By the time the second Friday of March rolled around, Jethro and I had been talking pretty solidly for about a week and a half. Or mostly, he talked. Not that he was rudely dominating the conversation or anything, there just wouldn’t have been one at all if he hadn’t been there to keep things going. I was bad at this whole friendship thing. Really bad.

Jethro was probably so much better at it than me because he didn’t hold back. He was so good at having things to say and questions to ask and he didn’t second guess himself all the time like I did. I was pretty sure that the thing that made me most boring was my deep fear of being boring.

But I supposed Jethro didn’t think I was boring. I’d thought long and hard about why he might want to talk to me if I was, but I couldn’t come up with anything. I’d even wondered if maybe my dad had paid him to be my friend, but that seemed unlikely.

Anyway, it was the second Friday of March and that meant my psychiatrist’s appointment was today and then I’d be at my dad’s work for the rest of the day and there was a chance I might see Jethro. So I had to carefully consider my outfit.

I didn’t really know why. It wasn’t like Jethro was going to be like, ‘you know I was straight, but after seeing the way your ass looks in those jeans…’ 

Anyway, my ass looked pretty decent in these jeans. I didn’t normally wear them because they weren’t super comfortable, but I guess trying to change someone’s sexuality with my ass meat was just that important to me.

I considered taking the necklace he’d given me off just so he didn’t think I always wore it, but fuck it. I did always wear it and I didn’t want to change that. I dug up another purple T-shirt so that it at least looked like I was maybe just coordinating.

My psychiatrist’s appointment was uneventful, as always. I never had anything to say, but he still insisted on seeing me every month. He seemed determined that he could make my brain at least a little less fucked up, but if it required basically any effort on my part I was against it. 

Like yeah, okay, maybe some of this shit would make my life better in the long run, but do you think I had enough spare energy to invest in my eventual betterment? I did not. Most of my energy for today, for example, had been invested in wearing slightly uncomfortable jeans and worrying about what I was going to say to Jethro if I saw him.

Maybe he could at least appreciate my ass from an aesthetic perspective. He was artistic like that.

And then Jethro did show up and he looked at me and I had no idea what to say.

But he did. He always did. “Hey, Cas! I didn’t know you’d be here today.”

Cas. Why did that sound so good when he said it? “Hey.”

Jethro wasn’t wearing any make up today, but he’d done a few tiny plaits throughout his hair. The necklace he was wearing was pink, yellow, and blue, a sharp contrast to the plain colours of his school uniform. “Doctor’s appointment again?”

“Yeah. Second Friday of every month.”

“I’ll add that to my calendar. You busy?”

I looked down at the math problem I’d been working on. It wasn’t even homework, I’d just been that bored. “Nope.”

“Cool. Well, I’m going to go microwave a sausage roll if you want to come hang out in the kitchen for a bit.”

I shut my notebook and tossed it in the general direction of my backpack. “Beats math.”

Jethro laughed as he led the way towards the kitchen. “Not exactly high praise, but I’ll take it.”

“Do you need to go tell your mum you’re here?”

“Nah. I think that’s pretty much assumed at this point.”

I sat down at the table and watched him get his sausage roll out of the fridge. “I’m surprised you’re here that often. Don’t you hang out with your friends at lunch?”

He turned around and leant against the counter as his sausage roll turned slowly in the microwave. “Ah, yeah, sometimes, but to be honest I need a bit of quiet time. I can be kind of high energy at times, and don’t get me wrong I do enjoy that, but it burns me out if I’m not careful.”

“Well, let me know if I’m intruding on your quiet time and I’ll leave you alone.”

Jethro smiled. “Pfft. Since when are you not quiet?”

“True. I’m glad my one skill is finally useful.”

“No, not like that.” Jethro came and sat across from me at the table. He leant his chest on it and let his arms splay out in front of him. “You’re just like… peaceful.”

“I have never been peaceful, ever, in my life.”

Jethro laughed. “No, just… I don’t know. You don’t make a big deal about things.”

“I find it hard to believe I’ve hidden my crippling anxiety that well.”

He laughed again and folded his arms in front of him so that he could rest his chin on them and look at me better. “Okay, I guess I should clarify. I tend to be pretty openly eccentric in how I present myself. Some people hate it and some people love it, but you just… accept it. Or, hey, maybe you’ve been silently judging me this whole time. I don’t know, right?”

I shrugged. It wasn’t like I hadn’t noticed, if that’s what he thought. I’d fucking noticed, Jethro. But any kind of big deal I might have made about it would have been embarrassing and gay. “I try not to judge people for things they do better than me, which is most things with most people. And style, with you? Definitely.”

The microwave beeped, but Jethro ignored it. “I don’t think style is something you can really compare on a scale of better or worse. Everyone just has their own.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

He laughed. “No! I mean, I’m sure professional fashion people would disagree, but whatever. I just want to be me and I think you being you is just as good.”

“Well, you have better hair than me. That’s objective fucking science.”

“I do like my hair. Yours is good too, though.”

“Mine’s a mess.”

“No, it’s not! It’s just…” He waved his hand in a vague gesture. “Wavy.”

“It’s terrible.”

Jethro put his elbow on the table and perched his chin on his fist. “If you don’t like it, then change it.”

“Well… I don’t know what to do to it.”

“Hmm…” Jethro tilted his head and looked me over. “An undercut, maybe?”

“What’s that?”

“Long on top and short around the back and sides. Here.” Jethro fiddled around on his phone for a few seconds and then held it up to show me some pictures. “I kind of wanted to get it done, but I like having my hair long enough to do different things.”

“You think that would look good on me?”

“I do.” The microwave gave an impatient beep and Jethro finally got up to get his sausage roll. “Doesn’t really matter what I think, though. This is about you being happy with how you look.”

“Well, pro, I do like the way it looks. But here’s a con… I’d have to spend more time at the hairdressers than I usually do while they restyle it.”

Jethro sat back down with his sausage roll. “Why is that a problem?”

“They always try to talk to me and it’s super awkward.”

“Well…” Jethro took a bite of his sausage roll and fell silent for a moment as he chewed and swallowed. “I can do it for you if you like.”

“You can cut hair?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ve been cutting my own hair for years and I’ve done it for friends a few times. That’s what I want to study after high school.”

Of course he had ambitions and plans and things he was passionate about. I just had hope that things would sort themselves out without any effort on my part and a sickly knowledge that they wouldn’t.

“Okay,” I said. “I mean, you can’t really make it look any worse, right?”

Jethro gave me a sad smile. “You know, I really wish you were as nice to yourself as you are to me.”

I had no idea what to say to that. He sounded a little like my psychiatrist, except that nobody had paid Jethro to give a shit so it was much harder to simply dismiss it.

“Anyway, when do you want to do this?” Jethro asked. “We could go back to my place after I get off school if you want.”

I hadn’t even considered that aspect of things, and if I had it would have made this decision much easier. Heck yeah you can potentially fuck up my hair as long as I get to see the inside of your bedroom. Not that I didn’t already have a good idea of what it looked like. Jethro’s texting style was around a quarter pictures.

“Uh... yeah, that’s fine. I just have to ask my dad, but I’m sure he won’t have a problem with it.”

What he would have were questions, because neither of my parents knew I’d been talking to Jethro. I’d been hoping to avoid that conversation indefinitely. They would definitely guess I was into him, because of course I was. I was gay and he was gorgeous. It wasn’t difficult to figure out.

So after Jethro had finished his sausage roll, I went into my dad’s office while Jethro lingered in the doorway.

“Dad?”

“Mm?” my dad said, his back to me as he read through his emails.

“Can I go over to Jethro’s house after he’s done with school?”

It seemed to take him a moment to actually process what I’d said, then he abruptly turned around. Jethro waved at him from the doorway.

“Oh,” my dad said. “Yes, of course. I didn’t know you two were friends.”

“Yeah, I’m full of secrets and hidden depths. I’ll let you know before I leave.”

I left before he could say anything else. He probably wouldn’t have said anything embarrassing in front of Jethro, but who could really be sure? Dads were dangerous and unpredictable like that.

Jethro sighed as we walked back out to the reception area. “I guess I’d better go now. I’ll see you in a couple of hours?”

“Yup.”

He smiled. “Great. Text me if you get bored. I have art and the teacher is super chill.”

I let out a long breath as he walked away. I felt so good it almost felt bad, like my body was so unused to excitement that it could only process it as anxiety. And, well, maybe there was also a fuckton of actual anxiety in there too. I’d never wanted something so badly in my life.

I sat down and got to work on something far harder than any math problem: trying to figure out what I was going to text Jethro.