Chapter 1

One

Ezra

August 16, 2019

Dear Miller,

M Y Miller. I don’t know if you’re my stepbrother Miller or just some other guy named Miller. But if I knew you well enough to write your name on my arm before getting my brain zapped, I guess it’s okay if I write you this note. Don’t worry, I won’t ever mail it.

Anyway.

I’m in Tuscaloosa. Living in the athlete dorms.

Football’s going okay. Honestly it’s going really well, except I’m tired all the time. But I sort of like it.

I went on a drug-hazed pilgrimage to see the TV pastor Luke McDowell and his husband Vance Rayne. And their baby. It was- really fucking weird. But awesome?

They’re some really nice guys. It’s hard to explain. I feel lucky that it happened, even though the way it started wasn’t great.

They found me someone Luke wants me to talk to here in T-town. About- you know. Since I’m never sending this shit, we’ll pretend you know. I should call the therapist soon. I’m going to.

I’m going to tell you something that sounds crazy, okay?

I used to have these nightmares, but I’m dreaming about other shit now. When I wake up, I’m really sweaty- drenched. Like, worked up. The weird thing is, I wake up feeling hopeful. Not even hopeful… like a sense of bliss. Fucking elated. Sometimes I feel around the covers, and I’m wanting something.

I think that I’m feeling for YOU.

I know. It can’t be real, at least I don’t think so. We’re stepbrothers. But you’re gay so…I dunno.

Of course, I’m in the closet. But- you seem like someone anyone could like. Maybe I came out to you?

Did I?

Did you let me in your bed- and if you did- did you hold me the way I dream about?

It’s embarrassing to even write this shit down.

I feel like…a girl. And- that’s sexist. So yep, I’m a sexist asshole, too.

What I’m trying to say is this- When I wake up, I wake up wanting you to hold me. Miller with the freckles and the tired, blue eyes. Miller with those lips. Goddamn. You’re so beautiful. I could look at you all day, and I do. (Thank you Snapchat and Instagram).

That’s why I’m worried, too. You seem a little different lately. All your snaps are you walking the campus sidewalks looking hot (both over-heated hot and actually hot) and dog tired. Sometimes you stick out your tongue or tip your head back like you’re trying to look cool, but you look tired. I wish I knew you outside my weird, twisted fantasies so I would know if you are tired.

I wish I could hold you when you sleep .

I’m not a girl- but I am kind of in love with you.

If it’s not real, I hope it fades. Because I don’t think about anything but football and you.

It feels right, though. You make me feel things, Miller. Even if you are only my stepbrother. Sleep for me.

Ezra

August 19, 2019

Dear Miller,

I did something crazy today. I know- you’re so surprised. Not Ezra Masters, the guy who had his brain fried, spent a month locked in a closet, then got diagnosed by real professionals with all different types of mental illness.

But yeah, man.

This guy…went down to Auburn.

I sort of know your schedule because you snap so much. Since you snap a lot in math when your teacher dresses like the Auburn Tiger, I knew the time and date for that class, and I guessed the building based on Auburn’s campus map. I waited outside, and dude- you came out.

You were there, and I was there, and Miller- my whole body flushed like I got hit with a shot of adrenaline. It was so strong, I felt like I might fall over. My head buzzed. My face was red hot. I felt like I might start crying.

I was so freaked out, I pretty much ran back to the bus and went straight back to T-town.

But then I got this wild idea:

As soon as I got back to my dorm room, I called AT&T, my cell phone carrier. It took forever, but I finally spoke with this guy, and I told him about my ECT. How I don’t have my cell phone. I told him I needed to access the old data from it, but I don’t remember any passwords. I asked if I could get a new phone and restore the old one’s data to it. I was worried Mom had taken my phone off her plan, but nope. The number’s technically there. I guess my mom has my phone. Maybe she knows all the things I don’t. I’m not asking her.

The guy on the phone said he thinks he can do that. If I go to an AT&T store here, they could maybe get me a new phone and move my old data to it.

I’ll be honest with you, I don’t really want to do it. Not yet.

I’m 50/50 that I’ll find out all of this is just me losing my grip on reality. Some kind of sick, post-trauma wish fulfillment bullshit.

If it is, Mills, I don’t wanna know.

I love this. Almost every morning now before I wake up, I can almost feel you wrapped around me. Do you know how good that feels?

Everything I need. It’s everything. I’d die to really feel that feeling.

In fairness, I guess I’d die for a lot less. I’ve been wanting to die- intermittently, at least- since Mom found out what happened on the bus. And even more since Alton. I don’t want to be part of a world that hurts people like that.

Do you? Like, fucking seriously. I don’t want to play the game if all the rules are bullshit. I don’t want this all to just be pain.

If that makes me weak, I don’t care.

I’m not weak. I just need someone to hold me. So I- pretend.

I see the new therapist in a few days.

The man from AT&T said he’s going to call me back himself- also in a few days.

I strained my throwing arm just a little. Send it kisses. I’ll kiss all your freckles in my dreams .

Maybe I am actually crazy.

Don’t think I don’t know that.

Do you play cello, Miller? Have you ever played? The last two nights, I dreamed of a cello in the room where you were holding me so fucking snug.

When I checked our old school’s website, it said you play drums.

Ezra

September 9, 2019

Hi, My Miller.

I played college football this past weekend!! NCAA, baby-

I passed for 197 yards, ran for 66, and I split starting time with Hollis even though he’s got seniority and he’s been playing well lately.

I’m not gonna lie- it was everything I wanted. I got a little freaked out right before we ran out on the field, but after that, it was like riding a bike.

The coaches are happy. I feel like I’m living in a dream. When I walk around now, everybody knows me. It’s weird.

You watched football this weekend at a sports bar. I saw it on your Snapchat.

Did you watch me?

I like to think you did. That maybe we were friends, at least, and you were happy for me.

I’d like to think you thought about me.

I feel weird that I’m writing these fake letters to you.

For a while, I felt happy. Like at least I have this good thing, even if it is weird. Now I feel more weird, though. You have your own life, and I guess I do too .

My mom left a message with the floor monitor at my dorm saying she’s coming to visit me Wednesday and Thursday this week.

I know this is devious as fuck but I’m going to take a bus up to Richmond at that same time, break into my bedroom window, and steal back my Jeep. It’s a black Wrangler, and I miss it. I lost it when I bounced from Sheppard Pratt. But I paid for almost all of it myself. I waited tables at a restaurant starting when I was 15, and I didn’t stop until I went to Alton.

I’m thinking of deleting Snapchat. If I’m going to feel this way about you, I kind of want it to be more organic…not because I watch you on snap all day and have this feeling we’re connected- when maybe we’re not.

Ezra

October 16, 2019

Miller.

I’m eating all this protein. To help me recover from the games.

Fuck, Miller. The first day of October, I think I remembered you. I was getting in my Jeep to go get more eggs. I looked over at the passenger’s seat, and it’s like…I could see you in it. Not even “see” you- I could feel you sitting there. And feel the way I felt about it. How I would feel if I had you in my car. Like the whole world is limitless. Like anything might happen- but not any bad thing. Good things. It was a Christmas morning feeling, and it seemed so real.

I hadn’t looked at Snapchat in a while, but after that, I downloaded it again.

Yesterday at practice, someone hit me too hard. Knocked the air out of my lungs and sort of rattled my head for a second. Someone mentioned pulling me into the clinic room inside the locker room. Scared the fuck out of me. You know what?

I whimpered, “Mills.”

Mills.

Not Miller.

Mills.

I’m in Auburn right now. Sitting under a tree near the stadium. I walked by your apartment building, or the one I think might be yours.

Maybe we had something.

Maybe.

I guess it’s over now.

I found some papers in my hiding spot in my old room at Mom’s, when I went up there to steal my Jeep back. I’m getting my old phone restored as soon as I can drop by the AT&T store.

Auburn-Alabama’s coming up fast.

It’s here on your campus this year.

I’m seeing a therapist. A nonbinary one that I like.

After the season is over, we’re going to start doing trauma therapy. I think the person likes me okay. I’m trying to be honest.

They say it’s okay to watch your snaps, but I don’t know if it is. I don’t want to be that weirdo.

Soon, I’ll have to read the letters I found in my bedroom.

Soon, I have to go and get the phone and turn it on and see what’s in it.

Soon, I’ll know if none of this is real.

I still don’t want to.