Snow leaves, and I don't know what to do. Part of me wants to leave, make sure I'm not here when he gets back. But it's like my legs have turned to lead, because I don't move. The entire time he's gone I sit on my bed staring across the gap between our rooms. I'm not even thinking, I'm just...there.

I don't cry, at least there's that. And I don't punch a hole through the half wall like I'd like to.

Snow isn't gay, I tell myself. There's no way. He'll come back and realize it was a mistake, and everything will go back to the way it was. I'll still be miserable, but at least it'll be the miserable I'm used to.

I hear Snow unlocking his front door and I grab a book off my nightstand, flopping back on my bed and opening it up like I've been reading this whole time.