Obelus (ONC 2020)

Chapter 7

"Your legs are too bony, güey."

Eli scowled down at the unnecessary weight draped over his lower half. Lopez lay on his back with his head propped on Eli's thighs, twirling a soccer ball in his hands.

"I didn't ask to be your human pillow," Eli complained, shifting his knees and causing his friend to whine in discomfort.

"Yeah well, it's your obligation as my best friend. And that means you need to put on some weight. I like my pillows fluffy."

Eli snorted and swatted the ball out of Teddy's hands, sending it rolling down the grassy slope toward an active yoga session. The boy glared up at him—lips pouted, hands clutching empty space, countless dandelion spurs in his hair—and Eli had the unwarranted impulse to lean down and kiss that confused and puckered mouth.  

He chose to throw a handful of grass clippings in his face instead, and he was quite pleased with Teddy's spastic reaction.

After their humanities class and Beatty's torturous examination of Romanticism, the boys had opted for eating lunch on the quad. The weather was perfect, warm and pleasant—just close enough to go layer-less.   Eli couldn't wait until summer.

And no, the frequency at which he'd witness Lopez shirtless had nothing to do with it.

Almost nothing.

He was just excited to spend more sunny afternoons with his best friend, no longer crippled by sleep deprivation and a spotty memory.  The last few weeks had been rough, and he barely remembered living them.  It was all just a blur of exams and robotics labs and drooping eyelids.  But recently, the stressful high tide had receded, and the days had been kinder to him—excluding his course on operating systems. Those assignments were consistently hell, and they made him regret his life choices every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Sometimes Eli wished he'd majored in linguistics like Lopez. Then they could travel together as collectors of language, nomads of speech.  They could get lost in the world and never look back.

"Can you believe that next year we'll be graduating on this lawn?" mused his heavy companion. "Like, gowns, caps, hangovers—everything."

Eli hummed. "It's weird. I still don't feel like I'm an adult."

"Growing up's overrated."

"What would you know? You're like five years old. Six if I'm being generous."

Lopez gaped up at him in mock anger, but the gleam in his eye was playful. "Dude. It's true! Your joints tighten up. Your libido dips. You have to pay a deductible. Like what the hell even is that?"

Eli laughed, shaking his head. "Not a lot to look forward to, huh?"

Lopez gazed at him thoughtfully, his big brown eyes pools of amber in the sunlight.  They were windows to his soul—clear and transparent, shockingly honest—and yet his tone was guarded when he murmured,  "There might be a few perks."

"Like what?"

Lopez opened his mouth and closed it again. He glanced to the side, brow creased as he struggled for words. "I...I dunno. Like...senior discounts?  Retirement?"

Eli burst out laughing, shoving his friend off his lap. Lopez cursed at him and rolled away in his classic melodramatic fashion. Grumbling to himself in Spanish, he left to retrieve the soccer ball.  Predictably, his extroversion pulled him to the yogis, and he started up a conversation with the group of students, juggling the ball between his knees as he spoke.