Chapter Text
His room is a mess.
It’s almost comforting. Everything is in a giant circle that goes from his bed out to the walls. It’s like a nest, everything tucked against each other and fashioned to stand without a hand needed to hold it.
He takes me to his bed and we both sit down. He has books by his pillow, all of them related to cybernetics. Every one of them has tabs that hang out, his handwriting scrawled on them.
He takes the stack and smiles. “I’ll move these here.”
He dumps them into the floor.
They make a heavy thud as they hit, but he doesn’t mind. He just looks back at me.
“So?”
I blink back. I don’t want to start this. I don’t even know why I did this.
“Are you okay?”
The question isn’t what I’m expecting. I don’t mean to laugh. It’s not funny, really. Because I’m not. I’m not okay at all. My dad looks at me like he hates me and my parents can’t manage to gasp out the word gay and my brain is so loud and it won’t stop telling me I’m worthless and I just want all of this to stop stop stop.
I don’t realize I have my head in my hands until I start crying and Flo awkwardly pats my neck. He gets up and moved around a bit, and returns with a blanket and some kind of fidget. He wraps the blanket around me and sets the toy by my knee.
“I don’t know how to comfort. I’m sorry.”
His honesty is more than anything. I’ve never told anyone, but he’s my favorite too.
“It’s okay.”
He lets me cry. When I calm down he asks if I want the lights turned off. I say no. He just sits there, watching me.
“I feel like…”
I’ve never had to describe it before. My brain isn’t something I fully understand. How do you describe something you don’t understand?
“It’s so loud. Up here.” I tap my forehead. “I just… I don’t know how to stop it.”
He nods. “Okay.”
“It’s just… everything is so hard. I don’t want to eat or get up or talk to people. It’s just so difficult.”
He takes the fidget he offered me. He folds it over and over, and I watch it continuously fold without ever getting smaller.
“What does your brain say?”
“That I’m-“ My voice catches. It’s so hard. Why is this so hard? “That I’m worthless.”
More tears are welling up. Flo tucks his knees to his chest, frowning. “Okay. Well, that’s not true.”
I almost laugh. But I don’t. Because it feels true. What have I supplied the world? What could I supply the world? I’m failing most classes in school. Most teachers- or adults in general- don’t like me.
“Everyone hates me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“But everyone else.”
“What do they have to hate you for?”
“Because I like guys. And-and I’m bad at everything.”
He blinks at me. “You’re not bad at everything. There has to be at least one thing you’re good at.”
“No there’s not.”
He sighs. It’s oddly… maternal?
“There is. You’re good at makeup.”
“I’ve only done it once.”
“You were good at it.”
I start crying again. He offers me the fidget again. I turn it away.
“Is it loud now?”
Of course it is. It’s telling me I’m manipulating him. It’s telling me that he hates me. It’s telling that I’m just making it up.
I just nod. He clicks his tongue for a second. “Have you told your mom?”
“Not really.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a liar.”
He shakes his head. “You’re not.”
“I am.”
“Want me to tell your mom to come here?”
He would? He’d let someone into his space for me?
I shake my head. He gets up. “I will anyway. Wait here. Do you want some water?”
Now that’s he’s mentioned it, I’m so thirsty. My throat is so dry and it feels like everything in my mouth is trying to glue itself together.
“Please.”
“Okay. Wait here.”
He goes. I curl up on his bed.
And I wait.