15. June #3
Cya swallowed audibly, then dipped their chin. He dropped his hand back to his side and gave them his back, heading toward the tram stop. He’d barely taken three steps before Cya called his name.
“Dex?”
Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “Yeah?”
“I do,” they whispered like they were too scared to say it louder. “Like you, I mean. You’re—well, you’re still annoying, but it doesn’t bother me as much anymore.”
The admission was so very Cya, and it made Dex laugh as he crossed his arms loosely over his chest.
“But I do like you. I should have from the start, but I misjudged you, quite unfairly, I’m afraid.
” They shook their head, knuckles bleached around the strap of their computer bag.
“I wish things had been different. I wish I’d been different.
I know I mucked it all up, and I have to live with that.
But still, I wish I could have been a better person, a better friend. To you.”
Rolling from his heels to his toes and back again, Dex waited for them to muster the courage to meet his gaze. It took a while, nearly a full minute, but they eventually did.
“You could be a better friend now,” he said gently, hopefully.
Cya winced. “I don’t think I’m a good friend to have.”
“Maybe you just need practice,” he challenged.
“Maybe,” they conceded, looking back the way they’d come.
“But you know the only kind of friends I’ve ever had, and I’m just like them.
I wasn’t even a good friend to Niki. I don’t believe it absolves her for sticking her tongue down my ex’s throat the day after we broke up, or for anything that’s happened since, but maybe I did have it coming a little bit. ”
A night creature hooted overhead, and Cya glanced up, tracking its flight as they mused. “There’s a reason I was so easily dethroned. The mutiny worked because no one actually liked me, and I don’t blame them. I was a monumental bitch.”
In the past, when they’d made self-deprecating comments like this, it was with an air of justification, of rationale with a side of self-pity. As if, even in moments of vulnerability, they truly couldn’t admit culpability for their own actions.
This felt different. They weren’t telling him this to make him feel bad for them, or to excuse their behavior. They were simply stating what they believed to be true and owning it.
“I don’t know the person you’re talking about,” Dex said, bringing Cya’s attention back to him. “I only know the person you are now, and that person? That person ain’t half bad.”
They chuffed in amusement and rolled their eyes. “Do keep the flattery in check, please.”
“I just mean that we can’t change the past or who we used to be, but we can control who we are now. So if you want to be a good friend, then all you have to do is try.”
“Do you want me to try?” they asked hesitantly, and he took a minute because his answer mattered.
If he said no, Cya wouldn’t push. They’d adhere to the lines drawn in the sand, and this was all they’d ever be to each other. To be honest, Dex could live with that.
He didn’t understand the world they’d grown up in or what they’d been through that had worn them down to this bare-boned version of themself.
But maybe they were just lonely and scared.
Maybe they simply needed someone to offer them a hand.
Dex had pretty good hands, and he was strong enough to help carry them if they stumbled.
“I’m willing to try if you are,” he finally said, and Cya inhaled sharply.
The tip of their tail flicked, clicking against the stone walkway. “Why? I don’t understand why you’d still want to be my friend.”
Why, indeed. He could blame it on gut instincts and destiny. He could blame it on hormones or the pull of attraction deep in his belly. He could even blame it on his self-destructive, people-pleasing tendencies that he was still trying to break.
In the end, it came down to something he wasn’t even sure he could put into words. It was a kinship, a recognition. They were so different; they came from opposite backgrounds and cultures, and finding common ground between them felt impossible.
On paper, it probably was.
But there was something so familiar about the weight Cya carried on their shoulders, like it matched the burden on his own. So maybe they weren’t that different after all.
“You carry the world on your shoulders,” Dex said after an age had passed, “and so do I. They’re different worlds, but it feels like, maybe, they’re the same weight. And I just thought that, if we carried it together, it’d be lighter and easier for us both.
“Maybe that’s enough. Maybe it’s not,” he admitted with a shrug. “But it’d be nice to share the load with someone who understands.”
For a moment, the night seemed to hold its breath, then Cya said, “I’d like to understand you. I’d like for us to understand each other.”
And Dex said, “Me too.”
Cya nodded as they inched back toward their idling car. “Then I suppose I’ll see you later.”
Retreating in the opposite direction, Dex grinned triumphantly and said, “Okay, Cy, I’ll see you later.”