Three: Rocket 

Rocket, who was actually called Asa but went by Rocket, was a man that Philo met in college. Rocket was a sweet guy with gentle brown eyes and dirty blond, spiky hair. He had light freckles all over his face and deep dimples in his cheeks. He was tall in stature, and he had gained a lot of muscle since Philo saw him last. He looked like he was doing well for himself. 

“I thought that was you! How have you been?” Rocket lights up, eyes crinkling and dimples on full display. “Mind if I sit down?”  

“Go for it.” Philo drops his feet down from the chair in which they were propped up. Rocket plops down in it, setting down a wrapped sandwich on the table. He sets his phone down, too. 

“So, how are you?” Rocket repeats, and Philo bites his lip.  

He hated this part of the conversation. The part where he had to lie about his situation. He couldn’t tell Rocket about his and Sara’s deal. He couldn’t tell Rocket that he could hardly look at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t tell Rocket he hardly ate anything anymore. He couldn’t tell Rocket he was barely getting by. 

Philo avoids Rocket’s eyes, and through his teeth, he lies. 

“I’ve been okay. You?”  

“I had to take a gap year from college.” The blond-haired man explains, unwrapping his sandwich and taking a bite.  

“How come? Don’t tell me you failed. I thought you were smart.” Philo teases, and Rocket laughs as he chews. 

“I wish it were because of my stupidity, but it’s not.” A pause, a strain in his voice. “My mom’s sick again.”  

“Ah, that’s right.” Philo’s mouth falls flat, and he feels terrible. Rocket’s mother had been diagnosed with cancer the year that Philo had met him. From what he knew, Rocket’s family could afford the treatment, and it had cleared up by the time Philo had dropped out of college. It was a fact that Philo had seemingly forgot, and he did not want to come off as insensitive. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright. I don’t mean to ruin the mood.” Rocket says, a smile still lingering on his mouth. Philo, honestly, hated that about Rocket. He was always too positive for Philo’s liking. Nothing truly bothered him, and nothing could ruin his hope. “Are you still living with your mom?” 

“No.” Philo sighs, rubbing at his temple. “I live with my... girlfriend and her little brother.”  

Philo feels nauseous saying it, but it was better than saying he lived with a stripper he met at a club. Rocket did not seem to notice his disgust, instead, a strange look settled on his face.  

“Girlfriend? What’s her name?’  

“Sara. She’s older.” Philo mumbles, hiding his mouth with his hand now. Rocket’s head tilts. 

“You like them older, huh?” He teases, but Philo doesn’t find it funny. And now, it’s awkward and strange between them. Philo had ruined it, whatever reunion they had going on, it felt like it was coming to an end, and it was because of him.  

Rocket adds delicately, “Sorry.” 

Philo lets out a little laugh, amazed. 

“Please don’t apologize for my awkwardness.” Philo tells him. “It’s just, things aren’t working out between us right now.”  

“I see.” Rocket hums, taking another bite of the sandwich.  

“What’re you doing, if you’re not in school?” Philo asks. 

In between bites, Rocket answers, “I work at a library. You should come by sometime.” 

Philo fondly thinks of Ian, nose in a book always. 

“I could bring Sara’s brother. He really likes to read.”  

Rocket perks up, sitting up a little in his chair and nodding enthusiastically.  

“Oh, yeah that’d be great, man! Just whenever you can.” Rocket finishes his sandwich now and reaches for his phone that he had set on the table beside him. Philo catches a quick glance at his lockscreen of him and his mother. It’s a picture of them together, and Rocket looks younger. They’re at a zoo, and Rocket has a little camera in his hands.  

The screen is also lit up with dozens of texts.  

“Have somewhere to be?” Philo asks, not impolitely. 

“Yes, actually. I’m sorry to cut this so short, but I need to head home.” Rocket grabs his trash and crumbles it in his hands. Then, for a minute, he pauses, his hands hovering with his phone still open to the texts. He glances to Philo, and a brave look overcomes his face. “We should exchange numbers.”  

He says it like Philo has no choice, so Philo opens his phone and slides it across the table. He has it open to the contact page.  

“You have a flip phone? Cool.” Rocket says. He types in his number and adds his name at the top. Philo watches him with a little smile. Once Rocket is done, he hands Philo his phone back. 

“Text me whenever you plan on stopping by the library. And bring the kid, what’s his name?” Rocket talks fast, trying to get everything in before he actually has to leave. 

“Ian.”  

“Right. Bring Ian.” With a wave of his hand, Rocket heads down the street, and Philo watches until he disappears around the corner.  

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽ ☆ ☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ 

Philo makes it back to Sara’s around seven-thirty. He knows Sara likely hasn’t left yet, but he was exhausted and wanted to lay down. He made it through the alleyway leading up to the apartment just fine, but now as he stood before the stairs leading up to it, he felt nervous.  

But Ian was out on the porch with Smoky. He was feeding him what cat food they had left. It wasn’t a lot. Philo needed to go grocery shopping soon. He had around five thousand saved up in his bank account, all from odd jobs and helping around at the club sometimes.  

His plan was to save up enough to get a place of his own. Far, far away from Sara. Until then, he would help her out and buy groceries. 

 He climbed up the stairs and watched as Ian finished filling Smoky’s bowl.  

“Have you done your homework yet?” Ian spun around, startled.  

“No, not yet.” he says shamefully. 

“Is your sister home?”  

“No. She just left.” Philo hums at this. She must not have wanted to see him either, then. “She was pretty mad.” 

Philo changes the subject. 

“What class is your homework for?”  

“Pre-Cal.”  

“Do you need some help?” Ian smiles gently at Philo and nods. “Then, come on. I’ll help you.”  

Later, when Philo is curled up on the blow-up, he hears Sara come in through the front door. It’s around three in the morning when she gets done at the club. Usually, she comes and wakes Philo up and drones on about her day at work, makes him listen even if he can barely keep his eyes open. 

Tonight, she says nothing. She showers and heads to bed without a word. Philo lays as still as he can, but he can imagine his panicked breathing was audible enough for her. She had gotten upset at him once, for pretending to be asleep. 

He heads to the porch after she’s in her room and lights a cigarette. His stomach was killing him, as he had not eaten all day. His body was growing weak, but he couldn’t help but feel that he deserved it. For letting himself be treated this way, for not doing anything about it. For being a coward. 

Hesitantly, he pulls out his phone and stares at Rocket’s contact.  

Talking with him earlier had felt nice to Philo. It felt natural, normal. It was something he desperately felt he needed. 

To Rocket (3:22am): 

Hey.