But after holding those dark brown eyes, his heart swelling at the promise in them, Rian returned his gaze to Chris, squeezing his hand. “Chris...you know what went wrong here, don’t you?”
Chris winced, his mouth pinching at the corners as he gave Rian a hangdog look. “I...broke the law...?”
“You did, but we didn’t report your name to the police.” Rian held his index finger to his lips and winked, before offering a small smile. “I’m talking about trying to handle this yourself. You should have come to an adult—a counselor, one of your teachers, anyone. Sometimes when you’re in trouble, you can’t carry it all on your own. Especially when you’ve been hurting yourself, and...” Rian shook his head. He didn’t want to tell Chris this, but... “...it wouldn’t have helped. What Mr. Drew was paying you wouldn’t have covered even a fraction of tuition here.”
Chris sucked in a breath, his face crumpling again. “Wh-what...?”
Oh... Chris. Rian shook his head; he could see where Chris was coming from, when once, long ago, Rian had been just as sheltered—just as unaware of the way the world worked, the cost of things, anything other than the ivory tower fantasy world his parents had kept him in.
That was why he’d left.
How he’d ended up here.
And he was glad he had.
“Don’t your parents know about the financial aid options for the school?” he asked softly.
Chris froze, interrupted right before he’d looked about to break down again. He sniffled. “There’s...financial aid?”
“Yeah,” Damon interjected. “There’s loans, grants...alumnus stuff, too. Hell, Mr. Iseya, the guidance counselor, graduated from here on an alumnus grant ’cause his dad had Walden’s job like, for decades. There are ways around stuff. So if you still wanna go here, you can make it work without having to hurt yourself.”
“O-oh,” Chris said faintly. “I didn’t know you could do things like that. I guess... I guess we’re not very good at not having money.”
Rian quirked his lips. “Heaven forbid you learn how to live as a commoner.”
Chris let out a choked, hiccupping laugh, wiping the tears off his lashes with his fingertips. “I want that,” he admitted softly. “I wanna be normal. I don’t care if people know we’re not rich anymore. But I don’t want to let my parents down. They want me to graduate from here, and I... I want to do that.”
“Then we’ll do our best to help you,” Rian promised, curling his hand tighter around Chris’s; Chris’s fingers twitched weakly, then grasped his. “But you and your parents both need to learn from this. If either of you had asked, had just reached out, you could have been spared all of this and they wouldn’t have had to worry, either. You’re a good kid—but you’re only sixteen. You don’t need to keep these kinds of secrets. Doing that only makes more trouble than it saves.”
“Promise us,” Damon murmured.
Chris nodded quickly, almost desperately—but he was smiling, that cloud of misery lifting even if his smile was shy, unsteady. “I... I p-promise. Really. I will.” He paused, then, giving Rian a tentative look. “But, um... Mr. Falwell...?”
Rian smiled again and squeezed his hand. “Yes? Whatever you want to say, it’s all right.”
“I...um...” Chris winced. “I... I know you like the stuff I do in art class...but... I don’t...really wanna do art, either. It’s okay, but... I don’t think it’s my thing. Though I’ll finish my semester project! I—I just...”
Blinking, Rian just looked at Chris—then couldn’t help laughing, looking away and tucking his hair behind his ear. “Well. There went my ego, thinking you preferred my class to football. You really are talented, too...but no hard feelings, Chris. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. This isn’t about me. It’s about what you want.”
And Rian didn’t need to hold on to that, to try to control that.
As long as Chris was happy.
“That’s just it,” Chris said shyly. “I... I know I’m good at it. And at football. That’s why I don’t want to do them. What’s the point if I don’t have to try? If it’s so easy it doesn’t feel like anything?”
That question hit so hard Rian couldn’t help how his gaze flew to Damon, his heart struck and quivering—and found Damon looking back at him with the same stricken gaze, unspoken things trembling in the silent connection between them.
If it’s so easy it doesn’t feel like anything.
This had never been easy.
Learning how to talk to each other. Learning how to listen. Learning how to work together, instead of at cross purposes.
But God...
It was starting to feel like everything.
At Chris’s uncertain sound, though, Rian shook himself, turning his attention back to the boy. “What do you want to do, then?”
“I...” Chris flushed, ducking his head. “I want to write. Maybe like, shoot for a creative writing major in college. And maybe try for AP English next year.”
Damon grinned wryly, his eyes crinkling bright with affection. “I’ve seen your scores in English,” he teased gently. “You might get As for completion...but getting up to AP levels is gonna take a lot of work.” His knuckles stood out as he lightly shook Chris’s shoulder in a companionable grip. “But I know damned well you can do it.”
“That’s just it,” Chris said breathlessly. “I’m not good at it. I know I’m not good at it. Like, grammar, sure. But like, I gotta try. And that’s why I want to. Because I want to be good. Without it being easy.”
Something sweet softened inside Rian, and he watched both of them fondly. “Then you can do that,” he murmured. “And I’m so proud of you for wanting to.”
“He’s damned right,” Damon said. “You got a good head on you. You really are a good kid. And I think you can do anything you set out to.”
Chris’s eyes widened, hope lighting in them. “Y-you really think so?”
“Hell yes,” Damon said firmly.
They only had a moment’s warning—a sniffle, Chris’s mouth crumpling up—before he burst into tears again. But this time he was smiling, wet globules running down his face, breaths coming in great heaving gasps as he grappled at Rian’s hand and Damon’s wrist.
“Th-thank you,” he rasped out. “I...it’s...it’s gonna be okay? It’s really gonna be okay?”
“It is,” Rian said—then let himself be pulled in as Damon stood.