Chapter Text
Mizael’s always been an easy cryer. He cries when he’s happy, he cries when he’s excited, he cries when he’s angry and he cries when he’s sad. So when he shows up at Durbe’s house that morning with a handful of acceptance letters, asking him where he’s thinking of going, and he replies with a casual “Probably just Heartland State”, Durbe knows exactly where the conversation is heading. There’s about a split-second where Durbe thinks he’s gotten away with it, before all thoughts of mercy are dispelled by the nasty scowl on Mizael’s face.
And then it starts.
“Why Heartland State?” Mizael’s voice has risen to an angry shout, “Why not Astral U or even U of Heartland?”
Durbe shrugs, “Didn’t apply to those.”
Mizael just blinks slowly. When he speaks again, his face is blank and his voice is uncharacteristically even, “Then where did you apply?”
“Heartland State.”
There’s a stretch of silence where Mizael is clearly waiting for him to continue, but when he doesn’t Mizael’s facial expression changes again. His nostrils flare (delicately) and his cheeks start to colour with the effort of trying hard not to cry.
Durbe never knows what to do when Mizael starts to cry. In their youth, he’d tried to comfort him, and stop the waterworks from the younger boy but that always worked about as well as Durbe’s efforts to de-stress Mizael during test-heavy periods. That is to say, not very well at all.
Seconds stretch into unbearable minutes as they sit across from each other at the kitchen table, stewing in their tense silence. Durbe knows he should have told Mizael, but it never came up and when it came down to it was it really any of Mizael’s business where he did or didn’t go to school? He knew the answer to that one, but if was honest with himself then he’d also have to admit that he was kind of a terrible friend and he really didn’t want to deal with that right now.
It’s at least five minutes before Mizael clears his throat daintily. Durbe starts, clearly zoned out when he should have been sweating under the accusatory stare of his best friend. He opens his mouth to say something, but draws a blank. He really doesn’t have an excuse. He might not be the best student, but his grades were at least good enough to get into a better local college. It just hadn’t occurred to him to try for something better. A degree is a degree is a degree after all, isn’t it?
Mizael clears his throat again and Durbe’s attention snaps back to the blonde, “Why didn’t you tell me you only applied to Heartland State?”
“It never came up,” Durbe shrugs easily, but the excuse sounds pathetic even to his own ears.
Mizael’s brows furrow and his face starts to scrunch up like one of those ugly wrinkly dogs and before Durbe knows it Mizael is yelling again.
“You’re deplorable, you know that? The absolute worst! Do you know how hard people work just to understand the shit that comes so easily to you? The least you could do is appreciate what you have! You could at least pretend to care!”
Mizael swipes an arm across his face and the sleeve comes away with a dark wet streak. Durbe just stares at Mizael’s, an arm shielding his eyes from view at all times, and listens to the familiar soft sniffling of his crying friend. He watches a few stray tears drip from Mizael’s chin and hit the wooden top of his kitchen table, unable to come up with any comforting words. To be honest, he hadn’t really thought that it would be this big of a deal. But, of course, everything with Mizael was this big of a deal. Though it’s not until the gross, loud, snotty snivel that Durbe realizes exactly how big of a deal this particular situation was to Mizael.
“Hey,” Durbe tries, but his throat feels dry and the word comes out cracked.
Mizael sniffs again, wetly.
“Hey,” Durbe tries again, reaching forward to remove the arm covering his face.
The other arm immediately goes to replace the first. Durbe sighs deeply and pulls the other arm away too. Mizael huffs and turns his head to the side, still trying to maintain an air of anger despite the wet streaks on his cheek.
“Hey Miza...”
This time Mizael answer with a forceful, “What!”
“Why is this such a big deal?” Durbe asks the side of Mizael’s face, “You know it’s only three- four years tops and then you’ll be back here again anyways.”
There’s only soft sniffling for a reply and then Mizael’s tugging his wrists out of his grip. Durbe lets them go, there’s really not much more he can do if Mizael isn’t going to have an open conversation with him. Mizael wipes his face with his sleeve again and when it comes away, there’s a long line of snot that comes away with it. Durbe resists the urge to make a face.
“It’s just that if I go everything will change,” Mizael’s still looking down at the table, his voice almost too soft to hear, “We won’t be friends anymore. We’ll drift apart.”
“What!?” The shock in Durbe’s voice is genuine, “What are you you even saying!?”
There’s another wet snivel and Mizael looks up, eyes red from crying.
He’s all but wailing now, “We don’t have anything in common. All I ever do is yell at you to do your homework. I don’t even know how to make my little person walk on your computer games!”
Durbe doesn’t have the heart to tell him that’s it’s really not a tone befitting of an AP student and Lacrosse star to boot. It’s all he can do to not outright laugh, “Don’t be silly! We can still be friends. You can definitely still yell at me to do my homework. But as for Starcraft, I don’t think you’ll ever get it. We should probably just give up on that one.”
“Maybe I should just stay here and go to Heartland State too-”
At that, Durbe does laugh. Loudly.
“Good one.”
“I know it’s late, but with my grades they should still accept me as a late applic-”
Durbe physically launches himself across the table and slaps a hand over Mizael’s mouth, “Are you serious!? Don’t go to Heartland State. You’ll hate it there! Go to UBS, it’s all you’ve been talking about for the past year and a half. It’s fancy and snooty and overseas, you’ll love it there. You’ll fit right in.”
Mizael doesn’t look convinced, “You’ll forget me.”
Durbe rolls his eyes, “I won’t. Anyways, who’s to say you won’t forget me?”
Mizael knits his brows together and stares intently back at him, “I won’t.”
“Promise me you’ll go to University of Barian Shit or whatever,” Durbe breaks eye contact to look at the very interesting spot on the wall right next to Mizael’s ear.
He shrugs, “Fine.”
“Fine,” Durbe breaks into a small relieved smile.
Mizael doesn’t smile, but he gets up and tucks his chair in neatly, “I’ll see you later then.”
“Yeah,” Durbe calls after him, already thinking about a nap, “see you later.”