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“I called a homophobe a cocksucker, and he elbowed me in the ribs. That’s why we won.”

Even in my misery, I can still smile at that. My baby boy, calling a homophobe a cocksucker. I’m just sad I wasn’t right there to hear it. “Still counts.”

“What about…us?”

The question is a fist, squeezing my heart to a fine pulp. “We’ve still got time to figure us out.”

“Okay,”he sighs, and I wish I could tell which emotion it’s laden with.“But…what about San Jose?”

“It’s not going anywhere. I’ll be there, and you can come visit me whenever you can. I’ll visit you too.” I try holding my breath to keep the tears in, but I need my breath to speak, so the tears dribble down the side of my face freely. “Maybe it’ll be better this way. I’m probably going to be so busy in San Jose, you’ll never see me, and you’ll resent me. I don’t want that. And this way, we’ll still be connected through soccer. We’ll be doing the same shit, so we’ll always have things in common to talk about, and our off-seasons will always be in-sync. We’ll see each other a lot during the off-seasons, and we can train together like we do. Doesn’t that sound better?”

No.It sounds fucking horrible, but Tommy doesn’t say that. He’s silent for a while.

“I’m so—”we both say in tandem, and we both cut ourselves off on the same syllable.

I’m so proud of you,is what I was going to say. “Sorry, what were you gonna say?”

Tommy expels a long breath, then says,“I was gonna say I’m scared.”

“Baby, don’t be scared. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

After another drawn out pause, Tommy asks another daunting question.“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise,” I answer quickly, and now he’ll really know I’m a liar, because there’s always something to be afraid of. Even when times are better than usual, there’s always horror right around the corner.

Tommy’s been distant. Or maybe it’s me who’s being distant. Pre-grieving, maybe. Eight weeks is a long time, but it’s time I’ll only spend growing more and more in love with him and, by the end of it, I don’t think I’ll survive saying goodbye. I’ll let him go, and without him, I’ll do something stupid. I’ll hurt myself, and I’ll hurt him, and I can’t let that happen. Maybe letting him go now will be better for us in the long run.

This is why relationships are bogus. Promises don’t mean shit in this life. Everything we put into it gets taken away. Only sure thing is that the sun’s going to rise the next morning. No guarantees on what the light’s going to unveil, or what sort of people we’ll be when it does.

It’s only been a few days since the draft, but with how sporadically I’ve found sleep, it feels like weeks. Either way, I’ve spent way too many hours binge watching sad movies that only solidify my opinion that love is an illusion and life is meaningless. I take it as a sign when most of these tragic tales are about gay men and boys.

I’m halfway through an erotic sex scene between two depressed hotties and trying not to get turned on, because I know how it’s going to turn out. One man will die or realize he’s better off alone, and misery will prevail. This is when Xia taps on my door and tells me Tommy’s here.

Tommy?

“Uhh, okay! I’ll be out in a minute!” I pop out of bed, shut my laptop and scramble to put together a clean outfit. Something that’ll make it look like I still give a shit about myself, Adidas and my coat for the short trip from the garage to the house. I’m already shucking the coat off as I pass through the kitchen, and I drape it on a dining chair.

In the living room, Tommy is shooting the shit with Matt over something or another, standing half a head taller than my pseudo-father. He spots me and smiles, then lets Matt finish his thought before slapping his palm and stepping toward me.

“Hey, Row,” Tommy murmurs, sizing me up like it really has been weeks since we’ve been in the same room. His hand cups my jaw, thumb smoothing across the stubble I’ve been ignoring.

“Sorry,” I mumble, noticing how kempt Tommy looks, stunning as ever.

He smiles curiously, like I’m being weird. “For what?”

“I didn’t know you were coming by.”

Taking his hand back, he sticks both into the pockets of his perfectly fitted jeans. “I tried calling a couple times and—Idunno—got the feeling maybe your phone died. Got kinda worried, I guess, ‘cause of last time.”

“Shit. That’s my bad. I’m good, I swear. Just been binging a bunch of depressing ass movies and forgot about my phone. I’m sure it’s dead somewhere.”

He chuckles quietly, taking his hands out of his pockets to lay them across my shoulders. “Why are you binging depressing movies?”

Because I’m a depressing person living in a depressing world, and I like to keep on theme.

“Caught up in the algorithm, I guess.”

Olive and Lena zip from the hallway, prancing around the main room like they’re ponies, and Xia calls to them to wash up for dinner. “Are you eating with us, Tommy?” she then asks.