Left side, Right side.

Perhaps, the fact is that I myself had almost no friends. No, not like that - not almost, but not at all. However, both Cal and I know that I will definitely not commit treason. Firstly, because I'm not some kind of sexual maniac. Secondly, I don’t really believe in my ability to rizz and other crap. Thirdly, I will never adapt to any social norms just to please some stupid whore from school, and to receive further insults and phrases in the spirit of “Oh God, how can even you say that!”. I don't want it. And even though I’ve heard people whisper behind my back a million times about how weird, aggressive, manipulative and generally autistic I am, sometimes it gave me all sorts of thoughts. Like, it happens that I’m lying down before going to bed, and one day it pops into my head how some asshole from school tells me how lonely, pathetic I am, and in my social field is only Cal, and in general I’m parasitic on him with all sorts of bad thoughts, and he (Cal), actually, is a good boy - a holy, blondie angel. Sometimes I felt like I was the only one who really knows Cal, but then it dawned on me: I'm not the only one. Her name is Rachel. When I talk to Cal, I never say that I remember her name. I don't want him to know that I know. In his eyes, I don’t give a single fuck about her, but no. When he talks about her, says that he spends time with her, says that he sometimes records videos of her on our Zero Day tapes, it makes me mad. Rachel is so funny, so fun to hang out with. Of course, Cal, she is the only person with whom you can wander through cemeteries and fuck around there, doing all sorts of bullshit. Rachel is so special, not at all like the other girls at school. Rachel... Rachel, Rachel, Rachel. Fuck Rachel! “Andre, what are you OK?” “Sorry, I was… thinking.” Hmmm, I have reasons to be proud of myself - I brought myself to anger, and now I’m professionally trying to hide it. And yet, my hands involuntarily clench into fists, and my teeth fight the urge to clench too. Cal smiles. Truly like an angel. He certainly doesn't look like the kind of guy who's planning a school shooting. I wonder if he would have even decided to do this if I wasn’t here? Or maybe his Rachel would decide to help him with this? “About what? Did you even listen to me?” Yes, I listened, Cal. You talked about how cool it would be to leave a written diary after death with all sorts of depressive, misanthropic poems full of sadness, melancholy and anger. Well, Cal, you write poetry well, but after the last time I got mad at you because you almost got us into a fight with some jerks from school, you stopped talking to me about poetry altogether. Who are you talking about them with then? It’s unlikely that you carry them with you. Who are you reading them to? To Rachel? “Fuck you, I'm not completely schizophrenic. About poetry. You talked about poetry. And I think this is a great idea.” Yeah. Well done, Andre. Keep it up. ** It's getting dark when we walk. Crickets are making noise in the grass, although it is quite early for them. I look at the ground, I see no point in raising my head and looking at painfully familiar areas. I don’t want to look at Cal because I remember someone said that I stare at people like a pervert. No, this is not a personality complex. I don’t have anything like that at all, shut up. “You know, I don't really want you to communicate with Rachel.” Now I dare look up, and my eyes meet Cal's slightly stunned gaze. Those impossibly beautiful blue eyes... “Are you jealous?” A smile slips across his lips, his voice is calm, as always. “Or is this some kind of joke?” “No, it's not a joke. And I'm not jealous. This bitch pisses me off.” “Yes? Why?” “Let's start with the fact that she is a stupid, sick upstart who is in a hurry to insert her opinion on any issue, and let's end with the fact that if she finds out about the army of two, you and I will both be sentenced to life in prison.” I feel anger and hatred boiling in my veins, and only Cal’s gaze restrains me, reflecting a slight misunderstanding of the situation. At some point I feel embarrassed, afraid, disgusted and ashamed. I shouldn't have said any of this. On the other hand, I know that Cal won’t just leave me, no matter what wild nonsense of a madman I come up with again. A short tremor, as if a current ran through my body. “This is what is called jealousy.” He giggles, covering his mouth with his hand, and his eyes sparkle with playful slyness. “Come on, are you really jealous?” For a second I lose all words, the last thoughts fade in my head, somewhere out there - in the distance, like lights. “No! I just want you to be careful with her and not talk too much to her, and it would be even better if you stop talking to her at all.” I see Cal holding back his laughter. Probably, he really didn’t expect that I could dump my emotions like that. I rarely do this, because I tend to focus more on something more important than feelings. I just... I don't know. I no longer want and cannot tolerate the fact of Rachel’s existence in Cal’s life, I cannot live knowing (or drowning in senseless speculation) that he can leave me for her. I won’t forgive myself, or him, or that stupid slut Rachel. “You’re J-E-A-L-O-U-S.” Well, at least Cal has a reason to laugh at me. I guess I don't even mind? “Okay, maybe a little. But this is most likely not jealousy, but a desire to protect you and me from the possibility that she will talk to someone about Zero Day.” “I'm not that of a moron. Andre, we have known each other for several years, and I know you well. And I know how well you take care of me and all that, and also about our plan, and I’m definitely not going to tell Rachel anything about us, OK? And what’s more, I will never leave you for anyone. You are dearer to me than anything in the world.” I remain silent, feeling even more shame, but then I nod reluctantly. “OK. I believe you. But still…” My further reproaches are stopped by the soft taste of Cal's lips on mine. He puts his hands on my shoulders, and I gradually calm down...