almost sure that his face went pink at that, and I wasn’t sure whether I liked it or not. “No, but…”
I pulled at my jacket, sliding it off of one of his shoulders. “But?”
“Stop!” he pushed me off. “I’ll get out of them, just promise you won’t judge me.”
“Okay?” I took a couple steps back, and he stood, taking the jacket off slowly.
He noticed I was still watching at the same time that I did. “Please don’t stare…” His voice was small, quiet.
I looked away. “Sorry.”
I saw him continue to get undressed, out of the corner of my eye, and after ten minutes or so, during which I took his jeans off and added them to the stuff I’d chucked to his side of the room.
Once I’d gotten into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, I told Ezra, “I need your help with the makeup. And piercings.”
I hadn’t really realised that I’d turned towards him until he fumbled to cover his chest with both hands. “Okay!” he yelped, folding in on himself. “I’ll-- I’ll help.”
“You okay?”
“Fine, just…” He shrugged. “Self-conscious.”
I turned back around. “Put some pajamas on and help me.” I paused for a moment. “I mean, help me, please.”
“Okay.”
-+-+-+-+-+-
I didn’t sleep much. I spent too much time thinking about how Halloween had gone. First the party, then hanging out with Ezra like it was normal, then the undressing thing… and then, when it came to the makeup, that hadn’t been normal either.
I’d felt weird, the whole time, as Ezra insisted on pulling off the piercings himself, and every brush of his fingertips on my ears, my eyes, my cheeks and my lips lit up my skin with sparks. I couldn’t tell if I was uncomfortable from that or not, because Ezra’s expression remained (clearly purposely) blank.
When he’d wiped off the makeup, he had to stand on tiptoes, and his sweater rode up on his hips in a way that drew me to look at his legs, until I’d realised that I was looking at Ezra’s legs and made myself stop.
And now, I couldn’t decide where my mind had been at the time: whether I was excited or discomforted by the fact that Ezra had rushed so much to help that he’d forgotten any sort of pants.
I shook the thought from my head. I need sleep. I’ll be better in the morning.
-+-+-+-+-+-
In the morning, I actually did feel better. More… myself. I beat Ezra into the bathroom and locked him out (prompting an ‘oh, so we’re back to this?’ from him), then made sure he was late for breakfast (and got a demerit for it, ha!).
As he passed by my table, demerit card in hand, I heard him mutter something that sounded like, “I thought we were finally getting along.”
I tried to trip him. He stumbled, but managed to get a kick in on my leg before he got to his table.
I turned back to my breakfast, my pride more bruised than my shin, and Kieran sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re set on this whole ‘Ezra’s a freak’ thing, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“He’s not half bad. I talked to his friends yesterday-- both of them, because no one can seem to find those two when they’re anything but attached at the hip-- and they’re actually pretty nice guys.” Kieran took a bite of eggs. “I’m just saying, Josh, he can’t be too bad, if the people around him aren’t. ‘You’re judged by the company you keep’, and all that.”
I frowned, and glared at Kieran. “You’re strangely philosophical for the morning. And strangely tolerant of Ezra for… life.”
“Or maybe you’re just lacking in both of those departments. Philosophy and tolerance of Ezra.”
“I hate you.”
“Not any more than you ‘hate’ Ezra, I’d hope.”
“Piss off, Kieran.”
He frowned as well, and stood. “Gladly. Don’t want to be around you right now anyway.”
And then, I watched, as my best friend sat with my roommate and his friends.
“Tough luck, Josh,” Ian said quietly.
He scooted further away from me, too.
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