"So. . ." I gently hint. 

Flynn nods, staring at the road in front of us. "Decent guy."

That almost makes me laugh. "Come on, you don't mean that."

"Sure, I do," he retorts. "Aside from the fact he caused your monophobia, left you to grow crazy and doesn't feel sorry about it in the slightest. But, sure, decent guy. You do you. Who am I to say who you can and cannot be friends with? Maybe I'm wrong."

"Alright," I stop his rambling. He sighs, leaning his head against his hand. "Did he apologize?"

I nod. "He did. A hell of a lot. Alex explained he wasn't aware he'd be moving the next day. Yes, he feels guilty about not texting or calling, but can he change that now?"

He looks at me for a second, eyes glaring, before focusing on the road again. "You're defending him again."

"Yes, I am!" Honestly, he has to see that Alex is really sorry. "You always hold grudges! He's sorry, and he can't do more than that, or can he? What else do you want him to do?"

An evil smirk makes its way up to his lips. "Seeing him beg for forgiveness on his knees would be nice."

"Oh my God," I groan, hiding my face in my hands. "You're impossible."

"Impossibly hot? Hell yeah," Flynn nods in agreement. Then he sighs again. "Alright, fine. He did look sorry. If you believe he is, then I'll do too. What is your next step?"

I frown. Switching up, just like that? Suspicious. "What do you mean?"

Groaning in frustration, he reaches over and makes sure my hair is a complete mess. "I mean, what's your next step with him? Do you want to be friends? Is this a threat to my job as best friend? Are you trying to get into his pants for just one time or do you want to marry him?"

My cheeks turn red in a second. "I guess there was a time I wanted to marry him, yeah. But I'm over that now. He suggested to meet up again sometime, and I said maybe. With both of us being in different colleges, I think it's hard to maintain friendships."

He coughs. "Hypocrite."

I playfully push his side. "What now?"

With a hand motion, he makes it obvious what he's talking about. Me. "You're a hypocrite. You couldn't forgive him for not maintaining contact after he went to the other side of the country, and now he wants to be friends again, you say no because you're in other colleges."

Shit. "That's different."

He snorts. "Sure it is. Just know that you can't be mad at him after this."

I cross my arms over my chest, silently cursing his ability to be so reasonable. True to his word, I cannot be mad at Alex for the same choice I made today. "So you'd be okay with us being friends?"

If one word describes what I see on his face after I ask that, it might be perplexity. "What? Why are you asking me? I'm not going to decide everything in your life, Jake. That's your job."

I pout, though I don't mean to. "But I need advice! And isn't that what best friends are supposed to do? Give advice and make sure I don't make a bad decision and die?"

"If I had to watch over you and avoid every bad decision you make, I wouldn't be able to do much else," he grins. I scowl, crossing my arms over my chest. He's obviously playing.

"And I really don't know about this one," he admits. "But, I guess, if he feels truly sorry and you're ready to engage with him again, we can go to his roommate's party. I believe his name is Dante?"

He looks at me, expecting me to agree or disagree about this stranger's name. I raise my hands. "Don't ask me. You got invited." 

Oh no. There he goes again with that ominous smirk of his. "What?"

"Hm? Nothing. Why would there be somehting? We're just going to a party," he shrugs, avoiding looking at me. Another indicator something's up. "Flynn. . ."

When the car stops at a red light, he takes the risk of looking at my face. And he loses it. Shuddering with suppressed laughter, he grins, "We didn't get invited. We're going to sneak in."

I stare at him, waiting until he tells me this is a joke, or until he admits this isn't his best idea. But nope, he stares right back, with those excited glinters in his eyes. "You're going to sneak into a party you didn't get invited to. A party of the rivalling hockey team. You do know that each of those players would love to see you trip and break your hand, right?"

His smirk changes into a sweet like sugar smile. "I would risk that for you."

Ah man. Now I can't say no.

"Alright," I conclude. "We can go to that party on Saturday. But," I add, immedialety noticing the way he is about to celebrate this victory, "you can't drink more than two cups. We have a game at Sunday."

He shakes his head, still grinning. Seriously, is there nothing I can say that'll make him look less creepy?

"No, we don't. The game got canceled because half of the other team is sick. So we can drink as much as we like!"

Sigh.

"You know what?" I groan. "Fine. But don't ditch me for some girl, okay? Who knows what happens to me when I'm all alone. Oh God, what if Alex' roommates start interrogating me? Do you think that'll happen?"

He stares at me as if I just grew three heads. I take that as a no.

Finally, we park on the driveway again. The weather's still nice. It's not too hot, but on the places where the sun can reach, it's nice. "I'm going to finish my essays in the garden, I think."

With narrowed eyes, Flynn looks at the spot I point at. "Okay. Wear a jacket."

"Why would I—"

"Nope!" Eliot yells, before he turns around the corner and comes into view. "Do what Flynn says, because you're still sick."

"I'm not!" I throw back, but that statement is wiped out as I sneeze immediately after. Two sets of eyes start to sparkle in cockiness. I put my jacket on. "Fine."

Contrary to what I expected, the jacket isn't that bad. It doesn't give me a stroke because of the heat, and while it isn't uncomfortable to me, maybe my body likes the fact I decided to wear one. And if it doesn't, at least it seems to be making Flynn happy. 

Every time I look behind me, I see him busy in the kitchen. He's either drinking coffee (something he never does) or making homework (he doesn't do that either). He's actually just making sure I'm alive. 

At this moment, that's alright. I don't always like it when he's worried and protective over me, especially not in the beginning of our friendship. It felt like everyone, even Flynn, saw me as fragile. Now I know he just wants me well, but that lingering feeling is still present in the back of my mind. 

Eventually, he stops spying on me. I'm okay, and he sees that. Now he's gone, I toss my notebook aside and gaze at the blue sky. It's not quite the time of the year to see birds yet, but I can hear some in the distance. It gives a positive note to today, something I can't really explain. 

The backdoor creaks, making me look over my shoulder to watch Eliot trot towards me. It's only when he's almost reached me that I notice what he's holding. Two chocolate bars and his laptop. 

He cracks a smile when he catches me looking. "Hi! I'm joining you. It's nice outside, right?"

Grateful for some food, I listen to him rant about his prof English, who is not pleased about his accent. "I can't help it, right? Merde, if I see that salop again, I'm going to niq—"

"Eliot," I calm him. "You're switching to French again."

He glares at me. I settle for the choice of staying silent from now on. "As I was saying, I'm going to fuck his mother if he doesn't stop mocking me in class. I really am. I've already looked her up and everything."

I want to tell him that's probably more of a punishment for him than for his prof, but it's smarter not to. He would switch to my mom.

"Look," he nudges me, showing me a picture. "Not that bad, right?"

"Eliot," I softly say, being careful to not make him mad again. He looks up. "That's Britney Spears."

"Oh. Putain."

I face palm. This dude is going to get himself and us in problems soon, I can tell. Honestly, it's unbelievable he hasn't already.

"How did you even mess them up?" I sigh. He pouts, already busy with searching his real mom now. The results are less. . . attracting. 

I tap his arm. "You said he mocks you in class? How so?"

He shrugs, not looking me in the eye. "He just calls me out on everything. I have trouble pronouncing some words, which I've already told him. But whenever he tells me to read something out loud in class, there is one of those words in it. Always. And then the whole class laughs at me. Or right when I'm taking notes, he calls my name in front of the whole class and tells me this'll probably be too hard for me, so I can just leave."

"He's a bitch."

A short laugh leaves his mouth. "Yeah. I hope I can switch classes next semester, but I'm stuck for now."

"What about going to the principal's office and report him? Is that an idea?" I hint. If he doesn't want to report this, that's his decision. Yet I want him to know there are some possibilities.

He shrugs, and I've never seen him more tired. "What can they do? Tell him to not do it again? As if he'll listen. No, I don't want to make this a bigger problem than this is."

"Okay," I nod. "I get that. But I do think your English is pretty good. I perfectly understand you."

He doesn't answer for a while. The silence is comfortable. This moment feels safe.

We both work on our homework, while the sun starts to set. Flynn will be making dinner soon, and then today is over again. I guess it was pretty productive, if I compare it to yesterday. (Since I slept through it fully, I guess everything I could have done today would have been more productive than yesterday, but I'm going to skip that part)

"Hey!" Flynn shouts from inside. "James and Oliver are here, so unless you want to be rude, get in here!"

And there goes my peace.

Oliver is usually silent, but it seems today has pulled him out of his shell. He's grinning widely and going in for a hug with every person that walks in. James has a hard time keeping him from staggering. I notice the empty bottle vodka behind them.

Flynn pulls me apart before I can comment on it. "Don't. He's celebrating something, I guess. Look what he almost did to me."

He points at the party hats on the kitchen counter as if they're the worst things in his existence. My heart tugs for Oliver and the fact that the one time he opens up, no one wants to join. "You're going to wear those damn hats."

"What? Nah uh."

"Oh, come on. He's never been this happy," I nudge him. Grumbling, he lets me attach the hat to his head. I take care the elastic jumps right back to his chin, having him squeal. "Jake!"

I put one on my own head before going to Oliver, who is now humming and clapping along to a song in his head, while he's sitting on the couch and waiting for the water James is getting him. "Do you want a party hat, Oli?"

A beautiful smile spreads over his face. I've never seen it before, and it makes me wonder why not. Maybe I should've looked out a little more for him. "Yay!"

I join him on the couch. Immediately, he curls up into my side and starts tracing the letters on my shirt. "I like you."

"You do?" I ruffle through his hair, a bit surprised by his need of physical touch but not repulsed. "I thought you hated everyone."

"No," he shakes his head. "I hate my dad, but don't tell him!" he adds, with sudden wide eyes and panic. 

I'm quick to reassure him. "I won't." Then, to comfort him, "I don't like him either."

I don't know the man, but sure, don't like him.

"He's mean," Oliver starts his ramble. "His hands are rough, but that's not enough. His ring hurts more when the slap finally hits. I hate that fucking thing, because it hurts but also because it connects my mom to him."

Oh. I hug him a little tighter, wanting to kick myself for not seeing what he's going through. I know I couldn't have known, but there's still some part of me that tells me I should've searched for signs.

"She's dead, why can't he let her go?" he mumbles. "But that's done now. I freed her. He's going to court for breaking Beau's wrist. Did I do well?"

He looks up at me, eyes full of hope for some confirmation. It might be the alcohol, but he looks almost desperate for someone to confirm he's actually doing well. "Very well. Is your brother okay?"

His body slumps against me, the tension leaving him. "He's going to. . . what's it called? That castle a few blocks away, for all the fucked up parents' kids."

"Foster care?"

"Yes!" He nods so hard it surprises me his neck doesn't snap. "I wanted him to move in with me, but people say that's not possible. Next best thing."

I'm glad he feels comfortable enough to share this with me, with us. Who knows how long he's carried this burden with him? 

"Should we go visit him sometime?" I suggest. His eyes light up with joy. "Yeah! Or—or we could teach him how to skate! He's always wanted to try."

Eliot smiles at him. "Then let's do that after he's settled in his new situation, yeah?"