Page 2 of Disarm
It’s your brain trying to kill you, but it doesn’t quite cut it. So it just repeats over and over until you do something about it, whether that’s medication, therapy, or straight-up raw doggin’ it.
I’ve opted for the second and third options.
I keep my head down, hood up. Take notes that I won’t remember later. Pretend to laugh when someone cracks a joke behind me. Pretend I’m fine.
I’m anything but fine.
Basketball’s supposed to help. Moving until the noise quiets down. But lately it’s been harder to find that sweet spot—the moment where my body takes over and the thoughts fade. Today, my legs feel heavy, every sprint dragging. Coach yells something about keeping my head in the game, but I’m not sure I’ve ever known how.
After practice, I shower, change, and check my phone again.
Miguel
You alive?
I smile despite myself. He always knows when to ask.
Caleb
Barely. Coach killed us today. Sprints are the bane of my existence.
Miguel
He can try. You’re still faster than all of them.
Caleb
You haven’t seen me lately.
My brother—the track star—would laugh at how winded I get from fifteen-minute sprints.
Miguel
I don’t need to. I know you.
Three words.I know you.
Sometimes they terrify me. And sometimes they are the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
Today is one of those days where falling apart would feel pretty damn good. I know I can’t, though.
The driveback to the dorm is quiet. Late afternoon fog’s rolling in from the coast, smothering the campus in pale gray. It’s my favorite kind of weather, the kind that makes the world feel smaller, softer, like it’s holding its breath. It’s one reason I chose this school, other than it being super close to my dad and Celeste. I had scholarships to a few schools out of state for basketball, but I wanted to stay close to home.
I needed to.
My phone buzzes again before I reach the steps.
Miguel
Come over for dinner. Mom came over earlier and brought way too much food.
It’s an excuse, but I take it anyway.
Caleb
Okay.
I tell myself it’s because I haven’t eaten, but we both know it’s because I need to see him. Need to know the world hasn’t ended since the last time he touched me.
