Amson, 18, "Friend"

Dad and I talked for a bit, just a one-on-one refresher between the two of us. It was a nice change of pace, and I felt relieved as I spoke, just about honest with him.

I still hadn't spoken a lick about the party or what'd happened, but speaking so naturally with him made it not seem like such a bad idea, after all: Maybe, eventually, I'd find myself in the position to tell him. But now, sitting there, having just released myself from the clutches of that exhausting conversation, I just couldn't find any space to fit something so daunting into our heartfelt and calming conversation.

We spoke about things I don't think I ever spoke about to anyone, my social life at school, my perception of how the school saw me and how I saw the school's systems, and he was willing to listen and give his own feedback. He wasn't afraid to disagree with me; he didn't sugarcoat a single word, but he didn't force anything onto me, only provided options based on his own biases, and it was nice to hear someone who didn't soften their words when they spoke to me.

Had this been what I'd been missing out on my entire life? Was this the entire reason why I'd been searching for myself for all that time?

I had to admit, it was so nice, seeing my Dad smile like that, and he held onto that expression until I stood up, my exhaustion getting the best of me. Sitting on my sister's bed hadn't felt weird until I'd stood, but the feeling was short-lived; there'd be no reason to dwell on something so trivial.

Dad remained seated as I reached for the door, but his voice stopped me again, serious yet inviting.

"Did you need anything else off your chest before you headed to bed?" He glanced down at his silver watch. "I can sit for another minute or a few."

"I'm beat, Dad." I chuckled. "At this rate, we'll be talking all night."

"I…" He glanced down, disappointment in his eyes. "I was enjoying myself…"

"We can talk again any other day." I thought for a second. "Under better circumstances... I promise."

"I guess you're right." He continued to look down, something catching him within thought. "I guess you're right..."

I could tell by the look on his face, his mind was stuck on something, but something else pulled me toward that door, an unfathomable influence. Despite the feeling, I grabbed the door's handle, yet the next thing I saw was a vision of myself, staring me dead in the eyes as I opened the door. 

I flinched, the room around me having become painted in black and red before I had the time to process. I'd felt this sensation before, the first time I broke in those new shoes. 

"Put the fucking shoes on..." He scowled, and his eyebrows furled as he folded his arms over one another. "The fuck's the hold up?"

Within a moment's notice, the hallway was back to normal, a spell of nausea coming over me as I regulated my breathing. I couldn't hear a thing besides my own thoughts, and only one thought could be mashed together within the moment. 

'What the fuck--' I tried, my thought interrupted by a sudden voice.

"Goodnight, Amson." Dad uttered, curing the ringing in my ear. 

I hesitated to return the gesture, but winded, I tried my best to hide my disheveled mind. 

"G-Goodnight, Dad." I said, hiding my face from him as I closed the door shut.

///

The door to my room creaked as I pushed it open, and the first thing to catch my vision was Ty's form, drawing me nearly instantly. He sat comfortably on my cushioned chair in the opposite corner of the room, and within his grasp was my ironclad action figure, flailed about through his boredom. I couldn't help but smile as I looked at his childish outburst, and he looked at me with a similar expression as I entered the room.

"I'm glad you decided to make yourself at home." I said, closing the door behind me. "That chair hasn't gotten much use, so I'm sure its glad to have you."

"As my ass is glad we had it..." He said, half-laughing. "Would've hated to waste your floors so soon."

"I'm sure he'd love your company, too." I retorted, walking toward my bed. "For the most part, he seems indifferent."

Ty scoffed, reclining in my chair. 

"You seem in good spirits." He sighed as he laid back. "What did they say?"

He was right. For some reason, I felt as if words came to me easier. I breathed easier, moved easier, and, best of all, had an easier time articulating myself. You could say I had a spurt of witty, but there was something else to it; I knew that much. 

I could tell from the overall breadth of confidence I felt as I spoke with him. Normally, I'd remain a bit reserved, even for a friend, but it felt more natural, unfiltered like. By his words and expression, I'd grasped Ty'd noticed as well. 

I sat at the edge of my bed with this newfound aura of a sort, my back to him. 

"There's no reason to kid with me, Ty." I assured him. "These walls are thin; I bet you heard the gist."

"At most, ten percent." He admitted, guilty as charged. "Most of my time was spent with this doll you got, and I gotta admit, he's growing on me."

"You forget sitting on your ass in my chair." I reminded him.

"Love seat..." He corrected. 

"Sure." I conceded. "Whatever the fuck." 

I grabbed my phone from my dresser, yet before I could even get eye of the screen, Ty spoke. 

"Someone called you a few times while you were in there, talking." He told me, kicking one leg onto the other. "Only a squeeze'd call you that many times within the span of thirty minutes... I'm jealous."

"Fuck off." 

Sure enough, as I looked at the screen, there were around four calls from a contact without a specified name, Tora's number. As my thumb inched for the call back button, it wavered, and I dropped my phone, leaving it aside my bed once again. 

"You up for a round or two?" I asked, grabbing the TV remote and turning it on. 

///

"You know..." Ty spoke as we clicked away at our controllers, reserving some attention for the conversation. "...that party was the first time I'd played a video game in a long while."

We sat within the darkness of the room, the lamp now off and house at a standstill. The sound outside was finally at a hush, and besides the low breathing of the air conditioner, the sounds of our controllers and voices were the only thing audible within the home. 

It was the sort of atmosphere you'd sense, as if lucid within a dream. It was relaxing and it fed conversation with a mesmeric influence. 

"Yeah?" I asked, mildly surprised. "You seem like the kinda guy to play, every now and then."

"Since when'd you get that picture?" He chuckled. "All my time goes into sports and bitches."

"Of which I'm sure you're satisfied already." I scoffed. "Don't lie to me. I hear your name from one girl's mouth at least once a day at Butcher Cross."

I nudged him on the shoulder, jolting him to the side. Even still, he didn't let the gesture interrupt his flow. 

"I should be the one jealous of you." I teased.

He laughed a bit before turning to a more stoic expression, leaving a few seconds to the clicking of controller keys. 

"I'm not all great a player, nor do I think I'm popular with the girls at Caymen." He said, matter of fact.

"Are you sure about that, man?" I poked once more. 

"At least, th--"

"The girl, or girls, you like don't show you the interest you want; is that right?"

The paused for a moment, taking double takes at me as my eyes remained glued to the screen. 

"When'd you become some love guru, bitch?" He grilled, purplexed.

"I can just tell by the look on your face, man." I clarified. "And as I've said, I hear it all the time. It just takes something to stop you from tuning out those voices that actually mean a damn."

I paused for a moment, and Ty kept quiet, as well, leaving the room to silence again. He sighed without saying a word, but his hands remained on the controller, as if he were a natural. He wasn't bad by any stretch of imagination. In fact, I'd say he was in the top thirty percent of most people that still played that washed up party-fighter. All that after saying he hadn't played in what, by the way he said it, seemed like years without touching a controller. 

At least, before a few weeks ago. 

"Thank you for earlier, man." I said to Ty.

"You don't needa thank me, man." Ty responded as he continued to play. "Aint nothin' worth thankin' for."

"Alright." I paused for a moment. "Well, thanks anyways."

Within the next moment, Ty pulled some bizarre super move, netting him a win. Though it was one of a few matches, that much he'd earned, though I could do without the bravado. He stood up within a spell of cockiness, nearly pushing me over amidst his showboating. 

"Well, you're welcome... bitch." He pronounced, a smug smirk painted on his face.

I let him take his victory lap, and with that, I placed my controller down with a smile plastered along my face. I pushed myself off of the carpet, freshly shaken free of anything beside the ecstasy that was my present.