A cold sensation on Ryan's neck woke him up. He jerked upright, blinking as he realized he was still sitting in front of the television watching Titanic. A blanket was draped over his lap, with Jordan's feet crossed on his lap. Charlie was next to him, with Harper's head on their shoulder. Sam was in the armchair with a textbook open on her lap, but she was watching the screen, where Jack was drawing Rose like one of his French girls.

Ryan half-turned to see Van behind him, holding out a can of Mountain Dew. "Thought you might be thirsty," Van purred in a way that made Ryan feel dirty.

But Ryan was thirsty, so he said, "Thanks," and took the soda.

Van prowled around the couch and pushed at Jordan's feet. "Move over," he said.

"Do you really have to sit right there?" Jordan complained, but curled up into the corner of the couch. When Van sat down, wedged between her and Ryan, Jordan sighed loudly. "Just keep it in your pants, okay? It's family movie time."

"Just wanted to get cozy with the new roommate." Van wiggled his shoulder against Ryan's.

Ryan shifted away as far as he could, which wasn't far since Charlie was right there. Charlie gave him an apologetic smile. "Just let us know if Van's being too much."

"Thanks," Ryan said, glad to know other people could see how predatory Van was being. The last time he felt this uncomfortable sitting next to someone was back after he'd come out to Lance, and Lance took that as a flirtation and was ready to give being gay a try. But Lance was a good guy, just not especially good at picking up on subtlety. Ryan imagined Van's attentions being similar to how a serial killer would pick out his victims.

"Ryan's a big boy," Van announced. "He can tell me to stop. Right, Ryan?"

If Ryan hadn't been so tired, he might have seen this as the moment he could stop Van in his tracks. He certainly saw it later. But at the moment, he wished he could just sit on the couch and watch a movie and feel at home. And he hoped if he didn't make any waves, that would happen soon, so he echoed, "Right," and leaned his head back, and didn't try very hard to stay awake. After all, he already knew the Titanic was going to sink.

Jacky had no idea who he was looking for. He had zero memory of Hot Cam. He cursed himself for not asking Billy anything about Cam. Like, what color hair did he have? Was he tall?

Braedyn had gone to save some seats, right in the middle of the theater, dead center in a row, and while Brandon had immediately gone to get food, Braedyn kept turning around to look at Jacky standing near the door.

Jacky had assumed that he'd vaguely recognize Cam when he showed up, but he didn't realize how much he had assumed Cam would look like Ryan until a lighter-skinned Black guy with close-cropped hair and a scruffy beard sauntered up. Jacky had found his eyes drawn to the guy, since he had a bit of a swagger and an open smile and was drop-dead gorgeous. He was wearing a black t-shirt with a stylized red spider on the front underneath a red plaid shirt and a sherpa-lined jean jacket.

Then the guy walked right up to Jacky, still smiling. "Hey," he said.

This had to be Cam. Jacky's mouth was suddenly dry.

His brain was stuttering with how hot Cam was. How had he managed to talk to this guy at the party, about fucking Captain America of all things? And why would Cam have talked to him, enough to exchange phone numbers? Surely there had been other hot gays there. Jacky was certain Billy would have had no issues with jumping Cam's bones.

Unless this wasn't a date.

"Hi," Jacky said, managing not to croak. He cleared his throat just in case, and then he started babbling. "You want to get anything to eat before we find some seats? One of the guys in my hall is here, I think he grabbed seats for us. I'm not really hungry but a soda would be good. I think we have some time before the movie starts."

"Yeah, let's grab a snack," Cam said with a chuckle. "I don't want to miss any previews. They'll have previews, right?"

"I hope so. I love previews." As Cam started to walk toward the concessions stand, Jacky briefly closed his eyes as if he could shut out how stupid that sounded. I love previews. Good thing this wasn't a date, and Jacky had already made that clear by saying they'd be sitting with some random guys from his dorm. Cam definitely wouldn't be considering making out with Braedyn sitting right there. Or maybe he would. Jacky squeezed his eyes shut tight for a second to try to erase that awkward situation from his brain.

He slammed into Cam's back.

"Sorry!" he said, stepping back, but then Cam's hand was around his shoulder – his shoulder, Cam's hand was touching his amputated shoulder – and Jacky froze. His heartbeat sped up, but he felt every muscle in his body stiffen even as Cam gently tugged him toward the concessions counter.

"It's fine." Cam's voice was like honey, brushing up against Jacky's ear.

"I didn't think so many people would be here. I mean, it's a campus event and not a party or anything. But it is Marvel, and it's free, so I guess I should have known better." Jacky knew he was babbling and couldn't stop himself. His brain was racing with other thoughts too, like what had happened at that party? Had they hooked up? Were they going to hook up tonight? "I guess I thought after Endgame, the fandom had died off a little bit, plus with the pandemic and all the shows on Disney+, it just wasn't the same."

"I'm sure not everyone here is as big a fan as we are," Cam said, giving Jacky's shoulder a little squeeze. "Oh, I'm sorry – am I hurting you?" He removed his arm, and Jacky relaxed just a little.

"No." It took Jacky half a second for his reeling mind to understand what Cam meant. Non-amputees wouldn't know if a residual limb would hurt more or less, and it often varied. Jacky had been lucky not to have a lot of nerve damage. But he didn't want to talk about any of that. "So, who's your favorite Spider-Man?"

"I'm really liking Tom Holland, but Miles Morales is my man. How about you?" Cam stepped up to the counter immediately after asking and ordered a popcorn and a Coke for himself, then turned to Jacky. "What kind do you want?"

"I'll have a Sprite," Jacky said.

As they waited for the food, Cam asked, "So?"

"Who's my favorite Spider-Man?" Jacky made a face; he wasn't a huge fan of Spider-Man. "I like Andrew Garfield. But more as an actor, you know?"

Cam tilted his head. "You think he's hot, don't you?"

"I mean..." Jacky shrugged. "He is."

"You don't think Tom Holland is hot?"

Jacky pressed his lips together. Cam didn't seem to know how not to ask a question. "Meh."

Once they had their drinks, Jacky led Cam down to where Braedyn and Brandon were sitting. They sat down, Jacky sandwiched between Braedyn and Cam.

"Who else do you think is hot?" Cam asked.

Braedyn glanced at them with raised eyebrows. Jacky could feel himself start to get annoyed. Discussing which Avenger was the hottest wasn't exactly what he and Ryan usually talked about when they saw a Marvel movie. If Ryan was here with him, they'd be talking about the last Marvel movie they'd watched together, dissecting the end credits scenes and getting hyped for the trailers for upcoming Marvel movies. They'd be sharing their popcorn and candy, and while neither of them were into public displays of affection, Ryan might squeeze Jacky's leg, and Jacky might nudge Ryan's shoulder, and they might put up the armrest between their seats and entwine their fingers, hidden between them.

The longing for Ryan stabbed Jacky in the gut and eviscerated him.

"I don't really watch these movies to think anyone is hot," Jacky said finally.

"Okay, well, how about in general? What's your type?"

He couldn't really answer, "Guys who look like Captain America." Or, "The guy who lives across the hall from me, who happens to be sitting right next to me." And what made either of those guys his type? He froze. Was he racist? Did he only like blond white guys like some kind of sheet-wearing, cross-burning KKK member?

Taking a sip of his soda to stall, he ran through his other response options to what might be the most awkward question to ask on a first date:

"I'm into men."

"I don't really have a type."

"Something between a jock and a twunk, but with brains."

Finally he said, "You're pretty hot."

Cam grinned and shifted, draping his arm over Jacky's shoulders. "All right, then."

Jacky tried to smile back, but he felt that same dread crawling up his throat with Cam's hand resting right on his stump. This is it, Jacky thought. I've found the one guy who has a fetish about amputees.

"You sure I'm not hurting you?" Cam asked softly.

Beside him, Braedyn shifted in his seat. Jacky couldn't look over to see what Braedyn thought about this particular situation. "Uh, yeah, no you're not hurting me. It doesn't really hurt anymore."

"How long ago was the accident?"

Of course Cam would want to talk about the accident.

"Uh, almost five years ago now." Five years. It both felt like forever and like no time at all.

"Was it hard to get used to it? Do you get, like, phantom pain, and stuff?" Cam crunched down some popcorn.

It had been a long time since anyone had talked to Jacky about his amputation so directly, and he wasn't sure he hated it. But he also didn't want to talk about it on a date. "Yeah, there was a lot of physical therapy. I was out of school for most of eighth grade."

"Wow, that long?"

On his left, Jacky could feel Braedyn listening in. "I spent a month or so in the hospital after. A staph infection," he added. "Then there were a couple of months of daily rehab and learning to do things one-handed. And at that point I was just trying to catch up in school and not much time left in the school year so my mom let me stay at home."

"Was it hard, going back to school?"

Jacky decided that he didn't want to talk about this anymore. He checked his phone for the time: only a few more minutes before the movie would start and rescue him. "I mean, it wasn't easy."

"Yeah, but did people give you a hard time?"

He definitely didn't want to bring up all that shit from high school, and he wasn't sure why Cam was so interested to know if he was bullied or whatever. "Am I being interviewed?" Jacky snapped.

Cam paused in his popcorn-crunching. He took a moment to finish chewing and swallow before answering. "No?"

Jacky had a moment where he wondered if he was being irrational or overly sensitive. But his anger took over. "Then what's with the twenty questions?"

"I, uh." Cam cleared his throat. "I mean, isn't that what you do on a date? You ask questions and try to get to know the other person?"

"Questions about my amputation aren't going to help you get to know me," Jacky said.

Cam sat back. "I just thought it was a big part of your life, I guess."

"Well, it's not. I have a lot of other things going on."

"Like what?" Cam sipped his soda and waited.

Jacky couldn't even think of a response, and that pissed him off. He stood up. "I think I'm done here," he announced before shoving past Cam and stalking out of the theater. He shouldered the door open with his good shoulder and managed to get past the stragglers heading in for the movie before slowing down and gasping for air.

People were never going to see him as anything but a disabled person. That was apparently his whole identity now. He hadn't picked a major; he didn't do any clubs unless you counted the LGBTQ club, but he had only been to that one party. Mostly he sat in his room blasting music through his headphones and doing whatever Braedyn invited him to. He hadn't even gone to the soccer club yet, because it had been raining and he was hungover.

He was a one-man pity party. He had told Ryan he needed breathing room while Ryan had been letting Jacky tag along with all his friends. Ryan probably needed the breathing room.

"Hey man, are you okay?"

Jacky turned around at Braedyn's voice and realized a half-second too late that he was crying in the middle of a well-lit sidewalk in the center of campus. He smeared his hand across his face. "I'm fine." He knew, as he said it, that he was clearly not fine.

"Are you heading back to the dorm?" Braedyn asked.

With a shrug, Jacky looked in that direction. "Don't have any other plans."

"I'll come with you."

"I don't need you to chaperone me back," Jacky said sharply.

Now it was Braedyn's turn to shrug. "I'm headed that way anyway."

When Ryan finally watched the end of Titanic, crying for some reason, and gave his verdict ("Unless you've been in a situation, it's impossible to say what's possible – they tried, they were both suffering from shock and hypothermia, and neither of them were thinking clearly. Rose is innocent"), he was finally allowed to escape to his room. He shut the door before Van could follow him in.

With a heavy exhale, Ryan stood for a moment in his room, his blessedly empty room. Then he went through his bedtime routine with the exception of brushing his teeth, which he knew was gross but he also didn't want to risk talking to anyone.

He had felt homesickness before, after he'd settled into his life at the group home and it finally sunk in that he was never going back. He'd never again live in the house he grew up in, never again talk to his mom. Then school and Jacky's house had become like homes to him. Now he had neither. All he had left of his old life was Pete.

Ryan climbed into bed and then pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his Instagram feed before closing that out and going back to Snapchat, where Jacky's last message remained on read. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard. I miss you, he wanted to write.

But in the end he plugged his phone in and made sure his alarm was set for the morning and tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep.