I follow them into the house, through the front door and into the open living room. There’s a plush, worn-out couch where Wyatt sits on the far end. There’s a fireplace that looks like it hasn’t been used in a long time. A television, huge coffee table, recliner. There are some toys strung out, and some textbooks. The kitchen connects with a dining table decorated with even more textbooks, notebooks, and an open laptop. The decoration seems cheap, kitschy. It’s ugly, but I think that’s part of the charm.

I don’t know where to sit, so I join them on the couch, at the opposite end.

Wyatt stares for a bit, first at me, then down at their feet. They’re folded in on themself, tucking their feet. They seem comfortable here.

I wonder what that feels like.

“You seriously came all the way here just to talk to me.”

“I … Yeah.”

“I really can’t believe you.”

I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing yet.

“I just, I had to see you in person. I had to—”

Wyatt stops me with a hand. “Listen, Neil. Can we talk about this in the morning? It’s late.”

I stare at them, my mouth left open.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

“You can stay down here, just for tonight. I’ll tell my moms what’s going on so they’re not freaked out in the morning. Then you might want to … I don’t know, look for a hotel or go back to school early or something. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I mean, I showed up on your doorstep unannounced. That’s pretty stupid.”

“Is that all you packed?” they ask, looking at my backpack.

“Yeah.”

“Got any pajamas in there?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, let me go grab you something to wear.”

“Thanks.”

Wyatt stands up from the couch and walks through the same archway they entered through. A minute later, they come down with a pillow, a blanket, and a hoodie and sweatpants for me to wear.

“Here you go.” Wyatt leaves them on the coffee table. “There’s a bathroom in the hallway, under the stairs, just a toilet and sink so … yeah. You can shower tomorrow.”

“Sure.” I look at the clothes. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

We can’t look at each other, not yet. We don’t know how to talk to each other again, not after what I did. I thought that me showing up here would magically fix everything, that we’d kiss and go up to their room and sleep in the same bed and everything would go back to the two of us being happy.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” they say, turning off the lamp on the nightstand.

“Good night, Wyatt.”

“Night, Kearney.”

I can’t explain why, but that hurts.