Will Grayson, Will Grayson(44)
Author: John Green

tiny: comfy!

how have i ended up dating this sprinkled donut of a person? with a not-unfriendly sigh, i sit down next to him. the mattress is definitely canyoning his way.

but before the inevitable next step, my phone vibrates on my desk. i’m going to ignore it, but then it buzzes again and tiny tells me to get it.

I flip open the phone and read what’s there.

tiny: who’s it from?

me: just gideon. he wants to see how things are going.

tiny: gideon, huh?

there’s an unmistakable suspicion in tiny’s voice. i close the phone and head back to the bed.

me: you’re not jealous of gideon, are you?

tiny: what, that he’s cute and young and g*y and gets to see you every day? what’s there to be jealous of?

I kiss him.

me: you have nothing to be jealous of. we’re just friends.

something hits me then, and i start to laugh.

tiny: what?

me: there’s a boy in my bed!

It’s such a stupid, g*y thought. i feel like i have to carve ‘I HATE THE WORLD’ into my arm about a hundred times to make up for it.

the bed really isn’t big enough for the two of us. twice i end up on the floor. all our clothes stay on – but it’s almost like that doesn’t matter. because we’re all over each other. he’s big and strong, but i match him in the push and pull. soon we’re a complete hot mess.

when we’ve tired ourselves out, we just lie there. his heartbeat is huge.

we hear my mother turn on the tv. the detectives start talking. tiny runs his hand under my shirt.

tiny: where’s your dad?

I’m totally not ready for the question. i feel myself tense.

me: i don’t know.

tiny’s touch tries to soothe me. his voice tries to calm me.

tiny: it’s okay.

but i can’t take that. i sit up, knocking us right out of our dreamy breathing, making him shift away a little so he can see me clearly. the impulse in me is loud and clear: immediately, i can’t do this. not because of my father – i don’t really care that much about my father – but because of this whole process of knowing everything.

I argue with myself.

stop.

stay here.

talk.

tiny is waiting. tiny is looking at me. tiny is being kind, because he hasn’t realized yet who i am, what i am. i will never be kind back. the best i can do is give him reasons to give up.

tiny: tell me. what do you want to say? don’t ask me, i want to warn him. but then i’m talking.

me: look, tiny – i’m trying to be on my best behavior, but you have to understand – i’m always standing on the edge of something bad. and sometimes someone like you can make me look the other way, so that i don’t know how close i am to falling over. but i always end up turning my head. always. i always walk off that edge. and it’s shit i deal with every day, and it’s shit that’s not going away any time soon. it’s really nice to have you here, but do want to know something? do you really want me to be honest?

he should take this as the warning it is. but no. he nods.

me: it feels like a vacation. i don’t think you know what that’s like. which is good – you don’t want to. you have no idea how much i hate this. i hate the fact that i’m ruining the night right now, ruining everything –

tiny: you’re not.

me: i am.

tiny: says who?

me: says me?

tiny: don’t i get any say?

me: no. i just ruin it. you don’t get any say.

tiny touches my ear lightly.

tiny: you know, you get all sexy when you turn destructive.

his fingers run down my neck, under my collar.

tiny: i know i can’t change your dad or your mom or your past. but you know what i can do?

his other hand works its way up my leg.

me: what?

tiny: something else. that’s what i can give you. something else.

I am so used to bringing out the pain in people. but tiny refuses to play that game. while we’re texting all day, and even here in person, he’s always trying to get to the heart of it. and that means he always assumes there’s a heart to get to. i think that’s ridiculous and admire it at the same time. i want the something else he has to give me, even though i know it’s never going to be something i can actually take and have as my own.

I know it’s not as easy as tiny says it is. but he’s trying so hard. so i surrender to it. i surrender to something else.

even if my heart isn’t totally believing it.

Chapter fifteen

The next day, Tiny isn’t in precalc. I assume he’s hunched over somewhere writing songs into a comically undersized notebook. It doesn’t bother me much. I see him between second and third period when I walk past his locker; his hair looks unwashed and his eyes are wide.

“Too much Red Bull?” I ask, walking up to him.

He answers all in a furious rush. “Play opens in nine days, Will Grayson’s adorable, everything’s cool. Listen, Grayson, I gotta go to the auditorium, I’ll see you at lunch.”

“The other Will Grayson,” I say.

“What, huh?” Tiny asks, slamming his locker shut.

“The other Will Grayson’s adorable.”

“Right, quite right,” he answers.

He’s not at our table at lunch, and neither is Gary or Nick or Jane or anyone, and I don’t want the entire table to myself, so I take my tray to the auditorium, figuring I’ll find everyone there. Tiny’s standing in the middle of the stage, a notebook in one hand and his cell in the other, gesticulating wildly. Nick ’s sitting in the first row of seats. Tiny’s talking to Gary onstage, and because the acoustics are fantastic in our auditorium, I can hear exactly what he’s saying even from the back.

“The thing you’ve gotta remember about Phil Wrayson is that he is totally freaking terrified. Of everything. He acts like he doesn’t care, but he’s closer to falling apart than anyone else in the whole freaking play. I want to hear the quiver in his voice when he’s singing, the need he hopes no one can hear. Because that’s gotta be what makes him so annoying, you know? The things he says aren’t annoying; it’s the way he says them. So when Tiny is taping up those Pride posters, and Phil won’t shut up about the stupid girl problems he brought on himself, we’ve gotta hear what’s annoying. But you can’t overdo it, either. It’s the slightest little thing, man. It’s the pebble in your shoe.”

I just stand there for a minute, waiting for him to see me, and then finally he does. “He’s a CHARACTER, Grayson,” Tiny shouts. “He’s a FICTIONAL CHARACTER.”