him to his friend’s front door.
A text or a call didn’t feel right. He had to apologize in person. But when he finally got up the courage to ring the bell and Justin actually answered the door, Isaac realized he had no idea what to say.
“Hey,” he muttered, addressing Justin’s socks. “Can I come in?”
Justin’s pause felt like it lasted a lifetime, but finally he nodded. “Yeah.”
They wound up in his bedroom. It didn’t smell great?—Justin was a fan of Axe, which Isaac figured could double as a pesticide?—but there was still something comforting about the line of wrecked running shoes along the wall, the faded posters tacked up above his unmade bed. A tower of unopened textbooks were stacked sloppily on the desk beside a laptop with a FOUR PATHS HIGH SCHOOL sticker in the middle.
Isaac stared glumly at the sticker, where a tree twined through the words. It was their mascot, the Mighty Oak, because how dare one thing in this town not be a reminder of the forest.
Trees don’t run, he’d complained to Justin years ago. It’s a ridiculous symbol for any athletic team.
What do you care? Justin had fired back. You’d rather poke out your own eyes than join an organized sport.
It had been so easy back then. Talking to Justin had felt effortless. But now there was so much more between them, and it was all Isaac’s fault. He’d confessed his feelings; he’d lost it at Justin’s birthday party. It was hard for him not to think about how he’d messed up a good thing?—except it had never been good for him. Not really. It was just that Isaac hadn’t brought up the problems, and now neither of them could pretend they didn’t exist anymore.
“I’m sorry,” he began, sitting in the desk chair after Justin plopped down on the bed. “For ruining your party. For losing control.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not the only reason the party was ruined,” Justin said wryly. “That thing was dead in the water the moment the entire town ghosted me.”
“Right. About that. Are you okay?”
It was a ridiculous question. Justin didn’t bother answering it.
“Are you?” he asked instead. “In the forest, Isaac… you looked rough. Violet said you destroyed an entire clearing.”
“It wasn’t my finest moment.” Isaac ran a hand along the side of the desk, trying not to think about the way those trees had crumbled beneath his palm. “But I’m not here to talk about me. I’m trying to apologize to you.”
“I don’t want an apology,” Justin said. “I hate this. You’re being so formal, showing up at my door, looking at me like you don’t even know who I am anymore?—”
“Of course I know who you are,” Isaac snapped. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to talk to you.”
“You open your mouth and the words come out, it’s not that difficult?—”
“It is when it’s you.” Isaac sighed. “Look, when I told you how I felt… I don’t know if I weirded you out or made you angry, I don’t even know why you invited me to your party?—”
“Because you’re still my best friend, you asshole.”
The words hit Isaac like a sledgehammer. His chest burned from the weight of the pain in Justin’s voice.
“Oh, fuck you,” he whispered. “You know you’re still my best friend, too.”
Justin’s voice shook. “Then why aren’t we okay?”
Isaac hesitated. There were too many answers. Because they cared so much and they still couldn’t get this right. Because there was so much they’d done wrong, and how did you make a friendship feel equal when it had started with one of them saving the other one?
Maybe the only way was to find a new foundation. To build it again. But he had no idea how to do that.
“Because it can’t be the way it was before, Justin,” he said at last. “Because I have to know that it’s going to be different.”
Justin’s voice was suspiciously raspy. “It isn’t going to be different. It already is, because you already are.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t need me anymore,” Justin said softly. “Gabriel’s back in town, and you never even asked us for help. You and Violet are always hanging out. Hell, you helped Harper of all people open the Gray and you didn’t even invite me.”
Justin was right, Isaac realized. He’d skulked behind the Hawthornes for years, a shadow, a protector, trying to pay them back for taking him in after he’d destroyed his home and his family. But all that dependency had meant that