It was a lazy afternoon, Brady had tried to study but the words and sentences in the textbook kept floating out of his mind almost as soon as they entered. He tried to play videogames, watch something on TV, but wasn't able to focus on either.

In the end, he jumped on his bed, pushed his jeans and underwear towards his ankles and started touching himself. The college boy played with his boner a bit until it reacted but he wasn't able to make it respond much more than that, it wasn't completely hard yet it wasn't soft. He tried to jerk off faster, harder, but it simply wouldn't give in.

Suddenly standing up, Brady took off his jeans and underwear completely and even got rid of his shirt and coat, damn the January cold, he was standing wearing only a pair of white socks. He kept jerking off but frustration was the only thing coming out of him.

Haven't we all been there? The moment when part of us wants to feel that climax, for our body to reach that point of no return, and for our heart to pound faster in excitement but all that simply for our body not to react, not to obey. Part of us wants that while the other part is far away somewhere else, calling for your attention to be somewhere else, you are not sure where exactly, but somewhere, like a stranger screaming on a foggy coast, you can't see him but you can't not hear him.

Licking the tips of his fingers, Brady started tracing delicate, soft circles around his nipples, massaging his balls, caressing the area just below them but he still felt like there was something off. Yet, that didn't stop him.

Grunting, closing his eyes, squeezing his toes, and making a fist with his free hand, Brady finally came, bursting like a white volcano, milky magma sliding densely down his now soft dick. What came out was more persistence than joy, more stubbornness than genuine lust. Yet, Brady was exhausted.

He let himself fall to the floor, his body still naked save for his pair of white socks, his arms and legs stretching out, making him look like a four-pointed star from above. He took in long, heavy breaths.

It was then when he looked to his right side, under his bed. It was usually dusty down there, empty but dusty. It was true that Brady wasn't the tidiest person in the world --in fact his bed was never made-- but under there it tended to be empty. However, it wasn't. Two objects were there, similar yet distinct. Two different shapes but both covered by wrapping paper.

"Andy and Coan," Brady recognized them.

One of them was the limited edition print of Pride and Prejudice he had bought to give Andy for Christmas. Yet, with the whole hiding-in-the-wardrobe business that had happened on Christmas morning, he forgot. The other was the gift Coan had given him that same day.

"Open it after I leave, that makes it more special, right?" Coan had told him that morning. Brady had put it away under his bed and hadn't opened it since. Although, to be fair, in New Year Coan left for the coast to see his brother, Tepec, and hadn't returned since. So, he was still in time to open it.

Unwrapping it was a slow process, for some reason he didn't want to tear the paper up. Slowly but surely, he opened the present.

Brady would be lying if he said the sight of what was inside didn't steal a wide smile from his face, a tear almost formed in the corner of his eye. And, for some reason, it suddenly made everything fall into place.



***


Brady chose the Santa Fe book shop. It was peaceful and familiar, but most importantly, it was a public place. The winter sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting a delicate glow on the polished bookshelves. Outside, the park lay dormant, buried under layers of snow.

Brady, quietly sitting at a table near the corner, next to the windows, kept tracing the lines over the wrapped, delayed Christmas gift he was supposed to have given Andy weeks ago, his eyes fixed on a non-existent point, his mind dancing elsewhere. He didn't even notice when Andy came in.

"Hey!" The young boy greeted him with a shy smile as he took a seat in front of Brady. "I... well, I just wanted to say I'm sorry, for the last time, I mean, for leaving like that. And... well, and... and for making you take the call. Sorry."

"It's okay," Brady conceded. "No worries, water under the bridge."

It wasn't a library, music played through speakers on the corners, friends chatted on the sofas, families waltzed through the tomes, and kids ran through the aisles. Everyone was in their own little world, no one was paying them special attention and for that, Brady was thankful.

Closing his eyes, holding the wrapped gift close to his chest, Brady sighed before taking in as much air as he could. He was going to need it.

"I've been thinking," Brady started, his voice was confident but full of stormy clouds and pregnant pauses, yet he wasn't hesitating, not a bit. "You and me, Andy, we are at different points in our lives, I'm in college, I got more freedom, I wanna have fun but also be with someone, you... you also want someone, but you have to ask for permission before doing anything, all these things are things you are experiencing for the first time. I..." here it came. Oh fuck, here it came. "I think we should stop seeing each other."

Yeah, that too familiar old feeling. Brady felt it in the bitter taste of his words, in the lead-like weight on his stomach, he saw it in Andy's destroyed hope, in his watering eyes on the verge of tears, his trembling lower lip. And in the silence. Around them there was noise, everyone was still alive, but not them, they were in total, absolute, sepulchral silence.

"I can change!" Andy pleaded almost immediately, his arms launched forward almost as if he was ready to crawl towards him over the table. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it! Brady, please, I don't want to lose this! Tell me what to do, please!"

Brady stayed still, laying witness to the young boy, now more a kid than ever, as streams of tears fell from his eyes. "That's the problem, Andy, can't you see?"

"What problem?" He couldn't. "Why are you doing this? Wha-- Why? You don't like me anymore? Why?"

Yeah, why?

"You should only keep dating him as long as the pros outweigh the cons," Cowboy had once told him. Yet, was it truly realistic to expect people to always be more worth than they cost? What about the bad days? Some days someone could be an absolute pain in the ass even though they are the most wonderful person the rest of the year. Are the cons heavier then? Should we condemn someone for having a bad day? A bad week? A bad month? A bad year? Or maybe we are only meant to look at it in average terms. You should only keep dating him as long as the average of the pros outweighs the average of the cons. But we can't tell the future, how are we supposed to tell if a bad day is just an outlier or if it's the norm? And even if we could, do we really want to have such a calculated, methodical, statistical approach to love? Could we, as humans, even do it? Do we even want to?

"People aren't simply checklists," a Pink Floyd stranger had once told him. "Your friend's right, you should never date someone who requires more effort than it is worth," People weren't checklists, we are not supposed to drop them as soon as they have one day or one bad year, just because they suddenly don't fit a checklist anymore. A checklist, mind you, that we build idealistically in our heads, placing expectations of what we want, of what they should be in our mind.

"You should only keep dating him as long as the pros outweigh the cons," Cowboy had never meant to suggest that people are just checklists, a seesaw that must always be more see than saw. What he meant was what Brady couldn't escape feeling right now:

Why? Yeah, why?

"Because dating you is making me more miserable than happy," it was heavy, it was harsh, but it was also the truth. "And I only realized it until I saw this," Brady placed the wrapped gift on the table. "It is something I bought for you. A Christmas gift. But I forgot to give it to you. I was so excited when I bought it, I even enlisted help to find the right thing, the right object but with everything that happened at Christmas... I forgot to give it to you. And then I kept forgetting and forgetting."

"So... you want to break up because... you forgot to give me a gift?"

"Yeah, because that forgetting and forgetting wasn't me just being stupid," Brady sighed, his hands grabbing tightly the wrapped gift. "It was me telling myself something: I didn't want to give it to you anymore."

"But... but..." the kid was crying non-stop, his anger, confusion, sadness, fear, it all came out in the form of tears. "We can try again, we don't have to stop seeing each other! I can change, I promise just tell me what to do! Tell me!"

Two boys kissing, Brady could still remember the time he and Andy kissed outside the cinema, two boys kissing. The time Andy snuck out on Christmas Eve and they had sex for the first time, the way they sprinted naked across the room the next morning. The time they went ice skating and the made-up meeting they had at Santa Fe park.

"Are you sure?" He had asked.

"Spectacularly sure," the boy had replied.

"I can't tell you what to do," Brady finally replied. "More than that, I don't want to. I don't want to tell you what to do, Andy. I am supposed to be your partner, you know? And at first I thought it was kinda cute... teach my how to kiss, you once told me, or to teach you how to have sex, you even gave me your phone to direct a conversation with your parents for you, you expect me to handle not only the bills but also aks me for gifts, and I don't know if you have noticed it but besides coming to this book store on our first real date, I have done all the plans for meeting each other. Remember when you came to see me but you told your parents you went out caroling? I made that plan. Or when you snuck out on Christmas? I made that plan too."

"I was the one who suggested we go to a New Year party!"

"Yeah, it was something you wanted but I was the one who made the plan and ultimately you stood me up," Brady looked away, his cheeks filling with the worst shade of red. "I don't know if you notice it but all those things: expecting me to make the plans, to pay the bills, to teach you stuff... those aren't things your boyfriend is supposed to do. Those are things your parents are supposed to do."

Andy stood in silence, shock kept his mouth open, his eyes weren't blinkin. "I don't... I don't understand..."

Brady leaned forward on the table, his elbows planted firmly on the wood. "I am saying that you don't see me or treat me as your partner. I don't think you realize it but to you, I am not an equal. I am also not implying that you treat me as someone lesser than you. It's the opposite. You treat me as someone in charge of you." Brady looked away, all those words he had practiced, all the thoughts he had carefully revised were fading away. Tears also started forming in his eyes. "I don't feel like your boyfriend, Andy. I feel like you treat me like your teacher or your dad or your older brother."

"My parents..." Andy shook his head. "My parents, they... I don't understand them."

"That makes two of us!" Brady leaned backwards in his chair, his hands covering his face. "Fucking god, Andy, I swear to you, I don't understand your reactions when dealing with your parents. It seems like you are afraid of them but you don't talk to them, you don't even try asking for permission, you literally pass me your own phone. And they aren't even that strict! Like, what?"

Andy's gaze dropped to the table, if that should've been interpreted as either a somber acknowledgement of the truth or as a desperate attempt to make the conversation stop, Brady wasn't sure.

"You are fourteen," Brady continued. "I am nineteen, twenty this year. Maybe... maybe it is less about age and more about being in different stages of life. I want a partner, you want someone who helps you experience all these new things for the first time."

Sugar and cream, a made up meet-cute story with more decoration than truth; Teach me how to kiss, dancing in a frozen lake; Caroling, two boys kissing; Christmas and New Year, teach me how to fuck, dancing with a stranger; Crayons on the wall, the joy of doing naughty things. And now, the end, Mr. Teacher, the right people, at the right time.

"Here," Brady gave the gift to the young boy. "This is yours."

Andy unwrapped the gift, tearing slowly but violently the paper until it turned into a pile of trash. On his hands it rested: A limited edition of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, the perfect, lovely Christmas gift; a terrible, wounding goodbye gift.

"I..." Andy was short of words yet when he spoke, what he said, Brady didn't see it coming. "I don't want it."

Andy's eyes linger on Brady's, all the hurt, all the pain was there, the dry tears and the wetness of those to come.

"If I keep it, it's gonna make me cry everytime I see it," Andy admitted, his voice low but not out of shyness like before, it was defeated, nothing but remnants of once a powerful echo. "It would have been an amazing Christmas gift, though."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

There's always that punch of doubt, on every break up, every goodbye, even when you know it is for the best, even when you know that guy isn't the one... there's doubt. Andy wasn't a bad person, he wasn't even, he didn't cheat, he didn't hit, and yet he wasn't who Brady wanted, who Brady needed. Still, it had been fun. There were nothing but the best of wishes for Andy.

"Take it," Brady insisted.

"Keep it," Andy said, pushing the gift away towards Brady, as he cleaned the tears away from his face only for new ones to come out immediately after. The kid was devastated, it was a pity just to see him. Even Brady was unable to hold back tears when he saw him. People were watching but what did they know?

Slowly, Brady stood up. He took his leather jacket from the back of his chair and put it on, his face high and focused. Andy didn't say a thing, his head was buried on the wooden table, you could hear him cry. Then, Brady moved towards the exit.

"I wish you'd stay with me, Brady," a slow, painful voice said quietly.

Brady stopped, his back towards the break up table. "Just because it wasn't forever, it doesn't mean it wasn't worth it."

Andy scoffed, or perhaps he was crying again. Was that an insult, a dismissal or simply more wood for the fire to burn higher, fiercer, hotter? "How can you be so sure?" The young boy asked.

"I..." Brady had no reply. Was it really worth it even if it wasn't forever? "I don't know how but I'm sure of it. Aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah," Andy replied, his voice drowned, barely audible. "Super sure, like you wouldn't believe, so fucking sure... spectacularly sure."



***


It was still January, the 26th to be exact. Maybe it had been foolish for Brady to expect something different from what had happened, maybe it was foolish to even expect at all. What he had said to Andy was true, it was all true. He did feel more like a parent, like a teacher, Mr. Teacher, than Mr. Boyfriend.

Slowly, Brady got on his bike and woke up the engine with a roar. He put the book away, keeping it for later. As he rode the street away, he kept going through cold streets and frozen boulevards in an endless maze of metal and cement and glass. Yet, when he gained speed, everything else became a blur. It was freeing, it was like breathing for the first time, riding his bike made him feel like nothing else existed, like all his problems were far, far away.

Just because it wasn't forever, doesn't mean it wasn't worth it. All the dates, all the kisses, all the sex, and jerk offs thinking of him, and the romantic moments, and stolen dates, all the fights, all the days and nights... was all that worth it if the price was the pain both were now feeling deep in their throats?

It's always hard, so fucking hard. But what happens in moments like these, when the blame isn't easily placed, when you both made mistakes but with the best intentions at heart, when no one made a terrible mistake or turned out to be a mustache twirling villain, when no one was at fault... what do you do?

Was it worth it?

Andy was such a sweet kid, ever since Brady saw him at that Halloween party that seemed to have happened so long ago it may as well be a different life, a different time. He was always fun, always wishing to be by your side, always replying to the messages in mere seconds, always willing to tell you about the latest novel he was reading or what he thought of which pokemon, and his voice, oh his voice so beautiful and angel-like. So much perfection in such a little kit. Yet, he was also incredibly shy, timid to a fault, insecure, expecting you to take care of things, of organizing them, of paying for them, to teach him to do everything, and completely unable to even talk to those closest to him. Andy was human, he was a contradiction, he was someone you could love, and someone you could hate. The sex was great though, giving him directions everytime they did it wasn't.

Was it worth it for you, Andy?

To fall in love, to break a heart. To build an empire only to watch it burn, with no one to blame for you who are holding the matches. Last autumn, this winter. Two boys kissing, two loves, and two broken hearts. Where Ness had been loud, Andy had been quiet; where Ness was bold and overconfident, Andy was shy and timid; where Ness rushed through the relationship wanting so desperately to grow up, Andy stayed too comfortable unmoving in his role as a child. Breaking up with Ness had been fire, an explosion over dry grass. Breaking up with Andy had been quiet, sad and slow, a ship sinking in a calm ocean.

Was Ness worth it? Was Andy?

So different yet so much in common. Neither was a bad guy, neither wanted to hurt him. Both tried their best, both fell for him and he fell for both, both were cursed with inexperience, both cursed with youth. Mr. You Don't Tell Me What to Do, and Mr. Teach Me How to Do It.

Better? A thousand times. Un clavo no saca otro clavo. People aren't checklists. Only keep dating people as long as the pros outweigh the cons. Just because it wasn't forever doesn't mean it wasn't worth it. Was it worth it? Are you sure? Spectacularly sure.

As Brady rode the winter away, his leader jacket proudly displayed the brand new patch he had received as Coan's Christmas gift.

The sunset shone brightly over the horizon, over the buildings and threes. And there, in the middle of the ride, you could see a red-haired boy in a bike and leather jacket, and on his back it read:

Two-man gang.