it might feel even better.
He was moving before the thought had fully formed. Striding over to his bedside table, picking up his phone, navigating to a much-observed and never-contributed-to forum whose black and purple display had grown so familiar over the months. Before he could think better of it, Zach hit ‘Create’ to start a brand-new thread. Then, his chest heaving with the quickening breaths he’d barely even noticed, he stared down at the screen.
Title, it said. Type here, it said.
What the fuck did he want to say?
The words came out eventually, halting and laboured—but that didn’t matter, because once it was over, it was over. He’d typed out the truth, and it didn’t look any less honest just because his hands had been shaking as he’d done it.
I’m Angry
I fell in love. She hurt me. What do I do now? I don’t know, and I’m not in the mood to figure it out.
He pressed Send, then squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth against a sudden rush of nervous energy. Had he seriously just done that? Yes. Yes, he had.
Well, fuck it. Might as well comment on the DC thread, too.
Zach sat on his bed, found the thread, and finally let himself comment the way he’d long wanted to. Just slid in as if he had a right to be there, offering his opinion on the Netflix adaptation of Teen Titans (which was surprisingly good). Because he did have a right to be there. Taking up that kind of space, even just online, felt almost perfect. He found himself smiling slightly for the first time in a while, imagining how he’d tell Rae—
No. No, he wouldn’t tell Rae. He couldn’t tell her anything. And just like that, some of his pleasure dimmed.
He missed her. He missed her so much that when the slow, haunting chime of his doorbell rang five minutes later, he let himself imagine it was Rae. That she’d come over to say something, anything, the perfect thing—the thing that would prove him wrong. She’d throw herself into his arms and whisper magic words in his ear, and then maybe she’d propose because she was just that overwhelmed by her feelings for him. He’d say yes, and Duke would be the ring bearer at their wedding, and she’d wear a thousand tiny braids in her hair.
It was an excellent fantasy that lasted about as long as it took Zach to jog down the stairs, open his door, and find his brother and his best mate on the doorstep.
“Oh,” he said, disappointed but not particularly surprised. “It’s you.”
Nate rolled his eyes and shoved his way into the house, grim as a big, pale crow. Evan followed with a smile and a warm, “Alright, mate?”
“What do you want?” Zach asked, trying to sound less dead inside. It was something he’d been working on over the last few days, ever since that late-night, last-minute train back from Manchester. He hadn’t gotten the hang of it yet.
Nate stared at him for a moment, then nodded at Evan. “You were right. He’s all… grey.”
“I know,” Evan said sadly. “And he hasn’t been sneaking off to meet Rae every morning.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “I don’t sneak. And if I’m grey,” he glared at his brother, “it’s because we’re both ridiculously pale and I haven’t been taking my vitamins. Go away.”
Instead of obeying like a good sibling, Nate wandered off into the living room, Evan bringing up the rear like a labrador with a disturbing independent streak.
Zach wondered how Duke was doing, then shut down that train of thought before he could wonder how Rae was doing, or if she missed him. It didn’t matter if she missed him. He couldn’t be around her anymore. He was working really hard on not being in love with her, and he knew for a fact that if he saw her smile or heard her voice, all his efforts would be wasted.
Of course, Ravenswood was a small town, and they shared the same friends, so he was probably doomed. Maybe he should give up and accept his fate: eternally unrequited adoration. Zach sighed, followed Nate and Evan into the living room, and sank into his favourite armchair like a sack of bones and despair.
Evan’s brows rose. “I’m glad we came. Obviously, we’re not a moment too soon.”
“What are you talking about?” Zach asked, then muttered, “Actually, I don’t care. Piss off.”
“This is an intervention,” Nate said in his Firm and Fatherly voice. It didn’t work on