I stare at Ralph, trying to figure out if this is some kind of trick.

Trusting Ralph is usually a bad idea, so I usually don't. The only time I've ever trusted him completely was when he had his breakdown on New Year's Eve, and that was only because in that moment, he was too broken to be anything but honest. He also didn’t know that Aiden and I were going to show up and find him like that. We caught him when he wasn’t expecting us, and when he was at his most vulnerable.

Not the case, tonight. Based on the way he approached our little group, and how he talked to us when he got there, Ralph is clearly feeling together enough to act like his old self. To sneer and antagonize, in his classic Ralph way. It means he has the capacity to pull some kind of stunt on me, too.

And yet... I’m having a really hard time believing that this is all some kind of setup.

Ralph seems so different from his usual self, right now. His voice, and what he said, how he said it. His body language. He’s normally all forceful confidence, never flinching away from eye contact, that just try and fuck with me expression on his face. But right now he’s trying not to look at me, his fingers distractedly plucking at the leather wristbands he’s wearing. His shoulders are drooping in a defeated kind of way, especially when his eyes glance off of the ailing plant.

He actually looks different, in some subtle ways. His face is clean-shaven, his white-blonde hair swept back out of his eyes. And - I can’t tell if this was a purposeful choice or simply a coincidence, but he’s wearing that heathered Budweiser t-shirt. The one he loaned me the night when Aiden and I saved him from the bar. The one I gave back to him after he fell apart, when I also gave him the plant.

Even the plant is telling me things. I’m not sure if Ralph realizes that I perceive the messages in it, but I do. I know that he has to have made an effort to take care of it, or it would have died by now. It was already in a fragile, precarious state when I gave it to him, but he’s kept it alive this long. Not only kept it alive, but kept it healthy, because - it grew. Before the leaves started to turn brown, it grew.

I can't believe it, but - Ralph has actually been caring for something.

Maybe the plant has come to mean something to him. A small, living symbol of something important. It kind of has to, for him to go to this length to keep it alive. I seriously doubt that Ralph would ever ask me for help unless it was about something extremely important to him. He clearly had to struggle hard to make himself do it. It sounded like he was choking when he said it, every word forced out with no small degree of effort.

He’s built his whole image around never needing help, not from anyone. He always acts like he’s the smartest, meanest guy in the room, and therefore fifty steps ahead of everyone else. To see him come down from that and ask me of all people for help... that's no small thing.

And if the plant didn't mean something to him, I don’t think he’d be this upset about it dying. Which he is. He's trying to hide it, but he is.

“Jesus, Keane,” he snaps abruptly, catching my eyes with his. “Are you just gonna stand there staring at me, or are you gonna fucking help?”

I hesitate, then look over the roof of Ralph's car at Noah. He and Aiden are both watching silently, eyes narrowed, arms crossed. Raj is quietly saying something in Noah's ear, and I can tell that he's listening, but his pewter eyes never move away from me and Ralph.

Would Noah be hurt or upset, if I helped Ralph with something? Maybe, if I was helping him with anything else. But - with this? I actually don't think so.

My mind goes back to what Noah said when Aiden and I told him about Ralph’s breakdown.

I hope that Ralph gets his shit together. I really do. It would suck if anyone else got pulled into the goddamn vortex that he is now.

I do some hard thinking for one more moment. Then I lean into the car and draw the plant closer to me.

“Have you been following the instructions I gave you?” I ask Ralph, feeling a leaf between my fingertips.

Ralph takes something from his pocket and shows it to me. I straighten up to take a look. It’s the handwritten instructions I gave him for taking care of the plant. The page is all crumpled up, but it’s been smoothed out. Like he threw it away, then changed his mind.

There are deep creases in the paper, as if it’s been folded and unfolded a lot of times.

“I did everything you said.” Ralph’s voice grows rough with swelling frustration. “I fucking did everything you said, and still, I can’t even keep a goddamn-”

He cuts himself off, lets out a heavy exhale. I stare at him for a second, then quickly force myself to look back at the plant. It's just not every day that you see Ralph failing to hide his emotions like this.

“When did this start?" I ask, gesturing to the brown leaves. "The plant grew, so it must have been okay for a while.”

“Yeah, it was,” Ralph growls, stuffing the paper back into his pocket. “But I started watering it more often, and then some of the leaves died, and it just keeps getting worse."

I tip my head to the side, confused. "Why did you start watering it more often?"

"Because it stopped growing. I have no idea why. For no reason, it just-"

Ralph's words stagger to a stop. He's suddenly avoiding my eyes again, a muscle in his jaw tensed up. There's a long, silent pause.

“I - I fucking knocked it over,” Ralph admits, his voice increasingly raspy. “It was a total accident. I knocked it over and the whole goddamn pot smashed on the floor. So. It’s probably because of that, right?”

His quiet voice sounds so furious that I take a step back. But he seems angry with himself, not me.

“I mean,” I say slowly, “Not necessarily. That’s - not good for it, obviously, but it happens.”

Ralph turns away from the plant, crossing his arms.

“You didn’t say what to do, man," he murmurs. "If I fucked up.”

I open my mouth to answer, but Ralph keeps going before I can, his words rapidly picking up speed.

“So, thanks for the bullshit instructions, Keane. Are you so useless that you couldn’t even write down what-?”

“Hey,” I interrupt sharply. “Don’t talk to me like that, Ralph. I’m serious, I’m not having it.”

He rolls his eyes, makes a harsh scoffing noise. “Don't be so sensitive.”

“You want me to tell you what to do when you’re fucking up?” I ask heatedly, glaring up at him. “Step one is to knock it off, and step two is to take responsibility for it! So - stop being nasty to me, and stop making it seem like it's my fault for not liking it!”

Ralph arches an eyebrow, apparently a little amused.

"You're not scary when you're mad," he informs me.

"Whatever, man!" I can feel my cheeks heating up with anger, turning crimson. "I'm asking you to stop, so stop!"

I wait for a second, but Ralph doesn’t say anything. He remains silent, bites his lip.

I get a grip on myself and turn back to the plant, squinting in the dim light of the parking lot. Ralph hesitates, then pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight, aims it so that I can see. A bright glow spills into the car, illuminating the drooping leaves.

With the influx of light, I can see that the leaves aren’t actually browning, but yellowing. I feel the soil, and my fingers come away damp.

I’ve figured out what the problem is, and I nearly let out a laugh of disbelief. I definitely didn’t expect the issue to be that Ralph was caring for the plant too much.

“Good news, Ralph." I straighten up, dusting the soil off of my hands. “The plant isn’t sick, and it probably isn't going to die. You’re just overwatering it.”

Ralph blinks at me, taken aback. “What?”

“You’re giving it too much water," I explain. "It’s about balance. The roots need to breathe, and you’ve made the soil so wet that there are no air pockets. You’re smothering it, and it can't breathe.”

Ralph shakes his head slowly, his eyes narrowing.

“But after I put it in the new pot, it - it wouldn’t grow. For a week. It just sat there, like…”

“No, it didn't just sit there." I tap the replacement pot he bought for it. "You put it in new ground, so it had to set up its root system. The roots have to come first. When they're solid, the plant will start growing, and maybe eventually flowering. It looks like there’s no change, at first. But that’s because all the work starts beneath the surface.”

"Oh." Ralph's eyebrows furrow. "So... it'll be okay? Even after I broke everything?"

"Yeah. In the long run, sure."

I blink in surprise as a look of serious relief flashes across Ralph’s face. It thaws his ice-cold eyes, just for a brief moment.

Sometimes I swear I can see a version of himself that he keeps hidden. The fastest little glimpses of it. But it’s there, and it’s finally daring to show itself. Even if Ralph tries to crush it down or ignore it. I see it.

The bright hint of something growing. Maybe not even budding, yet, but - the raw materials are there. I get the feeling that he's thinking about how to put them together.

“It’s one mistake, Ralph.” I lift the plant out of the car, put it into his hands. “You’ve never done this before, so it happens. Throw out the ruined soil, get a new pot. Cut off the parts that are only weighing it down, not helping it. Just keep trying.”

I tilt the pot so Ralph can see the base of the plant. The leaves are struggling, but the stems are strong, sleek, in much better shape than they were before.

“You were on the right track,” I tell him. “Just pay attention to what it needs, and what makes it happy. Don’t neglect it, don’t suffocate it, and - it should be okay.”

The remaining stress in Ralph’s eyes dissipates. He lets out a breath that slumps his shoulders, then puts the plant back in the car, so he can take it home before anyone sees it.

Strange, to think that there’s a living thing for which Ralph’s house is actually a refuge, a safe place.

Ralph straightens up, slams the car door, and leans back against it. He lights a new cigarette, then glances over his shoulder at the others.

His gaze lingers on Aiden and Noah, then drifts down to the pavement. He stares at it in silence, and suddenly there’s this wrenching look in his eyes that goes away so fast I almost missed it.

I’m tempted to ask him why he came over to us and behaved exactly like his old self. Especially given that Aiden was feeling a tiny bit warmer towards Ralph after his breakdown. Ralph took that and stomped on it. It only took him about two seconds to undo all that progress.

Then again - why did he come looking for me out in public, when he knew I was probably with Aiden?

“Why didn’t you just come see me at my apartment?” I ask, brushing topsoil from the sleeve of my flannel. “I was home all day. You could’ve talked to me when I was alone.”

Ralph shrugs, takes a long pull on his cig.

“Figured Aiden wouldn’t like that," he says, around puffs of smoke. "Thought it might be better if I asked when he was with you.”

He makes a face at me, like - brilliant idea, right?

I’m surprised that Ralph even gave consideration to what might bother Aiden, thought about how to do this in a way that wouldn’t make him upset. Even though it backfired completely - that’s way different, for him.

I wonder if he panicked when he realized who was actually with us. If that’s why he violently reverted back to his usual self.

It’s one mistake, I want to say again. Just keep trying.

“How’s your stash lookin’?” Ralph says, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Need to re-up?”

“No,” I answer, caught off-guard. “Prefer not to do my drug deals in public parking lots, and I don’t have enough cash on me, anyways. Thanks, though.”

“On the house,” he says, looking at his cigarette instead of at me.

And I thought I was surprised before.

“Um. Ralph.” I stare at him, my eyes very wide. “Did you ask me for help and try to thank me for it afterwards, all in one night? I mean - you didn’t like, actually do either of those things, but still. I’m shocked.”

Ralph scowls deeply at me, lets out an anguished sigh, and slips a small Ziploc bag from the pocket of his jacket. I can see a big green nug inside. Good stuff, obviously. Dense, and softly furred with perfect crystals of THC.

I'm tempted to take it, but when Ralph tries to push it into my fingers, I respond by stuffing both of my hands in my pockets.

“I don’t need it, man. You don't have to repay me, it's not like that. Why are you so determined not to owe anyone anyth-?”

“For fuck’s sake, Jamie!” Ralph snaps, startling me into silence. “You’re so annoying, could - could you shut up and stop trying to make me talk and just take the free weed I’m offering you? Normally it’s the opposite, normally nobody fucking cares what I have to say, and all they give a shit about is the-”

He cuts himself off, but he already gestured at the bag of drugs in his hand, so. He did kind of finish his sentence. And I can tell that he said way more than he meant to.

He goes very still, then closes his eyes and runs a hand through his blonde hair, like he’s trying not to get seriously pissed off.

“People do give a shit about what you have to say,” I inform him. “Noah definitely did, before you-”

Ralph winces like he just tasted battery acid. Like he already knows that, and there's no need for me to say it.

I hesitate, fidgeting with the sleeve of my flannel, just - startled by all of this. By everything.

“Well, I give a shit about what you have to say, too.” I push Ralph’s hand closer to his chest, moving the bag farther away from me. “Keep it, seriously. Just say thank you. That would mean more to me, anyways.”

Ralph opens his eyes and glares at me. His gaze is cold and hard, jagged crystals of ice. Closed off again, the armor back in place.

He glances over his shoulder, realizing that Noah and Aiden are striding towards us.

“Hey,” Aiden calls, his rumbling voice reaching us across the parking lot. “It’s been way more than five minutes.”

Ralph looks at him, then at me. He pushes himself up off of the car, strides around to the driver’s side, and - tosses the bag at Noah.

Noah wasn’t expecting it, but he catches it one-handed before it can fly over his head. He stares down at it, lost, then looks back up at Ralph.

“Keane won’t fucking take it,” Ralph tells him, yanking the door of his car open. “Guess you may as well have it.”

“What-?” Noah begins, but Ralph is already slamming the door shut after himself, starting the car.

He rolls down the windows, takes the cigarette from his mouth, and leans over towards me.

“Thank you so much, Keane,” he says, in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

He starts driving before I can answer. But just before he rolls out of the parking lot, I see him reach into the backseat. He picks up the plant and puts it between his knees, where it’ll be safe for the drive home.

Aiden makes a beeline for me, and Noah follows after him, his grey eyes blinking in confusion.

“What the fuck was that?” he asks.

“Um.” I let out a disbelieving laugh as Aiden wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Ralph tried to be nice again.”

And weirdly enough, I think that was his best attempt, yet.