Chapter 4 - Absent

So this is going to be the first chapter that you get that doesn't have me in one of the major plot points. Congratulations! You've made it this far. I don't actually know whether or not congratulations is in order because this isn't the kind of thing I'd recommend to anyone should they be given the chance. Which confuses me a bit because why am I writing this? But the fact is that I am and that if you've made it this far you're reading it and so I both congratulate and apologize to you. Right, you get it. Moving on!

No, but the point I was trying to get to that I never actually did is that for the second part of this chapter I'm not present and I can only write with floating bits of dialogue and emotions that I've been told, but I'll try as hard as I can to make it seem like you're watching and understand as much as possible, even though you won't. It'll be a kind of third-person omniscient deal that doesn't describe nearly enough. Gah, I'm a horrible writer. I just told you the perspective it'll be told at. Writers aren't supposed to do that.

Regardless of how confusing or difficult to get interested this story may become due to my absence during vital scenes like this chapter will have, they are, as was just mentioned, vital.

But we'll start by getting home. When we left off, Kyle was picking me up from Sam's trailer and we were driving home. When we walked through our front door, there was delicious smell wafting through the air. It smelled like melting chocolate and warm fuzzies and hugs. All right, maybe I'm overexaggerating, but that's what good writers do, right? Exaggerate and then add it to simple events to make them seem more profound. This smell wasn't profound, though, so I'm not sure why I'm exaggerating.

Anyways, we walked in and smelled the air, and I shouted, "COOKIES!"

Blake's voice came back, "Too hot to eat right now!"

Now, if you've ever had the pleausre of smelling cookies with warm, melty chocolate chips and what is certain to be a divine taste and glorious texture, and they've been made by someone you know makes amazing cookies, it's not going to have mattered to you that they are "too hot to eat". You want those cookies. Of course, you might burn some taste buds, but it's warm cookies. Dip them in cold milk and you're good to go.

And that was what I intended to do. The first thing I did was bolt into the kitchen and reach for the fridge handle, not bothering to slip off my shoes first, and attempt to open it to get the milk when an arm shot out and stopped me. Blake smirked when I stumbled back but reached out and steadied me all the same. "I said, too hot to eat right now. I didn't say get a glass of milk and eat them anyways."

"But why not?" I whined in true teenage style.

"They'll fall apart, they're really soft," Blake explained, taking the arm and wrapping it around my torso to spin me around. "But I'll tell you what. You and Kyle go pick a movie, and I'll get glasses of milk and the cookie trays and be out there by the time it starts."

"What kind of movie?" Kyle asked from the doorway as he was passing by. "Disney, rom-com, musical, horror?"

"Aladdin!" I exclaimed, excited now. Maybe it was the over-hyper feeling of joy that came from dancing like a half-mad baboon with Sam and Annette, but I was having a lot of difficulty toning down the enthusiasm.

And so I bounced on the floor in front of the TV on a rug until Kyle began the movie and sat next to me because we always sing along to 'A Whole New World' (because I told you his singing is flawless) on a magic carpet I mean rug so it's more authentic. Although honestly I really don't know why we bother with that tiny detail because there is absolutely nothing else authentic about our reenactment.

But after we sang it (and had eaten a good half of the cookies), I started calming down; possibly because I'd just spent all the energy I'd had on a performance nobody but my household heard and was therefore annoyed by, or because I was just already really sick of school and it had drained me; it didn't matter. I sat on the couch next to Blake and Kyle sat on my other side.

Now we get to the good stuff. I'm going to list these incidents in chronological order in the hopes it makes them easier to understand by repeatedly using the same wording and phrases so it really does seem like a list and not just a listing because the two are entirely different and if you don't agree you are of course entitled to your opinion but your opinion is wrong.

The first one is what I like to call, 'The Double Arm Around'. It occurs when two people are sitting on either side of someone else, and one of them has their arm resting on the back of the couch, and the other person does the same thing. As it happened at this point in time, Blake was the one with his arm on the back, and Kyle was the second person. I saw it but didn't think anything of it. They looked at each other for a moment in contemplative silence before Kyle jokingly shoved Blake's arm off the couch so he could have the space. It resulted in a mini-war. I rolled my eyes at them.

The second is what I like to call, 'The Accidental Footsie'. It occurs when a person is slipping off their shoes or stretching their feet or doing something else with their ankles or legs or something and they brush against the other person's feet in the process. As it happened at this point in time, Kyle was the one slipping off his socks without using his hands because he is a lazy b*****d, and my feet, having been pulled under our couch (which was one of those ones held high off the ground), were out of the way, and so he brushed against Blake's. They looked at each other for a moment in contemplative silence before Blake jokingly kicked Kyle's foot away so he could have his space. It would have resulted in a mini-war but as the internet says, "das gay".

This is about the time I got up to go to the bathroom. As far as I know, nothing else occurred between that last awkward physical contact and the ones I saw next. I went away and came back and sat on Kyle's other side because he and Blake were fighting over the remote and were sitting right next to each other, trying to take it from the other's hand. I plucked it from between their graps when they didn't see me and sat down with it.

The third is what I like to call, 'The Leg Hair Touch'. It occurs when two people, usually males but not always, subconsciously spread their legs a little wider as they slouch in their seats, and their legs or leg hair or sometimes knees touch each other lightly. As it happened in this point in time, it was pretty much exactly like that, but it was a moment before either one of them jerked away. I didn't think anything of it. I was busy shouting at Aboo for being a dumbass. I don't see how this one could have possibly resulted in a mini-war but I'm sure somehow it could have so it should have ended in a mini-war but didn't.

The fourth is what I like to call, 'The Simultaneous Snack Rack'. It occurs when two people reach for a snack at the same time, especially when that snack is the last of its kind. As it happened at this point in time, it was exactly like I just described. There was one cookie left - one delicious, buttery, filling, chocolate-chip cookie - and both Blake and Kyle reached for it at the same moment. They both had their eyes glued to the screen determinedly. I think they were in a contest to see who could not be destracted the most. But that contest was shattered the moment their fingers almost intertwined over the cookie. Blake had reached his hand out flat and with his figners spread widely, and Kyle's fingers were curved and went automatically through the slots between Blake's. This time they pulled back immeidately, but there was yet another moment of contemplative silence before a full-on war raged over the cookie. When Kyle got distracted and Blake pushed him over like they'd both been trying to do for the cookie, I leaned over Kyle's head now in my lap and popped the cookie into my mouth.

After Aladdin, I went to finish the homework I never did complete, and I never did complete it. But that wasn't the last instance of awkward physical contact, oh, heavens no, it was just the last one I happened to see that night. I started reading a John Green book in my room, though, so you can't blame me for not seeing the others. Seriously. That's like blaming someone for not seeing fireworks on television because they're homeless and in Antarctica. Sometimes you just can't get there to see it. That's actually a pretty good metaphor. I think I'll use it again sometime. Not in the book, because that would be too familiar and you'd get bored, but out loud definitely. That's clever. I'm clever. And sarcastic. But you've got that. Right. Moving on!

This is the part where it kind of gets away from first-person and I actually have to narrate instead of just tell. Or show. Which is the rule. Show Don't Tell. You heard me say that in the prologue, right? Or was it the first chapter? Damn it, I can't even remember what I've written and where and when I've written. Some writer. Feel free to laugh at me. I do it all the time. It's kind of fun. Moving on! This isn't going to be the most detailed account of events, nor will most of this book because I was absent at the time, and I'll always try to warn you before that happens. You're going to want details I can't give. But I'll try. I might make some up. Lies never hurt anybody. Finding out the truth about people lying or the truth people lied about hurts people, but lies do not inherently hurt unless you're calling someone worthless or soemthing like that, in which case it's just a twisted and wrong perception of truth and not, in and of itself, a lie, because the sayer might believe it to some small degree, no matter how insane it is.

I left the room and Kyle started helping Blake carry dishes into the kitchen.

The fifth is what I like to call 'The Arm Swing Gone Wrong'. It occurs when someone is swinging their arm/arms, generally when walking by or to something, and another person is close enough for them to either brush their hands together or basically hit their crotch. As it happened in this point in time, Blake got to the sink before Kyle did, dropped his dishes in, and turned around with his arm swinging, only to once more accidentally lace his hand with Kyle's. )Wow. That happened a lot. Accidental hand-holding. Surprisingly frequent. Hm. Interesting.) Kyle's hand had been by his side because he'd only been carrying the glasses and only with one hand (because he is an idiot). They stood for a moment in contemplative silence, and then, oddly enough, Kyle actually placed the cups into the sink and they were still for about half a minute before either of them pulled away.

Spec. U. Late.

No, really.

Spec.

U.

Late.

Three. Different. Words.

("Okay, El, we get it already, now do that thing where you say 'Moving on!' and MOVE THE F**K ON!")

When they did eventually pull away, Kyle cleared his throat, and said, "So I checked out the biggest book on constellations the library had."

That got Blake's attention, not that it had been diverted before.

"I was wondering," Kyle said, trailing off slightly, unsure, before picking back up, "If maybe you'd... you'd teach me. You know, like your mom used to do with you, so maybe you won't miss it anymore, but this time you get to be the teacher."

Kyle was a bit nervous at this point, though he had no clue what he was nervous about, so he missed how Blake was fighting a smile and spoke with amusement when he said, "It's not dark yet."

"It doesn't need to be," Kyle hurried to say. "We could go up to the roof with a quilt and the book and start reading about certain ones you think we'll see tonight. Their stories and whatnot. So we can go over them when the stars come out."

"Why?"

Kye struggled to find the words. "It's just, you're my friend, and I heard how sad you were when you talked about the stars like you did, and I just... just didn't want to hear you... sad... anymore?" he finished in a question.

Fighting the smile proved impossible for Blake. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Are you Mrs. Lightcap?" Kyle asked sourly, nervosity gone and replaced with dark irritation. Nobody likes Mrs. Lightcap. She's one of those teachers who tries to always be funny and ends up just hurting a lot of kids' feelings and then can't teach worth s**t but always repeats those stupid rules like Show Don't Tell and Are You Asking Me Or Telling Me. I'm a better writer than she is. And she teaches AP Lit. How sad is that?

"God, no," Blake shook his head, smile turning to a grimace. "Sorry. But I - yeah. Sure."

And so that night, Blake and Kyle spread a quilt out on the roof, and opened that huge book, sitting side-by-side close enough that it was resting on both of their laps, and they watched the sunset. And then they laid on the quilt and pointed and stared and talked about the stars.

"See, that one, right there," Blake said, pointing. "Which one is that?"

"Um..." Kyle murmured, squinting and then changing his mind and widening his eyes to try and see better. "Did we go over that one?"

"Yes, it was one of the first ones we did," Blake answered. Their voices were soft and their words softer somehow. Do you know that mood, where you're sleeping over at a friend's house, and you're all ready to fall asleep, and right as you're about to, your best friend tells you something in a tone that implies that it's perfectly casual even though you know it must have carried so much more weight than that, and there's that moment with no sound but even breathing and suddenly it seems like their problem can be fixed simply by being recognized? That's what this felt like to Kyle and Blake; it felt like that moment of silence where a problem that wasn't too big or heavy had been admitted and was then being universally recognized and taken care of. Kyle was taking care of Blake. And I suppose Blake was taking care of Kyle, too, simply by being there.

"Is it..." Kyle switched back to squitning before sighing and giving up. "I don't recognize it. Sorry -"

"No, it's fine, we just started a little bit ago so it's okay to forget it," Blake reassured him immediately. "It's Corona Austrina. Do you remember what the translation is?"

"Oh, Corona Austrina, duh," Kyle breathed, familiar with the name. "Isn't that 'the Southern Crown'?"

"Yes!" Blake laughed easily, the bell-like tones ringing out in the air. "Fantastic. And that one?"

"Draco," Kyle replied without a moment of doubt. "Like in Harry Potter."

"Except this one isn't a bigoted pureblood supremist who happened to have had a terrible upbringing and too much on his plate at too young of an age," Blake agreed with him somewhere in that statement, I think. "And it means?"

"Dragon," Kyle said. "Easiest one to remember so far."

"And that one?"

"Hercules," Kyle said after a momentary pause. "Right? It's hard to tell."

"Great!" Blake rewarded him excitedly, his fingers curling around his wrist and squeezing, forgetting, for a moment, that he really wasn't supposed to. "And I don't think we need to go over that, do we?"

The quiet reigned again, with crickets chirping in the yards and leaves rustling in the still air accompanying it, the night seeming to be frozen in time, as if right there on that roof everything would last forever.

"No," said Kyle finally. "But it's always nice to."

"Always?"

"I'm assuming," Kyle said, a small bark of laughter emphasizing the words unintentionally. "I guess we'll find out eventually if we like going over the stories, huh? If we keep this up."

"I used to. All the time. The stories and trnaslations were my favorite parts," Blake confessed, and Kyle's head rolled to the side so he could study the way Blake's long eyelashes grazed his high cheekbones when he blinked, and how he blinked slowly and the the shadows around his face playfully, the moonlight and stars above enough light to see the silhouette of Blake right beside him. It didn't matter; less than a silhouette would have been enough. Kyle would have known Blake's silhouette in a room cast in shadow.

"I wonder what mine will be," Kyle mused lightly, eyes tracing the outline of his jaw, the slope of his lips.

"Probably me," Blake joked, and turned his head to the side, not knowing he had. Kyle could feel his breath gently washing over his lips when he breathed, but when their eyes locked his breath caught and Kyle's lips felt bare.

"In all honesty?" he said. "Probably."

I told you that Blake had taken Kyle's wrist and was holding it; his hand slid down of its own accord and laced itself into Kyle's then, the gesture simple and small but at the same time humongously profound, the way that silence is that they basked in. They let that silence carry them to sleep, and when they woke up - comfortably, thanks to the warm autumn weather - they were just in time to see the vibrant reds and yellows of the sun rising, and not just the pinks and purples of it setting they'd see before, nor the thin silk sheet of darkness embroidered with small, sparkling lights they'd looked at all night.

And now back to me.

I didn't wake up to see the sunset. I barely woke up for breakfast. The fact that I woke up at all that day was impressive, considering that I'd fallen asleep at five after finishing Looking for Alaska for the upteenth time, crying, again. But I did wake up with enough time to grab a banana off the counter and scarf it down, tossing it into the yard right as the bus pulled up and I had time to hop on. I noticed something was off about Kyle, seriously off, and it bugged me for the remainder of the day, even when I asked about it in the hall and he said he was fine like I was insane, and it wasn't until the end of the day when I saw his awkward and stiff wave to Blake that I figured it out.

I didn't say anything. It wasn't my place to. When Kyle wanted it said, he'd say it, and most likely to me. And it was pretty clear Blake would have to say it, too.

Speculate. Or don't bother. I don't care at this point. Because this is where things start getting sad.