Dylan & Wes

Dylan-

"I haven't seen Tessa around lately," my cousin Hayden observes over breakfast.

"I broke up with her." I pop a strip of bacon in my mouth.

"You don't seem too upset. What happened? Did either of you...hurt the other?"

I shrug, "It wasn't like that. She just wasn't who I thought she was. I did hurt my best friend once."

Four years ago, when I was only fourteen, my parents died. They were in their bank when two gunmen entered. Six people were shot. Two of them were my parents.

Hayden is ten years older than me. At the age of twenty-four, he was "tapped" to move to my town, into my house and to become my legal guardian. He's been great. Well, he doesn't cook and he makes me do my own laundry and too many chores but I can't complain. He gave up his job and apartment in the city to come to this small town and keep me from going into the foster care system. I can't imagine how my life would have turned out if he hadn't stepped up for me. I'm eighteen now And I still need him as much as ever. I know huge life changes are only a few months away but I still haven't decided on a college. High school just ended and I can't think beyond the epic summer ahead of me.

"Wes? How?" he asks.

"It was right before you came here. Right before middle school graduation. Wes confided something in me. Something that he had never told anyone else in the world and while I didn't technically do anything wrong, I should have done better. He just surprised me and...I needed...I don't know, a day or two to kind of digest this new information. Which I did. Except that time that I took was selfish. What he told me wasn't about me but my first thought was about how I would be affected. Like I said, I was selfish."

"I can only guess at what you're not saying here..."

"It's fine. He told his parents a couple months ago and he 'came out' at school a few weeks before graduation. It's public knowledge now."

"But he trusted only you for four years. That says a lot about you and your friendship."

"Yeah, but the look on his face when he saw my first reaction... I can never unsee that. I hurt my best friend. And Wes really is the best."

"You should cut yourself some slack, Dylan. You were what? Fourteen? Your 'selfish moment' was only human nature, especially for a kid. And let's be honest. Just because you're living in Schitt's Creek doesn't mean you've seen the show."

I snort, "Wow. This is your hometown now too."

He sighs, "Dylan, this is a red city in a red state. Ninety percent white, eighty percent conservative and zero percent personal liberties."

"Again. Wow!"

"How many LGBTQIA+ people do you know in real life?"

I might know of a few, but Wes is the only one officially out so I hold up my index finger.

"Exactly. Just your brave best friend who you have loved and supported from the beginning. I doubt he thinks at all about that initial reaction. Everything you've done for four years since is all that really matters."

I shrug, "I'll never not support Wes. He's Wes. And it was right after he 'came out' that Mom and Dad were killed. Any lingering awkwardness between us completely disappeared. He was totally there for me. Wes, Destiny, Mateo and you are how I survived losing my parents."

"Do you want to talk about Tessa? You two dated for six months, right? Six months at your age must have felt like dog years. Are you okay?"

I don't know. Am I? "When Wes 'came out' publicly, the kids at school were cool with it. Mostly. All but Tessa. For weeks before that she had been trying to get me to... She wanted our relationship to progress. Physically. Sexually. I wasn't sure why but I knew that I wasn't ready, so I said, 'No'. Was it about me? Did I not want to become a high school cliché? Was I too young?"

He shrugs, "Believe it or not, this old guy was once an eighteen-year-old bundle of emotions and hormones too. I can relate. It takes a strong, mature man to recognize when the time is not right."

"That's what it was...it didn't feel right. Was it about her? I liked her but did I like her enough? She didn't give me tingles and I wasn't sure she ever would."

"Tingles?" he teases. "You watch too many movies."

I shrug again, "So, I told her I wasn't ready yet. Then Wes 'came out' and she got all homophobic. She demanded that I could never sleepover with Wes again. Not if I wanted her to keep being my girlfriend. I thought she was making a joke. A bad joke that kept landing wrong. When she persisted, I asked her what the hell she was talking about. She said that now that Wes is 'out', the optics are bad. Again, I asked her, WTF? She said that no boyfriend of hers was going to have a sleepover with an openly gay guy."

"I told you...Schitt's Creek."

I snort, "I've had weekly sleepovers with my best friend for over half of my life. I told her that while I had been interested to see where our relationship might go, I'd pick my friendship with Wes over her every time. Then she tried to blackmail me into having sex with her. She said if I didn't...do it...she'd tell the whole school that I couldn't get it up for a girl and that Wes was more than my best friend. Her mistake was thinking that she had influence over anyone whose opinion mattered to me. And no one gave a shit anyway. I'm proud to stand with Wes regardless of either of our sexualities. It's irrelevant. I love Wes. He's more than my best friend; he's been like my brother since the third grade."

I rub my face in my hands, "It sucks when a person you thought you knew disappoints you. Technically I broke up with her when I told her to get the fuck away from me, but she initiated the break up by becoming someone I didn't care to know."

"I'm so sorry, Dylan. Do you miss who you thought she was before she revealed her true colors?"

"Maybe?" I more ask than say. "I mean I kind of miss the idea of her. But like I said before, she never... I never felt the flutter when I was with her. I'm better off knowing who she really is and moving on."

"Has anyone ever made you feel the flutter? I mean, tingles?"

I hide behind my last sip of orange juice as long as I can. I put my glass down and say, "I'm still a kid. How the hell would I know a flutter from a cool breeze?"

He raises his hands in mock surrender. The dopey grin on his face suggests he suspects something.

Wes-

I meet my friends at the movie theatre in the mall. Dylan and I have been best friends for ten years, but by middle school, Mateo and Destiny had wormed their way into our lives. We wouldn't have it any other way. Our crew of four is awesome. Dylan, Mateo and I were all on the football team and Destiny is just Destiny. She totally belongs. I'm in the mood for a mindless comedy, but the only thing that looks remotely decent is a horror film. It'll have to do.

I end up sitting with Mateo on my left and Dylan and Destiny on my right. All through the movie Mateo and I battle over the shared armrest. Our sneakers, knees, elbows and shoulders keep bumping each other's and at some point I begin to respond to all of the contact and jostling. Mateo is my friend. We're just goofing around like boys do. He doesn't realize the effect this little game is starting to have on me. Ultimately I surrender the armrest and back off.

I kind of expected the movie to be cheesy, but it's actually scarier than I thought. Not long into it, Destiny grips Dylan's hand and never lets go. Several times she buries her face in his shirtsleeve. When the movie ends and the houselights come on, she releases him from her clutches, smooths out his wrinkled sleeve and apologizes. My best friend is pretty clueless.

~~

The nameless, faceless boy is back. I can never make out his features, but still... I get the feeling that I know him. Today he is my model. I am painting him. How do I paint a face I can't see? I'll start with the rest of him and worry about his face later. He sits on the edge of the provided bed and tells me that he's ready. I remind him that he is supposed to be posing in the nude and ask why he is still dressed. He shrugs and tells me that his arms don't work. I'll have to take his clothes off for him.

He's always making things difficult for me. I want to yell at him because I don't have time for his games. I'm on a schedule. But whenever I start to scold him, I end up embarrassing myself by saying words my brain hasn't approved. During our last encounter I had accidently told him that I wanted him to do naughty things to me. Who even talks like that? It's like he has some kind of spell on me.

I sigh, exasperated, and move toward him. The worst part is that everything about this boy is ridiculously cute. The way his shirt is half tucked into his jeans, the way his high tops are too big and his feet slip halfway out with each step he takes, the way his unrecognizable grin is lopsided and it makes my knees weak...

As I approach, the air close to him feels electric. I tell him that he'll have to lie down. He does. I reach for his right sneaker and he warns me to be careful because he is extremely ticklish. When he says this, my dick stiffens in my pants. I make him no promises. As expected, the shoe slips right off with little effort. I check inside and notice that he wears an 11, like me. But mine don't slip off as easily. I'm about to remove his white crew sock when he laughs and tells me to stop it. I tell him that I've done nothing and he tells me that my eyes are tickling him mercilessly. He tells me that eyes are like a superpower.

I sigh. More of his games. He must be punished. I tell him that if he thinks my eyes are bad, wait until he feels my tongue. I pull the sock off of what is actually a size 10 foot and his bare foot is, of course, as cute as it is in his oversized high top. It is smooth and hairless. Not boney. Soft and vein-free. His nails are perfectly trimmed. It annoys me that his foot can be so cute and perfect. I go at him. My tongue starts at his heel and slides slowly up the length of his arch. He howls in uncontrolled laughter. I nibble each toe and his eyes, that I can never quite make out, shed tears of agony and joy. After the nibbling, I suck each toe and he's about to lose his mind. The best part is, there's a whole second foot still fresh and sensitive in its shoe just waiting for me. I reach for it and--

I wake up because my phone chimes indicating an incoming text. These dreams are getting more intense. Fuck. I grab my phone off the nightstand and see that Mateo has invited us all over to his house for taco night.

Dylan-

Wes gives us each fist bumps and Destiny passes around hugs.

"I am so gonna crush these tacos," Wes tell Mateo.

We all laugh and take seats. Wes and Destiny live only a block apart and he never lets her walk alone. It's sweet how he looks out for her.

Destiny always says that she doesn't pick just any old gross, awkward, smelly, hairy, pimply teenage boys to be her friends. She only pick the sweetest, kindest ones.

I rub mt hand over my patchy, uneven stubble and say, "We're not werewolves."

Wes says, "But I wouldn't be mad if we were."

Destiny nudges my knee under the table with her foot and smiles to make sure I know she's kidding. Of course I know. But I'm suddenly worries that my deodorant isn't strong enough.

She says, "JK."

I hold up a hand, "Not this again."

"What?" asks Wes.

"She said 'JK'." My friends know it drives me crazy when they use alleged teenage slang in conversation. This is a recent development and they like to torture me with it.

They all laugh.

Wes says, "Dylan might be acting like a cranky old man, but he has a point this time. You don't say 'JK', you text it."

Mateo grins at Wes, "You're his best friend, what else don't Destiny and I know about him? We know he loves DC and hates Marvel."

"That is so not true," I protest.

Wes ignores me, "Even though he hates Marvel, he loves to complain about it. He insists on seeing every movie - dragging me along too - then picking them apart like he's a critic being paid by the word. If Marvel ever made something he actually liked, he'd never admit it. It's like a political affiliation to him. Gotta follow the party lines."

Destiny is thrilled to hear me talked about like I'm not even in the room.

Mateo asks, "Can I guess on music? Ed Sheeran? Harry Styles?"

Destiny grins and nods, "Both of them."

I have to defend myself here, "Excuse me. In the car I'm always driving and you three always control the music." My voice has risen an octave. "I am not a Harry Styles fan!"

Destiny says, "Except he totally is. He hums and sings along," she winks at me.

Wes is laughing too hard to eat. "Methinks he doth protest too much."

"It is pretty sus that he would react so strongly," Mateo points out.

That makes them laugh harder.

"Sus," I palm my face. "I have no real friends here."

Destiny squeezes my hand under the table. I'm kidding of course. I have the best friends in the world.

Mateo asks, "Who else then? Post Malone? Billie Eilish? Wait! Oh my god! Is he a Swiftie?"

Destiny has tears coming out of her eyes and my cheeks are burning a crimson red. The three of them are enjoying it way too much.

As Operation Humiliate Dylan winds down, we focus on the rad feast Mateo has prepared for us. After devouring everything, we're stuffed.

Wes leans back and rubs his belly. I can't help but notice Mateo is watching him.

Wes says, "Mateo, that was so extra."

I warn, "Don't start that shit again..."

Mateo picks up the cue, "Did I flex too much? Was I too thirsty? The last thing I wanted was to be basic."

I can't help but smile, "Fuckers."

Destiny loves this, "I ate way too much, but YOLO, right?"

Wes says, "Mateo, TBH, I'm a little salty right now."

"You throwing me some shade?"

I drop my head, "Just don't."

Destiny can't stop laughing.

"It's just that all we have is the mall and our favorite place is Chili's, right? I always order fajitas. Your taco night has ruined Chili's for me forever."

Mateo puts a gentle hand on Wes' shoulder, "I'll tell you what, Wes. I'll make it up to you by hosting taco night every month."

"Make it twice a month and I'll forgive you."

Mateo grins, "Deal." He turns to me, "I'm actually still a noob when it comes to cooking."

I groan. And not from the taco boulder in my belly. "No one ever says these words! Some of them aren't even real words. Kids don't actually talk this way!" I yell. "And I am NOT a Swiftie!"

Destiny chortles, "Why's Dylan so cranky? He ate way too much to be hangry."

I sigh.

Wes says, "Seriously Mateo, thanks for this. While I'm living through hell tomorrow, I'll be remembering tonight."

"What's happening tomorrow?" he asks.

I reach over and give Wes' shoulder a squeeze as Destiny explains, "Wes has only been 'out' to everyone in his family for a few weeks. Tomorrow is the first big family gathering since he... It'll be his first time seeing all his grandparents, his aunts and uncles, his cousins... Many of whom are not particularly openminded."

"Homophobic assholes is what they are." Wes says.

Destiny gets up and kisses Wes on the forehead. Then she picks up his wrist and checks his pulse like a nurse. She turns to me and says, "Doctor, he's slipping into a taco coma!"

Wes snorts.

Destiny holds his hand, "We talked about this, sweetie. Anyone who doesn't love you for you just doesn't matter."

I say, "Seriously, dude. It's their loss, not yours."

Destiny gives his hand a squeeze and kisses his cheek.

~~

It's the next night. My phone chimes a text and reading my screen, I let out a huge sigh of relief. My cousin Hayden is on his way home. I look down at the sofa. My best friend is sprawled out where I dropped him after practically carrying him out of my car and into my house. He's a tangle of splayed limbs and only half conscious. I tug down where his shirt bunched up after I dragged him in the house. He groans.

Wes is bombed. It's only alcohol - no drugs, but still. He's scaring the hell out me. I'm pretty sure he doesn't have alcohol poisoning or anything, but I'm just a kid. What the fuck do I know? I really need an adult here. Someone I can trust. That someone is Hayden.

He walks in the door right at 10:00 carrying two big bags of McDonald's. Despite my worry, the smell makes my teenage stomach growl. Together we carry Wes to the kitchen table. He starts the coffee maker and hands me a bottle of water from the fridge.

"The coffee will take a minute. Get him started on the water now. We need to make sure he's well-hydrated. And see if he can eat too. What happened?"

Hayden's confidence and take-charge demeanor already have me feeling relieved. He knows what to do. Everything will be okay. I tell him, "Wes had a big family thing tonight. It was the first one since he 'came out' to them."

Hayden meets my eye and that's all I need to say about it. He nods, "Obviously it went as badly as it could in Schitt's Creek."

I nod back.

"Homophobic assholes," he says and I smile.

"Since he and Mateo each had separate family things, it was just me and Destiny hanging out tonight. Wes had been texting us updates. He was tolerating their bullshit as much he could. I knew he had driven separately to his grandparents' house because he planned to meet up with us afterwards, but when one of his cousins took the torment too far - I won't even tell you the disgusting thing he did - Wes bolted. His parents didn't even realize he'd left. Then we didn't hear anything from him for over an hour. He ended up driving home and breaking into his dad's liquor cabinet. He drank two bottles of who knows what and walked to the park before eventually calling me. I drove Destiny home and picked up Wes before the police could find him and arrest him. I brought him here."

"Liquor cabinet?" Hayden says. "Who still has a liquor cabinet? This sounds a little like an after school special from the 80's."

I laugh.

He says, "Dig in kid, I bought plenty of food."

The food must be absorbing some of the alcohol because Wes is coming back to life. He has already inhaled a whole Big Mac. My stomach growls again. I sift through the bags finding another Big Mac, two 10-piece McNuggets and two large fries. I tell Hayden, "You should get in on some of this."

He shakes his head. "I'm not eighteen anymore. If I ate that crap this late at my age, I'd be awake all night and have five extra pounds of flab around my belly in the morning."

I laugh again.

He sets a mug of steaming coffee in front of Wes and puts a hand on each of our shoulders. "I couldn't be prouder of both of you."

I shrug. "My best friend needed me so I showed up for him. No big deal. Not exactly heroic."

He scoffs, "You were there tonight the same way you've been there for him for four years. Plus, you recognized that you needed an adult and you called me. You trusted me. You did everything right tonight, Dylan."

I look down at the table and somehow, most of the food is gone. For the first time since I found him in the park, Wes speaks, "Why the hell are you proud of me?"

Hayden takes Wes' face in his hands, angling his head and forcing eye contact. "Wesley Harding, I will give four reasons why I'm proud of you. One: You are proudly and bravely living your truth. Two: Despite being a star athlete, you refrained from punching out your ignorant relatives. Three: Once you started drinking, you were smart enough to not get back behind the wheel of your car. Four: You realized you needed help and you called the right person."

One tear escapes from Wes' right eye and Hayden pulls him into a hug.

Hayden says, "Food, check. Water, check. Coffee, check. Next, he'll need a cold shower."