MONDAY: The Edge of the Unknown
'AJ's not being a stalker. He's maybe in the classroom a little earlier than usual, but he'd spent at least forty minutes before homeroom in this classroom almost every day last week, so it's practically a routine by this point. And he might be in a chair close to the teacher's desk, but the floor is cold, and cheap plastic is an improvement. And he might sit up a little straighter as soon as Lance walks in the door, but Lance isn't fazed to see him there, barely even pauses before he's sliding into his own chair, so clearly it's not a big deal.
AJ's not being a stalker.
The fact that he spent his entire Sunday erratically responding to Brian's texts has nothing to do with anything either. It's just - he'd thought about not replying Brian's text after he got home from Brian's on Saturday, but five minutes later he'd caved enough to send back a quick 'didn't crash my car' before tossing his phone onto his bed, determined not to check it again for the rest of the night. His phone vibrated a half minute later though, and he hadn't planned on looking, but when he glanced over, he saw 'I'm glad!' pop up in his notifications.
He grabbed his phone to type back 'excuse you i'm a fucking awesome driver', almost on reflex, but he dropped it back onto his bed before he sent it, crawled under his sheets, and tried to go to sleep instead. Except -- he'd felt better in the morning. A little. So he'd texted Brian 'you'd be devastated if i crashed. couldn't do that to you'. Brian had texted back 'Yes I would.' almost right away. And then AJ hadn't picked up his phone again for hours. When he had, there were a couple of new texts from Brian, casual texts about what was on TV, or what he was having for lunch, nothing that required a response, but AJ sent 'pics or it didn't happen', and again, seconds later, Brian had replied with a goofy selfie, giant ice cream cone included, and 'Ice cream monster!!'. And AJ had had to put his phone down again.
But every time he'd texted, even later, Brian had replied in minutes. Sometimes less. Like he was -- not sitting by the phone waiting, but pleased to be getting the messages. Anticipating them. By dinner it had been--okay. Better. Good, almost. AJ had texted a picture of the lasagna Maria had left him to heat up, and Brian had texted back a string of excited emojis. And then: 'Speaking of dinners, I meant to ask you if you had Thanksgiving plans.'
AJ froze just reading it, and suddenly all the butterflies were back, in his stomach and crawling up his lungs, but the texts kept rolling in.
'No pressure either way, I just figured you'd maybe want some turkey.'
'I mean, we always make way too much food, and then we have leftovers for weeks.'
'You'd be doing me a favor, honestly. A man can only eat so many leftover turkey sandwiches.'
An hour later, AJ's phone had buzzed again, and from the same spot he'd been occupying since the first Thanksgiving text, the same spot he'd spent the last 59 minutes wondering what the hell to say to that, he'd read 'Seriously, no pressure. Just think about it ok?'
And now it's Monday morning, and AJ still hasn't replied. Is here instead, in a deserted classroom at stupid o'clock in the morning, knees bouncing, fingers steepled into fists so he doesn't start vandalizing the brand new tables, not-stalking Lance; because if he's left alone with his phone and those messages for a second longer it's not going to be thinking about what to text back, it's going to be what to say to Brian, in person, and what happens after he says it, and at the dinner, and when things inevitably go wrong and--
"Good morning," Lance says, and AJ jerks his head up. Lance isn't paying him any attention, is just shuffling through papers in his briefcase and laying out pens on the table, and it's not a conscious decision on AJ's part to blurt, "You're dating, right?"
AJ's not being a stalker.
The fact that he spent his entire Sunday erratically responding to Brian's texts has nothing to do with anything either. It's just - he'd thought about not replying Brian's text after he got home from Brian's on Saturday, but five minutes later he'd caved enough to send back a quick 'didn't crash my car' before tossing his phone onto his bed, determined not to check it again for the rest of the night. His phone vibrated a half minute later though, and he hadn't planned on looking, but when he glanced over, he saw 'I'm glad!' pop up in his notifications.
He grabbed his phone to type back 'excuse you i'm a fucking awesome driver', almost on reflex, but he dropped it back onto his bed before he sent it, crawled under his sheets, and tried to go to sleep instead. Except -- he'd felt better in the morning. A little. So he'd texted Brian 'you'd be devastated if i crashed. couldn't do that to you'. Brian had texted back 'Yes I would.' almost right away. And then AJ hadn't picked up his phone again for hours. When he had, there were a couple of new texts from Brian, casual texts about what was on TV, or what he was having for lunch, nothing that required a response, but AJ sent 'pics or it didn't happen', and again, seconds later, Brian had replied with a goofy selfie, giant ice cream cone included, and 'Ice cream monster!!'. And AJ had had to put his phone down again.
But every time he'd texted, even later, Brian had replied in minutes. Sometimes less. Like he was -- not sitting by the phone waiting, but pleased to be getting the messages. Anticipating them. By dinner it had been--okay. Better. Good, almost. AJ had texted a picture of the lasagna Maria had left him to heat up, and Brian had texted back a string of excited emojis. And then: 'Speaking of dinners, I meant to ask you if you had Thanksgiving plans.'
AJ froze just reading it, and suddenly all the butterflies were back, in his stomach and crawling up his lungs, but the texts kept rolling in.
'No pressure either way, I just figured you'd maybe want some turkey.'
'I mean, we always make way too much food, and then we have leftovers for weeks.'
'You'd be doing me a favor, honestly. A man can only eat so many leftover turkey sandwiches.'
An hour later, AJ's phone had buzzed again, and from the same spot he'd been occupying since the first Thanksgiving text, the same spot he'd spent the last 59 minutes wondering what the hell to say to that, he'd read 'Seriously, no pressure. Just think about it ok?'
And now it's Monday morning, and AJ still hasn't replied. Is here instead, in a deserted classroom at stupid o'clock in the morning, knees bouncing, fingers steepled into fists so he doesn't start vandalizing the brand new tables, not-stalking Lance; because if he's left alone with his phone and those messages for a second longer it's not going to be thinking about what to text back, it's going to be what to say to Brian, in person, and what happens after he says it, and at the dinner, and when things inevitably go wrong and--
"Good morning," Lance says, and AJ jerks his head up. Lance isn't paying him any attention, is just shuffling through papers in his briefcase and laying out pens on the table, and it's not a conscious decision on AJ's part to blurt, "You're dating, right?"