676 words, by gdocs

Bram is both drunk and close to tears. It's a weird combination, but maybe Bram is just an emotional drunk. Nick wouldn't know. This is his first time being drunk. His phone is out in his hand, opened to the Gmail app, and there's a half-written letter composed, but Bram isn't typing any further.

Nick, on the other hand, is completely sober. It's almost like a role reversal, but Nick simply wasn't in the mood to get drunk when Bram came over. So Bram is only one drunk, and close to tears, and sitting on the kitchen floor, phone in hand.

"Are you okay?" Nick asks, looking down at Bram.

"No," he says miserably. Bringing up one hand, Bram rubs his eyes.

"Well, what's wrong?" Nick asks him. He sinks to the floor, now level with Bram.

Bram gestures with the hand holding his phone.

"That explains a lot," Nick deadpans.

He takes Bram's hand in his and takes away Bram's phone, his eyes scanning the half-written letter.

.

FROM: bluegreen118

TO:

DATE: October 15 at 10:32pm

SUBJECT: RE: spooky scary skeletons

Dear Jacques,

Yup, I agree. Halloween is probably the best season there is. Screw fall and winter and summer and spring. Halloween is my favorite season.

Do you ever dress up? I used to love dressing up, but I think I most outgrew it by now. I'll still go as something for a school event, though.

Are you

.

"Who's Jacques?" Nick asks, looking up at Bram after reading the few lines. This question, for some reason, causes Bram to start laughing, a good and clear laugh.

"I don't know!" he says, grinning at Nick. Nick's slightly taken aback by the sudden mood change; Bram was ready to start sobbing a few seconds ago.

"You don't know, yet you're writing him an email?" Nick says. He's pretty sure that this is some story Bram's drunken mind made up.

"Yeah. We started emailing after I made that Creeksecrets post," Bram says. He holds out his hand, palm up, in front of Nick. "Can I have my phone back?"

Nick obliges, still slightly confused.

"What Creeksecrets post?" he asks as Bram frowns down at his phone once again.

"I'm the closeted gay kid at school," Bram says casually, as if he was saying something simple and obvious, like his skin tone.

The sentence hangs in the air for a moment because Nick has no idea how to respond. He's fine with it, of course, but he's pretty sure that Bram didn't mean to just come out to him.

"And you're emailing another gay kid at school?" Nick asks, deciding to ask Bram about it later when he's maybe sober.

"Yeah, except —" Bram takes a deep breath and looks up at Nick, looking very sad all over again.

"What?"

"He thinks my grammar is cute," Bram says, as if that explains everything.

"That's great," Nick says. He's not sure of anyone who thinks grammar is cute, but that guy is definitely a perfect fit for Bram, the English nerd.

"Except what if I screw up?" Bram whispers. He looks at Nick with scared eyes before looking down at his letter again.

"What?" Nick asks again. He makes a mental note to not let Bram get drunk again; he gets far too confusing.

"What if I'm too drunk to use grammar right?" Bram says. He types in another word into the draft before looking back up at Nick. "Then he won't think I'm cute."

This is the most ridiculous problem Nick has ever heard of.

Still, he knows that Bram has helped him through problems that he's had drunk that were probably even more ridiculous. So Nick shifts to sit next to Bram and looks down at the letter. He makes a mental not to tell Bram that he owes Nick before patting Bram on the shoulder.

"I'll correct your grammar for you. Write. You'll be very cute."

"You promise?" Bram asks, still looking slightly scared. Nick swallows his laughter.

"I promise."