Charlie sat on the toilet, crying. She heard someone step into the bathroom, then nearly fell into the toilet bowl as Quincy's head suddenly peeked out from the gap under the stall.

"Hey."

She couldn't help but let out a half-hearted laugh. "What are you doing?"

"I'm betraying myself," he said, wedging himself into the stall with her. "If anyone catches me in here, my reputation's ruined for good. I already get enough shit for using the guy's bathroom as it is."

"I'm sorry." She wiped her tears away. "Do you... want to talk somewhere else?"

He glanced at the crumpled papers on the floor. "Hey, I'm the one intruding on your space here. But yeah, I've been looking for you. I wasn't going to sit around while those shitheads mocked you."

Her voice was nothing but a peep as she asked, "They were mocking me?"

"Mateo filled me in. Peter showed up all pissed, telling everyone you lied to him, that you dated a girl, and I told him to shut his mouth because it's not his right to out anyone."

Charlie ripped the cross necklace from her neck. The chain almost tore her skin until it broke, and she let it fall into the toilet with a sad plop.

"Damn," Quincy said. "At this rate, we can have a whole party up in hell together."

"Why did you defend me?"

"Hey... I won't say I'm not pressed about our talk the other day, but you're still my friend. And us bisexuals need to stick together, you know?"

She stared at the tears drying on her tattered diary. "I didn't want Peter to find out like this."

"I get why he's mad about the stalking, but I didn't know he was going to act like a—what's the word I used? Oh yeah, shithead."

She blew her nose into a ripped-out page, secrets smeared by snot. "He only knows because Jonah gave him my diary."

"That diary? Why would he do that?"

"I told you he wants revenge."

"No offense, but I get why he wants revenge after you got your boyfriend and his jock squad to beat him up."

"More like he wants revenge after I didn't commit suicide with him."

"Wait, what?"

"Isn't that what everyone's been saying?"

"Uh, no? I don't think you were on anyone's gossip radar until Peter threw his toddler tantrum."

Had she imagined the stares earlier in class? Read Jonah's smug smile as something it wasn't? He could smear her name, accuse her of attempted murder, so why wouldn't he take the chance?

Maybe because it would've made him vulnerable. Jonah Cavalcanti, in all his fabricated charm, would have to admit he'd been miserable enough to want to die.

She should be glad he hadn't spilled, but living in the same routine—except now infiltrated by his presence—made her delirious with anticipation of the moment it fell apart for good.

"What's this about suicide?" Quincy asked.

She pressed her palms into her eyes, regretting having said anything. She could take it back, but it'd only fester until it came out of Jonah's mouth instead.

"We made a pact to die together."

Quincy backed against the stall door. "Woah."

She wanted to rip herself up like the diary, flushed down the drain where she belonged.

Lilith: Tell him.

"I met him when we were thirteen," she explained. "I was obsessed with him like I was with Peter and Raquel, and I know it's—"

"Wait, you were obsessed with Raquel?"

"...yes."

"I mean, I figured you had a crush on her or something. But did you go as far as stalking?"

She shrunk in on herself. "Yes."

"And why am I only now hearing about this?"

"I'm sorry." She'd lost count of all her sorries, exposing her as the liar she was. "I told you about Peter, and I... I was surprised you didn't judge me, but with Raquel, I don't know."

"Well, that explains a lot. Can't believe she didn't mention it to me, though. She probably just wanted to push it aside. Typical. Anyway, what were you saying about Jonah?"

Charlie was starting to feel like a true Catholic going to confession. So much for the cross glittering from the bottom of the toilet bowl.

"I stalked him," she said. "I know it's wrong; I know now, but I didn't think about it then. I met him in seventh grade, and I was the new student because I got expelled from private school because I... tried to stab this girl with a pair of scissors." She looked away. "When I saw Jonah getting bullied, I wanted to help him. I didn't want him to feel alone. I thought I could make him happy just because he made me happy." She choked out a bitter laugh. "That's not how it works."

"Shit," Quincy said. He tugged on his eyebrow piercing—as if thinking about what would happen if he spilled his secrets like her, whatever demons he'd been masking in his party-hard bliss. "So he's mad you changed your mind about dying?"

Her problem was never so much wanting to die as wanting to have never existed at all.

She nodded slowly. She couldn't continue. Couldn't open herself up to the judgment—what if Quincy thought he deserved to get revenge? 

"I don't even know what to say," he muttered.

"Now he's stalking me," Charlie said.

He inclined his shoulders up to his ears. "If you're telling the truth, that's messed up, and Jonah's a manipulative shithead. And fuck it. Call it being too forgiving, but I don't care. You don't deserve the backlash, especially not from Peter."

She sniffled, unsure if it'd be awkward to reach over and give him a hug. "Thank you." Did she even deserve it? Was it a matter of time before she let him down? "I... I need to ask you something."

"Shoot," he said.

"Is it true Peter and Evan were friends in middle school?"

He tapped his lips. "Now that I think about it, yeah. Not besties, but I'm pretty sure they were both in this junior football league thing. And there was this one time their class was on a field trip to the Everglades, right? And Evan got lost there. Just fucking vanished in the middle of the swamp. I didn't know about it until a few days later when they found him and two other kids. One of them could've been Peter, now that I think of it."

"He didn't tell me," she whispered. "Why didn't Peter tell me?"

"Don't you feel like there's something, I don't know, fishy about him?"

"I just wish you told me sooner."

"Hey, don't blame me for not wanting to indulge your stalker tendencies. And why didn't you say anything about Jonah, huh? We've both got our shit. Sorry I didn't mention it." Doubt laced his face—porcelain smooth aside from the pimples on his chin. "I hate thinking about anything before I was maybe fifteen? I hate that anyone knew me before I realized I'm transgender and all that. Before I became... who I really am, I guess."

"What about your brother? He's always known you."

"Unfortunately," he sighed. "But at the end of the day, he's all I have left."

"Is he your only family?"

"I've got a few crackhead cousins somewhere, but pretty much, yeah. Before, it was my grandma. She's dead now, though. At least we got some inheritance out of it. That's the only reason we can afford to go to college. She really wanted us to not end up like the rest of our white trash fuck-up family. That was her death wish."

Maybe Charlie was ungrateful for resenting her absent parents when Quincy had none.

"I don't know if sorry is the right thing to say, but—"

"It's all good." He gave her a cheeky smile, then it faltered. "And hey, you and me are bound by our names. Stronger than blood, wouldn't you say?"

Charlie Reyes. Quincy King. Their last names were the Spanish and English words for the same thing. Even now, he was not over this marvel of a coincidence. Jonah would've called it fate.

"I'm not sure what it means," Charlie said. "We're both the farthest thing from royalty."

A smile found its way onto Quincy's heart-shaped face. "Maybe it means you'll be my sister in our next life. For now, I'll just have to deal with Evan."

"Doesn't he make you uncomfortable?"

"That's an understatement."

"I'm actually really worried about this, Quincy."

"He's almost like my astrological twin, though. We're both Geminis. So I think I have to care about him."

Something told Charlie that astrology, of all things, wasn't enough justification. But who was she to judge?

"I have the same problem," she admitted. "Not knowing when to stop caring. Feeling like you have to even though you know it's hurting you."

He nudged her knee. "Maybe that can be your fatal flaw."

"And not yours?"

"Me? I have dozens."

"I think you're the best person I know."

He made a gesture of raising his hand to wipe a fake tear, then, once her words fully sunk in, shrunk back. "Okay, wow. I don't get that a lot. Uh... thanks?"

She went from sitting on the toilet to kneeling beside him, the stall so small it barely fit them both, diary entries crushed beneath them. He leaned against her, giving her a side-hug, and maybe he wouldn't remember it in a week, but she'd never forget.

She still wanted to ask him more about his past. But how could she when she hadn't told him the full story of hers? They had a tendency to open up only in small increments. Like a piece of marble slowly sculpted. Patiently chiseled. Too much, and she feared the whole thing would break.

"So," he began, pulling away. "Do your parents know about this stalking business?"

"They're going on a trip to Brazil. I shouldn't bother them."

"Isn't this the type of thing you want to bother them about?"

"I don't think they'll believe me." Her parents didn't know what happened to Jonah. When they questioned his sudden disappearance from her life, she'd made up a story about him dying in a car wreck.

Quincy spun one of the silver rings on his finger. "Huh. That's kind of perfect timing, though. The game's re-scheduled for Friday. If your family's out by then... and you have this huge house to yourself..."

She hated to admit it, but she was too tired to hide it anymore—"I just don't want to be alone."

And she didn't want to leave Quincy alone, either.

"Want me to come over and stay the weekend?"

Two days ago, she thought they'd never be friends again, and now here it was—an opportunity to fix the mess she'd made.

"I don't want to bother you or pressure you," she said. "Only if you're really okay with it."

He got up and offered a hand, his nails covered in chipped black polish. "Of course I'm okay with it. Sometimes I can't even sleep right in my own dorm. Now, let's bounce before someone walks in and thinks we're fucking in here."

She laughed—then remembered the diary entries and made sure to flush them down the toilet. Not that it mattered when Jonah had let Peter read them. Jonah, who suddenly believed himself to be the authority on her life, as if they were fifteen and she'd do everything to bend to his will again.

She took Quincy's hand. "I feel so stupid about crying in front of everyone."

"You shouldn't have to apologize for your feelings, you know that?"

"Is that... normal?"

He swung their arms as they walked down the empty hall. "People love to suffer and pretend everything's fine, but doesn't that just compound the suffering? I'm failing statistics right now, but I'm telling you this shit's exponential. You don't owe anyone the favor of letting them think you're a-okay when you're not."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, my emotions inconvenience you? You're in denial about your problems so you don't want to see me deal with mine? Well, to hell with those people then." He donned a smirk that would've looked cute on a child but only looked sinister on him, among the dyed hair and piercings. "You and me, we'll wear our self-destruction on our sleeves."  

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a/n: anyone else rooting for charlie and quincy's friendship? 🙏