“Wouldn’t you rather be with your friends? I imagine you’d prefer their company over mine.”
“Don’t put yourself down. You’re as much fun as they are.”
As he was inspecting the fire escape for bird droppings and cigarette butts, Harry missed Tom’s horrified expression.
“And they aren’t really my friends,” Harry added. “I mean, they’re great, I love them,” he clarified, picking a spot to sit, “but the people here, the people who keep filling in these Lives, they aren’t our people. Have you noticed that? They’re more like reflections of the people we knew. The only real people in these Lives are you and me.”
“So you’re spending time with me because you want … real interaction?”
“I’m spending time with you because I want to,” said Harry, exasperated. “Christ, you can be oblivious. I like spending time with you.”
Tom was speechless. He felt suddenly, intensely wrong-footed. Hoping to cover up the moment, he brushed the ground clear with his foot and joined Harry. For a moment they sat, not speaking, staring up at the starless sky. Between his knees, Tom’s clasped hands were gripped in a stranglehold, fingertips and nails digging into each other, his only release, the only outward sign that inside he quaked.
Eyebrows high, Tom looked at him. Harry held a thin, rectangular present. It was wrapped in silver and green.
“I didn’t get you anything,” Tom said without thinking.
Tom took it, hoping that in the light spilling from the window to their backs that Harry would not see the red crescents on his hands. He slipped his fingers under a bit of tape and pulled back the paper. He stared at the book’s cover for a full second.
“How to be a magician in ten easy steps,” he read.
Harry bumped his shoulder against Tom’s.
“Since you miss magic so much,” he said teasingly. “I looked through it. There’s actually a few good card tricks.”
“I miss it, too,” Harry admitted. “Magic.”
“Maybe I’m just better at keeping my emotions to myself,” said Harry, which caused a startled laugh to escape Tom.
“The day you’re better than me at that, I’ll eat this book.”
Harry looked smug. “We’ll see.”
Do you know? Tom thought. Do you have any idea how I picture you every night?
Tom swallowed, crossing his arms against the cold. “I’m moving out.”
They sat so close on the fire escape that Tom felt Harry jerk.
“I’m moving out,” Tom repeated, sounding as if he’d been planning it for weeks when it had only been seconds.
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