Free Wishing on a Blue Star by Kris Jacen

time and walked away.
    Crash kept following after him, his footsteps remarkably uncertain.
    “Don’t, Crash. Don’t follow me, not tonight.”
    “Why?” Crash sounded…odd.
    “Why?” Kip turned to find him flushed and angry. “Because you have no idea what you’re asking, that’s why. You want me to blow off a friendship I’ve had forever—the best thing in my life—on the off chance that you know enough to know that it’s me you want, when you’ve never, ever showed one bit of interest in me before?”
    “Never showed…” Crash drew back. He looked as if he wanted to tear his hair out. “I never showed one bit of interest in you? Are you out of your mind ?”
    “ That way . You’ve never been interested that way.”
    “Because I thought you were interested in women. Because I thought when you chose someone to love it would be a woman .”
    Kip shook his head in disbelief. “But all this time, there’s never been anyone you’ve even glanced at—”
    “Except for you!” Crash poked his chest. “I’ve never glanced at anyone except for you. I’ve lived for you. I’ve been here for you every single time you needed me. I’ve loved you since I first laid eyes on you!”
    “But, Crash, that’s different from wanting to fuck me.”
    Crash frowned. “But loving you. That’s what drives desire, right?”
    “Not always,” Kip said gently. “I just don’t think you understand, and it isn’t something you can offer lightly, all right?”
    Crash took Kips hands. “I don’t offer it lightly. I give my entire being. You’re right when you say that I don’t understand but if ever I did, it could only be with you. I belong to you, Kipling Rush. I’ve waited whole lifetimes to say that.”
    Kip wanted to look away but couldn’t. Tears glittered in Crash’s eyes.
    “Please understand.” Crash crushed his hands and the pain made his words grow sharper and gave them a resonance that tripped some kind of wire in Kip’s heart that blew it up until it nearly burst. “ I am yours .”
    “No pressure or anything,” Kip complained, keeping hold of Crash’s hand. He started walking with no particular destination in mind to allow himself time to think. He and Crash had literally slammed into one another in the fifth grade, and he’d always felt, always known they had more than a bond of friendship.
    Something happened to him when he was with Crash. Night air got crisper. Scents and sounds that were elusive and distant teased and tickled him, begging to be explored. Books were better, jokes funnier, films more poignant, even the sun was brighter and warmer when shared with Crash, so yeah. It stood to reason that sex… That would have to be something else, right?
    Kip was the first to admit that— together—he and Crash were more than the sum of their parts. He couldn’t speak for Crash, but he hated to jeopardize that for anything. It reminded him of a story in a children’s book he’d allowed his mother to read to him just once before he demanded she staple the pages together, because he’d been upset—was traumatized even now— by the illustration. It was about a dog who had a bone, but saw what he thought was a bigger bone in another dog’s mouth. Being greedy, he snapped for it to try to take it away and lost his own bone because what he saw was actually his reflection in a pool of water.
    The moral of the story was supposed to be about selfishness, or being grateful, but all he could see were the dog’s sad eyes in the aftermath of bad choices, of not being glad that things were perfectly fine, but instead trying to get more somehow, and he’d never forgotten it.
    Crash snapped, “Don’t you start with the dog story.”
    “What?”
    “This isn’t that.” 
    “It’s apt .” Kip argued, not even curious, after all the years they’d spent together, how Crash seemed to read his mind. “It’s got that bone, and it’s a perfectly fine bone, a great bone…”
    “Enough with