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>You knock on the door to your room

“Sam? I couldn’t find anything in your size, so I figured you could just wear my pajamas for the night.”

>You wait for a response before knocking again

”Sam? You dressed?”

>You jiggle the knob a bit

>Just let him know you’re not trying to get in, but you want to make sure he’s not naked

>No response

>With your old pajamas in one hand, you twist the knob and enter

>God this better not turn into one of those embarrassing cliche things where you see him naked

>Oh

>He’s not naked

>In fact he’s still dressed

>And he’s still cruising through your comics

>He’s even taken the liberty of using an old English paper of yours to sketch in the margins

>For the first time in what feels like a long time, you see him smile

>Feelsgoodman

>As quiet as you can, you whisper:

“Hey, you like my essay on Frankenstein?”

>The rabbit sits up, looking around as if forgetting where he was

>His eyes find you, and his smile folds into a nervous line

>“S-Sorry. I-I’ve never… uhhh ... been in a r-r-room this big b-before. I g-got distra-distracted.”

>You tell him it’s okay, and throw your old dirty pajamas at him

>He squeaks as they drape off his head and cover his soft features

>Hnnng

“Just come out when you’re ready. I’m gonna heat up a pizza in the oven.”

>You shut the door, red in the face

>Fuck, you need to do something manly, like… fight Alex or Mike or something

>…And find the promised sodas…

>You crack a beer in the kitchen and get Alex to shotgun it with you

>That’s right

>Drink down the confusion

>How can a boy be so feminine? It should be against the laws of the natural world

>You slurp down the can in record time

>Pushing down everything that happened today

>And a little bit of something else

>Alex isn’t competitive but even he tries to match your pace

>But you are a pace he cannot match

>You belch loudly and groan

>Fuck that felt good

>”A-A-Anon?” A shy voice behind you draws your attention

>Sam is in the hallway that runs along the kitchen

>Wearing your pajamas

>The bottoms are too big for him, they nearly slip off of him

>Were they not strapped in place by the tender bow of his hips, they’d be around his ankles

>The dirty white t-shirt is draped over his upper body like a tent, but it does the job

>”Hey Sam, are those Anon’s clothes?” Alex looks at you wearing a sly grin

>God you just want to punch him sometimes

>Sam draws a deep breath, his trembling slowing as his chest expands

>”Y-Yeah,” he still says weakly, avoiding eye-contact with Alex

>You crumple the beer cans on the counter, hoping Sam doesn’t notice what the cans say

>Again, you don’t think beers are a good thing right now, but you need to drink away the confusion

“So, you want something to drink? Pizza’s in the oven. I’m gonna go wash your clothes,” you say

>He looks somehow… at peace

>The tired glassy look in his eyes folds into a vague comfort, tinged by only a little anxiety at being left alone with Alex — Your friend who is not Sam’s friend but you pretend he is

>You retreat to your room, leaving a few root beers and Dr. Bepper’s out on the kitchen table for Sam

>He’ll be fine

>The filthy clothes he wears day in and day out are too big for him, you think, as you shove them into the washer

>The hoodie

>His jeans

>His shirt

>… His boxers…

>All of them are at least your size, if not bigger

>You add plenty of detergent, even some bleach for good measure

>Lord knows when the last time they were washed

>You drop the lid on the washer and pace back into the hall

>You’re gonna have to get this kid some new clothes eventually

>Back in your room, you take a second to catch your breath

>You just need a few moments to collect yourself

>The shakes haven’t hit yet, but you think that might be the beer

>Or that evil pact you made with Vanessa

>Fuck, you can’t believe you did that

>You grab the red book off your dresser, pushing aside a drawing Sam had left there

>You notice it’s left open to a random page

>Looks like he was doing more than just dra-

>You flip the page

>One of Sam’s superheroes is in the margins, right next to hundred-year-old spidery scrawl

>He’s a human, standing tall, robed and garbed in what looks like priest vestments

>Corded with muscle and sinew, the priest’s body bulges through his robes a little bit at the sleeves — but the rest of the costume remains loose and scholarly

>In his right hand is an open book

>And atop his head is a short pointed hat

>Oh, he’s some kind of wizard, or wise man

>You read the name of what you assume is one of Sam’s characters

>Jesus Christ kid, you could have at least written your name in cursive—

>—“Anon, The Brave and Wise.”

“Anon,” your mouth forms the words but your somewhat sobered mind keeps them from coming out of your mouth

>Oh

>Oh dear

>Your heart does flips

>Blood rushes to your face

>Oh god oh god

>This is cute as hell

>You’ve never seen yourself as a superhero, let alone “wise and brave”

>This feeling, right now?

>This is The Gay(tm)

>It’s — It’s not your problem if Sam has a crush on you

>After all you just daringly rescued him from an abusive alcoholic

>You draw a few fortifying breaths, mind mulling over what’s happening

>It feels like a block there

>You flip the page idly

>A softly written header catches your attention

>”To cleanse the body and soul”

>Initially you think it sounds like new age shit

>But you know this book is no joke…

>You mark the page with a scrap of paper and make a mental note to come back to it

>It’s only 8:30 and your thoughts are coming in at a sluggish pace

>When you shut your eyes you don’t want to open them again

>Did you have homework?

>Aw fuck it

>Before you turn the book shut, your mind wanders to another idea

>Sam might have wanted to know what was so special about this book

>After all, it was there in the chasms above the school

>And you… You want to know more about this thing that Vanessa has going

>Well, you have time to do some light reading

>The pizza is in the oven and the washer is going

>Sam is just going to have to deal

>You are Alex

>And you’ve known that Sam was a bit odd

>But man, it’s not even your house

>This is just ridiculous

>“C-C-C-Can I have t-this one?” the rabbit asks you timidly holding up a Dr. Bepper, pointing at the label

>”U-Unless you w-wanted it…” he lets his sentence nervously die, the pleading tone in his voice plain and clear

>You level a concerned gaze at him

“Yes…?”

>He flashes a smile for a second as he pops the can open with his fuzzy little fingers

>Sam takes a few light sniffs, his nose wrinkling at the sharp smell of Dr. Bepper

>Your concerned gaze continues to be more concerned

“You ever had a Dr. Bepper?”

>The rabbit shakes his head, throwing down strands of hair across his face

“Well it’s kind of… Hm… You know when you eat spicy food? It’s kind of spicy.”

>He takes a slow, savoring sip

>His eyes go wide as the first of the sacred nectar touches his tongue

“See? It’s spicy, like the indignation of a worker alienated from the fruit of his lab-”

>”It’s g-g-good!” Sam squeaks happily

>He sets the can down and pulls his (Anon’s) pants up higher on his body

>God they’re so comically big on him, it’s a wonder how they even fit

>Probably the fact that he looks kinda girly just based on skinny he is

>You draw a long sip on a root beer

>Sam continues staring at the can of Dr. Bepper, sneaking looks at you

>You stare at him, confused

“Are you done?”

>He deflates

>”W-W-Well don’t you w-w-want any?”

“What? No. I’ll just get my own. That one is yours. Gross rabbit spi-”

>The rabbit then shakes his head a bit, shutting his eyes in the process

>“T-T-That’s m-mine?” He asks, as if he can’t believe himself. “We d-don’t h-have to s-s-share?”

“Yes. That’s yours.”

>With trembling arms, he grabs the Dr. Bepper off the table and loudly begins to slurp

>Lol what the fuck

>Ordinarily you’d insist that it was ‘OUR’ soda, but you don’t want to share his gross rabbit spit

>You’ll allow capitalism, just this once

>Sam’s eyes narrow and his nose wrinkles as he loudly slurps

>When he’s done, he gingerly sets the can down and belches at glass-breaking volume

>Good lord, you’re amazed he’s still standing

>His face glows red as he points his eyes to his feet

>His floppy ears drip down his forehead and across his face

>”S-S-Sorry,” he whispers

>The gentle *beep* of the oven causes him to jump a few inches into the air

>You guess the pizza is done

>You are Anon, and you are sitting uncomfortably close to Sam on the couch, eating pizza

>Alex is rifling through your shelf of movies

>The TV is on but nothing is happening

>Sam eats in small bites, but none-the-less has already consumed two pieces of pizza and is halfway through his third

>”Lord of the Rings?”

“Too long.”

>”James Bond?”

“Too violent.”

>”Batman: The Dark Knight?”

“Too sca-”

>Sam sits up, a slice of pizza still dripping from his face

>”T-That one!” He exclaims

>And then, as if suddenly embarrassed, he looks at you, the want plain across his face

>“I-I-If that’s okay?”

“You ever seen The Dark Knight? It’s really good, but it’s pretty intense. I don’t think you’ll like it,” you say

>”I-I can take it!” He asserts