“No.” Milo rubbed my arm as he steered me toward my car. “I know you didn’t. You didn’t make me come out to them. It was the right thing to do. But sometimes doing the right thing sucks donkey balls.”

“That bad?” I tried to get him to laugh by making a silly face, but all he had was the ghost of a smile.

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

Later, after his car and belongings were safely stored at my house with a minimum of Mom interactions, we split a cheap pizza on the floor of my dorm room. Even with a lax RA and all, Milo wasn’t going to be able to stay with me indefinitely and that knowledge hung between us, a ticking clock warning that we needed a new plan for him. And not surprisingly, he barely picked at his food. I’d ordered plain cheese and plain breadsticks, trying to go easy on his stomach, but he only played with his crust and shredded a breadstick.

“Not hungry? Stomach still upset?” I asked. I’d thought about grabbing some soup for him at Mom’s, but he’d asked for pizza and I didn’t want him accusing me of coddling him. Even if I kind of wanted to. I liked taking care of him.

“A little. Sorry.”

“Quit saying ‘sorry.’” I put the food away in my mini-fridge and retrieved a clear soda for him. “Do you want a movie or other distraction? I was going to do more card searching after cosplay, but—”

“That. Let’s do that. I need some good news.” Milo leaned forward as I brought out my laptop and set it between us on the bed. I called up all my bookmarked card-searching sites. A spare five grand might nab us something, but now more than ever, Milo needed a bargain. He deflated further with each lead that didn’t pan out.

“The universe hates me,” he groaned. “I want this one thing to go my way, put the whole mess behind me.”

“I know.” I stroked his back. We were alone in my room so I could touch him as much as I wanted, but he was still stiff and tense under my hand. “We’ll find something. Do you want me to call Professor Tuttle? He might have a lead.”

“Nah. No sense in bothering him. We’ll see them Saturday, right?” Earlier in the week, Professor Tuttle had messaged about a game after I worked on Saturday and specifically told me to bring Milo along. Milo had readily agreed, but now seemed less than certain. “If I’m still invited…”

“Of course you are. In fact, if you tell them what happened—”

Frowning, Milo pulled away from me. “Didn’t you say it was up to me who I tell? I don’t want anyone’s pity. I can sort this out on my own.”

“People like helping—”