[where u at?]


[thats funny me 2]

Ethan stared at his phone, furrowed his brow, and decided it was too early for Naveen's cryptic bullshit. It was too early to make a bowl of cereal without spilling two-percent milk all over the counter, and Ethan watched it drip onto the newly tiled floor. He blinked and dropped to his knees to mop most of it up with his sleeve, using paper towels when he remembered where they were. Dad would be pissed if he left another mess, especially after yesterday, when the dog got the shits from eating pizza he left on the coffee table.

His phone buzzed, and he ignored it, dumping cheerios into his bowl. A few bounced away, and Hound lumbered into the kitchen, having not learned from his cheese-and-pepperoni ordeal. He was an old mastiff with hip problems and poor eyesight, who spent most of his time drooling and trying to lean against people not suited to support his weight. He licked the floor long and slow, sweeping up the cheerios and stray milk droplets.

Absently, Ethan scratched Hound's head, consuming steady spoonful after spoonful. He chewed mechanically, squinting. It looked nice outside and he thought about walking Hound, but his phone buzzed again. He picked it up this time.

[i wasnt kidding mfer cum upstairs]


[ur room cum upstairs]

Confused, Ethan finished his cereal, left the unrinsed bowl in the sink, and fed Hound. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes for the fifth time and stumbled upstairs, leaving his phone on the counter while he showered. It wasn't until he stepped into his room, towel tied around his hips, that he realized what Naveen was getting at.

"Sup motherfucker." Naveen lay sprawled on his twin bed, eyes dark and jeans sinfully tight. He waved and fingered a fraying hole in his shirt, just above his navel. "Took you long enough. Getting wet for me?"

"Fuck off." Ethan threw his towel at him and started to dress. "The fuck are you doing here?"

"Your window was open."

"Fucking creep." Ethan turned to him after he pulled on a pair of loose sweats, not bothering to dry his hair before he put on a shirt. "Seriously, what the fuck are you doing here?"

Naveen stood languidly and fiddled with Ethan's damp collar. "I figured you might want a going away present or some shit. You know, after yesterday."

"What? Decided you don't hate me?"

"S'not like it's your fault you're a talented bastard. I hope you do well in New York or... whatever." Naveen had full lips and skin like burnished copper. He wore his bleached hair collarbone length, shaved on one side in that vogue pseudo-punk style. Ethan thought it looked stupid, but if anyone could carry it off, Naveen could. His hands fit against the curves on Ethan's neck like they were made settle there. "Maybe you'll get the fuck over Tony in New York."

"I love Tony."

"Fuck Tony." Naveen scowled and tiptoed closer. "Is Tony here? No. Fuck Tony. Fuck his face. I'm here because I'm happy for you. What C-average student doesn't deserve a break because he can hit a fucking ball with a wooden stick?"

Ethan knew his rages. He knew the fist tightening around his collar, his hinged jaw and quivering lip. He knew they were going to fight or fuck, and he didn't know which was better. They fucked last night, after Ethan told him he was going away, leaving Indiana for a brighter future. Last night, Naveen told him he never wanted to speak again because that was better for Ethan. You'll chase new tail in New York, won't you? You'll forget about your stupid ex-boyfriend, you won't ever come outta that closet he was tryna coax you outta, and at least you'll have new tail to chase. You'll forget about fucking Indiana. "Go home."


"Go home, Naveen."


"I said go home."

"You can't threaten me." Naveen took the hem of his shirt, folding it up, sliding his warm-soft hands up along the skin he revealed. Ethan stood still, inhalation bated. "You won't do anything to me. It's a going away present, is all. Between fuck buddies."

Yeah, forget about Indiana. And me. Forget about me. Naveen was sober now. Ethan wondered if he remembered and forgot he cared when Naveen sank to his knees. "Okay. Okay, fine. Fucking whore..."

Naveen's orange hair looked pretty on his pale knuckles, and he wondered, would he forget? Would he forget? I just... Fuck. Don't forget me in New York.