Dennis followed Camden into the bathroom several days before Christmas break was to start. He was quiet, fast, and incredibly cunning.

"Can I say something to you?"

This was not a question and Camden stopped, turned around with his muscles taunt. Realization was slowly dawning and although he was not panicking, his eyes flew to the exit. Inside the layers of t-shirt, button-up and hoodie, he suddenly felt very small.

Dennis locked the door behind himself. Like he had something to hide, like some secret was to be divulged that could not be for any other ears but theirs. Perhaps it was so, however.

"Since the night you were with me you've been avoiding me. You won't even look in my direction in class, like when the Miss comes in you look at her reflection in the television so not to look past me. Am I a leper or disgusting?"

Dennis presented himself conservatively that day – an effort he had made purely for Camden's benefit. He advanced when no reply was received. He required a reply.

"Uhm …" Camden managed.

He looked Dennis up and down and was disgusted for he once wore his clothing and thought himself handsome in them. Dennis represented the other – he was unlike himself and belonged to a foreign, unknown realm – and by looking at him Camden saw himself only the better. He felt no hatred, however. All around him was simple entrapment of a Chinese finger trap.

"When we were making out –" Dennis started and instantly knew he erred as Camden's hands were balled in his collar.

"We weren't making out," Camden hissed through his teeth. Dennis's presence in the bathroom, the locked door, the accusations, all served to tear at the scars that that which transpired that night left behind – him on the bed, Dennis laying on top of him, kissing his face, Trevor, the break-water – and these scars opened and bled anew, exposing the bones underneath. It was these bare bones that he now presented in their simplicity.

"I was drunk. You were trying to do shit to me."

"That doesn't absolve you," replied Dennis coolly. "You weren't curious. You were detached … You weren't curious or even disgusted with me."

Camden pushed him away and although his back hit the sink he did not falter, presenting his own bare bones.

"You were used to it."

Camden stared. He tried to will himself into action but nothing came to mind. He could have hit Dennis or argued or swore or he even could have laughed.

"I was drunk," he repeated instead, quiet-like.

"I met some fellow at this adult video store," said Dennis suddenly, now leaning on the sink. A smug smile played on his lips. "I just went there and stood outside in the sluttiest dress I had. I was cold as fuck."

"What?" said Camden. He had still been thinking of a suitable retort and was caught unawares.

"A few weeks ago. That's how I know. When he was feelin' round and trying to figure out what to do with me, I just didn't want to be there. I looked at myself from the side and I pushed him off me. I felt like you." Dennis' smugness transformed into anticipation: he awaited confirmation of what sort he knew not.

Yet Camden would not oblige. An entity that was the white to his black stared at him across the tiled floor. It blinked and breathed and was human and yet it did all of these procedures in a very foreign way. Perhaps there was a mistake, Camden thought. Perhaps Dennis saw nothing; no "Us" or "Them" or the crushing weight that has been held over Camden's chest for the duration of his life. Perhaps all Dennis saw was a blue-eyed blond. Perhaps he just wanted to be certain of his own assessments. Camden took a deep breath.

"You don't know what I felt like," his words were firm.

"No. No, he didn't leave. He kicked my dog and stole my dad's humidor." Dennis paused. "You were really nice to my dog, babe."

"I like animals," answered Camden stupidly and then understood the last word and made to escape.

"What I meant to say is when he was screwing me it looked like what I was doing to you. I came here to apologize," Dennis added quieter. "Christine won't talk to me now 'nemore. Maybe if I keep talking you'll like me. I just want you to give me a chance."

Camden remained silent. He was sober now, he was in himself as much as he had been out the last time they were alone. He could feel every red blood cell surge through his veins, was conscious of every eyelash flutter and ready muscle. He was invincible, seeking redemption. So he remained silent and he let Dennis speak, for despite everything, somewhere deep within his dusty blue eyes, curiosity stirred. Had Trevor looked upon him with such a curiosity when he first saw him? he wondered.

"I'm not asking for much. I just think this is right, you're right and I'm right. I'd like to risk it and live a little, ya know? With you, I mean. Just give it a try, give me a try."

"I can't," said Camden and unlocked the door. They walked to the class room separately.

Camden sat down and pretended to write a composition, but the words refused to flow. Then there was a commotion at the door.

"Camden," said a voice he knew well anywhere and he stiffened and dropped his pen, his eyes wide and breath lost.

NOTE: Continued in Veritas.