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It’s kind of funny how the earliest Exer has gotten up for school in years is on his last day of classes ever. He’s been up for over two hours now; antsy and killing time by changing his outfit twice and offering more than once to go fill up his dad’s car at the gas station. But Dad refused and headed off to work already, so Exer sits at the kitchen table, lazily stirring his spoon in his cereal when the phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Ex,” comes David’s voice. He sounds congested and tired. “It’s me.”
“Day. You feelin’ alright?” Exer asks, and, as if on cue, David breaks into a fit of coughing.
Exer twirls the phone cord around his finger, waiting patiently until David catches his breath.
“No, I’m fucking sick. I couldn’t sleep at all last night because of this stupid cough; and Mom says I have a fever so can’t go in to school today. I’m calling to let you know not to come pick me up,” David says disappointedly.
“Aw, man. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. You probably should stay home, though. You kinda sound like shit,” Exer laughs lightly.
“I know, I know. I just can’t believe I’m missing the last day of senior year.”
“That’s the perfect day to miss, dude. There is quite literally nothing going on,” Exer says, trying to reassure him.
“But that’s not true, it’s—” David sounds like he could cry any moment.
He might actually be crying; because he is sick and feverish and overtired, and David always gets emotional and clingy when he’s sick. He also talks in his sleep even more than usual. It’s all very sad and adorable and Exer loves him very much for it.
“It’s our final day — the last hoorah. It could be the most important and memorable day of our lives.”
“Isn’t that supposed to be your wedding day?” Exer jokes, immediately regretting it when David breaks down crying.
“And we can’t even get married like everyone else,” David sobs. “It’s all so unfair. I just want to finish high school and get married like anyone else can.”
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t have joked about that. I can skip today too and come over. Or I could go in late? Or leave early?”
“You would do that?” David asks, breaking down into even more tears. “You would miss your last day of high school ever for me?”
As sad as it is that David is getting emotional, it is also very endearing — because David hardly ever gets vulnerable like this by choice. So Exer can’t help but cherish these moments of intimacy, in a weird and complicated way. David rarely cries. And he often insists that he’s okay, even when Exer can tell something is wrong.
It isn’t easy watching the person you love the most suffer while keeping you at arms length. Especially when it’s out of some ridiculous notion that their struggle would be a burden that would bother you, rather than something that you would do anything to help them carry.
It’s hard to remember if David has always been like this — closed off and hyper-independent — or if it’s a new development since…
“Day, you don’t have to cry. It’s not that big of a deal—”
You’re my favorite part about school anyway, he thinks.
But saying that will definitely bring David into another round of hysterics, and the poor boy needs to rest, so Exer keeps the thought to himself.
“I can’t ask you to do that. No matter how shitty I feel, I can’t ask for that.”
“You’re not asking me to do anything, I’m offering.”
“Ex—”
“David,” Exer says pleadingly, cutting off David’s attempted protest. “Please let me take care of you? Please? I’d really like to help.”
It’s quiet for a moment before Exer hears a shaky exhale through the phone.
“Fine. But not the full day, okay? I’d never forgive myself.”
Exer is flooded with relief.
“Thanks Day, see you soon. I love you.”
“I don’t know why you’re thanking me,” David laughs lightly. “But I love you too.”
In a blur, Exer hangs up the phone, dumps his cereal in the sink, and grabs his backpack and shoes.
He briefly considers walking over there — it’s a lovely late spring morning — before he’s hit with the foresight to drive there, instead. Not just because he’s planning on going to school and it would suck to have to walk all the way back here just to drive there; but also in case David needs him to pick anything up or drive to the doctor.
Christine lets out an alleviated sigh when she opens the front door.
“Thank you for coming to take care of him. It warms my heart, how much you two care about one another,” she coos. “Even when you were little, you were always looking out for each other.”
Exer's smile is insuppressible, and is certain he must be blushing.
“I’m more than happy to help.”
“I wish I could take the full day off. That way you two could relax while I made soup and got you both whatever you needed—”
“I know where everything is; don’t worry Mrs. Christine. You go ahead before you’re late.”
She grabs her keys from the hook on the wall next to the door, and places her other hand on Exer’s cheek.
“I’m taking the afternoon off — I just have a meeting this morning that would have been too short notice to cancel. But I should be back around eleven-thirty.”
“Good luck with your meeting,” Exer smiles, and Christine’s eyes soften before she plants a kiss on the top of his head.
“You’re such a good boy, Exer. David is very lucky to have you.”
“I’m very lucky to have him, too,” he beams.
“Okay. Eleven-thirty,” she repeats while rushing out the door. “Call my office if there’s an emergency!”
Before heading upstairs, Exer decides he should probably call his dad and let him know what’s going on.
“Good morning, you’ve reached The Family Counseling Center, this is Lucy speaking. How may I help you?”
“Lucy, hi, it’s Exer. Is dad free? Can you put me through to him, please?”
He feels a little bit bad not engaging in small talk with her; but he needs to be sure to reach his dad before his next session, which could be starting any minute.
“Of course, just a moment.”
Click.
“Hey Dad, if school notices I’m missing can you cover for me?”
“Good morning to you too, son.”
“Dad seriously,” Exer sighs.
“Exer, seriously. You’ve been up for hours; why are you missing school?” His voice shifts nervously. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. David’s sick. I’m calling from the Miller’s kitchen.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Of course I can call you out; but where’s Christine?”
“You don’t need to call me out entirely — I’m gonna go in later. Mrs. Miller has an important meeting she can’t get out of, and you know how David gets. I feel bad leaving him by himself.”
“Yea, poor kid,” Exer’s dad says, fondness lacing his tone.
“Considering it’s the absolute last day, I have a feeling no one is going to be taking attendance, anyway,” says Exer. “But I wanted to give you a heads up, in case.”
“As someone who works with children, that is actually super concerning to hear,” his dad laughs.
Exer groans and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Okay well if they call you, can you just give an excuse and say I’m coming in late? Please?” Exer pleads.
“Sure. Tell David that I hope he feels better soon, please. And be sure to call me if either of you need anything. If David starts feeling worse or he gets a high fever, just call straight here, okay? I have a relatively free morning, so don’t bother Christine if she's in a meeting.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, but I don’t think it’s that serious,” Exer assures him.
“Yea well, just in case. You know how much I worry about that kid,” his dad sighs.
“I know. I’ll take good care of him.”
“I have no idea what I’m going to do when you’re away at school next year. I’m just going to worry about you kids all day long. And Christine? Forget it — she’s even worse than me,” Harry laughs.
“Yea. You’ll have to take up a new hobby together to entertain yourselves. Maybe knitting or something,” Exer jokingly suggests, pulling a chuckle from his father.
“You know, I always have wanted to learn how to knit.”
“I’ve heard it can be incredibly therapeutic,” Exer says playfully, emphasizing the last word.
The line is silent momentarily before his father snorts.
“Oh, I see — because I’m a therapist? Took me a minute, but that’s a pretty good one. I’ll have to use it on Lucy somehow.”
Exer rolls his eyes.
“‘Kay, well good luck with that. I should probably get back to David, now.”
“I love you, kiddo. And tell David I love him too.”
Exer smiles, and feelings of warmth and love bubble in his chest.
It’s probably weird, the relationship his dad and David have. Maybe not weird, per se, but definitely a bit unconventional. After all, David is his boyfriend; but he is certain his dad loves him like his own son, and has for quite some time now. But seeing as David’s da— seeing as William is no longer in the picture, Exer is grateful to have such a loving father.
So loving, in fact, that he has practically adopted David as his own son.
It warms Exer’s heart, really.
So maybe it is kind of weird for David’s boyfriend’s father (not quite father-in-law, but Exer remains hopeful the law will change in their lifetimes) to say ‘I love you’ to him; but fuck it, David deserves to hear it.
He deserves a father that loves him unconditionally — blood or not.
Exer wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Yea, yea I will. I love you too, Dad. Have a good day.”
He hangs up the phone and makes his way up the stairs to his sick boyfriend.
“Hey,” David says when Exer opens the bedroom door.
“Hey,” he replies.
“I kinda can’t believe you’re here right now,” David says in wonderment. “We used to beg our parents to let us skip school together.”
“I know, I almost feel like we’re gonna get in trouble or something,” Exer giggles.
“Me too,” David laughs.
“My dad told me to tell you he loves you and hopes you feel better soon,” Exer says, lifting the sheet on David’s mattress to slip under with him.
Christine had offered to get him a real bed at one point, but David had refused the offer, saying they would be leaving for college soon, anyway. It doesn’t make a ton of sense, seeing as they still have the rest of the summer, and he will still need a bed to return to during breaks from school. But David had insisted, so they all respected his decision.
A small part of Exer wishes that Christine would have pushed the conversation a bit further. A smaller part hopes that David will just spend most nights sharing his bed, anyway.
“I love Harry, too. He’s the best,” David says, grin spreading wide across his face as he wraps his long limbs around Exer like some sort of octopus.
“Yea. How are you feeling, baby?”
David hums happily.
“Like shit, mostly.”
Exer barks out a laugh.
“Did you take anything yet?”
“You’re my medicine,” David sighs, squeezing tighter.
“I’m no doctor, but I’m fairly certain that I, alone, can’t cure you. Let’s move downstairs and I’ll grab you something from the medicine cabinet.”
David makes his way down the stairs slowly, the sheet from his bed wrapped around his shoulders and head with the rest dragging behind him. Exer rushes ahead to get him medicine and a glass of water.
They snuggle up on the couch, wrapped in the sheet and a small throw blanket, and click through channel after channel of daytime television — the shitty stuff you’re only ever interested in watching when you’re home sick from school.
They end up settling on watching a new-ish show, America’s Funniest Home Videos. The show, aptly named, airs people’s submissions of their comical home video clips. It’s funny, but after a while the volume is down so low the TV may as well be muted; and the two of have dissolved into giggles by discussing their own childhood memories that would've made for great entries had they been recorded.
When Exer mentions the time he fell off the old swing set in their backyard and literally tumbled into Brenda’s legs, taking her out as well, David laughs so hard he breaks into a coughing fit.
“Okay,” Exer says definitively, clapping his hands down on his legs before moving to stand. “I’m gonna go make you some soup.”
David wraps both his arms around Exer’s waist.
“Nooo Ex don’t leave me,” he whines.
“Day, you’re not gonna get any better if you don’t eat something.”
“I don’t wanna eat. I wanna snuggle.”
David buries his face into Exer’s lower belly, and Exer runs a hand gently through his hair before moving down to rub his back lightly.
“It’s canned soup — it’ll only take a few minutes to heat on the stove, and then I promise I'll be right back.”
“What if I die in a fit of coughing while you’re gone. You’ll regret leaving me all sick and alone,” David mumbles into his stomach.
Exer can’t help but chuckle. He and his boyfriend both tend to have a flair for the dramatic at times, but when David isn't feeling well, his theatrics are on an entirely different level.
His only real option is to meet David where he’s at.
“And what if you die of starvation and it’s all my fault because I was supposed to take care of you, and your mom and sister hate me forever and ever?”
“That would never happen,” David groans. “They love you almost as much as I do.”
“The soup could’ve been done by now, Day.”
“Fine. Go. You clearly don’t love me back.”
“I’m giving up cuddling on the couch with my favorite person to go make food so you can start feeling better,” Exer responds, rolling his eyes fondly. “That seems like love to me.”
“But I just wanna be close to you — that will make me feel better,” David gripes. “And I finally don’t have to worry about being too touchy when I’m sick.”
Exer laughs internally at the notion that David has been holding back his affection; because the concept of personal space has always gone out the window when he was sick — way, way before they ever started dating.
“Alright, come on,” Exer says, extracting David’s hands from around his waist and squatting down with his arms outstretched behind him.
“What?”
“Hop on, you big baby,” Exer teases, gesturing to his back with one hand.
“Don’t call me a baby,” David grumbles while ripping the blanket from his lap dramatically.
When David climbs onto Exer, he almost immediately goes limp, becoming dead weight on Exer’s back.
Exer’s not a hundred percent sure whether David acting as dead weight is a result of him being sick and weak, or if he’s just being playfully petulant over the baby comment. But Exer decides not to ask. Because he wants to be able to carry his boyfriend easily. But going from working out at practice every weekday to making lattes means Exer is, embarrassingly, a bit out of shape.
David has always been the taller of the two, and Exer used to have to work hard to gain muscle mass if he wanted to keep around the same weight as David and the other football guys. Even after puberty hit David like a truck and he got leaner, he still had quite a bit of muscle despite appearing somewhat lanky. Tall, long legs, impossibly thin waist, and —
“Are we making soup or just standing around here?” David asks, breath warm on his neck.
Exer doesn’t even try to fight the goofy smile that spreads across his face.
“Only one of us is standing right now, technically. But yea, we’re going.”
“I wish we could just merge into one person, sometimes.” David practically whispers in his ear. His voice is hoarse from all the coughing and his throat being sore.
Exer feels warm, and not just from the feverish boy enveloping his back and shoulders.
“Me too. Or I wish you could be two inches tall so I could carry you around all the time,” Exer replies as they cross the threshold into the kitchen.
“I’d shrink you down and keep you in my front shirt pocket, or I’d—” David says while Exer reaches into the pantry.
“Which one?” He interjects quickly, lining up a few cans on the edge of the shelf so David can make his decision.
“Chicken and rice,” he responds before continuing, “or I’d let you sit on my shoulder so we could chat away all day long.”
“That sounds perfect to me. Pots?”
“Bottom cabinet on the left,” David replies, before repeatedly rubbing his nose on Exer’s shoulder. “Sorry — runny nose, no hands,” he explains, and moves his head to rest on the other shoulder while Exer assures him that it’s okay.
The entire process has been made more difficult having David on his back; but he seems content, so Exer would never complain. Getting the pot from the low cabinet is the most difficult part. David nearly slides off; and going from squatting to standing with the extra weight burns Exer’s calves and thighs a little.
He has really got to start working out again, he thinks while grabbing the can opener from the drawer.
“Okay, I need two hands for this part; you’ll have to use your legs so you don’t fall,” Exer says apologetically.
David wraps his legs tightly around Exer’s hips and crosses them around the ankle.
Exer opens the can and pours it into the pot. He turns on the burner on the gas stovetop, and then they wait.
David softly kisses along Exer’s neck and shoulder through his shirt while Exer sings quietly — stirring occasionally until the liquid comes to a gentle boil.
He hums happily when Exer offers him a small sip from the ladle.
“Is it a good temperature?”
“Perfect. Like you,” David sighs.
“You’re so sweet when you’re sick.”
“I’m always sweet,” David protests.
“Okay yea, you’re always sweet. But you’re more of a sap when you’re sick,” Exer smiles. “It’s really cute.”
“You’re really cute.”
“See what I mean?”
David’s cough is dry, but persistent. And after the soup, Exer convinces him to takes some cough medicine — pouring the appropriate amount of liquid into the tiny plastic cap and watching David swallow it with a grimace.
The cough medicine hits pretty quickly, and David gets a bit more incoherently chatty and touchy before eventually falling asleep wrapped around Exer’s arm.
Based on the clock, Exer is able to calculate that he has missed class periods one through three; as well as half of fourth period.
He is able to extract himself from David’s hold without waking him up, which is a good sign. And Christine will be home in just about forty-ish minutes; so he figures he should be in the clear to leave.
He refills David’s water glass and places it and the medicine on the coffee table, with a short note saying he loves him and hopes he feels better soon. Then he kisses David’s warm forehead and grabs his backpack before quietly making his way up the stairs.
He grabs David’s yearbook off Brenda’s desk, and opens the cover to find the slip of paper with the names of people David had wanted to sign the book. Most of them have been crossed out, but a few classmates and teachers remain, as well as his guidance counselor and even one of the lunch ladies.
‘I love Peggy, sometimes she slips me an extra cookie with my lunch,’ he said once.
Exer closes the book with a smile and places it into his backpack.
When he gets to school, it’s about as crazy as he had expected it to be. The seniors are roaming the halls noisily, yearbooks in hand. Those teaching the underclassmen have their doors closed, seeing as the younger kids still have finals and state exams to take. Technically, the seniors do as well; or at least some of them, depending on which classes they are in.
For example, Exer’s fourth period class, physics, very much does still have a state exam to take next week. However, his teacher must have accepted that there is little hope at getting any last minute review in; because when he passes the class on the way to his locker — despite there still being ten minutes left in the period — the room is practically empty. And the kids who are in there are strewn about the classroom, sitting on desks and chatting loudly.
He’s walking through the door of his history classroom ten minutes later when he is tackled from behind.
“Dude, you made it!” cries Pam, wrapping around his shoulders in a bear hug.
He leans forward, slightly lifting her off the ground, and she yelps before he puts her down.
“Yea man, where have you been all morning?” Jackson asks. “We missed you in Physics.”
“You weren’t in Physics,” he laughs.
“And neither were you and David, so get to explaining,” Pam counters.
“David is sick. I went over to spend some time with him. He gets all needy when he’s sick, you know?”
Pam laughs. “I do know someone like that actually.”
“Excuse me?” Jackson scoffs, but he’s smiling brightly. “I am not needy when I’m sick!”
“What about that cold you had back in February? Because if I remember correctly—”
“First of all, that was not only a cold. I swear it was the flu or something, I just never got tested,” he says to Exer earnestly, before turning back to Pamela. “And second of all, needing things and being needy are very different.”
“Yea, well, next year you’re going to have to figure out how to take care of yourself. And I heard that everyone gets sick freshman fall.”
Jackson groans. “But what will I do without you?”
“See,” she says to Exer, gesturing toward Jackson with an outstretched arm. “Needy.”
He and Pamela chuckle while Jackson narrows his eyes at them with an otherwise lighthearted expression.
“How is David, though?” He asks over their fading laughter. “Nothing serious I hope? That flu was miserable.”
“Not the flu,” Pam mumbles in a sing-songy voice, and Jackson pinches her side, making her squeal.
“It’s a low-grade fever and a cough right now, he’s mostly just upset because he really wanted to be here today.”
“Yea, I can see why,” says Pam sadly.
“I don’t,” Jackson says, and Exer nods in agreement.
“What? It’s our last day of high school ever! One of the most important days of our lives,” she asserts.
“That’s almost exactly what David said,” Exer laughs. “I guess I just don’t see it as that special.”
“Agreed. Life goes on,” Jackson shrugs. “I’m not going to be one of those people stuck reliving high school forever.”
“You two just aren’t sentimental enough, but that’s what you have me and David for,” she beams.
Jackson hums in agreement and kisses her cheek.
“Honestly Pam, I’m kind of surprised you give a crap about any of this,” Exer says. “I feel like you’ve been over high school since — well, forever.”
“Maybe,” she considers. “Maybe I’m only getting sentimental because I'm looking back and reflecting on it all. It’s just scary and sad to let go of you guys. I mean, as crazy as this year has been, it brought us all together. And all of you guys are the best friends I’ve ever had. All we have is the summer and then we go off our separate ways. We’re never coming back here. Never again will all these same people be in the same place at once. Like, literally.”
Jackson says something about a ten year reunion, nudging Exer playfully with his elbow; and Pamela groans and says something in an exasperated tone. But Exer doesn’t hear any of it over the pounding of his heart.
It feels like one of those magical green shocks he used to get. Sudden, sharp panic trembles under his skin, like he was struck by lightning.
He always gets anxiety about things like this. Time passing — slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. Nothing he can do to stop it.
He starts to panic about having missed the first half of the day.
Will he regret it?
He can’t take that back, now. It’s lost forever.
Maybe it was a bad call. Maybe he’s going to regret it for the rest of his life.
But he did it for David.
David, who he left drooling and sleep-mumbling on the couch — bundled up and so very peaceful.
David, who makes Exer soup whenever it's his turn to be the one who is sick. Who has always looked out for him and taken care of him.
David, who cracks little jokes under his breath when the teacher says something that could be interpreted in a dirty way.
David, who always pesters him for a bite of his lunch, or the protein bar he snacks on during fourth period. Who shares any candy he buys from the vending machine.
David, who loves him more than anything; and who he loves just as much, if not more.
David.
The only thing that makes his school days interesting or fun, anyway.
His breathing steadies, and he feels grounded.
No.
No, he’d never regret a moment spent with David.
Everything is okay. He’s okay.
In his panic, he hadn’t noticed Brenda and Ron walk into their classroom.
Brenda sneaks up behind Pam and grabs her hand.
“Hey girl,” she says with a grin.
“Bren, what the hell? You’re not even in this class!” Pam laughs.
“Pfft, whatever. No one’s giving detention on the last day of school,” she replies. “Besides, Ron gave Mrs. Singh a sob story about moving back to Russia and never seeing his friends again, and she let me leave with him.”
“Wait, but that’s not true, right?” Pam asks cautiously. “They didn’t pull you from the exchange program, did they?”
“No,” Ron clarifies. “Getting scholarship to be going to American University in fall. Same as David.”
“No way man, that’s awesome,” Jackson smiles, clapping a hand on Ron’s bicep.
“Exer, what’s on your shirt?” Brenda asks, reaching up at his shoulder. “Ew, is that crusted drool?”
“I think it’s your brother’s snot, actually,” he laughs. “Completely forgot that was there.”
“Oh, mom called Pam’s this morning to tell me he wasn’t coming in today, is everything okay? He seemed fine the other day, just a little sniffly.”
“He’s still sniffling, but with a sore throat and a cough, now. And a fever.”
Brenda frowns. “That sucks so much.”
“Yea, he wanted to be here so badly. I thought it was best for me to slip out while he was sleeping, so he wouldn’t get too upset, you know?”
“I would be devastated if I were him, extra-emotional or not. I feel so bad that I slept over Pam’s last night,” Brenda says guiltily.
“Don’t feel bad, Bren, seriously. There’s nothing you could’ve done. And the coughing would’ve just kept you up, as well.”
“Still, I wish he could be here,” Brenda sighs. “It’s weird to think we’re ending our high school career without him.”
“We should do something special,” Pam suggests. “Bring the last day of school to him.”
“That’s a great idea, Pam. You’re so thoughtful,” Jackson smiles, pride radiating from his expression. Pam beams back at him.
“How we bringing school to David?” Ron asks.
“Imagine he wakes up and we just put a piece of paper down in front of him like ‘SURPRISE! Pop quiz time!’,” Brenda suggests, bursting out into maniacal laughter.
“You’ve definitely been spending too much time with Ken,” Jackson laughs.
“It doesn’t have to be anything big,” Pam says. “Maybe we just go over there and eat snacks and sign each other’s yearbooks.”
“That’s so sad. I don’t wanna sign each others’ yet,” Brenda frowns.
“Yea, but isn’t it more sad if we never get around to signing them at all?” Pam asks.
“That’s true, we’re gonna have to do it eventually,” Exer points out. “It would be kind of nice to do it all at once. Together.”
“Together,” Jackson agrees.
“What snacks are being there?” Ron asks.
“Seriously, Ron?” Brenda laughs.
“What? Asking in case David need us picking up more from store after school,” Ron assures.
“Yea, I bet,” Brenda responds skeptically.
“It’s true! Wanting David to get better soon,” Ron says, sounding offended. “Can’t be getting better without good food.”
“I know, dude. I believe you,” Exer says, patting Ron’s arm reassuringly. “But your actions in the past haven’t exactly inspired confidence in that statement. You love food; there’s nothing wrong with that, man.”
Ron mopes and murmurs in Russian indignantly, while the other members of the group make a plan to meet up at David’s locker and head straight to the Millers’ house after school.
The rest of the day is spent waiting for the bell to ring and roaming the halls while passing yearbooks around.
He asks a few people to sign his, and a few people ask him to sign theirs; but, generally, Exer spends the next few hours searching the school for the last few people on David’s list.
He almost doesn’t get Peggy’s signature, because the lunch lady’s name tag says Margaret.
Who knew that Peggy was a nickname for Margaret?
“Oh this is for David? The blonde one with the crazy shirts? He is just the sweetest little thing, isn’t he?”
“Yea,” Exer smiles. “He really is.”
After the final bell rings and the crowd floods with a mix of restless and exhilarated students, Exer makes his way to David’s locker.
He turns the knob — 36-13-30 — and loads the few books left in there into his own backpack while his friends gather one by one.
He offers to drive, but Ron simply states that he will meet them there later, and not to wait for him. And Brenda wants Pam to come with her; and, since Pam and Jackson are glued at the hip recently, Jackson decides to ride with them as well.
Exer pulls up to the Millers’ house first, and Brenda backs into the driveway shortly after.
“Hey mom, a bunch of us are here to cheer up David,” Brenda says while opening the front door.
Christine emerges from the kitchen with a book in hand and a tentative smile.
“Oh, are you kids sure you want to be here? I wouldn’t want any of you getting sick.”
“We discussed it earlier, and it’s a risk everyone is willing to take Mrs. Christine,” Exer says resolutely. “It’s our last day of high school and we want to spend it together.”
In sickness and in health, Exer’s mind supplies, and his face gets hot from the thought.
“Besides, I shared my water with him yesterday, so,” Pam trails off, and her eyes flick to Jackson with an apologetic smile.
“And Bren and I were probably bound to get sick from proximity, anyway,” Exer notes.
“Well, thank you for being here for him. You know how he gets,” Christine says fondly. “It could be a case of the sniffles and it’s like my strong, brave man is suddenly five years old again.”
“Since when do you consider David to be a man?” Brenda chimes in while toeing off her shoes. “It’s usually ‘my baby boy’.”
“Oh hush Brenda, I’m trying not to embarrass him in front of his boyfriend and friends,” Christine hisses, lightly smacking Brenda’s arm with her paperback book.
“Ow, Mom!” Brenda laughs. “As if Exer hasn’t seen it firsthand for the past decade.”
Exer chuckles.
“David? Don’t respond, just save your voice, okay honey?” Mrs. Miller calls up the stairs. “Some of your friends are here to see you, if you want to come down.”
Despite Mrs. Miller’s explicit instructions, a loud and indecipherable raspy grumble comes in response.
“He still sounds scratchy, but I’m not hearing that cough anymore,” Exer notes.
“I gave him a cough suppressant earlier so he could sleep. Hopefully it also helps keeps him from spreading any more germs to the rest of you.”
“And his fever?” Brenda asks worriedly.
“It’s come down, thankfully.”
“Good,” Brenda exhales.
“I was thinking of making brownies earlier, and you all being here has given me the perfect excuse. You all relax, I’ll bring them out when they’re done.”
And, with a chorus of ‘thank you Mrs. Miller’s, they all settle in the living room.
Pam and Brenda sit cross-legged on the floor, while Jackson sits in the armchair, and Exer on the couch with a very clingy David.
They decide not to start signing yearbooks without Ron, and, instead, casually converse while they wait on his arrival.
They’re laughing about something stupid when the doorbell rings.
Ron walks in holding a paper grocery bag full of soup, saltine crackers, various over-the-counter medicines, cough drops, honey, and assortment of teas.
“Aww, buddy, you brought all this for me?” David asks, voice shaky and chin wobbling.
“Yes, wanting David to have what he needs to feel better,” Ron says earnestly.
David gets a misty-eyed as he spreads his arms wide, and Ron leans down to hug him tightly.
“Okay, time to get situated,” Brenda announces when they let go, instructing Pam and Jackson to go find some mixtapes from her room, while her and Ron boil water and make the tea.
After the tea is ready and mugs distributed, everyone is babbling and laughing while grabbing pens from their backpacks and getting settled in the living room once again.
Then Brenda pops one of David’s mixtapes into the cassette player — a good mix of nostalgic songs from childhood and more recent radio hits — and the room goes silent.
Well, mostly silent, other than the music and the sound of scribbling.
It’s weird, putting onto paper feelings that you may not have ever put into words before.
And it’s hard to keep in mind that what you are writing is not only meant for the current version of the person sitting next to you, but for the distant future version of them that you will not be seeing every day.
Exer finds himself word-vomiting a little, and wishing he didn’t write in pen so he could edit and fix his mistakes and oddly-worded sentences.
‘Pencil could fade over time,’ Jackson had pointed out, so they had all agreed on pen.
The whole process is a little disorienting and overwhelming, and Exer's hands begin to shake as he feels an unwelcome panic settling in.
“Hey,” David murmurs, tugging on Exer’s shirt. “Can we change positions? I’m not comfortable.”
“Sure,” Exer stutters, and when his eyes reach David’s, they begin to water. Because David is looking at him with so much love and concern and compassion, all of Exer’s panic seeps away.
Because David is there.
David, who can always tell when something is wrong with Exer, even if he himself is sick.
He leans forward and kisses the sniffling boy gently.
“What was that for?” David asks quietly, smiling shyly.
“For being amazing. For being everything,” Exer whispers.
A tear streams down David’s face almost instantly, and Exer realizes his face feels wet as well.
“I can’t sign yours today,” David says wetly. “I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
“That’s okay. We’ll do it just you and me, another time. Does that sound okay?”
David nods and Exer grabs whoever’s book David was signing, and puts it and Ron’s (the one he was signing) to the side momentarily. He pulls David’s legs over his lap, and David curls in close to his chest.
Exer reaches for the books and hands the one on the bottom back to David.
“Can we even write like this?” David asks.
“It might be a little more difficult,” he responds, reflecting back on their piggy-back soup excursion from this morning. “But it’s worth it to be close to you. That is the cure, right?”
David’s lip trembles when he smiles, and his eyes are full of affection and admiration.
“I love you,” he says.
“I love you too,” Exer replies.
When Forever Young by Alphaville comes on, and the wordlessness of the room is replaced by the sound of sniffling, and quiet murmurs of reassurance.
They’re all crying, now. And anytime any of them makes eye contact, there’s the choking sound of embarrassed laughter followed by ‘i love you’s and more tears.
Eventually, the sun has gone down and the brownies are long gone and they’ve finished signing almost all of each others’ yearbooks (Bren and Exer don’t sign David’s and David doesn’t sign either of theirs, and Jack and Pam agree to sign one another’s at a later date, too), and it starts to seem like it’s time for everyone to head their separate ways.
Brenda volunteers to drive them home, but Ron and Jack dismiss her offer, stating that they’re more than happy to walk Pam back and then head home themselves.
Goodbyes are exchanged in a mix of hugs and tears and laughter; and afterward, everyone grips their yearbooks tight to their chests — as if it the tighter they hold the abundantly signed books, the easier it will be to hold on to the memory of this moment, as well.
And then Pamela, Jackson, and Ron head out into the night, leaving Brenda, David, and Exer alone in the entryway.
“You know, today was probably the perfect time for David to sign everyone’s yearbooks, anyway. I bet they were all sappy and sentimental,” she teases.
David scoffs and shoves her lightly.
“Hey!”
“I’m just saying I’m glad we did this today, it all worked out.”
“I can’t believe you guys did all this for me,” David says, sounding a bit choked up.
“I think we all kind of needed it, in a way,” Brenda smiles.
“Yea, all of us being together like this was nice,”
“Our last day of school ever, can you believe I missed it?”
“Day, you didn’t miss anything today. In fact, after we made these plans, we were all basically just waiting for the bell to ring so we could dip and come be here with you,” Exer reassures.
“I just— I feel like if I knew yesterday was going to be my last day, I would’ve soaked it up more,” David says, voice shaky. “I would’ve—”
“I seem to remember us soaking yesterday up quite a bit, actually. We went out to grab lunch off campus and ate on the picnic tables. We passed notes in physics and played hangman in my notebook in Ms. Jones’s class. We even skipped gym to—” Exer cuts himself off when he remembers Brenda is with them, and vaguely considers that he is definitely going to get sick, too. “—Uh wander the halls and shit. If anything, yesterday was an almost perfect last day of school.”
“Yea,” David smiles, tears brimming in his eyes. “Yea I guess it was.”
Exer leans in to gently kiss his cheek when a cough rips itself from his lungs unexpectedly.
Brenda lets out a shocked laugh, and David merely stares at him, looking somewhat offended.
“I am so sorry,” Exer says immediately.
“You just coughed directly in my face,” David says blankly.
“Day, I meant to— I didn’t mean— I am so, so sorry,” he stutters.
“To be fair, you got him sick,” Brenda observes. “And you smeared snot on his arm.”
David glances at Brenda and cracks a smile. “I forgot about that. Ex, why didn’t you grab a change of clothes?”
Why didn’t he grab a change of clothes?
Honestly, he forgot the snot was there. He also really liked his outfit. After all, he spent all morning deciding on it.
Exer coughs again — saving him from admitting this potentially embarrassing fact — only this time he feels it coming on, and pulls his arm up to cough into the crook of his elbow.
“I’m sorry,” he says when he catches his breath.
“It’s fine, dude. I was only teasing. And Brenda’s right, I got you sick and subjected you to my mucus today. I think that’s worse.”
Exer laughs lightly. “You also drooled on me while you slept, and practically sweated through my shirt while we were making the soup. So not just mucus.”
“Okay, multiple bodily fluids. That’s way worse than coughing.”
Exer scrunches up his nose. “Please don’t describe it like that, man.”
Brenda practically cackles.
“Okay, so you’re officially sick. Are you sleeping over?” Brenda asks Exer curiously.
“Um, I wasn’t entirely sure if David should come back to my place or—”
“Nonsense, our room is already infected at this point, and I’m sure I am too,” she laughs. “You should just sleep here, rather than expose Mr. Harry. It could be kind of like when we were younger and had sleepovers!”
“Except we’d all sleep in the same room this time,” Exer replies with a smile.
“Exactly, it’ll be fun! C’mon, please?”
He glances at David tentatively. Brenda has suggested this before, but he knows David feels slightly weird about ‘intruding in Brenda’s space’ — his words not Exer’s.
“Uhh—”
“Oh please, please, please? David, help me convince him,” she requests.
“Bren, you don’t want the two of us hacking up a lung while you try to sleep,” David replies.
“The cough suppressant worked pretty well earlier; and chances are I am also going to start coughing any minute,” she counters. “Oh, oh! We can pretend we’re in a hospital, and we’re three patients who have fallen ill with scarlet fever or some old time-y disease.”
Exer and David shoot her weird looks.
“Okay, you guys are literally no fun,” Brenda pouts, before laying the back of her hand dramatically across her forehead. “Go sleep at Exer’s and leave me to succumb to my tuberculosis alone.”
Exer can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of that statement.
“At least one of you thinks I’m funny,” she sighs.
“I think you’re funny,” David says defensively.
“Okay so what’s the problem? Why won’t you be a frail, sickly Victorian-era child with me?”
Maybe it’s the fever, or maybe David is just feeling open after sharing in the tenderness of writing in each other’s yearbooks, Exer isn’t sure — but no part of him expects the next words to fall from David’s mouth.
“I just don’t see why you would want to share a room with me at all, let alone when I’m sick or with my boyfriend.”
Brenda responds without skipping a beat.
“I love sharing a room with you, David. It’s like making up for the lost time of when we didn’t get to live together. Do you not like it?” Brenda asks sadly.
“No I- I do I just—” David mumbles, trying to formulate his thoughts.
“Then why won’t you let Mom get you a real bed?”
David stands there, stunned into silence for a long moment; before recovering with a sigh.
“It seems like a waste, we go to college in—”
“David, you know that’s bullshit,” Brenda says. “I’m sorry, but it is.”
“No, it’s not. It’s a waste to—”
“Bull. Shit.”
“It’s a waste because you shouldn’t even have to share a room with me to begin with,” David nearly shouts, causing him to cough and wheeze.
“It’s not a waste, you’re my brother and I like sharing a room with you. We missed out on so many years,” she says, voice trembling slightly. “Why don’t you believe me?”
A sorrowful expression washes across David’s face. “Bren, I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll get a real bed. Say you’ll stop with this stupid idea that you’re a burden to me or mom or Exer or whoever else. Say you’ll let us love you — and not just in moments like today when you’re sick. Say you’ll let us all the time,” she pleads.
Exer grabs David’s hand firmly, and David flashes him a grateful look. But his expression is laced with something else.
Fear.
Fear of letting people in. Of letting them see just how much he’s struggling.
Exer knows it’s there. He has tried to chip away at it little by little; but he never knows whether the progress he’s made is real or if David has just perfected a mask of false-vulnerability. Just enough to let people feel like they’re getting closer, without ever actually letting them.
But here David was, telling Brenda the truth about how sharing her room made him feel. Something he had told Exer once in confidence and made him swear not to share with anyone. So maybe that is real progress.
God, Exer wants to hope it is.
“I’ll— I’ll try,” David breathes, gripping Exer’s hand tighter.
“We’ll look through one of mom’s catalogues tomorrow morning and order you a bed frame,” Brenda says definitively.
“Sure,” David replied nervously. “Okay.”
It’s clear he’s still not totally comfortable with the decision, but he is willing to take a step in the right direction. And Exer is so unbelievably proud of him, he knows it must be written all over his face.
Still, he says it anyway.
“We’re so proud of you, David.”
“So proud,” Brenda echoes, grinning from ear to ear. “And we love you so much.”
Brenda wraps David in a tight hug, and gestures with one hand to invite Exer to join.
“I love you guys too,” he says, before bursting into a sob.
Exer can’t help but cry, too; and he can feel Brenda’s shoulders shaking under his arm.
The three of them cry and they hold each other and they stay like that for a very long time.
After taking some medicine, brushing their teeth, and getting ready for bed, they settle into bed and Brenda flicks the light off.
He lays on his back, and David — clingymushysick David — practically plasters himself across Exer’s chest.
“I can’t believe we don’t have school tomorrow. We’re never going back to Jeanes High again,” David breathes, tracing lazy circles into Exer’s arm. "Well, except for exams, I guess."
“I can’t believe David and I are going to be roommates, like, for real,” Brenda says, and Exer can hear the smile in her voice.
“I’m gonna be the best roommate ever,” David declares goofily. “Whoever you dorm with in the fall won’t even compare.”
“I can’t believe we’re going to college,” Exer blurts. “It still feels like we’re fifteen sometimes.”
They all get lost in thought, or maybe everyone other than Exer has fallen asleep, he isn’t sure. But the silence isn’t uncomfortable, it’s really peaceful, actually.
Which is why when Exer feels a tickle in his throat, he sits up and swallows heavily, trying to force it away.
“Hey guys, can I ask one thing?” Brenda says earnestly, breaking the silence.
“Sure,” David replies.
And Exer attempts to also give some sort of verbal response in the dark, but the lingering tickle in his throat grows increasingly more irritating.
He goes to clear his throat just as Brenda speaks.
“No, uh, wandering the halls, while I’m in here, okay?”
David pats Exer’s back when he chokes loudly on his cough.