Let It Happen

It's been four months since I found Dennis on the roof, and as far as I know he hasn't been up there since. He's been smoking religiously since I met him in secondary school, so I can't really count that as a suicide attempt. He still insists he wouldn't have done it, but I think he would've.

He's the type to fall quickly and deeply. He feels things with every fibre of his being, and sometimes it makes him irrational. It also makes him incredibly vulnerable. I've seen him give himself to someone completely, only to have them break him like a toothpick too many times. (Well, twice, but twice is still too many times.)

He seems happy enough today. We both have free days today, so we thought we'd go around town even though I have absolutely no money to spare. His parents seem to produce money out of thin air, though, so naturally his wallet is jutting out of the pocket of his skinny jeans like a fucking brick. Show off.

"You know Gav...?" I say suddenly, breaking our little bubble of silence as we stride through the throng of people, his skinny arm draped casually around my shoulders.

"Gavin Henson?" he teases, a smirk touching his lips that I'd totally find sexy if he wasn't like my brother. Not to mention gay. "He's a football player, right? The hot one?"

"Rugby," I correct him, whacking him with my practically empty bag. "And no, you know what Gavin I'm talking about."

"Football, rugby," he scoffs, rolling his eyes skeptically, "same thing. And yes, you mean your angry ex boyfriend. He's still angry, right?"

"Always," I confirm. "Anyway, I think he has a new girlfriend or something."

"Do you care?" he asks, frowning. "I thought you were with James now."

"I am, and I don't. I was just saying."

His hand squeezes my shoulder comfortingly. "I bet she's a slut."

"I think so," I giggle.

"Gavin Henson's hot, though, right?" he says with a cheeky grin.

"Yes," I sigh, trying not to laugh.

"Is he still with Charlotte Church?"

"I think he's single," I tell him, frowning. "But can we please just talk about-?"

"The fact that football and rugby are literally the same things," Dennis finishes incorrectly. "Like, what is actually the difference?"

Dennis is American. He moved here back in Year Nine from Ohio, and we've been friends ever since. It was pretty convenient for me, since I didn't really have any friends. But yeah, since he's American he seems intent on sharing his opinions on sports and how religiously they played them back in his old school, before he moved over here. He doesn't really get sports, but hey, neither do I.

"No," I snap, whacking him again. "Gav's girlfriend?"

"I thought you didn't care," Dennis points out, and I scowl. "I mean, you got a new boyfriend first. Why shouldn't he move on too?"

"Because!" I snap. "I feel like... I don't know, like he never cared. I don't even know. Shut up."

He grins, pulling me closer to him and kissing my temple. I close my eyes for a second, feeling safe in his arms. How is it possible that I can I feel so safe in the arms of someone so unstable? It doesn't make sense. And how can his eyes look such a bright blue and so lifeless at the same time? I mean, the only time I see them light up is when Gus is being nice to him. It's the only time he looks genuinely happy anymore.

I feel like an idiot, complaining about my ex boyfriend getting a girlfriend. I know Dennis has much bigger problems, and he probably thinks I'm being selfish. And I don't care about Gavin, which makes it even worse that I'm complaining.

I look up at him and he smiles like nothing's wrong. And I know nothing's wrong, not yet. But it's always too good to be true. There's never enough time to return that mischevous gleam to his eyes before his happiness is wrenched from him again. And I know how that feels, because I'd been the same with Gavin. We'd always been at each other's throats, and it had always been me getting hurt. The problem with Dennis is that he's too proud to ask me for help. He doesn't want me getting involved.

"How's Maddie?" he asks suddenly. "I haven't seen my bestest friend in forever."

I scrunch up my face. "I thought I was your bestest friend."

"I think you kind of come as a package," he chuckles. "Can I come with you to see her this weekend?"

"Of course you can," I tell him, frowning. "You're always welcome to."

"I'll bring her snacks."

"You always bring her snacks."

"Yeah," he agrees, grinning. "I think she only loves me for my snacks."

"Probably."

"Hey!" he pouts, and I smirk, unable to help noticing how cute he is.

"Kidding," I laugh. "She also likes you because you're the only one who'll watch fish documentaries with her."

"Has James met her yet?"

I don't answer, but that says enough for Dennis. He nods his head in understanding, chewing on his lip ring thoughtfully. I always thought it was really cute how he did that. It's like his nervous tick; he does it when he's thinking about things or feeling upset. He doesn't think I notice but I do.

James has only been my boyfriend for a week, and I've only had one boyfriend before him. The good thing about James is that he expects nothing from me. He hardly knows anything about me; I'm almost a complete mystery to him. And he doesn't mind. He's just letting me settle into the relationship in my own time. Which, actaully, could be forever because why would a twenty two year old model want to stay with little old me?

We're going on another date tonight, but knowing him we'll probably end up hitting a few bars afterwards. It's handy to have a working boyfriend, since I've blown my student loan on shoes already.

We drift into Dennis' favourite old record store and start flicking through the vinyls. He seems to cheer up when he finds one he doesn't have yet. Dennis has a huge thing for vinyls; there's a massive stack of them in his bedroom next to a battered record player that used to be his dad's.

"Are you going out with Gus tonight?" I ask Dennis, and he shakes his head.

I feel a little relief at his answer. It'll be nice for him to spend some time with his uni friends, although it kind of sucks I won't run into him tonight. James seems to have heaps of friends, and I don't really fit in with them. They're all really good looking and confident, and then there's me. I mean, I'm not disgusting or anything but I'm not a model.

"I have to rehearse tonight," mutters Dennis, withdrawing his arm from around me and dropping his hand tiredly.

"That's cool," I say with a small smile, taking his cold hand in mine. Dennis is always cold. "Your show's in a couple of months, right?"

Dennis nods glumly. "I don't think I'm going to be in the show at this rate."

"What do you mean?"

"My professor's making someone else learn my lines," he grumbled, fingering the vinyls fondly, "so they can fire me if I miss another rehearsal."

I look up at him. "Can they do that?"

Dennis shrugs. "I guess so, yeah."

"But what about your grade?"

"I guess I'd fail."

I stop looking through the dusty volumes and look at him in concern. "Do you want me to cancel with James and come with you?"

Dennis raises an eyebrow and looks at me. "What do you think I am, five?"

I shrug. "It was just an offer, Dennis."

"You don't have to worry about me," he says with a transparent smile. "I haven't been hanging off any more buildings, okay Maisy?"

"Don't call me that."

I watch him stride away to pay for his records at the counter. I can't help being worried about him. I know how much this course means to him, and if he fails it I know he'll be crushed. He can't miss one more rehearsal; he'll be out of the show and all his hard work will be down the toilet. I know Gus won't care; he's a snobby Politics student and he doesn't think acting's important. He's sure Dennis can find a more reasonable career path if he fails at the whole theatre thing. He doesn't understand.

I have to make sure Dennis gets to every rehearsal, even if I have to escort him to each one. The show's in two months; surely he can subdue all other plans until then? How hard can it be?

I know he's getting annoyed with me, but how can I not worry about him? I didn't think it was possible for him to get any skinnier until it started to happen. I could probably wrap my thumb and little finger around his wrist. He's still gorgeous and everything, but really. It's not healthy. Not to mention his little rooftop adventure a few months back. Whether he can admit it to himself or not, he's getting unstable.

I push the thoughts to the back of my head as he returns, swinging his carrier bag, and throws his free arm back around my shoulders.

"Ready to go?" he asks, offering me a hollow grin, his skeletal fingers limp below my collar. "I'm starving."

"Yeah," I whisper back, forcing a smile almost as see through as his, "let's eat."