The spring semester was underway, and it was strange to no longer be working with Bennett. Jamie was a TA for another class with Professor Ballard, who was competent and easy to work with, but it was obviously nowhere near the same. And to complicate matters, Bennett was still not quite ready for them to be seen in public.

It wasn't as if Jamie was plastering the campus with wedding invitations, but it stung when Bennett suggested that perhaps Jamie should spend a little less time in Bennett's office. Jamie knew Bennett was concerned about getting tenure, and he tried not to take it personally.

Tried, but didn't succeed.

"This is… weird," Jamie said.

It was Friday, and he was in Bennett's entryway for the first time since the semester had started.

"What's weird?" Bennett said, hanging up Jamie's coat for him.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in… ages," Jamie said, following Bennett into the living room. "I guess I got kind of spoiled spending so much time with you over break."

"Well, I'm all yours for the weekend," Bennett said, neatly sidestepping any reference to their previous conversation about Jamie dropping by Bennett's office. "What do you feel like having for dinner?"

"Well," Jamie said, raising an eyebrow as he stepped up to Bennett and dragged his hand down the front of Bennett's body. "I can think of a few things…"

Bennett laughed but gently guided Jamie's hand away from his crotch.

"Let's order first, and then we can get to that."

"Ugh, fine," Jamie said. He threw himself down on the couch. "I’m fine with whatever. Surprise me."

Bennett pulled his laptop out of his bag and sat down at the other end of the couch, talking to himself under his breath as he ordered. Jamie rolled over, looking at the massive stack of mail on the coffee table.

"Have you really not sorted your mail yet?" Jamie said, nudging the pile with his toe.

"Most of it is probably junk," Bennett said absently, looking at his computer. "But no, I haven't gotten around to it yet, because as you will recall, I am only pretending to be a functional adult."

Jamie had disturbed the equilibrium of the pile, and a cascade of envelopes slid onto the floor. He leaned over to collect them.

A familiar logo caught his eye.

Shadybrook Assisted Living Facility.

Jamie frowned.

"Why do you have something from Shadybrook?" Jamie asked as he sat up. Bennett's head snapped up, his eyes darting to the envelope in Jamie's hand.

"I—" Bennett's mouth opened and shut a few more times, and that was all Jamie needed to confirm that something was up.

"Bennett," Jamie said slowly, and he repeated the question. Bennett looked cornered, like a cat caught in a dead end alley.

Jamie's hands were shaking as he tore the envelope open and unfolded the paper. For a moment, he stared at it, not quite comprehending the blur of numbers before him. A part of his mind was still hoping it was just some promotional material, that somehow Bennett had stumbled onto their marketing mailing list.

Billing Statement was stamped across the top in bold, irrefutable letters.

The amount of money due was staggering, completely different than the amount Jamie had set up to automatically draft for his grandma's care, larger by several decimal places.

"What is this?" Jamie said, the words catching at the back of his throat before tripping out over his teeth.

"It's—it's—" Bennett took a deep, measured breath, and ran a hand through his hair. "It's… a billing statement."

"I can see that," Jamie said, tapping the paper. "Why do you have one?"

A pause, stretching on and on between them like sticky threads of pulled chewing gum.

"I'm… covering some of the cost."

"Some," Jamie said. The numbers he'd been given at Shadybrook that day were burned into his head after working and reworking his grandma's finances. "You mean most."

"I… wanted to help out." Bennett swallowed, and Jamie glanced up from the paper long enough to see Bennett's eyes, widened into something it took Jamie a moment to recognize as fear. "Jamie, I wanted to wait for the right time to tell you—"

"When was that time going to be?" Jamie said, letting the paper flutter to the floor. His hands were still shaking but his mind felt oddly clear. Something awful was building deep inside him, and he could hear the first high whine of it like a mosquito in his ear, but for the moment, he felt distant, detached.

"Sometime soon, I promise," Bennett said. He reached for Jamie's hand and Jamie jerked away violently. Bennett flinched, pulling back as if he'd been struck. "Jamie, I—"

"When you set up the meeting with Shadybrook, did you tell them you'd be paying?"

"I… I told them I'd cover a certain percentage, yes."

At least Bennett was being honest with him now.

"And," Jamie continued. "You just… let me think that…" Jamie stopped, shook his head. "This is my fault. I should have asked more questions. I should have known it was too good to be true."

"Look, Jamie, I have the money and I want to—"

"Bennett," Jamie snapped, standing up and looking down at him. Bennett was tense, perched on the edge of the couch as if in full fight-or-flight mode. Jamie still felt that eerie pre-storm stillness, like water right before a boil, a kettle trembling just before it sings. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

Bennett stood up then, too, and though he was already taller than Jamie he seemed to have grown several more inches suddenly.

"I was thinking that you'd be too proud to—"

As soon as the word was out, between them, Bennett's mouth snapped shut, and Jamie pounced, feeling a sick stab of anger.

"Too proud?" Jamie said. "Holy fucking shit, are you listening to yourself?"

"I didn't mean—"

"You did mean it," Jamie said. "You lied to me, you let me think—do you have any idea how fucking humiliating that is?" His breath was coming in short, sharp rasps, his mind still reeling as he tried to comprehend this new information.

"I didn't mean for it to be—"

"My family isn't some goddamn charity case," Jamie said.

"I wanted your grandmother to have the best care possible," Bennett said, narrowing his eyes. "And I was in a place to help make that happen—"

"Why didn't you just talk to me about it, then, instead of going behind my fucking back?" Jamie said.

"Because I knew you'd refuse," Bennett snapped, and for a moment, Jamie couldn't think of a response, because it was absolutely true.

Jamie turned away sharply, going to the living room window and tangling his hands in his hair anxiously. He couldn't bear to look at Bennett.

"Oh my fucking god," Jamie said to himself, trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. He felt trapped, thrown back into the bleak tangle of despair he'd felt that first night back in Welch.

"Jamie," Bennett said, from somewhere behind him, but Jamie just kept staring out at the darkened street, tugging at his hair. "Please—please forgive me. I wanted to help, and—I should have talked to you about it first, but I didn't want to cause you more stress—"

Jamie laughed then, a high, hysterical noise that sounded frankly terrifying.

"Didn't want to cause me stress?" he said, whirling around. "What do you think you're doing now?"

Bennett was still standing by the couch, his hands slowly clenching and unclenching as if he was grasping for some solution, some way out of this mess.

"I—"

"You were just going to, what, keep paying for the rest of her life? What if we broke up?"

"I… you don't owe me anything—even if we weren't together anymore I would—" Bennett stopped, looking up at the ceiling, and scrubbed a hand over his face. "Look, the amount is… a non-issue. I planned to cover the costs for as long as your grandmother needed—"

Bennett was still talking, but Jamie couldn't quite hear him anymore. Blood was pounding in his ears, and he felt bile creeping up the back of his throat. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, it had.

If Bennett didn't understand now, he never would. A sum of money that threatened to pull apart Jamie's entire life was just… a non-issue to Bennett, so inconsequential he could afford to keep on paying Jamie's grandmother's bills even if they broke up without another thought.

"I—I can't do this anymore," Jamie said, breaking into whatever Bennett was saying, something about trusts and dividends.

"Can't—can't do what?" Bennett said, looking alarmed.

"Any of this," Jamie said, gesturing vaguely around the room. "You don't fucking get it. You can't just—can't just do shit like this, and—"

He paused, drawing in a shaky inhale, and squeezed his eyes shut.

"I should never have—"

Jamie stopped, not even sure where the sentence was going. Thoughts were whirling around his head like leaves gusted through the wind, too fast for him to catch any.

"Jamie, please, sit down, we can talk—"

"No," Jamie said, biting through the word. "No—I—I have to go."

"Jamie—" Bennett said, voice edged with panic. "Don't go, please—" He started across the room towards Jamie, but Jamie was already on his way out, yanking his jacket off the hook by the door so viciously it sent the other coats falling to the floor.

"Wait—"

But Jamie slammed the door behind him, and then he was out in the quiet night, the first few snowflakes beginning to fall. His heart was slamming in his chest, and his whole body thrummed with a hot and awful current of anger and fear and shame.

He fled.

* * *

Jamie was strangely numb. He would have expected himself to cry, because that was his first response to just about everything, to languish in his attic room clinging to a picture of Bennett and wasting away into nothing like some Victorian waif. But instead, he just felt empty, as if some drain had opened up in the bottom of his heart, letting every emotion, good or bad, slip through.

After a few days, Bennett stopped texting, finally getting the hint. Jamie threw himself into his schoolwork, but this early on in the semester there was only so much work he could do. He didn't have the heart to hang out with any of his friends or go to Queer Club—they would know immediately that something was wrong, but there was nothing he could say.

He still hadn't decided what to do about his grandma. Shadybrook was perfect for her, which meant he was going to have to find some other way to pay for it. But even as he had that thought, he knew it was absurd. Every time he thought about what Bennett had done, his face flushed with shame, at needing so much and being able to give back so little.

He fucking hated feeling so helpless.

He called Shadybrook every day. His grandma was making progress, her nurse Beverly said, but she was still having trouble talking, so often Jamie would talk to Beverly, who would put him on speakerphone and help his grandma respond.

He spent a lot of time reading and walking around Linfield in the cold, taking photos until he was shivering so hard he couldn't hold the camera steady. He spent a lot of time doing anything but thinking of Bennett.

* * *

Kit ambushed him after class one day.

"Come on," Kit said. "We're hanging out. I miss you."

Jamie hesitated, shifting his backpack on his shoulder.

"No way," Kit said. "This is non-negotiable. I've practically forgotten what you looked like. I'm taking you for dinner, my treat."

It was hard to argue with that, so Jamie allowed himself to be dragged along to a little Mexican food restaurant in Kit's neighborhood where they ate burritos as big as his head. He started to feel almost normal again, listening to Kit talk about their disastrous vacation with their lovable, well-meaning, but incredibly dysfunctional family.

They ended up back at Kit's apartment, which, like Kit, was effortlessly cool and glamorous. Kit was one of those mildly infuriating people who always looked like they'd just stepped off a runway without even trying, and they were so nice and likable that you couldn't even properly hate them for being gorgeous.

"Jamie," Kit said later that evening. They were both curled up on Kit's couch, Kit with a glass of wine and Jamie with a cup of tea. "I'm glad your grandma is doing better but—I can't help feeling like… there's something else going on."

Jamie sighed. Kit was perceptive, and knew him well, and he had known this was coming.

"If I tell you, you can't tell anyone, okay?"

"Of course," Kit said, nodding solemnly. Kit's eyes were big, amber in the warm light of the lamp. Jamie took a deep breath.

"So I've kind of been… dating my professor. The one I was a TA for last semester."

Kit blinked once, their face impassive, before raising their eyebrows.

"Oh," Kit said simply. "Well, that explains a lot."

"Yeah," Jamie said, flushing a little. "That's why… I couldn't tell you about it earlier, you know? It was… sensitive. He's up for tenure and… well, it just… you know."

Kit nodded again.

"But something happened?"

Jamie sighed and swallowed hard.

"Yeah. We're… broken up now. I ended things."

"What happened?" said Kit, brow furrowed with concern.

Jamie haltingly explained what had happened, from Bennett buying them both tickets to Georgia to the tour of Shadybrook through to that awful moment when he'd found the envelope and everything had started to fall apart.

Kit was frowning deeply by the time Jamie finished.

"So, yeah," he said lamely. "I guess it's over now."

"Jamie," Kit said, in a very delicate tone. "Are you… sure?"

"Am I sure about what? He admitted it, so, yeah, I'm pretty sure—"

"No, I mean about… ending things."

Jamie frowned.

"Kit, he lied to me. He went behind my back and—"

"I know, I know," Kit said, raising a hand. "And there's no excuse for that—he clearly thought he was helping, and it was very misguided. I certainly am not arguing with you on that. But is it really something to break up over?"

Jamie's mouth fell open.

"Are you taking his side on this?"

"It's not about taking sides," Kit said, infuriatingly calm. "But I wonder how much of this is… related to ego, rather than what he did."

Jamie was stunned. His first reaction was to be angry at Kit for not supporting him unilaterally, that knee-jerk fishhook of irritation at having his decision questioned.

But—

A little voice in the back of Jamie's mind spoke up, woken by something in Kit's statement ringing true.

"I'm not suggesting you change your mind," Kit continued after seeing that Jamie was still collecting his thoughts. "You know the situation better than I do. But from an outside perspective—perhaps it might be good to examine your reaction—"

The anger was back, rearing against Kit's Zen bullshit.

"Look, Kit, no offense, but you don't know what it's like to be dirt poor. It feels really fucking shitty to be indebted to someone like this, to know there's no way I can ever pay him back—"

"You're right," Kit said. "I don't know what it's like." The angry part of Jamie's mind wriggled in frustration—it was hard to stay mad at people like Kit, who were so thoughtful and reasonable. "But I'm just pointing out that Bennett's coming from a different place—he's not expecting you to pay it back. It's unequal, yes, but this country's healthcare system is in shambles anyway, so if someone is willing to—"

The doorbell rang and Kit frowned.

"Hold that thought."

Kit unfolded their long limbs and went to the door, unlocking several complicated looking locks. When they opened the door, Milo tumbled in, clutching his phone and looking wild-eyed.

"Milo?" Kit said, stepping aside. "Are you okay?"

Milo was shaking badly, and he stood in the center of Kit's living room, looking completely adrift and unsteady.

"He's getting married," Milo said, not making eye contact with either of them. His words were slurred—he was clearly very drunk.

"Who's getting married?" Kit said, exchanging a worried glance with Jamie.

"Ryan," Milo said. "He's… he's fucking… getting married."

"Oh my god," Kit said, pressing a hand to their mouth and crossing the room, pulling Milo into a hug. "Milo, I'm so sorry."

Kit guided Milo to the sofa. He sat down and immediately braced his elbows on his knees.

"I feel like I'm going to throw up," Milo said to the floor. "He's… He didn't even have the decency to tell me. I found out on fucking Facebook. We fucked like… four fucking days ago."

"Oh, Milo," Kit said, rubbing his back. Kit glanced over at Jamie. "Jamie, would you mind starting some tea?"

"I don’t want tea," Milo said violently. "I need a fucking drink."

"I think you've probably had enough to drink."

"I can't fucking believe this—"

Jamie got up and went into the tiny kitchen, turning on Kit's tiny electric kettle. He could see Kit, still rubbing slow, gentle circles on Milo's hunched back as he mumbled something too low for Jamie to hear.

Jamie pulled out his phone and texted Kit.

>>JAMIE: who is ryan?

Kit's phone chirped, and Kit glanced at Jamie before replying with one hand.

>>KIT: that guy he was dating

>>KIT: not dating really, just fucking

An old memory stirred of some night at a bar with the two of them when Milo had been maudlin, going on about one of his many disastrous relationships.

"I'm going to fucking kill him," Milo said. "Fucking… tells me that he can't do commitment and then… turns around… and gets engaged to some girl he barely even knows… They've been together for like, fucking… five months or some shit."

"Okay, Milo, I think that's enough social media for today," Kit said, gently prying Milo's phone from his hand. "It's not helping."

Jamie came back over to the couch and sat down beside Milo. Milo's hands were pressed to his face, and he looked at Jamie through his fingers.

"I fucking love him," Milo said, and his eyes were as wide and wild as a spooked horses. He was still shaking so hard his teeth were chattering. "I—fuck—I'm gonna—"

He stood up, long limbs flying out inelegantly as he dashed to the kitchen sink and dry-heaved.

Jamie had never seen Milo like this, vulnerable and radiating pain. Even when Milo was bitching about bad dates or shitty lays, he always did so with a certain ironic detachment, like he was a detached and sarcastic narrator commenting on his own life.

This, though, was real pain, real hurt, so deep that Jamie felt sick to his own stomach.

Jamie followed Milo to the sink, patting his back and handing him a paper towel and a glass of water when he was finished throwing up.

"Sorry, Kit," Milo said in a small voice. "I'll… disinfect your sink."

"I'll get it," Kit said, waving a hand. Jamie guided Milo back to the couch, where he collapsed down, folding in on himself like dead spider. Kit and Jamie scooted in close, wrapping their arms around him, and though Milo wasn't usually as physically affectionate as either of his friends, he allowed himself to be held.

They sat with Milo for a long time, where he alternated between threatening Ryan grievous bodily harm and declaring he didn't actually care about it, that Ryan hadn't meant anything to him.

After a while, Milo straightened up abruptly and scrubbed a hand over his face.

"Okay," he said, looking like he'd just woken up from a deep sleep. He glanced at them sheepishly. "Um… sorry about that."

"Don't apologize," Kit said.

"This is what we're here for," Jamie said. Kit stood up and went into the kitchen.

"This fucking sucks," Milo said, slouching back down onto the couch again. "I feel… humiliated. You know, I really… I really thought that… maybe someday he'd get his head out of his ass and…"

He trailed off, looking out the dark window.

"I thought maybe if I just waited he'd realize…"

Milo shook his head and looked down at his hands.

"Milo, you deserve someone who's going to treat you like you're their whole world," Jamie said. "I don't… know much about this guy, except for what you've told me, but… you deserve better than… some asshole who wants to sleep with you when it's convenient."

Milo smiled grimly at him as Kit came back and handed them both glasses of water.

"Thanks, Jamie," Milo said. "You're a sweetheart."

He took a long sip of his water. The worst of the storm seemed to have passed, and Milo seemed to have reached a tentative, sad sort of peace.

He glanced at Jamie.

"How are things going with Bennett?" he asked, and Jamie choked on the sip he'd just taken, spitting the water out on himself.

"I—what—" Jamie spluttered. "H-how did you—"

"Well, it was just a hunch," Milo said. "But your response was… certainly revealing."

"How did you know?" Jamie demanded when he could breathe again.

"Well, first of all, every time you talked about him last semester you had total puppy dog eyes," Milo said. "And when I saw you two talking at that dinner at the end of the year, I put two and two together."

"Oh," Jamie said, flushing. "Fuck."

"I don’t think anyone else could tell," Milo said, shrugging. "I just know you, and knew you were dating someone, and it clicked."

Jamie took another sip of his water, for lack of anything better to do. He'd been trying hard not to think of Bennett, and being pulled back to the memory of that night, before everything had fallen apart, made his heart ache, like pressing a fresh bruise.

"We're… not together anymore," Jamie said.

"Wait, what?" Milo said, frowning.

"I don’t want to make tonight about my issues if you're—"

"No, please," Milo said. "I've spent enough time whining about myself."

"Okay," Jamie said, biting his lip. "Just… don't tell anyone."

He explained, for the second time that night, with Kit's help, the highlights—and lowlights—of what had happened that break.

"I have to say," Milo said slowly, once Jamie had finished, "I kind of agree with Kit."

"What do you mean?" Jamie said, frowning.

"Well, keep in mind that I now firmly believe love doesn't exist and is just some sort of corporate machination to sell shampoo or whatever, but… honestly? If I had someone who actually cared for me the way Bennett clearly cares about you… I… wouldn't let them go so easily."

Milo went quiet, looking down at his water glass, his jaw clenched.

Jamie picked at the fraying hem of his sweater and began to wonder if he'd just thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to him.