Page 39 of Small Sacrifices

"So you want to leave?" The idea makes something tug at his stomach, but he isn't sure what it is. Fear of losing her? The desire to come along? It could be either. If he didn’t have that ultimatum hanging over his head, he’d at least think about leaving.

Marisol huffs and sits down in her chair with so much force that it creaks. "No. I want to stay and make a fucking difference. But I'm not sure that's possible. You have to cede defeat at some point."

That makes him frown. Defeat doesn't sound like Marisol at all. He says as much, but Marisol only gives him a tired smile.

"That's sweet of you, but this environment is just… bad. I'll try to talk to him. But I honestly don't hold out much hope."

Oh. Reid's first thought is purely selfish: What is he supposed to do when she leaves?

But then the rest of it catches up with him and he realizes Marisol is right.

This is not a good work environment, pesticide scandal aside.

If only he was as free to leave as she was.

Who's ever going to take him if he just quits an internship in the governor's office?

They sit in silence for a few minutes, trying to process what just happened.

At least, that's what Reid is doing. His palms hurt where he's digging his fingernails into them, but he can't relax his fingers, just as he can't slow down his breathing.

There's something vicious in the heat burning behind his sternum.

How dare they? First, they do something like that and then they have the gall to be this bad at trying to hide it?

His phone vibrates on his desk. Reid flinches. Yet, when he turns around, all he can do is stare at it. The push notification shows Everett's name.

u want to eat lunch together?

Just what he needs. Another dilemma about whether to tell Everett. So no. He does not want to eat lunch together. He doesn't even want to look at Everett right now. That would be too much. But also, clearly, he'll get in trouble if this thing with Everett goes any further. He needs to talk to him.

He agrees to meet Everett in half an hour, in the same place where they spent their last lunch break together. When he looks up from his phone with a sigh, Marisol is smirking at him.

"Loverboy want your attention again?" she asks.

The groan rips itself from Reid's throat without his consent. But the effort to hide his face behind his hands is intentional. "Stop. You know it's not like that."

Marisol hums. "But it could be like that."

"No!"

His voice is so loud that Marisol sits up in her chair. With that comes the immediate urge to apologize, but he ignores it. Boundaries. He has to set them.

"No," he says again. "It can't. Please stop."

"Okay."

Immediately, she looks concerned, even reaches out a hand.

But he scoots back, turning to face his desk.

He still has things he should do before he goes on break.

It's just after a weekend, there are still so many questions he has to answer.

When he gets started on that, he doesn't look at Marisol. Luckily, she accepts it.

He types mechanically until it's time for his break.

As he walks to the small nook with the wrought iron furniture, he feels a profound sense of numbness.

He's already contemplating leaving early.

If he's this drained now, what will he be like after talking to Everett?

He can't imagine the conversation going well.

When Reid steps into the nook, the first thing he sees is Everett's bright smile, a stark contrast to his own mood. But it fades as Everett looks at him.

"Everything good?" he asks.

"No."

Everett makes to get up, but Reid just shakes his head. God, why does he feel so exhausted all of a sudden? It's difficult to maneuver around the heavy bench, but he manages. Then, the airtight lid is stuck to his lunchbox. Heat floods up in him again. Why is nothing working today?

Lean hands move into his line of sight to break the vacuum seal and carefully position Reid's lunch in front of him without spilling anything.

He wants to say something. Wants to tell Everett that he can open his own damn lunchbox, that he's not a child.

But when he looks up at him, he's already puttering about with his salad again.

"If you wanna tell me about it, I'm here," he says and then opens his mouth ridiculously wide to fit in a gigantic amount of lettuce. He's not even looking at Reid.

The nonchalance calms him down. Enough to eat his first bite of poké bowl, anyway. But he knows he has to talk. When he's finished chewing, he takes a deep breath and does just that.

"Mr. Wright seems to have gotten wind of our little sightseeing tour on Thursday . I got interrogated," he says and then carefully spears a piece of avocado.

"Fuck." A pause. "Wait, how?"

Reid tries to explain the weird conversation he had with Mr. Wright. But instead of anxious, Everett looks relieved by the end of it.

"Geeze, and here I thought he actually knew something. This is nothing, he's just gaslighting you. We're fine," Everett says and gestures as if to wipe away the worries.

Reid closes his eyes for a moment. Maybe Everett can afford that attitude, but he certainly cannot.

"I don't think we should keep doing this. We'll get in trouble."

Next to him, Everett stops chewing for a second. Waiting for him to start up again so that he can talk is almost painful.

"And by doing this, you mean having lunch together?" Everett finally asks. His voice is blank, but Reid can practically hear the raised eyebrow.

He swallows. "And talking to each other. I don't think it'll end well."

Everett sighs, and there's a clank. Reid looks over to see he's put his fork down. His face is vulnerable when he says, "I really like talking to you. I don't wanna stop."

"We should," Reid says. His voice doesn't break, but it's a near thing.

"Maybe," Everett concedes. "But do you want to?"

His eyes are arresting, wide and dark. Reid almost feels hypnotized. He's not put together enough to lie. "No."

A small smile. It doesn't reach his eyes. "Me neither. I never get to talk to people like this. It's... nice."

That doesn't sound like it's the whole truth. But it also sounds incredibly sad. And so lonely. At least Reid has his sister.

"What about Max?"

Everett's smile turns rueful. "Max has enough issues. I'm not the only one affected by our father's bigotry. And Max is young. I shouldn't be unloading all this on my sibling."

Sibling. As far as timing goes, it's quite inconvenient.

But suddenly, Reid realizes that Everett has never once used the word brother to refer to Max.

Has he ever even used pronouns? A chill descends Reid's spine as he realizes what that might mean.

If a gay child is unacceptable, then what would the governor think about a genderqueer child?

"That sounds reasonable," he says. His voice is a bit unsteady, and he can see Everett's eyes rove over his face as he talks. Can he tell what Reid is thinking?

"Yeah, well." Everett rubs at his neck. "So where does that leave us? Because we're not doing anything wrong. We're just friends. We can be friends, right?"

By now, Reid has his doubts about that. The way his heart beats at the hopeful look on Everett's face points to the opposite. But then again… that face. How is he supposed to say no when Everett is looking at him like that?

He's never been in a situation like this, never felt this way before. The current circumstances offer a reprieve from making a definitive choice, which is comforting. But he still wants something—he's just not sure what.

The way Everett is looking at him, with those earnest eyes and a small smile playing on his lips, makes Reid want to reach out to close the gap between them.

"Sure," Reid says softly.

Everett's smile brightens by a few megawatts. "Great!" He spears more lettuce, bypassing the grilled salmon in the middle of the bowl. "So how about we just… do this? We can talk here, and we can text, but we don't meet up outside of your working hours. This can just be a workplace friendship."

It's tempting to Reid to point out that he already has a workplace friendship with Marisol, and that feels different.

But that's beside the point. If they're going to do this, he should try not to sabotage it right out of the gate.

So he nods and agrees. And he laughs when, at the end of his meal, Everett picks up the piece of salmon with his fork and just takes bites out of it.

Something is wrong with that guy. It's probably telling that Reid really wants to find out what it is.