“Maybe if you acted like a mother, I’d treat you like one! Moms don’t ignore their kids. They don’t ship their kids across the country because they don’t want to deal with them. They don’t let their kid experience transphobia on the daily from their own fucking family while parading that kid all over the news like they’re the greatest fucking ally ever. And that’s all you’ve done for years, Mom. Years.”

That’s when her face twists and I see the wet glare in her eyes.

Oh shit.

Fuck.

No, no, no.

Fuck.

I need to get out of here.

I press the elevator button, and when nothing happens, I press it and press and press and I keep pressing it until the door finally opens, ignoring the sound of Mother’s heels as she runs somewhere. I don’t know.

I fucked up.

I fucked up so monumentally. I fucked up so hard.

“Neil.” Wyatt stops the door from closing, cramming their way into the elevator.

I watch as the door finally closes. Josh is still standing there, staring at me.

Then he’s gone.

And the elevator begins to move.

“What is going on?” Wyatt asks.

The million-dollar question.

“I don’t know anymore. I don’t fucking know. I just …” I want to cry, I want to scream, I want to hit something. I’m so angry with Wyatt, and I’m angry with Josh, and I’m angry with my mother, and at Michael and Ashley and Lindsay and my grandparents and everyone.

Except I’m not.

I’m angry with myself.

I’m the one who fucked up. I’m the one who let this happen.

“I messed up, Wyatt.”

“You didn’t.” They step closer, wrapping their arms around me.

Their embrace feels warm, comforting, grounding.

Like I’m home.

Except I don’t deserve their warmth, their comfort. I don’t deserve any of it.

“I did.”

And I can’t undo it.

“Everything’s going to be okay.”

“No.” I push away from them. “Don’t you get it? Can’t you see how fucked this entire thing is? I dragged you all the way across the country so I could do what? So I could show up the boy whose heart I broke? Doesn’t that disgust you?”

“Neil.”

The elevator opens, and I don’t even check to see if it’s our floor; I just run out.

“Neil!” Wyatt calls my name, stopping the elevator just in time to slide between the closing doors. “You can’t keep running away.”

“I’m fucked up, Wyatt. You were right when you said that I’m no different from my mom. I’m shallow. I’m selfish. I pulled you into this shit when I shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”