Josh
My trip home hadn’t been very interesting.
I saw my family, sure, but it wasn’t particularly fun, and I spent almost the entire trip doing schoolwork that I needed to catch up on or watching Netflix on my laptop, in my room. I spent a lot of time curled up in my armchair, in Ezra’s jacket, wanting and waiting for the spring break to be over so that I could go back to school again.
It was hard to ignore how much the absence had killed my relationship with my family.
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Ezra was already in our room when I arrived, unpacking his bag and humming under his breath as he did so.
“Hey,” I said softly. I rested my forehead on his shoulder. I missed him. I missed having someone to talk to.
“Oh, hey. You okay?”
“Just… was lonely over the break. It’s fine.” I reached for his hand, something to hold on to. “I am so glad I’m back.”
“What happened?” he asked quietly. “Did something go wrong?”
“No, nothing happened.” I sighed. “And that’s the problem. Nothing happened.”
Ezra’s shoulder heaved under my head as he sighed. “I’m sorry about that. Want to talk about it? I’m open to listen, if you do.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I answered, almost immediately.
“Okay.” He paused. “Is there anything you do want to do?”
“Just… hang out. Tell me about your break.”
“It’s nothing interesting.”
“I want to hear it,” I insisted. “Keep my mind occupied. Please?”
He was silent for a moment, before he finally said, “Okay. Let’s talk.”
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Ezra and I had gotten more comfortable about being close to each other, and we sat side-by-side in the window seat as he talked quietly about his family-- his mother and the little twins, his older sister and his nieces and nephews.
It was calm and serene, somehow, more so than the things that had relaxed me before Ezra had come into my life. Something about being by his side, his pair of dark-coloured socks with my pair of bright ones mixed up on the seat, him in what was my jacket and me in what was his own… it calmed me like nothing else, and there were few things that could’ve made it better.
Eventually we had to go to dinner, and Ezra and I-- for the first time, even since we’d become friends-- found a corner on our own, eating where my friends and his friends couldn’t hear us laugh about David and Illa or Ezra not being able to bake challah bread properly, where we could imagine what it would’ve been like if we’d been friends since the beginning.
What would it have been like if I never hated him? What would it have been like if I’d started to talk to him, like a normal person? Would we have been friends?
Would we have been more?
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Summer came too soon, Ezra promising to write emails whenever he could and assuring me that he’d actually follow through on the oath.
He drove off in his family’s car, still wearing the jacket he seemed to wear whenever not in his school uniform, my jacket.
He waved as they drove off, and something in my heart warmed pleasantly.
It died as soon as he was out of sight.
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