Chapter Text
I drag my hand across my face.
On one hand I am glad that I’ve been saved a conversation and on the other I’m exasperated with the nuisance that I’ve been head over heels for god knows how many years.
My phone starts to ring; it was probably the bitch called ‘my psychiatrist’. She’s been… concerned lately.
It’s a fair enough fear.
I’m out in my car skipping lunch with my closest friends and instead doing what feels like the equations they had us do in pre-algebra. I try. I really do but I give in and use my phone’s calculator. And thankfully, if I run the mile and skip my meager lunch, I would be able to have a snack with the inbestigators and my dinner. Win for skipping breakfast!
The phone rings again. Shit. I rush to pick up and- it’s Kyle. It’s Kyle. Thank god.
"Ky! Erm whatcha need love?"
"Ez,"-please don't be those dreaded words-" do you want to go to the cinema on Saturday? Or Friday or-"
"Saturday works for me. I ha- I have to go now. Lo... Stay safe." I don't know why I struggle to say those three or even two words, eight and seven letters respectively, they're all I ever think about when I see him. The furrow in his brow when he's thinking about something, the slight lopsidedness in his grin, his laugh, his talent in sport, and all the other things. I, Ezra Banks, love him. Every part.
The problem is me. Always has been.
So I'm fixing that. In whatever way I can.