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“Hello? Earth to Bram.”
Bram blinks and looks over at Garrett, who apparently has been trying to get his attention for some time now. “Sorry, what?”
“I said, we should go get dinner. It’s like, eight.”
Bram was surprised to hear that. Garrett had come over and spent the night after Bram had dragged him to the play last night, which clearly hadn’t been a good idea. Garrett had said as much, but when had Bram ever listened to Garrett? Maybe he should start.
“Dude, you have to get your mind off this,” Garrett said, shaking his head. “Or just fucking talk to him.”
“I can’t,” Bram said quietly. “He doesn’t want… I just can’t.”
Garrett just shook his head, clearly not about to rehash their entire conversation from last night. It had ended with Bram nearly crying, and to be honest, he was happy that Garrett wasn’t going to push it again. He just couldn’t do it.
Seeing Simon in the play, all three damn times, had not been a good idea. He hadn’t responded to Simon’s last two emails - he didn’t know what to say. Simon had thought he was Cal , was hoping, even. The thought made his stomach churn uncomfortably.
He had been hoping that he was wrong, that maybe Simon didn’t care about Cal and would call him or even just text him when he got the shirt and note Bram had left him, but he hadn’t. He couldn’t help but wonder if Simon had asked one of his friend’s if they had the number, and decided not to call when he found out it was Bram’s. There was no way he hadn’t seen it at this point - it had been two weeks since he had left it.
Bram had been moping, admittedly, ever since. He couldn’t help it. It felt like whiplash how everything had gone wrong in such a short time and when it had been so good for so long. He had spent days sitting in his room listening to Simon’s depressing music recommendations, which really did not help him feel better at all. But he didn’t really think he was shooting for feeling better, to be honest. He just wanted to sit in this and feel it and then hopefully let it go and move on. It was his only choice, really.
Garrett drove, cranking the radio and chatting away aimlessly, what he usually did to cheer Bram up. It worked too, like always. Bram pulled his phone out while Garrett pulled through the drive through and ordered just about ever taco on the menu. He hadn’t been on his phone all day - he was working on breaking the habit of checking it every two minutes, now that he and Simon weren’t emailing. It was weird and it made him feel a little bit empty sometimes, but he was learning.
Bram froze when he heard a ping , alerting him that he had a new email. His eyes were wide as they had ever been, and he glanced at Garrett to check if he had noticed.
“What? What is that look?” he asked.
“Um,” Bram said, clicking the email and blinking at it a few times. It was long, and the subject read “Us.”
“Did he text you?”
“No, um, he emailed.”
Garrett’s brows furrowed for a moment and then skyrocketed. “Dude, he literally has not found your number. I fucking told you it was dumb to tape it in there like that. What did he say? Is it-”
“Let me read it, hold the fuck on,” Bram said, his heart beating hard and fast in his chest.
FROM: [email protected]
DATE: Jan 25 at 9:27 AM
SUBJECT: Us.
Blue,
I’ve been writing and deleting and rewriting this email all weekend, and I still can’t get it right. But I’m going to do this. So here we go.
I know I haven’t written in a while. It’s been a weird couple of weeks.
So, first I want to say this: I know who you are.
I mean, I still don’t know your name, or what you look like, or all the other stuff. But you have to understand that I really do know you. I know that you’re smart and careful and weird and funny. And you notice things and listen to things, but not in a noisy way. In a real way. You overthink things and remember details and you always, always say the right thing.
And I think I like that we got to know each other from the inside out.
So, it occurred to me that I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about you and rereading your emails and trying to make you laugh. But I’ve been spending very little time spelling things out for you and taking chances and putting my heart on the line.
Obviously, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here, but what I’m trying to say is that I like you. I more than like you. When I flirt with you, it’s not a joke, and when I say I want to know you, it’s not just because I’m curious. I’m not going to pretend I know how this ends, and I don’t have a freaking clue if it’s possible to fall in love over email. But I would really like to meet you, Blue. I really want to try this. And I can’t imagine a scenario where I won’t want to kiss your face off as soon as I see you.
Just wanted to make that perfectly clear.
So, what I’m trying to say is that there’s an extremely badass carnival in the parking lot of Perimeter Mall today, and it’s apparently open until nine.
For what it’s worth, I’ll be there at six thirty. And I hope I see you.
Love,
Simon
“Holy fuck, man. Don’t leave me hanging like this,” Garrett said, after a minute. He had gotten their food and pulled into a parking space now, and was staring at Bram expectantly. “What did he say?”
“He’s at the carnival,” Bram said, still staring at his phone screen. “He wants me to come.”
“Oh, shit.”
“He’s been there for like two hours waiting for me, Garrett,” Bram’s voice was strained.
“Well shit,” Garrett laughed a little, which made Bram’s back tense up a little more. “Let’s go to the carnival.”
“Okay,” Bram said, his eyes wide and trained on Garrett.
Garrett drives quickly and Bram felt like his whole body was about to fall to pieces by the time Garrett pulled up to the entrance.
“Go get him,” Garrett said, slapping him on the shoulder.
“What if he left already?” Bram worried. “Or what if-”
“Just go, Greenfeld. He’s there, I know it.”
“Okay,” Bram said, sliding out of the car. “Thanks, Garrett.”
Garrett smiles at him and salutes.
Bram ran toward the entrance and bought a few tickets as quickly as possible. The woman selling the tickets looked a bit confused why he would come this close to closing, but he didn’t care. He ran through around a bit, looking and looking and looking. He didn’t see any sign of Simon or of Simon’s friends here, and he tried to think of where Simon would go - where Jacques would go. He glanced toward the Tilt-A-Whirl and felt his stomach clench when he saw Simon climbing into one of the pods. Of course he would be getting on the Tilt-A-Whirl.
He jogged over to went straight on to the ride, taking a fortifying breath as he approached Simon. This was it. This was the moment when he would finally lose his anonymity. There would be no more lies now, nothing to hide.
Simon’s eyes were closed and his head was leaned back as if he was going to sleep. Bram slid into the pod next to him and his hands were shaking.
“Can I sit here?” he asked.
Simon’s eyes shot open and he smiled softly, unbuckling the belt to let Bram in. He didn’t get it, Bram could tell.
“I like your shirt,” he said. He felt like he was about to start sweating, or have an aneurysm, or maybe both.
“Thanks,” Simon smiled politely. “It’s Elliott Smith.”
The operator pulled the guardrail down, effectively locking them in for the ride. Bram could already feel the bile rising in his throat at the thought of it.
“I know,” he said. His heart is pounding against his chest, threatening to break through and lurch to the floor of its own accord. Simon must be able to hear that something is off, because he turned and looked at Bram with a funny expression. It was like he was searching, trying to find something in Bram’s face. And then he did.
“It’s you,” he said quietly.
“I know I’m late,” Bram replied, his voice just as soft.
The ride lurches and they begin to rise.