Current mood:	drained
Current music:	Mineral - Love Letter Typewriter

They say it's murder on your folk career to make a rock record with the Disappeared
I've been writing this for like four hours straight. Christ.



Title: Full Circle
Rating: PG-13 for language
Summary: Ephram and Bright attempt to make it through the week.
Pairing: Bright/Ephram, minor Colin/Amy
Warnings: Slash, excessive babbling, and teenage melodrama
Notes: Inspiration for this drawn from an Iceman/Pyro fic called Eight Times a Week by anothersuperboy. If you like Bobby/Johnny and porn-without-plot, then read it, because it really rocks and I, uh, borrowed his format. Mine’s not as good as his is, though. For one thing, I don’t have porn.

***

Monday, 1:13 pm

Math.

Sine x squared plus cosine x squared equals one.

Ephram had no idea what that meant, had no idea what the hell an identity was, much less what to do with it. He had a seven-question pop quiz on his desk and it was all identities and trig and he was very bitter about the whole thing. He ignored the fact that Ms. Reynolds had strongly hinted that they would have a quiz and that he’d had all weekend to study, choosing instead to focus on the fact that it was Monday and his life sucked.

He’d gotten half-way through making up a fake proof for question three when a quiet knock came at the door. He glanced up with the rest of the class to see who it was, but Ms. Reynolds got up from her desk to answer it and it took her so long to walk to the door that he lost interest and returned to falsifying his proof.

There was whispered conversation next to him and Kayla had turned her paper to the left so that it was visible to the guy next to her. He was glancing back and forth between her paper and his own, scribbling furiously. He saw Amy glance back and bite her lip when she saw what was going on before turning face forward and studiously ignoring it. Ephram rolled his eyes because he had a pretty good view of Kayla’s paper himself and he was no math genius, but even he could see that her work was just as much bullshit as his was.

Ms. Reynolds entered the room again and Kayla quickly turned her paper facedown because no one was as big of a bitch when it came to cheating as Ms. Reynolds. If she got you cheating and you were generally an A student, you could pretty much guarantee a C for the grading cycle, even if all your other work was stellar. Her beady eyes shot a quick glace around the room before beckoning whoever was at the door inside and a big whoosh of air left Ephram’s lungs when he saw who it was.

Dressed in his ever-present letter jacket, Bright followed Ms. Reynolds to her desk after shooting a nervous glance around the room. He had a manila envelope clasped in his hands, against which his fingers were tapping out an awkward rhythm. The consistent tap-tap-tapping was driving Ephram insane. He noticed in disbelief that most of the other students were still focused on their quizzes. Wasn’t that noise bothering anyone else?

Well, maybe it was bothering Amy, who had finished her quiz and was spending her free time shooting her brother death glares, but that probably had more to do with the fact that Bright had stranded her at dance practice until eleven last night, though through no fault of his own.

Amy didn’t know this fact though, so she continued to attempt to kill Bright where he stood.

Bright obviously noticed because he avoided her eyes and stared down at Ms. Reynolds’s desk while she situated herself again. He handed her the envelope and that awful tapping stopped but then he started shifting from foot to foot and his shoes made the slightest squeaking sound on the linoleum floor. Ephram was going to kill somebody.

Maybe Kayla, who had sat up straighter in her chair the second Bright had entered and was smiling sickeningly at him, tossing her hair every few seconds and it kept whacking the guy behind her in the face. Bright gave her a weak smile in return, leaning against the desk on one hand while Ms. Reynolds read whatever was in the envelope. He needed a hair cut, Ephram noticed; his curls were beginning to get out of control. It would have been endearing if it weren’t Bright. But it wasn’t because it was Bright and Ephram hated Bright.

Especially now, while he was making that obnoxious squeaking sound.

Ephram realized he must be staring because Bright was looking at him and giving him a tentative smile, running a hand over his messy hair, and Ephram started chanting his ‘I hate Bright’ manta in his head and put on his best ‘I’m smarter than you are’ look. Maybe the look wasn’t as good as he’d previously thought because Bright grinned for just a second and then turned around quickly and bent over to speak quietly to Ms. Reynolds. Damn him.

Ephram forgot completely about hating Bright and took the opportunity to stare uninterrupted by anything.

“Check back in a week. It should be ready then.” Ms. Reynolds’s scratchy voice brought Ephram back from Planet Bright’s Backside and he stared down his half-finished quiz, cheeks flaming.

“Thanks.” And Ephram snuck another glance at the blond only to find that Bright’s eyes were locked on him and he was smirking. Damn him. He knew. And now he was walking towards the door, smug and complacent, about to deprive Ephram the only thing that had ever made math interesting. He waited for Bright to turn around so that Ephram could prove that he had absolutely nothing to be self-satisfied about, but he didn’t because he probably knew that Ephram was going to try and ruin his fun.

So the door swung shut and Ephram stared at it for a long moment before someone else flipped their paper over and he remembered that he had a quiz to fail. He glanced down at his half-finished paper.

Sine x squared plus cosine x squared equals Bright’s ass.

Well. At least he knew one of the variables.

***

Tuesday, 5:32 pm

Slamming the door with a satisfyingly loud bang, he dropped his bag on the floor and made a bee-line for the fridge because he’d had to run laps all of practice and damn was he starving. Starving and there was nothing to eat except for leafy greens and tasteless stews because both of his parents were on their mid-life health kicks, in which they banned all the good foods for themselves and then forced the new diet upon their children. Finally he located a couple foil-wrapped pieces of pizza, left over from the last time he and Colin had had an impromptu best-friend movie night and Amy had been banished to her room.

“Oh, gross. That pizza is like a week and a half old!”

Bright jumped and slammed his shin into the refrigerator door. “Fuck!” He whirled to find two amused faces staring at him, enjoying his wounded misery. “Jesus, Amy, you scared the shit out of me!”

“Oh, like we were hiding. At the kitchen table. In plain view.” She rolled her eyes. “And if you eat that pizza, you’re going to be puking all night,” she continued when he made to take another bite. He gave her a withering look and made a big show out of enjoying the cold slice. “Fine. Don’t come crying to me when you’re sick.”

“What’s he doing here?” he asked around a mouthful of food, nodding to Ephram. The smaller boy gave him a dirty look at his tone and Amy glanced between the two of them with a sigh.

“We’re working a history project together, okay?” she answered, as if the question took so much of her precious effort. He could see Ephram biting back a grin and he felt his cheeks heat up, wishing, for once, that Amy wouldn’t act as if he were the biggest idiot she’d ever met in front of Ephram.

Well, not in front of Ephram necessarily, of course, because, it wasn’t as if he really cared since it was Ephram. He already knew what Ephram thought of him and nothing Amy said would make it any worse.

“So, uh, could you… leave us alone?” Amy asked after a long pause, tapping her pencil on her notebook.

“Uh, I would but, uh, this is the kitchen and I think I’m allowed in here.” He loved his sister, he reminded himself. Loved her even though she was sitting way closer to Ephram than necessary.

“Well, we can work in your room,” Ephram’s voice was absolutely cool and when Bright glanced at him, he was gazing guilelessly at his sister. She hesitated for a moment, glancing at Bright as if trying to gauge his reaction; it must have been clear that Bright didn’t approve because she smiled at Ephram and nodded.

“Yeah, sure.” She stood up and began gathering her books and Ephram followed after a long moment in which he was clearly gloating.

Bright hated his sister.

He hated her even more when she touched Ephram’s shoulder the way she normally laid her hand on Colin’s, right in front of Bright as if it wouldn’t bother him. And Ephram was completely hamming it up, like he… like he was fucking enjoying it. He didn’t look at Bright at all, just gathered his books methodically and glanced periodically when she wasn’t looking and made the occasional attempt at humor as they cleared the kitchen table.

They disappeared, practically glued at the hip, helping each other carry the papers and books and laughing as they attempted to move up the stairs. Bright heard some things fall and heard Amy snickering at something Ephram was saying. He wondered if they ever talked about him, but decided that, if they did, it was probably nothing good and he was better off not knowing.

He took another bite of the pizza and made a face. He hated to admit it, but Amy was right: if he continued to eat this, he probably would spend all of tonight puking. He dropped the piece back into the foil and threw it all into the trash can in the pantry. Inspecting the pantry, he laid eyes on the Golden Grahams tucked in the far back and pulled out the box. He located a clean bowl in the dishwasher and the milk that was only a day past the expiration date.

“Hey.”

The milk splashed a little bit out of the bowl when he arm jumped. Ephram was standing in the kitchen door, looking nervous, and Bright supposed this was his way of making peace. “Hey.” Bright continued pouring until he’d drained the milk and left the carton on the counter. He stared at the cereal while Ephram moved closer, heading toward the fridge. He rummaged through it, coming up finally with a Coke and a diet Sprite. There was an awkward silence in which Ephram turned around to face Bright, a can in either hand, and Bright gazed down at the cereal.

“Listen. Uh, before with Amy? I was just—”

“I know, okay?” Bright cut him off, pushing brutally off the counter. “You don’t have—I know. I get the whole. Golden girl thing. Christ. I’m not stupid.” He walked briskly out of the kitchen, leaving the cereal on the counter, feeling his pants for his wallet.

“Where’re you going?” Ephram sounded exasperated as Bright pulled open the front door.

“I’m going to find something fucking decent to eat,” he snapped and slammed the door shut for the second time that night.

***

Wednesday, 7:34 am

“That stuff’s gonna make you rust, man.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Ephram replied dryly, taking another swig of his soda. “It’s better than that,” he continued, nodding towards Wendell’s Starbucks-knockoff coffee. “And about two and a half bucks less.”

“Yeah, but I’m, uh, supporting small businesses by drinking this,” he replied with amiably. Wendell was always calm, whether he was on the wall in gym during the frequent impromptu games of dodge ball or on his phone with one of his contacts. Ephram never felt calm; he was always jittery, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Or something.

“And child labor in Latin America. How good Samaritan of you.”

Wendell shrugged his thin shoulders, “Win some, you lose some.” They paused at his locker and Ephram leaned against the row of lockers while Wendell spun his combination. It was really too early for banter, he decided. He should impose a ‘no talking before eight’ rule.

“Colin!” Automatically he turned his head in the direction of Amy’s voice. She was backing against the wall, away from Colin’s tickling fingers, a bright smile on her face that was reserved only for Colin. He pinned her to the wall, tickling her into submission on whatever subject she had disagreed with him, finally yelling that she gave up. The two of them put themselves back together, Colin picking up his dropped backpack, just in time to escape the two nosy teachers coming to investigate.

Bright was standing near them, his eyebrow arched and flashing his blinding grin as he shifted his bag from one arm to the other. The three of them, a long with two other guys in varsity jackets lagging on either side, continued down the hall way and Ephram could hear them chattering about the movie they’d seen last weekend, the party this weekend, and their plans for the weekend after that.

Ephram bit his lip as they approached, wishing for all the world that that feeling in the pit of his stomach weren’t jealousy.

When they neared, the two lovebirds in snickering with each other and Bright amusing himself by making fun of one of the other jocks, Amy glanced at him and she smiled a bit and Colin gave him a nod. He inclined his head to acknowledge them and was about to turn back to Wendell when Bright turned his head and caught Ephram’s eye.

He felt his stomach drop.

Bright glanced quickly at Amy and Colin and then back at Ephram and Ephram wondered he was still pissed off about last night. He saw Bright hesitate and for a wild instant, Ephram had the crazy thought that the blond boy might abandon his posse and come over to talk to him. But the moment passed and Bright kept in step with his sister and his friends, turning back to his friend. Ephram watched them stride past and Bright shot him another searching look, which Ephram ignored. If Bright couldn’t be bothered to speak to him, then fuck him.

“Don’t be fooled, man, you’ve got a chance,” Wendell whispered sagely, having finished up at his locker and had turned to watch the troop saunter down the hallway.

“What?” asked Ephram distractedly, still watching Bright has he walked away, willing him to look again.

“With Abbott.”

The world turned over.

“What?” Ephram turned to face him to sharply and ran into him, smacking their arms together. “What the hell are you talking about?” He was acutely aware of all of the blood leaving his face.

Wendell gave him a weird look. “Amy Abbott. Remember? Only the girl you’ve been, like, mooning over since you got here. Duh.” Amy. Right. Slowly the hallway came back into focus and Ephram allowed himself to take a lungful of air. “Anyway,” Wendell continued, seemingly oblivious to Ephram’s complete inner meltdown, “I heard that, uh, things aren’t exactly perfect in paradise.”

There was a long moment and it took a while for him to realize that Wendell was waiting for a response. “Oh.” Ephram wasn’t impressed and he gave his friend a disbelieving look. “You’ve been saying that for months. And you’re always wrong.”

“No, this time I swear it’s true.” He ran a hand over his crazily spiked hair and gave Ephram what was probably supposed to be a charming smile.

“Right. Whatever you say.” Ephram took another gulp of soda, the carbonation making his eyes water.

“You’re killing yourself as we speak with that, you know.”

***

Thursday, 8:52 pm

He should have told Amy to go and get her own damn movie.

He felt eyes on his back and he pretended to be very interested in the wall of The Two Towers video and DVD releases in front of him. He was browsing, he reminded himself; browsing and very casual and cool. He eyed the empty row of The Sopranos complete third season and made a mental note of remember that, next time, he needed to rent those.

The video store was completely devoid of any other customers, which made sense because it was Thursday and normal kids were doing their homework. Amy and Bright had decided that tonight was a duty-free night and opted to rent movies. She picked X-Men: United and he…

Well, he hadn’t decided yet.

He knew he was being watched and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He rotated his shoulders and tried to tell himself that this wasn’t weird at all. That he should expect people to watch him, damn it. Unfortunately, his inner self wasn’t convinced in the least.

“Have you ever seen Trainspotting?” asked a quiet voice to his right.

He jumped when his inner monologue was interrupted and instantly hated himself for always being skittish in Ephram’s presence. He turned to look at the shorter boy, dressed in his ugly Video World polo shirt decorated with a name tag that spelled his name ‘Efram,’ and offered a guarded smile. “Uh, no. What’s that?”

Ephram grinned, the way he did when he was about to go on in great detail about something he liked. “It’s this movie with Ewan McGregor set in Scotland in the eighties and they’re all heroin addicts—”

“Gee, sounds like fun,” Bright attempted to squeeze as much sarcasm into the sentence as Ephram put into a normal ‘hello’.

Ephram waved him off, “It’s awesome, I swear. You’ll love it.” He sounded supremely sure of himself and Bright suddenly, irrationally, hated him for it.

“Doesn’t sound like it, actually,” he said dismissively and turned towards the rows of videos again. He felt rather than saw Ephram blanch at his attitude. He tried to give off the air of being really interested in the Queer as Folk DVD set lined up in front of his eyes, then realized what he was looking at and blushed furiously. If Ephram noticed, he didn’t give any indication, he just inhaled and exhaled slowly.

“It’s, uh, got sex. And violence. And, um, excessive swearing,” Ephram stuttered when he was nervous and Bright felt bad. He was kind of an asshole, Amy told him at least once a day.

“Sold,” he attempted a smile and turned to face Ephram, watching the immediate tension leave his face.

“Great. It’s in, uh, drama. When I first moved here, I couldn’t believe that this place had it. That was, you know, before I met Marcus. Obviously,” Ephram babbled as he led Bright into the drama section. “Uh… Trainspotting, here.” He leaned down and grabbed the video from the shelf. “Do you. Want anything else?”

Yes. “No,” he answered, acutely aware of Ephram’s weird friend Wendell lurking in the aisles. “This is. This is it, thanks.”

“Bright…” Ephram bit his lip and Bright’s gaze flickered between Ephram’s eyes and his mouth. “I know this has been—” he stopped, glancing at something behind Bright, someone, most likely, and stopped. “I’ll. Check you out.” His pale face flushed at the words and Bright had to bite back a grin.

He stood at the counter and Ephram did some stuff with the keys, eradicating the balance with a couple clicks, which was great because Bright only had ten bucks. He seemed to relish in taking Bright’s money though and when he took the bill, their hands lingered, touching on the counter and Bright could see Wendell’s reflection in the row of windows. Could see him watching like a hawk. Nonetheless, Bright allowed himself to grin when Ephram handed him his change and they touched and then he kicked himself inwardly because he was getting all mushy like a girl.

“Due back Monday by noon, thanks.”

Bright walked though the security check and Ephram handed him his movies. When he reached over to take them, Ephram grabbed his wrist and Bright was glad to see that Ephram’s wiry body was blocking Wendell’s direct view. “Listen,” he said quietly, “We, uh. We need to.” He blew his breath out, “I’m, I’m—”

Bright’s phone rang.

“That’s. that’s probably Amy, wondering where the hell I am.” Bright forced a smile. “I”ll. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah. Bye.” Ephram looked a little lost and he nodded mechanically. Bright nodded his head at Wendell, who arched an eyebrow in return. Bright ignored the implications of his look and strode outside, pulling his phone out of his pocket and glancing at the caller ID before answering it.

“Next time, Amy, you’re getting your own damn movies.”

***

Friday, 10:14 pm

“Are you sure an anime fest wouldn’t be more fun?”

Wendell gave him a nasty smirk as they approached the cabin and Ephram’s shoulders slumped. Apparently the party had started earlier than they’d been led to believe because it was already in full swing. The bass pounded in Ephram’s ears and he reached up to rub them. The cabin was almost in the middle of the woods, which made this the idea place for a kegger since there weren’t really any neighbors to notify the cops.

As soon as they walked through the door, someone handed Ephram a cup of beer, which he passed to Wendell. His memories of his last party like this one were still too vivid for him to want to drink. Of course, give him another half hour with this music and he might be at the forefront of the keg line.

“Isn’t this great?” yelled a voice in his ear. He jumped, quickly making sure that Wendell was still on his left and turned around. Kate, a girl his ex-piano teacher had also taught, was standing there, a plastic cup of beer in her hand. He nodded weakly and turned back to check on Wendell, but the other boy had disappeared from view. He made a note to kill him slowly and then faced Kate with a feeble smile. She moved her mouth and he squinted at her lips but couldn’t make out what she was saying.

“What?” He gestured to his ear and she grinned and leaned closer. A lot closer. He could feel her breath in his ear but she wasn’t shouting loudly enough and he just nodded this time and took a minor step back. She laughed, he could tell because her mouth opened wide and she was smiling. It seemed that she’d said something funny.

Someone ran into his shoulder and he bumped into Kate, who stumbled and fell because she was, in fact, pretty drunk. Ephram reached down to help her up and when she grasped his hand and pulled herself up, she managed to invade his space again. Her hand was on his waist and she grinned at him a little bit evilly.

“Here you go!”

Ephram had never been so grateful for a cup of beer in his life. He held the cup in the small gap between himself and Kate, hoping it would deflect any further infringement of his personal bubble. Not that it could really be anymore infringed upon.

He listened to Wendell babble about everyone about the party because he some how seemed to know everything about everyone except, apparently, Amy Abbott. He learned more things about most of the basketball team’s sexual histories than he had ever cared to know but Kate was leaning toward Wendell, a fresh ear for his stories. Ephram had been disillusioned when he met Wendell and their friendship over the past year had basically substantiated Ephram’s original idea that the human race was screwed.

Kate’s arm had somehow wormed its way around Ephram’s waist and he endeavored to think of a way to peel her off of him when he abruptly became aware that he was definitely being watched. He knew it in the deepest fiber of his being and he scanned the cabin before settling on a familiar golden-haired figure standing near the window. Bright was watching him. Watching him and watching Kate latched on to him like some sick parasite. If Ephram had only been loosely annoyed by her presence before, he fucking hated her now. He squirmed but she actually squeezed him tighter and Wendell was either enjoying his predicament with Kate or was completely ignorant of it.

Then he spotted another blond next to Bright and saw Gemma reach her arms around his neck and pull him down to her. Whatever she was saying must have been fascinating because he stayed there, with Gemma’s skinny arms linked around his neck like a noose, for a good long while before pulling away. Then he smiled and laughed and Ephram had to wonder if that incredible smile was for his benefit. Gemma and Bright had broken up at the beginning of the summer for reasons known to few and while Bright swore to anyone who asked that they were just friends, the two of them looked pretty fucking cozy at the moment.

“Man, they’re sick, aren’t they?” he heard Wendell say in his ear.

“Yeah,” he agreed emphatically. “Very twisted.”

“Dude. What are you looking at?” Wendell reached an arm around his neck, “Amy’s over there.” He turned Ephram’s head to the left and he saw Amy and Colin sitting on the couch, tickling each other and laughing and looking like something off the Hallmark channel. “Aren’t they… ew. Man.”

“Yeah. Very sick,” he finally shrugged Kate off him when she loosed her grip to grab another beer, then shook out of Wendell’s grip.

“What were you—oh,” Wendell answered his own question when he glanced in the direction Ephram had been looking. He gave Ephram a long stare, probably the only time in the past year that Wendell had really looked at him, and he nodded like he understood everything. “Moving on, huh?” and he shrugged like it didn’t matter.

“Fuck you.” Ephram realized he was still holding his beer and downed the awful stuff in one long swig. He blinked his eyes rapidly and concentrated on not screwing up his face.

Then he made the mistake of looking back over Bright and Gemma. She had her head tilted upwards and their faces were very close together, like they would have been kissing if Bright had been a few inches shorter. Then she moved and she was probably licking his ear or something.

“The trick is to keep drinking, then you don’t notice the taste,” Kate yelled at his ear. He realized too late that he had indeed made a face and when he turned to call her on her dumb logic, the picture of Bright and Gemma was burned into his mind, and he ended up kissing her to erase the image.

Next time, he was staying home and having an anime fest by himself.

***

Saturday, 11:42 am

Bright liked the outdoors because they helped clear his mind.

So when Colin called and asked him if he wanted to head to the park with a couple guys to play a few friendly games of football or basketball or anything really, Bright had jumped at the chance.

Of course, now that he was at the park, the aspirin for his pounding headache having still not kicked in, he was kind of regretting that decision. He could see his friends milling around over by the basketball court, a couple of them half-heartedly kicking around a soccer ball because they were all probably too hung over for much else. He assumed that Colin had called everyone else too because he was the only person who would be able to drag a bunch jocks with hangovers out of their beds at this hour.

Bright didn’t have a hangover, but he was pretty sure that wouldn’t matter once his massive brain tumor was diagnosed. He rubbed his temples, blinking, and tried to muster up the courage to join his friends in what looked like was about to become rugby.

“Bright!”

The voice was so chipper and sweet, sounded so happy to see him, that he immediately knew it couldn’t possibly belong to any of his friends. He turned and gazed around the park, finally settling on a tiny figure in a baseball cap running to greet him.

“Hey, Delia, what’s up?”

Delia stopped in front of him, her cheeks red from running, and she beamed up at him. “Not much, I’m here with Nina,” she made a gesture towards a blond woman sitting on a picnic bench that Bright recognized as Ephram’s neighbor. Colin had mowed her lawn every other Saturday and sometimes had done other odd jobs for her in eighth or ninth grade and he remembered how he would brag about his hot employer. “Oh. And Sam,” she turned and pointed to a group of little boys who looked about half Delia’s age. She gazed sadly up at Bright, “Me and Sam were going to play catch but he met some of his friends here and now he doesn’t want to play with me.”

Bright eyed the group of little boys and remembered how he used to send Amy home crying when they were younger because he and his friends wouldn’t play with her. He glanced over at his friends, who had stopped their tackling to beckon him over. “Yeah? Well, you know, if you want, I’ll play with you.”

Delia looked up at him like he’d just offered her a flying horse of her very own. “Yeah? Really?” At his nod, she reached forward and hugged his waist. “You’re the best! Lemme go get the ball from Nina!” she ran off to Nina, practically bouncing and Bright saw the blond woman stop her to talk.

“Hey, Abbott!”

Bright looked in Colin’s direction and the other boy made a sweeping ‘come over’ signal with his arms. “Nah, I’m okay,” he called back and his headache threatened to resurface. “I got a better offer!” he pointed to Delia who was running back with the ball, his presence apparently okayed by Nina.

Colin laughed, “Figures. Always ditchin’ us for chicks!” Bright grinned.

“Catch!”

He put his hand up just in time to stop the softball from hitting his face. “Thanks for the warning,” he said dryly and she laughed. He tossed it back and she caught it and then backed up and threw it back at him. Relatively hard, in fact.

He kept up a running commentary of their game, which seemed to amuse her greatly. Eventually, the little boy, Sam, caught wind of what was going on and toddled over to join in. Nina moved from her bench to sit on the grass, cheering them on. Sam had a tendency to miss Delia’s considerably more gentle throws and the ball often ended up next to Nina, who tossed it to Bright. He’d usually go into a big routine, pretending to be having difficulty choosing who to throw it to. Delia and Sam loved it and Bright grinned. Why weren’t normal people this easy?

“Me! Bright, throw it to me!”

“No! Me! Please?”

“Looks like you’re a hit.”

Bright almost dropped the ball at the voice. As it was, he overthrew it to Delia and she stuck out her tongue at him before dashing to retrieve it. Bright looked over at Ephram, who was standing in the shade of the trees. He had circles under his bloodshot eyes. Yeah, his friends weren’t the only ones with hangovers.

“You wanna play Ephram?” Delia gave her brother the be doe-eyes that Bright recognized well from years of experience with Amy. Maybe there was a little sister handbook that he didn’t know about.

“Well… I guess.” Ephram shot him a quick look and Bright shifted uncomfortably. Even in his stupid wrinkled clothes that he’d probably slept in, Ephram looked pretty hot. “I was just. Out walking.”

“I, uh, should go. You know? My friends.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder back at them.

“Aww…” Delia looked quickly between them. “You know. Ephram isn’t as weird as he was at Thanksgiving. I promise.”

Bright laughed out loud and Ephram looked between them, bemused. “I’ll see you, Delia. We’ll play catch later.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Delia nodded and he said good-bye to Sam, who came over and hugged him and then waved to Nina, who was still sitting on the grass. She smiled at him and waved back.

“So, uh, Deels. You know the choir is giving a recital tomorrow at Sunday Mass? I, uh, bet you’d like it. Pretty singing.”

“Really? That’s so cool! I’ll make Dad take me. He likes singing.”

Bright angled his head downward and bit back a smile.

He had a clear head for the first time in a week.

***

Sunday, 9:07 am

Hopefully things were about to get better.

Predictably, Delia had dragged their father out to Sunday Mass to hear the choir sing. He hadn’t exactly been in the best mood this morning, but Ephram had made coffee and waffles in expectation of this. His father had looked at him over his steaming waffles, suspicion shining in his eyes. “What’re you up to, Ephram?” he’d asked narrowly. Ephram had told him to enjoy it while it lasted and Andy had shut up.

The knock had surprised him, even though he’d been expecting it, and Ephram had spilled his orange juice. Now Bright was standing in his kitchen, helping him mop up the juice with a bounty of paper towels. There was a heavy silence in which they both concentrated on getting ever last drop of juice off the counter.

“So, uh… this is. Familiar.” It was almost an exact replication of last Sunday, except they were in the Brown’s kitchen instead of the Abbott’s and they were cleaning up juice rather than milk.

“Yeah,” Bright laughed shortly and tossed the last of his sopping paper towels into the trash. He watched Ephram catch the last of the juice and Ephram watched him watch.

“Listen. This week. Everything is like,” Ephram gave a long sigh. “This sucks.”

“Oh yeah,” Bright raised his eyebrows and nodded emphatically. He wasn’t wearing his letter jacket for once. Ephram wondered if Gemma still had it.

“I’m,” Bright cleared his throat and he was still staring at the counter top. “I’m, uh, sorry. For. You know. This week. Flipping over Amy or whatever.” He ran his fingers over curls that were still in terrible need of a hair cut.

“Gemma?”

“Oh, Christ,” Bright sighed, glancing up and rolling his eyes. “It’s not. We broke up, okay? She’s. Just one of my friends. And I think she’s kind of figured it out anyway. She uh. Told me you were hot.” Bright made a face. “It was weird.”

Ephram laughed, “You don’t think I’m hot?” he asked, pretending to be wounded.

“You’re hot alright,” growled Bright and he reached out for Ephram, seeming to forget about the tension, and pulled closer. Ephram tried to get closer without actually… looking like he was trying to get closer. It seemed like Colorado was always freezing after September, even inside, and Ephram was consistently shocked by how warm Bright always seemed to be.

“I’m sorry about Amy. And for Kate.”

“Who the hell is Kate?” Ephram could feel the words forming in Bright’s chest.

“The girl at the party.”

“Oh. Her. Isn’t she some piano whiz?” Bright’s warm hands were on his shoulder blades, tapping out a poor rhythm on his back.

“Yeah. I hate her.”

“Oh. That’s what that was. Hate.” Bright snickered and Ephram grinned and leaned back to look up at Bright’s face.

“Yeah. But,” he reached up and pulled Bright’s head down and tried not to flash back to Bright and Gemma at the part because he imagined that this is how Gemma must have felt. Warm and tight and safe with Bright’s hot breath on her mouth, like was on Ephram’s. He pulled Bright’s head closer and they bumped noses and they both laughed before situating themselves correctly. “I hate you more.”

“You better.”

He kissed Bright then for the first time in a week because finally there was no one around. Bright’s mouth was warm like the rest of him and Ephram could taste the remnants of toothpaste or a mint or something. He twined his fingers in those thick curls finally, glad that they were so long, and Bright put one hand on his neck and the other on his back. It was kind of uncomfortable with Ephram’s back digging into the counter and he arched away from it, into Bright.

It was Bright who pulled away first, swollen lips and flushed face and eyes bright. “You’re going to make me bald,” he said reaching up to loosen Ephram’s hands from his hair.

“Oh god,” Ephram was glad he was probably already flushed because he was certainly blushing now, as he was dropping his hands from the top of Bright’s head to his neck. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Your hands are cold though.”

“Deal with it.” Bright laughed and kissed Ephram’s forehead. Ephram grinned up at his head, disbelief that he’d honestly spent the better part of the week pissed off at Bright.

“Hey, Bright? This week? Let’s not make it as bad as the last one okay?”

***

~Fin~