Jumping into things without thinking is summat I do professionally but I may have outdone myself this time. How exactly am I planning to keep Diwa occupied for two weeks? Only things I do in my free time are get high and vandalise public property and somehow I don't reckon she'll go for either. Not to mention the fact that I might experience a compulsive need to blow my head off from spending so much time with her.

I drop my phone onto my bed when the featured snippets on my google search only provide stupid ideas, tugging my earbuds out without bothering to pause my music.

Caleb's dulcet tones reach me the moment I open my door.

'–then Rishi said our relationship is based on entirely the fact that we're both trans which is totally unfounded cause we're also both autistic actually, so yeah, what're you gonna say about that?'

I step back into my room only to immediately step out of it. I don't wanna interrupt but I also can't wait for some perfect opportunity cause one will never arise with these two.

'I'm not talking to him until he apologises.'

'I'm sure he will,' Nicolás responds. 'And you know it must've come from a genuine place. You talk about it all the time—how your dating pool is so limited. He's just worried you're settling cause–'

'That's not true! I well fancy her. I know we've not really got much in common but I don't understand why being in a relationship means we have to do everything together. Why can't we just have our own hobbies and interests and tell each other about them?'

'Course, you can. Eilidh makes you happy, I can see that. And I well hope you don't split up cause I'm not doing it on your behalf like last time–'

'Why are you bringing that up now?'

Nicolás don't take the bait. 'Look,' he says, 'Rishi's mean. But so are you. You have to tell him he hurt your feelings cause he might not even realise considering how you two talk.'

Caleb mutters summat I can't hear before giving in. 'Fine. I hate it when you bring reason into the conversation.'

I've slunk as quietly as I can down the stairs and now listen from outside the kitchen door. Either they've suddenly started talking much quieter or there's a pause in the conversation because I hear nowt. As perfect timing as any, then.

They both flinch when I open the door though gladly greet me when the intruder turns out not to be a robber.

'Are you hungry?' Nicolás asks, already fetching me a plate. 'Caleb brought gyoza.'

I try to thank him though my voice might rust into my throat so I take my seat in silence. We only have two chairs but Caleb conveniently comes with his own.

Nicolás gives me a Monster from the fridge, brushing my shoulder as he passes. I flinch away from his touch and he pauses on his trip around the table.

'Sorry.'

Nicolás keeps his eyes downcast as he sits back down. Caleb takes his hand under the table.

I look at the dumplings in front of me and wait for the warning that they're poisoned but it don't come. Maybe Beewolf trusts Caleb's mum more than Nicolás or maybe it's luck but I know not to question it too much. I've no clue how to use chopsticks so I dunk the gyoza into the dipping sauce with my hands. Surprisingly, Caleb don't look like I've insulted his entire bloodline.

They watch me and I watch them back.

'So you've been friends for a long time,' I say. 'Back when you didn't have any money–'

'"Back when"?' Caleb repeats with a laugh but Nicolás nudges him and he falls silent before he can joke about how we're still brassic.

'–what did you do together that don't need paying?' I ask, taking a bite of gyoza only to snarl through it. 'And do not say sex.'

Caleb throws his arms up. 'That were literally one time. And it–'

'Shut up,' Nicolás says, clearly hoping to be eaten by a gargantuan pitcher plant. He turns to me. 'I reckon we mostly mucked about on the internet.'

'...You had internet growing up?'

Caleb's jaw falls open. Every word he says is accentuated by a jab or wave of his hands. 'How old do you think we are? We had the YouTube just like you kids these days. I'll have you know I had four friends on MSN and none of them were my mums cause neither of them can use a computer.'

'We played Miniclips games cause they were free–'

'Sky Wire? Undefeated to this day. Don't even get me started on Papa's Pizzeria.'

'And looked at lyrics videos on YouTube where the words were all incorrect,' Nicolás continues, smiling wistfully over his green tea. 'Why're you asking, anyway?'

I shove a whole dumpling into my mouth, and hunch over with both elbows on the table. 'I'm seeing Diwa tomorrow.'

Caleb jumps with excitement. 'Oh, you can go charity shopping!'

'That's not free.'

'Yes, it is,' he argues, questioning my brain function. 'The point of charity shopping is to judge things and put them back on the shelf.'

Nicolás laughs. 'TK Maxx works too. They sell some weird shit at TK Maxx. Speaking of weird shit that's fun to judge, another thing you can do for free is look for weird Reddit posts. Cause there are a lot of them.'

'Or you can look for cool rocks!' Caleb exclaims.

My stare flicks from one to the other before I decide it best to just focus on my food. 'Forget I asked.'

            I lower myself on the sofa beside Diwa, hands buried in the pocket of my hoodie. 'I thought we could both make lists of ten songs we like. Not like favourite songs or whatever, cause that's impossible. Just ten songs that you like. And we could listen to them together.'

I speak to the right corner of the floor. The skirting board is loose, leaving a crack behind it, a crack through which all kinds of evil could crawl through–

'Sounds fun!'

I shove my focus onto Diwa instead. Though she were painfully awkward entering the house, she's comfortable now, sitting cross-legged on the sofa. It eases my own anxiety, the swarming in my stomach exchanged for a flutter.

'Do we write our lists first and then look through them or are we doing turns naming songs?' Diwa asks.

I consider it. 'The first maybe. Guess that's more authentic. No, actually let's take turns and make it sort of a game where you have to connect your next song to summat about the other person's previous one.'

Diwa agrees and I tell her to go first. We use YouTube since Nicolás downloads his music illegally and don't use Spotify, meaning I don't use Spotify. Also, this way, we get to watch the music videos.

It takes us nearly two hours to discuss each of our ten songs by which time we're both hungry. I lead Diwa into the kitchen where I open the fridge.

'My brother made empanadas if you want,' I say, taking out the plastic container of empanadas Nicolás just coincidentally decided to make yesterday. Only food I can make is toast so I'm grateful he spent hours of his limited free time ensuring I'd have summat to feed... my friend.

Now if only I could manage to tell him that.

Though they're best fresh, my mouth waters as I chuck half of the empanadas into the microwave. I pour us each a dipping bowl of salsa, also made by Nicolás, and ask Diwa what she wants to drink. We debate the goodness versus evilness of energy drinks until the microwave beeps and Diwa decides to drink water.

We're too hungry to speak for the first few empanadas but by the time Diwa dips her third into the salsa, she pauses. 'We have empanadas in the Philippines too but they taste well different to this. Like different dough and different filling... So all they have in common is the name. And the shape, I guess.'

'Yeah, every country has their own so it's a bit weird to call them the same thing. At this point, those Polish ones are also empanadas. Sometimes my brother makes, I guess, Mexican ones. Like ones you can bake in the oven cause frying is too much work.' I inspect the empanada I've just bit half off of. It's much more yellow than other variations I've seen. 'I think the Colombian ones are made with corn flour.'

'The Filipino ones are a lot more flaky. And my mum always puts raisins in them which probably sounds hanging but it actually tastes lush, swear down.'

I nod. 'I think they're usually made with beef but we don't eat meat so this is beans.'

'They're delicious. I love this salsa.'

'Aji.'

We finish the first serving still hungry so I place the rest from the plastic container onto the plate.

'Have you got any plans for Christmas?' Diwa asks.

'Don't celebrate Christmas.'

'Why not?'

'Cause I'm not Christian.' I slide my plate into the microwave without the plastic dome. 'Besides, it's a bit tough to build traditions when I'm with a different family every year.'

The hum of the microwave is the only thing that fills the kitchen. Diwa inspects the ends of her hair. It's only when the trill announces the empanadas are warm that I realise I'm supposed to ask it back.

'You then?'

Turns out I were wrong. She didn't want me to ask, not based on the way she strangles her fingers in the ribbon in her hair. 'We're spending it with family. It's all proper stressful. Well it's not—my extended family is mint, just that my parents get well annoying. It's like everything is a competition.'

Notes

Gyoza: Japanese dumpling. 

Brassic: Poor, broke.

Hanging: Gross, disgusting.

Lush: Good, excellent.

Colombian empanadas: 

Filipino empanadas: