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Walt was walking them toward the bus stop, quick and silent.

Where are we going?

Walt didn’t answer.

There was one last bus before the route was done for the night. Hollis knew that if they made it in time, Walt was going to catch it. And if he caught the bus, they would leave this town, and Hollis didn’t know if they would ever come back.

I can’t do this. I can’t do this.

Walt was saying it over and over, and Hollis knew he wasn’t talking to him.

This was ridiculous.

Hey, calm down, dude, Hollis begged. I’m not mad, I just wanted to know what happened.

Walt was shaking his head.

Please. Please. Take us home.

Walt kept walking.

Please.

Hollis reached out and tried to force calm into them the way Walt had the very first night. Tried to communicate his anxiety, wordless and tender, and the wish for understanding. He couldn’t tell if it was working, but he tried.

Walt stopped in the middle of the street and closed his eyes. He tipped his head back, the way he always did when his heart was breaking. They were a half block from the bus stop. The sign bright and yellow, close.

Take us home, Walt, Hollis said, firm and sure.

Walt took a breath, shaky and wet. He covered their face with both hands.

Why, Hollis? What will that change?

It would never quit shaking him to hear his own name spoken in his own voice.

Give me our arms.

Hollis was a lot of things. Nice wasn’t one of them. But he wasn’t the sort of person who saw someone crying and did nothing about it. He wasn’t the sort of person who was raised to feel nothing from something like this.

Give them to me.

Walt did, all at once. Let them fall to his sides and hang, as hot tears found themselves in the curves of their ears.

Hollis took his own arms and wrapped them around his middle, held tight. Walt startled.

Why are you doing that?

Shh.

Hollis used his hand to wipe his face, to gentle away Walt’s crying.

Walt laughed, hysterical and joyless, but Hollis didn’t let that push him into cruelty.

Do you still want to go to the party? Hollis asked. Or do you need to stay home?

Walt shook his head. Why ask me that? It’s your party; it’s your life—

You don’t have to get all upset. Hollis wiped his face again. I’m not mad, just confused. Did you do something to me or was that just... us? As we are supposed to be.

None of this should be happening at all, Walt whispered. I am an abomination.

Hollis thought for a bit. He wanted to do it again, whatever that was. He could still remember the shivery pleasure hidden in the pain of it. Felt muted shocks of it as he wiped their face.

So what? Hollis said finally. I’m not that great of a person either.

More tears.

You don’t understand .

There were years in those words. But Hollis didn’t think that was important.

Why should I need to? We’re both stuck here. You metaphysically and me because looking up exorcisms failed. Let’s just make the best of it. So much of this experience is bad. This one thing is good! I don’t understand why you’re freaking out so much.

I could just jump into someone else.

Dude, I’m not letting you fuck up someone else in this town over this shit. If I saw your eyes in someone else’s head I would feel so bad, I’d throw up immediately. It would feel like my fault, and I can’t deal with the stress of that.

I...

Walt was shifting though emotions too quickly for Hollis to keep track. It was like standing in a river with a current rushing past, until Walt settled on that breathtaking anguish he’d shown Hollis on accident. Open and shocky, like a raw nerve. Too big to shove anywhere, to hide.

Hollis wondered if he was the first person Walt had ever shown this to. The first person who knew.

He remembered Walt making bread and flirting with Yulia and laughing at him and taking a bath and getting ready for school, just smiling and talking like he wasn’t a thing that hurt so bad it would drive a stronger man than Hollis to his knees.

Walt clenched their fists tight and breathed hard, a pitiful noise.

He was trying to force it back inside, but it wasn’t working; Hollis didn’t think Walt could while Hollis was looking at it so close like this.

Hollis pulled back the layers, crimson bright, until it was a shape that made sense. Until he understood what he hadn’t before.

It’s hard to be you, isn’t it?

Walt flinched. He wiped their nose hard.

What does it matter? You shouldn’t care. It’s not your responsibility to care.

You don’t control that, Hollis said firmly. I do.

The red got deeper, like someone was tugging out the bottom of their lungs, their heart.

You can’t decide whether someone cares. I care that you feel this way. I care. Don’t think I don’t know what loneliness feels like on you either. You make me hungry with your hungers. You’re the one who said we’d be sharing, so share .

Walt covered their face, hid.

I feel like I’m bleeding all the time, Walt whispered, wet. I’m sorry for scaring you, I just got frustrated.

Hollis could understand that. Walt was a frustrating kind of guy; it was probably the most predictable thing about him, if he was being honest.

Hollis grinned.

Please don’t laugh at me.

I’m not laughing at you, Walt. I’m laughing at me. I’m sorry for trying to choke us. And for being a pain in the ass.

Walt giggled softly, then took back control of Hollis’s left arm, wiping their face as dry as he could manage.

All right...

Somehow it was easier to admit this to Walt than it was to himself. That Hollis didn’t “like this” exactly, but he was dealing with it. Apparently better than most people. And it was strangely a bit of a relief to know that Walt was miserable too. It made them... equals in a way.

Just... stop crying in the street, Hollis said, kind. You’re making me look like a loser. Take us home.