"Phenomenon."

Eliot stares at me for a few seconds before slowly starting. "F—"

"Wrong!"

"Merde!"

I laugh. Eliot told me to ask some words that are hard to spell because he has an upcoming test for English this week. And since his teacher likes to fuck with him, he's preparing for the worst. He still has some work left. 

"Then how the fuck do you spell it?" He curses under his breath, looking angrier by the second. "English is so stupid!"

I shrug. "At least we don't adjust our whole verb when our subject is female." I give him a sorry-not-sorry look, at which he explodes. "It's not my fault!"

"I didn't choose the spelling way of phenomenon either, believe me," I chuckle. He grumbles and sits back down on his chair. "It's only with one verb, too. We don't always do it." 

"One verb is already too much. Why is your language so difficult?"

"Why are you too stupid to get it?"

"Hey!"

"Don't insult him or Alexander will know," Flynn interrupts our conversation, walking in with a scarf around his neck. And since it's twenty-five degrees outside, I'm very suspicious of that fact. 

Eliot and I share a look, thinking the exact same. Someone got laid, and it wasn't one of us. 

Okay, it was two of us, but that's not the point. Ever since that night, Alex has been coming over every night to fuck and sleep together. I know he feels kind of guilty for my monophobia, but I push that away and let myself believe he just really likes to spend time with me. Even better, he said that he'd move into our house if he could! That's how much he enjoys our time together. 

Maybe I'm still a little giddy after reading that text. But Flynn was jumping up and down in excitement too!

"How is Dante?" Eliot asks, not so subtly. I nudge him, trying to tell him to tone it down, but he just grins and waist for an answer. Flynn stops in his track, almost dropping the new Nutella he bought. "What? Nothing. Fine."

"Hm, sure," Eliot nods. "Is it cold outside?" 

Flynn slowly nods before hurrying over to the kitchen. As if it isn't obvious. If I'm not mistaken, I believe he even limps a bit. 

"Pneumonia." 

"Hell no." Eliot scrunches his nose. "I'll just fail, it's okay."

"P. . ." I hint. He rolls his eyes and gives in. 

"P, E, N, I, S. Happy now? Let's question Flynn!" He gets off his chair and runs after Flynn, into the kitchen. I follow, slower, and arrive right when Flynn's face turns red. 

"Nothing happened!" he tries to talk himself out of it. The poor guy still believes he has a chance to talk himself out of it. I'm curious how long he can hold it before he crumbles, so I grab an apple, lean against the counter and watch The Eliot Show. 

"Come on, Flynn. It's hot inside, why don't you take off your coat and scarf? I don't want you fainting," Eliot tries another approach. Unfortunately, Flynn doesn't buy it and shakes his head. "No, I believe I have a cold. It's better if I keep it on."

As if that's believable when drops of sweat are glinstering on his forehead. But hey, I'm not saying anything. 

He turns to me, scanning my face before mumbling silently, "Oh, and Alex told me to tell you he won't be here tonight." 

I clap in my hands, pointing at our roommate. "He was there! 

Eliot pouts. "Why does your way work? You didn't even try!"

I shrug and turn back to Flynn, who is looking at the floor. "Why did he say that? Is everything okay?"

He nods. "Yeah, I believe so. But he has lots of work and wanted to get it done. He's probably whining like a little kid to Dante right now, but lucky for my b—for that dude, he has work in ten minutes or something."

Did he just almost say "my boyfriend"?

Eliot hasn't noticed yet, so I don't comment on it. I'll ask about it later. First, I'm gonna message my boyfriend and check in on him, wanting to be sure of his well being. 

Me: No problemo if we can't meet up tonight, you sure you're okay?

Unlike anything I expected, Alexander actually answers within a minute. He must've been desperate to talk to me. Understandable, of course.

Alex: Yeah, just got tons of work. & Dante's not home = perfect moment to get my work done. Only annoying thing is Elias and Arabella being home, but it'll be okay. I'll text you when I get home

Me: You're not @ home?

Alex: Nah, at work now. Kids love me. Don't believe Flynn when he says he's got a cold, alright? Gotta go now, love, see you later x

Fucking hell, I even blush when he calls me love over text. I thought that was just an in real life thing. 

"Flynn!" I shout through the house. I get a muffled sound back, which is probably a shout back from the shower. Maybe I should let him do his thing first, before asking him to make a plan with me.

The situation with that Jackson guy has gotten worse, to the point were Alex is scared to go to practice. I've never seen him that scared before, ever. According to him, he gets tackled all the time, bumped onto the floor and ice thrown at him. And when he thinks it's over, back in the locker room, he has to shower in the broken one, where his teammates do dirty shit behind his back. 

And still, still, he finds a way to smile, every day again. I know he adores his job at the castle and each kid there, and that his therapy session are helping, but he shouldn't have to search for distractions, right? 

Which is why, possibly, just maybe, Flynn can ask his dad if the empty bedroom can be used for one extra person. 

Me: I'm home. See you tomorrow x

I smile at my phone as I scroll back to our conversation of yesterday, reading all of Jake's flirty texts. Fuck, he's so goddamn cute when he's just him. I don't need to see him to be head over heels for him. 

That smile drops a little when I see Dante's text. Last time I saw him was before I left for my work, and then he was smearing cake all over Flynn's face. 'To lick it off later' or something like that. 

Dante: Emergency @ work, have to fall in.  I'm sorry. Try to stay in your room as long as J is there.

Oh, great. Justin's here? Fantastic. As if yesterday's practice wasn't enough, now he's tormenting me at home, too. 

And yes, when I walk further down the hallway, in the direction of my room, I hear his laughter through the house. It comes from the kitchen, where I hear the sound of the range hood and loud chatter. He's not alone in there, and his company is certainly more than only Arabella and Elias. 

I try to catch a look, to see just how bad the situation is, through the half-open door. They're drinking beer and throwing popcorn at each other while Arabella is cooking. She seems stressed out and under pressure, and even though I shouldn't, I feel bad for her. 

That is, until I hear her say, "Why don't we save a bit for our anorexia guy, hm? Did you see him in the locker room yesterday? He's a stick figure!"

Everyone laughs. Even Elias, who always helped me with eating. I step away from the door, feeling like shit. Is she right? Do I have anorexia? I thought it was just an eating disorder. Not the eating disorder. 

Do I look like a stick figure? I thought, now that I'm talking to Josephine, everything was getting better. Jake (and his friends, somehow) support me through every plate, and every time I finish one, I'm one step closer to a full recovery. Of course, the meals Eliot gives me are smaller portions than the rest of them, but that's better than giving me a full plate and me not being able to finish it. An empty plate is somehow more satisfactory. 

I startle when an arm goes over my shoulder and pushes the door wide open. Benjamin grins as he moves past me, towards the group of hockey players who are all looking at me with disgust. It hurts me to think they used to look at me with joy and excitement, all because of a lie. 

"Um. Hi." I cough. This is going well. "I was wondering if there was something to eat?"

"You have anorexia!" a guy I don't know yells. I don't react and brush past Elias into the kitchen. He stumbles, and I feel a little victorious. 

"Why are you here, Alexander?" he coldly says. I open the fridge and find a warm up lasagna, which is good for now. As I prepare it to put it in the microwave, a hand snatches it from me. 

I look up, only to see it was Justin. Everyone else in the room has fallen silent and watches us, which doesn't promise anything good for me. I reach for the meal and grab it back, turn around and start heating it up. "I live here, thank you very much."

"No, you don't," Elias denies. I frown and look at him standing a few feet away, with an ugly smirk plastered over his face. 

"Wait—what did you do?" With realization dawning on me, I push past him again and run to my room. Right in front of the door, my stuff is thrown all through the hallway, and when I open it, the room is empty. Nothing of mine is still there. 

"Ouch, that must suck," Justin chuckles, his hot breath uncomfortable in my neck. I step in my room, half to see the damage, half to avoid him. 

"Of course it sucks! I just lost my place to live!" Frantically, I grab a box and try to push all my stuff in it. As much as I can. Pictures of my family, of Jake, clothes, the rubber ducks I got from Jake when we were younger—

Justin's hand reaches for a picture of me and my dad, but I slap his hand away. "Leave it! That's not yours!"

I see Elias and Arabella watching us and get up again, pointing at my ex-best friend. "And you! Why the fuck—you were my best friend!"

He gets a little uncomfortable and looks down, but doesn't defend himself. Meanwhile, the tears have started to run down my cheeks in frustration. I turn to the rest of my teammates. "I didn't even do anything! J-Justin, he— he did everything! He lied!"

Max scoffs. "Yeah, right. Then why can't we play any games anymore, hm? Or did Justin cancel our membership of the competition too?"

"No!" I cry out. "I went to a game we were supposed to play last week. None of you showed up! They waited forty minutes, and then they won because of that!"

Now they all look at Justin, who's glaring at me. "Alexander, you know what this means."

I bring a trembling hand towards my aching head, trying to keep my emotion under control. Why, oh why did I have to go look at them?

"You know what, fine! I'll tell them myself! Then you can't spread any lies anymore about us," I shakily breathe out. When I look at my teammates again, their faces are pale. They've probably realized they were wrong all along. 

"My dad's sick, okay? He has a dissociative disorder, and he sometimes. . . has difficulties. I don't know what Justin told you, but he's not a psycho, or a murderer, or anything else. He's just this amazing guy. I didn't tell you because he's ashamed and doesn't want anyone to know about it. I didn't stand up for myself because Justin said he would tell all of you that my dad's a horrible person, and I love him more than I love my captain spot."

Now Justin's pale too, as everyone glares at him instead of me. As soon as I stop talking, they push him into my room, shouting angry things. I take a few deep breaths, wipe my tears, collect myself. 

"Alex. . ." Arabella whispers, kneeling down next to me. One of her hands lays on my back, but I shake her off. I don't want her comfort anymore. 

"No, you don't get to tell everyone about my struggles and then come soothe me when you realize you were wrong. You were supposed to at least ask me about my side of the story before treating me like shit, Arabella. Dante did, and he immediately believed me. You're the worst friend ever." I try to keep my sobs under control, gathering my things and standing up. 

Elias is in front of me when I take a step away from his lovely girlfriend. His eyes are sad, and he looks like he could cry any minute now. "Alex—" "Oh, and don't get me started about you! Remember when I went to the one person I never wanted to talk about, for you? Funny how he's my go-to person now, and you're the person I flee from, right? Fuck you, Elias. I mean it."

He stays silent when I walk out of the house. His eyes are burning holes through my back, but I don't look over. It's about time I let go of them.