“Damn,” Evan says. “That sounds nice.” So is he saying he cries a lot? The image of Evan crying feels like a kick to David’s throat. No, stop—don’t get distracted again. See, it was good he was paying attention, because Evan’s steps are hesitant, and there’s an intersection.

“Yeah,” David says. “I guess.” Before he can stop himself, he veers left.

It’s that path along the Charles that leads into Boston if you keep going in the right direction for long enough. The sun is getting much lower now, dipping into the canopy. 

“It’s really pretty out here,” Evan says, and David nods. Something large and heavy is darting around in David’s chest. He glances over at Evan, who is a good several inches shorter. He’s smiling, looking out at the river. Evan’s lips really are red, David thinks. 

They’re going slow, way slower than they really should. David tells another story about “Asher;” this time he stole it from a Youtube video, but neither his mind or his heart are really in it. He can tell Evan’s not really paying much attention either, though. David knows because his mind is occupied by Evan instead. His glasses reflect the golden sunlight flowing through the leaves overhead like water, scattering the colors like perfect, pearly black gems. Underneath his glasses, Evan’s face appears deeply relaxed and comfortable. David hates the meditation shit they’ve made him too at school too many times, but he can’t help but notice how present Evan appears. I make him comfortable, David’s brain notes, and the large heavy thing in his chest hits a side of his ribcage like a screensaver. The prospect of him comforting Evan makes him elated. Chill out, he tells himself. You already knew this; you’re friends. But still David feels strangely proud.

The two arrive at a small pier extending over the river. Evan hesitates, then turns left to take the detour. David follows.

Evan sits down on the edge, letting his feet dangle above the water. David follows suit to his side and realizes they both stopped talking a few minutes ago. David figures he is seeing the whole galaxy in front of him, then. There are ducks below them, circling slowly through the lily pads and branches hanging out from the bank. And the water, the water, the water. Reflecting and refracting the sunset, breathing in rays of sunlight like oxygen and exhaling them as newly transformed paint. And of course, Evan, Evan, Evan—Did anything else ever matter? David figures he could maybe tell Evan everything right now. Every single lie he’s told. If he can recall them all. But maybe he could try. He wants to tell him he’s sorry. But he’s too deep now, isn’t he? Telling the truth now would only make things worse. Evan would hate him, and then Evan would tell everyone, and then everyone would hate him. He’s spent every second of social interaction weaving a grand tapestry of lies ten times more intricate than the scene in front of him, with the sole intention of protecting his own skin. If even one thread gets pulled, David would be fully exposed. And then Evan would know who he really was underneath. He would never forgive him. Better to stay out of trouble. Better to make sure everyone really loves him. Better to just hide it all. David feels the branches of the trees and the ducks and the colors push them closer together. Cradled by the pinks and the purples and the aquas and all the other colors David’s grand tapestry would never allow, David finds he can’t move, and that he is suddenly very aware of his arm on the side closest to Evan. And he is also very aware of Evan. He is very, very aware of Evan.

Something touches his hand. It’s Evan’s. He really can’t move now. He doesn’t want this—no, he can’t want this. But that thing in his chest is getting faster now, and Evan in his peripheral is becoming even more defined, and he figures that if everything fell apart maybe Evan wouldn’t mind seeing the scared, spineless boy underneath.

He wants to scream—but isn’t that more what he should be feeling? He really is feeling something different. Shit, he’s a dude, he shouldn’t be feeling any of this. Not towards Evan. He should be able to walk away from all of this, easy. He shouldn’t be feeling anything at all. But there’s something about this one feeling, this one time, that he just can’t lift up his head, square his shoulders, and walk away from.

No, he knows what it is. It’s Evan. It’s always been Evan, hasn’t it? It’s always been him, his perfect glasses and his perfect hair and his perfect face and his perfect lips. He’s looking at Evan now, and he finds he can’t look away from those beautiful lips. He’s never seen someone’s lips so perfectly smooth, not even a girl’s with lipstick…Evan’s other hand slides from underneath David’s chin to turn his face towards him, and David’s shaking limbs are suddenly trumped by a striking sense of rightness. Looking into Evan’s lips, David figures that this might be the most right he’s ever felt. David looks up from Evan’s lips to see him staring into David’s eyes with that look he’s given David a million times.

David can’t move. He can’t even think. He can only feel, and see—those lips and those eyes and those glasses—and he can feel Evan’s hands pulling them together….

Colin is behind them. He’s laughing. “Dude, what the fuck is going on,” the boy in the blue hoodie chuckles, walking towards them, shoulders relaxed and hands shoved in pockets. The colors crash down and David lets go in a fraction of a second, ears going bright red. He’s sure he’s going to throw up now, or maybe fall forwards into the river and let the water take care of him. The tapestry is doomed. Pieces will fall out faster than he pulled away.

Colin opens his mouth again, laughter intermittently interrupting his words. “Holy shit. You guys looked so. Fucking Gay. Oh my god.” More laughter.

It clicks, and David’s head clears. He sees a way out. Out from Evan. Out from Colin. An out for that fucking tapestry. That’s all that matters now. David’s been practicing his whole life for this. David knows what to say.

David laughs. “Bro, are you fucking kidding me. Worst time to find us, holy shit.” He gets up and walks over to Colin, leaving Evan sitting there on the pier. David hears Evan standing up, turning around, making some sort of noise. But David can’t pay attention to that now. “Where’d you even come from, anyway?”

“I called my mom and she said I could stay out for a bit,” Colin says quickly. “So I went back to Jacob’s, and he said you guys went this way.” Colin doesn’t waste time getting to the point. “But what about that gay shit! Bro, bro, bro.”

“I was tryna’ show him some shit Asher showed me, bro,” David says. “It’s one of those stupid fucking pranks, he did it to me this summer.” He laughs. “Want me to show you?” His performance is flawless. His execution is that of a professional’s. “I’m not gay, dude,” Colin says, still smirking. “I’m good, actually. I’m pretty fucking good.” Then, “I swear, find one normal f—— at school. You can’t! They’re all weird as fuck.” David starts walking with Colin, leaving Evan behind in that way that typically makes David’s stomach curl. “But you’re not one of them.” Then, teasingly, “Riiight?”

David bursts out laughing. “Dude, I am not a f—. I am not a fucking f—. Don’t worry. Damn.”

David doesn’t hear Evan follow.