Monty gestured to the spare bedroom. Granted, the rest of the cluttered apartment had me second-guessing what type of roommate he would be, but the promise of housing right in downtown Toronto glowed. "Been looking for a roommate to split the costs. It's functional, the residents are polite and the management is competent."

"But why would you rent an....apartment if you're going on campus?" I said, wincing as I had to speak the words I didn't know. I needed to practice more of my ASL, because surprise—life occasionally allowed you to apply the crap you learned in school to day-to-day life.

"My stupid uni roomates didn't decide until too late, and by then I'd signed a contract with the landlord," he said. "But you know, I was thinking this apartment could be an escape for me when things get really rowdy. We can split the rent in half. Besides, you said you needed a place to crash, and I have one," he shrugged.

I pestered him about why he'd waste so much money but he didn't budge. Our friendship grew by playing catch up to each other: him helping me as I was perpetually late for anything, and me turning food in the fridge into something edible for when he was tired of residence food. We bonded over consumer content and talked about where our disabilities intersected. It didn't get much deeper until that. I didn't have to justify my peculiarities or preferences, and when Monty would stumble in early in the morning—just after I woke up—I'd fix him pancakes and head out to breathe in the last moments of twilight.

Sharp knocking shattered the few hours of sleep I'd managed to get. Sitting up caused a wave of cloudiness to swallow my thoughts like vaporized spoiled milk. Through the pounding grogginess, I struggled to string what I heard into words I understood.

"Monty, I'm sick of your games! Just let me in!"

I switched on Tienne's lava lamp, casting the room in purple light and geometric shadows. Stumbling around the sheets of music, my phone charger and the stuffed Charmander Pokemon that had fallen to the floor while I was sleeping, I picked up the latter and put it back on my nightstand. It was too itchy to sleep with and it was collecting dust, but I liked having it as a companion on lonely nights.

I made my way to the apartment door, turning on the lights that burned my eyes. The cold linoleum floor of the kitchen beneath my bare feet, compounded with the frantic knocking, kicked my heart from sleepiness to a jittery gallop.

Had Monty rubbed someone the wrong way? I huffed through my nose, not in the mood to fight. "Who are you?" I called.

A pause. "Shane. Monty's brother. He said I could crash here whenever I need."

Monty never said he had a brother.

I slid the upper metal chain and unlocked the door. The teenager on the other side backed up from me, as if I was a threat in my old Pokemon pajamas. If anything, Shane looked more intimidating with his combat boots and a backpack that no doubt weighed like bricks.

He ducked his head so his long black bangs covered his eyes, fiddling with a green Presto card. Did he commute all the way here? Vaguely I remembered Monty mentioning he lived in Scarborough, which was at least an hour by transit, and probably longer in winter.

Inside the apartment, Shane rummaged through the kitchen cupboards until he found a certain mug wrapped in plastic to protect it from dust. He filled it with water from the tap and took it to the small dining table. Somehow he made himself at home while eying me suspiciously.

After firing a round of heated messages to Monty, which was unsuccessful in eliciting a response, I threw my hands up and asked Shane the obvious. "Why are you here?"

"Ask Monty that. He's always the one stirring up a storm for nothing."

I shook my head. Once Monty returned, he'd sort out whatever issues with his brother, and then we'd have a talk about leaving me out of the loop. Having his unpredictability extend to the dead of the night was crossing the line.

Sleep wasn't coming with another human being in the apartment, shaking up the order of things. To kill time, I brainstormed more songs, my creativity running like water from an old leaking pipe. Shane used the bathroom, dug through Monty's stuff, and looked through the fridge until I told him not to move anything out of place, to which he visibly flinched.

When the clock struck two in the morning and Shane started pacing around, I said, "Can't you sort it out with Monty? What did you put in your backpack? And why are you over-reacting to every innocuous move I make?"

"'Cause he rented this apartment for me, and I came because he had to start some stupid drama with our dad."

My arms swung in and out in an attempt to ground my anger in the present instead of unleashing it. I closed my eyes and hummed, searching for clarity among the turmoil that my meltdown was a product of. Finding my way to my bedroom, I shut the door and stimmed until Shane's emotions separated from my own like oil from water.

Shane and Monty were too alike on their bad days, when what they said contradicted what they meant, and the dissonance between what I intuited and heard caused distress.

The most Monty had ever talked about his dad was the night he had texted me a string of incoherent messages about how he wondered if he was a good son for leaving his parents and if he was becoming as selfish as his dad. I blinked and the text messages vanished. The next day he vehemently denied what he'd sent. I had let it go because there was no point arguing when alcohol had probably muddled his memories, and also because his voice shook. He had been afraid.

I needed someone who knew Monty better than I did to resolve this problem, because I did not like where my thoughts were going. I had heard enough from Nora to know being alone while handling this was a sure-fire way for things to go unchecked. Popping my head out the bedroom door, I said, "I'm calling Joachim."

"Hell no," said Shane.

"Why?"

"Why would you want to expose the guy you love to the jerk who played a part in conceiving you?" he snapped, storming to the bathroom and at the lost moment stopped the door before it slammed. It clicked gently as I sent a text to Rajathiran's profile, who was online.

It was like people expected me to read their minds.

RAJATHIRAN: Oh god I'm coming right away

TAI: No he's not with us, idk where !!

RAJATHIRAN: We have an app called FindMyFriends

RAJATHIRAN: Will update you later, gtg

Monty always had everything under control, and when he didn't, he'd laugh and assure me everything was all right.

The instinct to puke was strong, but it was only emotional burnout. I had to trust myself even if I didn't understand the ice shooting through my veins, sharpening into painful unease. I got out of the apartment and paced around in the hallway, distancing myself from Shane's gasping sobs that the roaring shower failed to bury.

—

When keys clacked against metal and the apartment door groaned open, Shane sent the chair clattering to the ground. I winced, covering my ears until the ringing faded. The door shut again as the Zhao brothers hashed it out, their voices echoing in the hallway.

Someone knocked and opened the door. "Can I get a coffee?" Rajathiran said through a yawn.

I waved my hand to the kitchen. "Put everything back where you found it please. I'm not in the mood for talking but could you...?"

"Yeah."

"And try not to make it..."

"Heavy? I'll try but no promises."

As the caffeinated aroma tickled my nostrils, I vaguely remembered that it should be impossible for them and I to be talking like this, but I couldn't put my finger on why.

When they texted me the breakdown, I wasn't sure what to feel. Explosive fights commonly stemmed disproportionately from smaller disagreements. Fighting was such a waste of time, and in the end nobody ever won.

RAJATHIRAN: The abridged version is that Monty's dad had issues with Shane not coming home right away after school, plus a bunch of other bigoted reasons. Shane traveled to your apartment. He followed after Monty did some impulsive things. They fought. His dad didn't use ASL or didn't care, so it was a good thing you called so I made sure he wouldn't spike Monty's phone while he used its speech-to-text feature.

RAJATHIRAN: Also for emotional support, though he won't ever say that

TAI: Monty really blew it out of proportion

RAJATHIRAN: That was what I was thinking, but idk, I wouldn't judge. I hope Monty doesn't hate me for being there since we don't get along

TAI: Oh

RAJATHIRAN: It's okay, you didn't know

RAJATHIRAN: Tell Monty to get some sleep

RAJATHIRAN: Off topic but are you coming to R4E?

With everything that happened? I didn't know if I'd have the energy for meeting so many people. I looked at them and shrugged.

—

Per the temporary arrangement, Shane slept in his brother's room while Monty slept in the living room on a cot. He skipped a day of exams to sort out things with Shane, though from the snippets I overheard they definitely needed more time to put a bandage on an impossible problem. After telling them that their bickering was affecting me—mindfulness advice from therapy didn't change how negative emotions carved out my insides—it was reduced to tepid interactions. Thankfully Shane was quiet and my routine didn't have to change drastically. We even talked about Pokemon and Yu-Gi-Oh and mapping. Despite his size though, his presence seemed to occupy considerable space in the apartment and my consciousness.

MONTY: You angry or something?

Saving my drafted email to Phiona, I switched to my Instagram direct messages and tried to tame the trepidation that seized me out of nowhere.

TAI: No

MONTY: My gut tells me you're annoyed at best and think less of me at worst

MONTY: Both are valid since I should've been more honest at the start

TAI: It's not that

TAI: I just

TAI: Monty, you started a fight and worried your brother and it makes me feel less of myself when you're acting brave and putting yourself in unnecessary harm. You don't need to do that. It makes things worse for everyone, solving a problem you can't fix only for it to unravel later on. So why do you like picking fights? I refuse to believe it's because of an inflated ego even if you do have one.

I dreaded discovering I'd befriended someone I shouldn't have. It felt horrible to think that but it was difficult to pinpoint what in life was worth keeping and what was worth letting go. Which boundaries should I cross because it'd help me grow as a better person? Which boundaries should I stay within for my own well being, regardless of others' relative baselines?

MONTY: I didn't have a choice. You think I do this for fun? Yeah I can't fix what generations of family trauma have done, but that's no excuse to stay complacent when I have the means to do more. Problems aren't going to resolve nicely. Someone is going to get hurt, and if I hurt Shane, that's on me, but I rather have that than have him chafe under our sperm donor's thumb for another eighteen years, if not more

MONTY: Like let's put this into perspective

MONTY: How did you tell your parents you wanted to quit architecture?

TAI: I didn't

TAI: My older sister told them and it ended up in a shouting match

TAI: I miss being optimistic. Like when I realized architecture couldn't be my reality, I'd thought everyone would see with the same level of clarity as me. I was drowning in homework because my existence fell short of the mold I thought I could adjust to. My parents were so adamant on keeping me in the program though, so I made everyone in the faculty think I was a slacker so I'd have no choice but to drop out

MONTY: Holy shit

MONTY: Didn't that make it a living hell

MONTY: What did you do, pour hot coffee on your professors?

TAI: It couldn't get worse at that point, and I knew if I did it they'd be no turning back anyway

TAI: But the worst was the fighting. It's pointless and hurts everyone. The answer's already there

TAI: I hated causing a storm just for nothing

MONTY: Why, because it makes you feel like you're the problem?

MONTY: Or because it makes you look bad?

MONTY: If you ask me a musician is a sick job to have

MONTY: But I don't know if you're asking for my opinion or you already have your own. If it's the latter then I don't need to say it, you know the answer Tai

Just when I'd convinced my family that everything was fine, I wrecked my academic career to get out of the corner I created. It added fuel to the fire I hoped to avoid. And while my parents and the educational institutions had failed to give me the support I needed, the consequences hurt Kimmy and Tienne, and our trust was fractured for a while.

Noticing how more than an hour had passed—mostly me writing and deleting my responses to Monty—I flipped to my profile. I had thought letting the storm pass would be my best shot for my career. But the person in my posts wasn't me. And there was a lot more to me than just my music. Even if my profile was strictly for my career, I didn't show much of my personality at all. Being ready to voice my thoughts to those close to me, but remaining reticent while on stage...in this way, I was undermining my own dream.

Half an hour later, I drafted my email to Phiona. I asked for tips on branding, and also if Radio for Equality was okay with me leaving early. 

Gargh! When the draft just doesn't fit your vision. I think I've come close though. I'd been revising obsessively so I'm posting it before I go insane.