He reaches up and brushes back the thick mop of his dark hair, revealing a couple patches of nearly bare scalp above his right ear. He holds it there for a second before letting his hair fall back into place, then leans forward with his elbows on his knees, staring off across the lake, fingers clasped in front of him. He presses his thumbs to his lips and speaks around them. “This is what I do when it gets real bad. I can’t help it. It’s an actual thing I’m diagnosed with. Trichotillomania. So it’s not, like, just a me problem, it’s a real thing.”
“You don’t have to justify it to me,” I say. “I know depression works differently for everyone.”
“You know when it gets bad and it feels like you have no control? Well, this makes me feel like I have just a little bit of control over something, even though I know it’s the exact opposite.” The words rush out of him like he’s relieved just to be saying them. “Half the time I’m not even aware I’m doing it. How is that control, y’know? It’s kind of like how I make myself out to be this super happy, bubbly person, so I decide how people see me. But it’s exhausting, dude.”
“Have you been talking to Barbie about it? I mean, Nova’s the only person I really talk to about my issues, and you two seem just as close as we are.”
Dorian tosses his head back and looks at the sky, groaning. His jaw clenches and he swallows hard. “Yeah, usually. But … I don’t want to tell him I … relapsed, I guess. It’s embarrassing.”
“You really think he’d judge?”
“No, but.” He shrugs and tucks his hands into his armpits. We really shouldn’t stay out here much longer. We’re gonna end up with pneumonia. “It’s still hard. He tries, but he doesn’t understand the way someone else who goes through it would.”
I watch him in silence for a long moment. I don’t like the helpless tone in his voice or feeling completely powerless to help him. I don’t know how to comfort people. But Dorian’s done his best for me and I owe it to him to try.
“You should tell him,” I say softly. “He cares about you. I’m pretty sure he’d do anything for you.”
“I know.”
“And, like, I know we’re never gonna be as close as the two of you are, but I’ll do what I can, too. I might not ever really know what to say, but I can always listen.”
He bumps my shoulder with his, giving me this little half smile. “Aw, Terzo. Same goes for you, y’know.”
We both shiver when the wind picks up, a couple stray snowflakes floating down to melt in the lake. I don’t want to be the first one to move. I offered to sit out here with Dorian, so I’ll stay here until we both freeze to death if that’s what he wants.
But it doesn’t take long before he says, “I’m freezing my nipples off out here, dude. Wanna run to the d-hall first, get some coffee?”
He starts to stand, but I reach for his sleeve and hold him in place. Dorian watches me, waiting. I like Dorian. If there’s anyone besides Cauler I’d want to stay in touch with after I leave, it’s him. I told him one of my secrets. Why not the other?
“Do you consider us friends?” I ask. My voice is rough, my nerves coming through.
He smiles. It’s small and a little bit sad, but it gives me my answer before he even says, “Duh. What kind of question is that?”
“So can I tell you something only a few people know?”
Now his smile opens up and he gets this knowing glint in his eye. My face burns despite the cold. Of course he’s figured it out by now. “Absolutely.”
I sigh. “You totally know already.”
“Maybe. Try me.”
“I’m bi.” It comes out blunt, all the nerves wiped out by his grin.
“That’s great, Terzo.” He twists his hand to grab my forearm and haul me to my feet. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”
“How’d you figure it out?”
“Pfft. Have you seen the way you look at Cauler? I’ll show you a picture sometime.”
He slings his arm across my shoulder and keeps it there as we walk to the dining hall, my hands in my pockets.
“Does this mean I can send you depression memes now?” he asks, and I feel freer than I have in ages.
* * *
DORIAN AND I actually act like roommates for once, hanging out in our room just the two of us. He sits next to me on my bed and shows me the project he and Barbie have been working on for their film and media class. It’s some fake documentary type thing, like The Office or Parks and Rec, but with the Royals hockey teams. There’s interviews with a bunch of players, even a bit with Delilah talking about me as a little kid and Cauler doing spot-on impressions of our coaches.