Bac to Bac

Artie

A pounding headache was what I woke up to Thanksgiving morning. Frick red wine. I needed water so bad but peeking out from underneath the covers just brought more pain.

Slowly, I inched the duvet down from over my eyes.

Miles was there, sitting up against the headboard, over the covers and dressed for the day.

"Morning."

"Hi." I said.

I couldn't do it, I dove back under the covers.

I pressed my feet against his legs, I don't know why.

But then I felt him move them off the bed.

"Can we talk?" He said.

I froze.

"Marissa told me some stuff last night that we need to talk about."

No.

No, no, no. No, no, no, no.

Oh my g-

How could Marissa have told him?

Why would she do something like that?

Sweat burst through the pores on my forehead and my hands raked through my hair.

No wonder he's dressed, he's leaving.

Oh m-

I was trying to take a deep breath, but I just couldn't.

The hot, moist air under the covers was just making everything worse.

I threw the blankets off of my sweaty body and sat up, as my stomach roiled.

He's going to leave me.

"I think I'm gonna throw up."

I flew off the bed, ran across the hall, then hurled myself over the toilet.

He was so stiff on the bed.

He's disgusted by me.

I retched.

"Damn, dude. I knew I should have cut you off earlier."

He was right behind me, rubbing firm circles on my back.

"Don't think this gets you out of talking about your parents. You have to talk to someone eventually."

... My parents?

What?

********

After emptying the contents of my stomach, and then replenishing it with whatever water I could keep down, I felt a lot better. It helped that Miles hadn't run out the door with all his bags.

I can't live with the guilt anymore. Two sentences and I'm having a panic attack and puking all over myself.

I have to tell him.

"Why don't you talk about your parents, Artie?"

Right, maybe we should start with that.

I didn't have an answer. Talking about my crappy parents fricking stinks?

I shrugged.

"If you don't want to talk about it, I won't force you. I just... thought we were closer than that. I thought you'd want to tell me shit like that."

"I do. I do want to tell you."

"Then tell me, dude! I feel like I don't even know you."

The validity of what he said sent daggers through me.

I couldn't look him in the eye.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, Artie. Just talk to me."

... Where do I even start?

"I hate my parents."

"There we go! Now we're talking!"

I laughed.

"My dad sucks, and my mom sucks worse."

Miles nodded.

"Maybe my dad sucks worse, I don't know."

"I don't talk about them because they don't care about me. So, why should I care about them?"

Miles nodded again, softer this time.

"Marissa told me she's seen your dad... You didn't go with?"

I shook my head.

"No."

"You don't want to see him?"

"No."

"Why?"

My shoulders rose, then fell.

"It's easier to just not think about it."

He looked me dead on.

"Is it really, though?"

...

No, no it wasn't.

"Marissa said your mom is selfish."

"Pfff. That's an understatement."

"Well, she used more... colorful language."

"What did she mean by it?" He asked.

I shrugged again.

"I don't know. She's just a selfish person. She never cared about us. She just cares about how she appears to others."

Miles nodded in acknowledgement.

"She was absent as you could possibly be when we were young but now it's like I don't even have a mom. Just a woman who lets me sleep in her house between semesters. She's going to kick me out once I graduate, she kicked Marissa out."

"She wouldn't tell her friends that, though."

"Ah... I s-"

"She had boyfriends after my dad left, a bunch of them. And most of them were not very nice."

Miles' eyebrows rose slightly.

Now that he got me talking, it was like the dam had been broken.

"Her first boyfriend slapped me in my face for 'back talking'. She broke up with him because he stole thirty dollars from her purse."

"Dean, the third one, used to try to come into mine and Marissa's bedrooms when they'd get back from a night out. My mom didn't do crap. We barricaded the doors until Marissa just replaced the knobs."

"The boyfriend she had before the guy she's dating now used to drag me around by my arm and scream at me when he was drunk. She broke up with him because he wouldn't replace some stupid thing in her car."

"The g-"

"I'm sorry, Artie. I didn't realize. We don't have to talk about this if you don't want to."

I shook my head back and forth.

"If you never made me, I probably never would."

"You have to know it's not good to hold shit like that in."

I shook my head.

He didn't need to tell me.

Or, maybe he did.

"It's just... easier sometimes."

He rubbed my shoulder.

"I get it. I totally get it." He said.

We sat in silence for a little while.

"Nat broke up with me."

"What? When?"

"A few days ago." He said.

"Monday." He said.

"What the frick? Why?"

Why would anyone ever break up with Miles?

"Because I'm kind of a shit boyfriend."

"Miles, no you're not."

"Nah, dude. I am. I practically ghosted her."

"You're a busy person."

"Dude, I appreciate you for making excuses for me, but she was totally valid in dumping my ass."

I almost argued with him, but I stopped myself.

He wasn't going to budge, I knew him well enough to know that.

"Are you okay? How are you feeling?" I asked.

"Isn't it easier to just ignore it?"

He gave me an accusatory look.

And my eyes fell to the floor.

"Sorry, that wasn't cool." He said.

"No... You're 'totally valid'."

He laughed.

"Shut the hell up."

"Make me, fricker." I said out of reflex.

His eyebrows raised, and once again our eyes met.

And then we were tangled, wrestling.

I wasn't fighting very hard. Neither was Miles.

Still, he was winning, until I remembered my secret weapon.

I grabbed his bare foot and tickled viciously.

He laughed his laugh, the one that always makes my stomach flutter. So I kept tickling.

"You win! You win!" He yelled.

I accepted victory graciously, releasing his foot.

And we caught our breath.

I debated on grabbing his other foot for round two.

"I feel like... I should be more upset." He said.

My head tilted.

"That you just lost to someone half your size?"

"About Nat, douche."

My head tilted further.

"About Nat's douche?"

"Dude." He laughed and shook his head.

"We dated for two years. She broke up with me three days ago and... I don't feel very sad."

"Is that... Why you think you're a bad boyfriend?"

He shrugged.

"Kinda." He said.

"You're allowed to lose feelings for a person."

"I could have made it work." He said immediately.

"Just because you could have doesn't mean you should have." I threw back.

I don't know why I was trying, Miles could be so stubborn sometimes.

But he nodded. He was half frowning, but he nodded affirmatively. I consider that a win.

"Do you still love her?" I asked.

And then he looked at me.

Right in my eyes. Going back and forth between them.

"I don't think so..."

"I don't think she would want you to stay with her, then."

"I know, I just... feel like I failed." He said

"You were practically missing for a month and I couldn't do shit. Nat has been pissed at me practically since I got to school and I didn't do jack shit. And now I find out right after I move your fucking family falls apart and you have no one?"

"I feel like a fuckin'... failure of a person." He said.

"Miles, that couldn't be further from the truth."

His eyebrow raised in defiance.

Whatever, he could go ahead and be stubborn.

"There's nothing you could have done for me. It wasn't your choice to move. It wasn't your choice I haven't been around. It wasn't your choice to grow apart from Nat. Blaming yourself is stupid. It's really stupid."

He looked down and messed with the hem of his shirt. Then looked around a few moments.

"You think so?" He asked.

Again, he looked in my eyes as if they held the answer.

"I know so." I said.

I held my pinky up, and he wrapped it with his.

"I'm sorry I haven't been around." I said.

"Don't."

"I'm just glad you're here now." He said.

I could see in his eyes that he meant it.

"Thank you for talking to me about your parents... I know it probably wasn't easy."

I shook my head.

"It was easy."

He smiled.

"I love you, Artie."

I knew he didn't mean it the way I wanted him to. But right then, it didn't matter.

"I love you too, Miles."

"Gimme a hug." He said as he pulled me to him gently.

When have I ever said no to one of his hugs?

With my nose pressed to his neck, I just let his scent engulf me.

"Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

I tried not to stiffen in his arms, but I did anyway.

I should tell him.

I should tell him right now.

"If you guys wa-"

Marissa stopped short in the doorway.

Instantly I pulled out of our embrace as if my hand had been deep in the cookie jar.

"Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt." She said.

She gave me a pointed look.

"If you guys want to eat any time soon, I could use some help in the kitchen."

********

Miles

It worked. It actually fucking worked.

I just sat Artie's ass down and told him to talk. And he did.

I don't know, part of me was still expecting him to run out of the apartment and disappear until we had to go back to campus. But he proved me wrong. I had not a care in the world as I watched the pre-game coverage and pounded back the entirety of the buffalo wing dip Marissa made. I tried to help in the kitchen, but they kicked me out.

But like, word, more dip for me.

It wasn't long before the rest of the food was ready anyway. It seems the McMillans liked an early Thanksgiving Dinner, but that was cool with me, plenty of time to nap before the game

Marissa went all out. Well, I guess we all chipped in but she did most of the work. And it paid off. There were like eight fuckin sides. The mac and cheese specifically was calling my name.

But first, I surveyed the spread, determining what Artie would want and in what proportion, before making him his plate.

He thanked me with a smile.

We plated up in the kitchen but Marissa even set the table, with candles, ivy, and a cornocopia as the centerpiece. The ivy was even real, I felt it.

Where the hell did she pull that shit out of? I was impressed.

Fork in hand, I was about to uncerimoniously dive the fuck into my plate when Marissa spoke up.

"Should we go around and say what were thankful for?" I looked up at her from plate.

Then at Artie, then back at her.

Oh... She was serious.

I wasn't usually a stickler for tradition, especially with no old people around I needed to impress. But I did have a lot to be thankful for this year, so why not?

I nodded.

"You first." Artie said to Marissa.

"My new job. It lets me live here, puts food on the table."

"I'm only a couple hours away from you."

She squeezed Artie's cheek.

He swatted her away. But he was smiling.

Marissa motioned for Artie to take his turn.

"Miles, you go." He said.

Easy.

"I'm thankful my parents are paying out of state tuition."

They nodded.

"If they never agreed to that... I never would've found Artie."

I swear, he blushed.

"I'm thankful for you too, Miles."

It was a quiet proclamation, but something in his eyes was loud.

"Can you two get a room?"

I didn't even look at Pissy as I flipped her the bird.

Marissa may be a bat straight out of Hell, but the girl can cook. I went hard as fuck in the gym this morning in anticipation for this very moment, and I did not hold back. I smashed the first plate and went back for seconds practically before Artie and Marissa had time to finish buttering their rolls.

Even Artie, the food vacuum, was a little taken aback by how voraciously I was consuming. But Thanksgiving dinner was kind of like a sport to me, how much can I put into my body before it shuts down and goes to sleep? I was aiming for three plates.

But eventually, I slowed down enough to participate in conversation. I made it through two and a half plates, that was good enough for me.

We were sitting around our mostly finished food, talking about our potential bigs in the frat, when Conner's name came up. I must have made a face or something, because Marissa took note.

"What? We don't like Conner?" She asked.

"Miles doesn't." Artie shrugged.

She looked at me with an eyebrow raised.

She does that a lot.

"The dude's tryna get in Artie's pants."

Marissa looked between the two of us.

"Right, and that's your job." She said.

I scowled.

So this was her new tactic to get to me? Try to make me uncomfortable around Artie?

Wasn't gonna work.

I took a sip of my water and matched her stare, unbothered.

But the tips of Artie's ears were bright red.

"Pie?" He asked, then excused himself from the table.

I frowned at Marissa. Hope she was satisfied.

********

Artie

By the time the blood had drained from my face and I returned to the table with the pie, Miles had already gone to take a nap.

I practically flung the pie on the table and grabbed Marissa by the ear, dragging her out of her chair and down the hallway.

Who even frickin likes pumpkin pie anyway?

I dragged her through her bedroom, through the closet, then into the adjoining bathroom, slamming doors shut all the way.

"What the frick, Riss?" I glared at her.

She really didn't have to make things any more awkward for me, but there she was. Insinuating. Implying.

"Ouch." She rubbed her ear lobe.

"Don't act like that hurt. What the frick was that Marissa?"

"Artie... That guy is so in love with you it makes me want to vomit."

I recoiled.

"That's not funny."

She sighed a long sigh out of her nose, with closed eyes.

"I'm. Not. Joking." She grabbed my shoulders and shook me back and forth with each word.

"He makes your plate. He carries you to bed. He hangs on your every word. He cuddles with you and holds you like a kid holds their teddy bear. I walked by your room last night, and he kissed your forehead as you slept."

She pantemimed sticking her pointer finger down her throat and made a gagging noise.

Without thinking, I touched my forehead.

Marissa grabbed my wrist and moved my hand to the arch of my brow.

"Here." She said.

She looked at me with flat eyes.

"He's just like that." I said.

"He's certainly not like that with me."

"You're a special case."

"So. Are you." She poked my shoulder twice, hard.

We stared each other down with squinted eyes.

"Artie. Open your eyes."

"They're open! See!" I opened them as wide as I possibly could.

"You know what I mean."

"He's not in love with me."

She opened her mouth, ready to argue.

But I stopped her.

"Marissa, please?"

She raised her eyebrows.

She did not seem like she was going to let this one go.

Her mouth started moving.

"He's not in love with me!"

Her neck craned backward and she looked at me with wide eyes.

"If he was in love with me.. it wouldn't feel like this."

My lip quivered.

I refuse to cry. I refuse to cry. I refuse to cry.

"I'm going to tell him I'm gay, okay? Will you please just... leave it alone?"

I looked her deep in her eyes, begging her without words.

And finally, she conceded.

She sighed and nodded.

"I'm sorry I told him about mom and dad without talking to you first."

I waved her off.

"I think I was higher than I realized."

She grimaced.

"High? High on what?" I was shocked. Marissa had always been so anti-drug.

"Weed."

"You smoke pot?"

She shrugged.

"So do you, apparently." She said.

"One time. And I didn't even like it."

Marissa laughed.

"The guy I'm seeing smokes me up sometimes." She said.

"The guy you're seeing!?"

She left me hanging.

"Why am I just now finding out about this!?"

"You've been too busy with your boyfriend."

I gave her the driest look I could muster.

"Sorry."

"It's fine." I said.

I flicked her temple.

"I'm glad you told him about mom and dad." I said.

She squeezed the back of my neck.

"He really cares about you, Art."

I sighed.

"I know."

********

I can't put it off anymore.

I was just pacing around the apartment. Up and down the hall, around the living room, through the kitchen, then back to the hallway. Over and Over.

I have to tell him tonight.

I'm going to tell him tonight. I'm going to tell him, tonight. I'm going, to tell him, tonight.

Maybe if I say it in my head enough times I'll suddenly develop courage.

It's Miles. He's gonna say: "Dude, why were you even pressed?" Or something else equally compassionate and yet somehow dismissive.

We're going to move on and it's not going to be a big deal.

Simple.

For whatever evil reason, my feet walked me right to the guest bedroom.

And from the doorway I looked at him, passed out on his stomach diagonally across the bed.

He's gonna hate me.

He's gonna hate my guts.

No, no he won't. He's going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine.

"Hey... Shit. What time is it?"

I guess my nervous energy came across even in the dream realm because Miles woke up. I checked my phone.

"Seven fifty-five."

"Fuck, games about to start." He sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Watch it with me?" He asked.

********

I started the day puking and I'm pretty sure that's how I was going to end it, too. My stomach would not calm down. I could feel it swirling, churning. My spit was hot and I was sweating bullets. Miles tried to put his arm around my shoulders and literally cringed at how clammy they were.

We hadn't even made it through the first quarter before Miles said something.

"Are you alright? You look sick."

"I'm okay."

My voice was small.

"I think I'm gonna take a shower."

Honestly, I just thought it would be best if I was near a toilet but a shower did sound like a good idea.

I got in robotically, and just let cool water bring my internal temperature down.

And eventually, my stomach settled and my hands stopped shaking. I don't even know how long and how many deep breaths later, I felt a lot more centered.

It's time to be honest, Artie.

I got dressed and coached myself the entire time.

Nothing bad has happened. Nothing bad was going to happen.

Walking back into the living room though, it was almost hard to look at him.

He was just so handsome. All muscle and stubble and hard jaw. I wanted to sit in his lap and take his big arms and wrap them around me.

And the worst part was that he would let me.

Maybe I could just tell him tomorrow...

No.

Tonight, Artie.

I sat on the other end of the couch.

I couldn't tell you who won, I couldn't even have told you who was playing. In my head I decided to tell him after the game, and I just blacked out. Suddenly the game was over, and I was just frozen.

"I'm about ready for bed, dude. I think we should head back to campus early."

He looked at me, waiting for a response. But I didn't really even hear what he said. Well I heard it, but my brain didn't accept any information.

"Yeah." I said.

That must have been the right answer because he nodded and got up.

He walked to the hallway.

"You coming?"

I still wasn't all the way there. I just got up and followed.

But then, in the room, the bed stared me in the face.

I can't just sleep in the bed with him as if everything is normal.

I have to tell him.

I have to do it now.

But, I couldn't.

I was just standing there, motionless and full of dread.

"Are you good, dude?"

No. I was in no way, good.