“KENNY!” Lane gasped in relief as he yanked the front door open. Kenny screamed bloody murder and jumped back nearly five feet, clutching his head as if it were going to fall off. Lane’s hair was still damp from a shower and awfully unkempt. Instead of his usually organized soft side part, his hair hung all over in carrot-like jags, shagging over his eyes like some drunken punk or hippie so that his green eyes emerged in weird fragmented slits from the small spaces in between. When Kenny looked closer, he noticed that Lane’s eyeliner had only rubbed off half way, making him look as if he had gotten two black eyes. Through this, Kenny realized that whatever state Lane was in, it was an extreme one and wondered whether he was up to the task of calming him down. Noticing that he had been standing aghast for quite some time, he pulled a forced grin to try and hide the fact that he thought Lane looked dastardly.

“I’m sorry, I’m still in my dressing gown” Lane said stepping aside for Kenny to enter. He twisted backward at his hip in an unnatural angle to review his lean calves and feet, then flicked up the lavender fluff-ended silk sleeves to examine his porcelain arms and nails. The robe itself reached only half-way down Lane’s thighs, the deep V-neck at the wrap’s intersection exposing his bare flat chest, the sternum pressing against his skin as he breathed in. Kenny decided that whistling would be the least appropriate thing to do as of the current situation. Lane squished and itched his eyes with the back of his palms and groaned. He suddenly turned full degrees to face Kenny in full interest, his pupils dilated under the curtain of his snaggy wet mane. “Is that….is that ice cream?” he peered. The plastic bag had become transparent with condensed water, giving insight of what it contained.

“I-I brought you some” Kenny offered it willingly, his fingers sore under its weight.  Lane didn’t take it. He stood with his back bent at approximately at an angle of hundred-and-twenty, his neck crooked a little lower and his hands wringing the neckline of his dressing-gown.

“One litre or two?” he finally asked after a long overbearing stare.

“One?” Kenny responded, unsure where exactly the conversation was going. He let his grip loose as Lane took the bag and then the tub of ice cream out.

“Fair enough” with that, he whisked away towards the kitchen, leaving Kenny in the dust – completely lost all together.

“He’s lost it, Kenny” Lois said as she walked briskly across where he stood, “absolutely bonkers! Don’t go around catching that too!”

“I won’t” Kenny promised as Lois left for the TV which echoed sad romantic music backing up a smooth Japanese voice. Shaking his head in knowingness, his attention caught up to Lane who returned- the tub open in one hand and a large ice cream scoop in the other with which he rolled a perfect sphere and plopped into his mouth, reminding Kenny of the way snakes swallow eggs. As much as Kenny wanted to say something - he didn’t and followed Lane up the stairs to his room.

“Feeling better?” Kenny asked as he watched Lane eat scoop after scoop after scoop, the lines of worry across his forehead carving out deeper into his skin.

“Oh, Kenny I’m done for!” Lane shrieked and threw himself onto the bed, his legs flying in the air, the robe rolling upward, revealing whatever was left of his legs out on display. Kenny did his best to keep looking Lane in the eye, his palms getting all sweaty and his throat parched…Lane hugged the tub of ice cream to his chest tighter despite the cold. “My mom!” Lane cried, “She came into my room! I-I I told her I might’ve been crying because of accidently getting drunk but but- Kenny I told her!!!” He sat up and slammed his dearest ice cream onto the bed-side table, “I told her everything!” Kenny stared after Lane with his mouth wide open.  He had no inkling of an idea of what to say- some comforter he was!

“What happened then?” he asked softly, reaching out to hold Lane’s hand. Lane only waved the touch away and stood up, starting to pace and walk around in speedy circles. He started rambling something, the words coming out of his mouth knotted into one another yet also completely unrelated. “Som taký hlúpy! Kašlem na svoj život!”. Now that Kenny didn’t understand remotely a syllable of. Kenny could only hear either the beginning or end of a sentence, the other half always losing its place in line against another thought that skipped ahead in the back of Lane’s head. ‘As long as he doesn’t go back to that ice cream’ Kenny exhaled, glancing every once or twice at the container with the regret of having brought it in the first place.

“Nothing” Lane shrugged finally answering Kenny’s question, “she just nodded, said she understood and left”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Kenny asked cautiously, “She knows and accepts it! That’s great!”

He jerked around in a way that would have made a normal person fall dizzy -  his face contorting as if he had been insulted, and leapt forward into Kenny’s lap, pressing his forehead with Kenny’s. “But I know it!” he said quieter, brushing his fingertips down Kenny’s cheek, making Kenny’s brow furrow and cheeks flush. All this dramatic nonsense was reminding Kenny of those god-awful soap operas he had to bear and watch with his brother a few weeks back. He had to be honest, it was quite goofy no matter how serious the dilemma was. He had to stifle a laugh a number of times. He was definitely going to have to get used to humoring this.

“She can’t bear it! She’ll tell Papa and I’ll be sent to guard the queen and vow to never fall in love!”

“Lane,” Kenny pointed out, “those are the Hunters of Artemis”.  From the glare and eye roll Lane gave him, Kenny concluded that he had taken the wrong point. He cleared his throat awkwardly and sat with his mouth zipped from there on. He knew very well that despite being scary and overbearing, Mr. and Mrs. Kalchik were two of the most progressive parents one could ask for. Lane had been out to them for years and they protected him like gold. Lane buried his face in Kenny’s neck, the same way he had done earlier that night except this time it was of fear and exhilaration. And when he did, it felt like some of Lane’s woes and pain conducted through and into Kenny with a painful pang. Kenny hugged him back the same way, stroking the back of Lane’s neck. The poor thing was shivering rapidly, small plucks of whimpers escaping his vocal chords. He reminded Kenny of Ava when he got spooked of fireworks and he had no idea what to do. Denny’s words “Wives-high maintenance” sang from one of Kenny’s ears to the other. It was rude but, Kenny had to admit to himself that out of all the wives he had met, Lane would destroy their maintenance plans instantly. He grunted in disagreement with his own thought process- he was just tired of the long day-and glanced down at his friend still holding onto him so tight his bony knuckles almost ripped through his clear skin. It was that tug again- the tug that Kenny loved. It made him remember all the times Lane had listened to him rant: about school, about something that had happened at home, about the weather! If Kenny can’t handle Lane at his lowest then he didn’t deserve Lane at all. He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them repeatedly, hoping it would press out all the sleepiness they had been harbouring inside, finding all new strength to get his friend back on his feet. He breathed in Lane’s sweet shampoo, snuggling his nose lovingly into Lane’s damp hair to try and console him. He seemed to calm down a bit when Kenny did that, his breath steadying and the unaware chokehold he was giving Kenny slowly loosening. “Your parents have supported you for years, Lane” Kenny reminded, whispering it into his ear.