Blackout

Earlier, Mrs. Tucker asked him where he was from too.

“Earth,” he said. “Still debating if I’m staying, though.”

The class group chat agreed—he’s our favorite bus driver so far.

I can’t fight away a smile. “Will you remember this?”

“Forever.”

“Thing is, though,” he said, “if I can’t love and accept myself just as I am, why the hell would I expect anybody else to?”

I can’t fight away a smile. “Will you remember this?”

“Forever.”

I can’t fight away a smile. “Will you remember this?”

“Forever.”

I can’t fight away a smile. “Will you remember this?”

“Forever.”

I can’t fight away a smile. “Will you remember this?”

“Forever.”

I can’t fight away a smile. “Will you remember this?”

“Forever.”

I can’t fight away a smile. “Will you remember this?”

“Forever.”

turns his head, letting his cheek rest against my leg.

“What happened to us?” he whispers.

And for the first time, I’m not entirely sure.