“I think I might be crazy,” I spit out while he says, “I like you.”
Theo blushes, his half smile gone. “Wait, what?” He shifts his body around and stares out the train window, but we’re underground, so all he’ll see is darkness and his reflection. “I thought you were going to say you like me. Are you gay, Griff?”
“Yeah,” I admit, for the first time ever, which somehow doesn’t have my heart racing or my face heating up. All I know is, I would’ve lied to anyone else.
“Good. I mean, cool,” Theo says. It seems like he’s flirting with the idea of making eye contact again before keeping his gaze to the window. “Why were you scared to tell me? That you think you’re crazy?”
“Right, that’s the second thing. I think I might have OCD.”
“Your room is too messy,” Theo says.
“It’s not about being organized. You know how lately I’m always forcing my way onto everyone’s left side? It wasn’t like that when we were kids. There’s also my counting thing, where I prefer everything to be an even number, with a couple of exceptions, like one and seven. Volume, the timer on the microwave, how many chapters I read before putting a book down, even how many examples I use in a sentence. It’s distracting, and I always feel on.”
Theo nods. “I’ve felt like this before, too. Maybe not as intense, but I think it’s just a sign of your genius. I’m pretty sure Nikola Tesla was obsessed with the number three and would sometimes walk around a block three times before entering a building. But, Griff, for all we know these compulsions might just turn out to be little quirks.” His blue eyes find my face again, lit. “We can do some research later!”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m not just some delusional kid with a neck tic who scratches his palms whenever he’s nervous, favors everyone’s left side, tugs at his earlobe, and operates in evens. Maybe it’s like autofocusing a camera, where I’m zooming in on one thing and missing everything else.
“It’s been freaking me out a little bit, like I don’t know who I’m going to be in the future. I’m scared something can grow from this and turn me into a Griffin who’s too complicated for you to be friends with in a few years.” I can’t believe I’m unloading all this; it feels surreal, incredible, but I can’t stop. Maybe confessing everything will jinx any illnesses.
Theo scoots closer to me. “I have real things to be worried about, dude, like if the zombie pirates are going to know how to use grappling hooks and matchlocks or if they’re taking us down with teeth and nails. You don’t scare me, and you’ll never be too complicated for my friendship.” Theo pats my knee. His hand rests there for a solid minute. “And I’m sorry if I forced you to come out just now—wait, am I the first person you’ve told?”
I nod, my heart pounding. “You didn’t force me. Okay, actually, you did a little, but I wanted to tell you anyway. I just didn’t have the balls or some huge speech. I was also a little scared I was wrong about my instincts for you. Delusions run on my mother’s side of the family.”
“You’re not delusional,” Theo says. “And you’re not crazy.”
He reaches for my hand, and it’s not for a high five. I know the world hasn’t changed, what goes up still has to come down, but the way I see the world has shifted a little to the right, moving forward, and I can now see it the way I’ve always wanted to. I hope I don’t say or do anything that will force the world to shift counterclockwise again.
I squeeze Theo’s hand, testing whatever it is we’re doing here, and I feel like I’m answering a question I was never brave enough to ask.
“Stick with me here, okay?” Theo says.
“I’m not exactly about to walk off a moving train.”
Theo lets go of my hand. I sink in a little, like I’ve failed him. “I’ve never told anyone this, but I’ve been dreaming up alternate universes for a couple of years. You know me, I’m always asking myself ‘What if?’” He turns away for a second. “Lately I’ve been asking myself that more and more. A lot of the what-ifs are fun, but a lot of them are also really personal. Every night before I go to sleep, I find all the notes I’ve written on scrap paper or on my phone and I archive them in this journal. Dozens and dozens of alternate universes.”