He made sure Ash was looking right at him.

“Because this guy I was dating three years ago told me to stay. No, really,” he said at Ash’s expression of doubt. “It’s way worse than you’re even imagining. Tyler and I hooked up at this party senior year of college, and the next weekend, when everyone was discussing what they were doing after college, I said I didn’t know what to do, and he was like, ‘You should stay here. We’d have fun.’ So I did. I signed a lease. I got a job. I was grateful that someone had told me what to do so I didn’t have to decide on my own. And I like New Orleans. I’ve had a good time the last three years. But come on…”

“But you seem so…decisive,” Ash said.

Truman snorted. “I mean, I am when it’s about other people’s stuff. I don’t know. My friends say I’m bad at advocating for my own needs but I’m good at meeting other people’s.”

“Are they right?”

Truman sighed. He was fairly sure you weren’t supposed to air all your worst qualities to people you had crushes on.

But…maybe that was exactly why his other relationships didn’t work out. He’d been trying so hard to be the version of himself that was best or most palatable. Wouldn’t it be a refreshing change to go into things knowing someone’s actual weaknesses?

“Yeah, it is true, I guess. I go along with what other people want too much. I make up stories about why it’s all fine, and meanwhile, I just decide to change what I wanted to fit with their needs. It’s…pretty pathetic, huh?”

Ash’s brow furrowed. “Not pathetic. But probably not great for you.” He picked at a split in the couch cushion. “Have you been doing that with me?”

Truman started to say no right away, then forced himself to really think about it. Had he? “Well. No, actually.”

“Okay, good. Don’t, if you can help it,” Ash said.

Truman let out a bark of laughter at the idea that he could just stop doing the thing that had been his biggest problem in relationships. Then he started to giggle because what if—what if?!—that was actually all it took to stop doing something that didn’t serve you. To…stop doing it.

“Are you okay?”

Truman was lost in helpless giggles, and those turned into hiccoughs. He nodded, then shook his head.

“What if…what if that’s…all…it took?” he choked out, hysterical with a laughter that had nothing to do with humor and everything to do with absurdism.

Ash looked at him strangely, clearly not seeing the humor. “I think that is all it takes,” he ventured. “It’s just difficult to do it.”