Of Nuts, Bolts, and Wrong Screws
[Memory, April, Sophomore Year]
Lyn observed the crooked bookshelf with a critical eye. How Alexander could leave things in such disarray despite having the funds to remodel his entire dorm room if he so desired was beyond him. Spreading out his little pouch of tools in front of him, he set himself up to work. This sort of college dorm furniture tended to come with vague instructions and even vaguer screws, but he had lately become a bit of an aficionado when it came to putting things back together or even making them better. The sense of accomplishment he felt when working with his hands was rarely rivaled by anything else. His grades included, which was pretty funny seeing how getting ahead through studying was his ultimate survival plan.
“I’m telling you, man,” Brad commented, while stretched out lazily on Alexander’s bed, one leg hanging off, “if you don’t use these years to experiment, when are you going to do it?”
Lyn pressed his small screwdriver into the head of the stubborn screw, his ears perked up.
“Experiment, interesting word.” Alexander sat at his desk, a textbook spread open before him. His pen tapped lightly against the wooden surface while his eyes didn’t move over the page.
Lyn took all this in at a glance and returned to his work. Ah, he knew what the problem was. Whoever had repaired this piece of crap calling itself a bookshelf before must have missed the memo about keeping your screws in order.
“How else are you going to discover what you like?” Brad insisted. “Without hooking up and dating extensively I meant, in case my meaning was lost on you, Your Majesty.”
“It wasn’t,” Alexander assured him. “How is it going over there, Lynton?”
“I identified the problem,” Lyn explained. “Wrong screw.”
Brad guffawed. “Is that the only type of screwing you’re interested in, Lyn?”
“These days, yes,” Lyn replied smoothly. He kept his whole attention focused on the bookshelf in need of repair; it helped, because then he didn’t have to endure being the target of yet another of Brad’s talks about chicks and hooking up.
“Anyway, Your Majesty, since you’re still a case that can be saved, I’m talking to you. And I’m going to make it intellectual, because I know you like that sort of thing.”
“I am looking forward to it,” Alexander said. “Genuinely. In case you were wondering.”
“Nah, you’re totally not,” came Brad’s reply.
Lyn hid a smile as he chose the right type of screw from the selection he had amassed while doing odd repairs whenever he had the chance.
“I mean, here’s the thing, since we’re talking nuts and bolts,” Brad said. “Not everything’s a fit, right?”
“Right,” Alexander confirmed. The shuffling of paper let Lyn know that the more studious of his two friends had already become bored with the conversation.
“So, you need to try and try,” Brad continued his argument, “until you find something that fits.”
“Hmm,” Alexander said noncommittally, “so what happens if your bolt wears off while trying too many nuts?”
Although he had been the one to come up with the technical comparison, Brad guffawed. “What the heck, man? I use protection. And I’m pretty sure my dick won’t fall off from too much fucking.”
“And what sort of protection do you employ for your immortal soul?” Alexander fired back his next question.
“Wow, wow, wow. I’m not fucking with anyone’s feelings if that’s what you’re saying. And no one is fucking with mine.”
“So you see sexual intercourse as a sport?”
Lyn worried his ears might pull a microscopic muscle since he was listening so hard.
“No, man,” Brad protested. “I mean, I’m getting to know these chicks, too. I’m dating. Unlike you,” he added in an accusatory tone.
It was a fact, Alexander wasn’t dating. He was impervious to any of the drama Brad experienced as he swung wildly between thinking he’d found the perfect girl and deciding for short periods of time that women, the whole billions of them inhabiting the Earth, weren’t worth the trouble, once the excitement of the first days or weeks wore off.
However, Brad had also kept Lyn posted on the so-called conquests Alexander had abandoned in his wake. Inconsolable young women jilted by the demon could very well start a recovery group. A big one according to Brad, of course. Alexander was as silent as a wall when it came to such topics, so witnessing this kind of conversation between his two best friends made Lyn all the more interested in finding out everything he could. The sensation he experienced couldn’t be far from one a voyeur had to seek fervently, and he was fine with that.
“There is nothing wrong with practicing sex,” Alexander said. “As usual, Bradley, you jump to conclusions.”
“Lyn, Lyn,” Brad called out in a pleading voice, “some help here. How come this asshole who’s hooking up and dumping chicks left and right has the upper hand when all I do is look for love?”
The way Brad drawled the word ‘love’ wasn’t lost on Lyn. Neither of his friends took this seriously. ‘This’ including both sex and love. Lyn knew the three of them continued to be such close friends because neither of the others had found his better half and abandoned his friends in consequence.
“You’re right, Brad,” Lyn said, without turning while he examined the too big hole left in the wood by the previous repairman using the wrong screw. “But Alexander is not wrong, either.”
Brad made all kinds of noises that suggested that, after an initial cheerful reaction to Lyn’s support, he was now experiencing deep disappointment.
“I mean,” Lyn continued as he worked his magic by choosing a slightly bigger screw, “it all comes down to what works for you in particular. You fall in and out of love all the time. You need to sample the buffet, so to speak, because you’re pickier than you think. Alexander, on the other hand, isn’t even worried about it. He’ll know the woman who’s the perfect fit for him when he sees her. In other words, he doesn’t need a multitude of trial runs to know what works for him.”
The silence that fell after he had spoken made Lyn wonder if he had said something awful enough to be considered an insult by ‘His Majesty’. Brad’s lack of response, however, seemed more unnatural.
“And what do you do, Lyn?” The question seemed pointed and loaded, querulous even.
“I,” Lyn said, his shoulders stiffening as if on cue, “have a one-track mind. I need to get what I want before I even think of finding someone to settle down with.”
Brad guffawed. “Settle down? Dude, this is college. A little bit of screwing around won’t kill you.”
“I don’t have time for it,” Lyn argued.
“But you do have time to fix bookshelves that don’t need fixing.”
Lyn took a moment to school his face into an appropriate expression. Then he turned to Brad to offer him a perfect smile. “If I ever meet a girl who needs enough fixing to satisfy my appetite, I will write the wedding invitations myself.”
That only seemed to amuse Brad further. “Fixing? You’re into fucked-up chicks, dude? Look around, you’ll find plenty. What are you into? Tattoos? Piercings? Daddy issues?”
“Don’t be a chauvinist now, Bradley,” Alexander warned. “Lynton is too orderly to tolerate a person who’s a mess on either the inside or outside or both. He doesn’t have time for fixing that type of person.”
Lyn stole a look at Alexander. As usual, those unnaturally hypnotic eyes were seeking to undress him and expose him for the fraud he was. Alexander hadn’t expressed, as Brad had, an inclination to be displeased with Lyn’s evaluation of his friend’s romantic pursuits, but that didn’t mean the demon wasn’t upset. It was hard to tell with a face like his, always so stern and composed.
“Yeah, he’s just making stuff up,” Brad decided by himself. “It’s his roundabout way of admitting he’s never had a girlfriend. I don’t even get why he feels like chicks wouldn’t dig him. I mean, some are into nerds with glasses.” He laughed again.
“I see,” Alexander commented. “So, in your eyes, Lynton’s physical appeal is at the bottom of the scale of male attractiveness to women?”
“Hey, don’t make it sound like that,” Brad objected. “If he ate a little more and started pumping some real iron, he’d be totally hot.”
They were dissecting him like he was some miserable lab rat. Still, Lyn endured it all with the same plastic smile.
“But he doesn’t,” Alexander continued his argument. “Therefore--”
“Ugh, you’re so damn annoying, Your Majesty. Lyn has a damn pretty face. It’s the kind that chicks dig. He has big eyes and lips like a girl, and I’m telling you, a lot of chicks around here go for the pretty boy look.”
“Take that back,” Lyn said jokingly. He fiddled with his tool pouch to have something to do with his hands. “It’s finished,” he said, stepping aside and gesturing with a flourish to the repaired bookshelf. “If it starts tilting again, let me know.”
“Thank you, Lynton. That was kind of you,” Alexander said.
Brad tsked, shaking his head. “You two are so formal, I’m feeling an urgent need to smack you both upside the head to bring you back into the twenty-first century.”
“We are counting on you for that service, Bradley,” Alexander replied.
“And now you’re just pulling my leg. Anyways, I have places to go, people to see. Are you coming, Lyn?”
“Yeah, I’m done here.” Lyn removed his work gloves and folded them neatly so they would fit into his tool pouch.
Brad’s phone went off, so his friend retreated to a corner of the room to text someone back with a smile on his face.
Alexander moved near and leaned over, as if he was trying to arrange one of the books on the shelf behind Lyn. “Very astute observations, Lynton. About Bradley and myself. I must add one correction, though.”
“What’s that?” Lyn spoke out of the corner of his mouth, intuitively aware that this little exchange was a tiny secret to be kept from Brad.
“Your use of future tense was inaccurate. I have not yet to figure out what works for me. I have already realized what does.”
“That’s great to hear, buddy,” Lyn replied. “Don’t forget to invite us to the wedding.”
“It would be impossible for you to not be a part of it,” Alexander said. “So, you believe I’m the kind of person who will marry?”
The question seemed odd, but this was Alexander, with his quirks and follies. “Of course. You never cut corners. You never do things by half.”
The genuine smile Alexander bestowed upon his humble head was almost too intense to bear. Lyn looked away.
“Let’s go, Lyn baby,” Brad said, pocketing his phone while wearing the same goofy smile as before. He snatched Lyn out of Alexander’s proximity as if he needed to save his pal from the attack of a wild animal. He even wrapped one arm protectively around Lyn’s shoulders as he pulled him away. “See you later, Your Majesty. Make sure your bolt doesn’t shrivel from lack of use.”
It wasn’t like Brad to have the last word when a confrontation happened, but it looked like it was the case this time around. Lyn threw a look behind as they left Alexander’s room; the intense blue eyes cast a long shadow between them, but it wasn’t harsh and cold – it had the essence of warm longing.
***
“So, you’re repairing things now? Gonna start charging by the hour?” Brad nudged Lyn’s shoulder, while strolling casually, both hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“I prefer it when things don’t fall apart,” Lyn explained.
“Hmm.”
Silence stretched between them. Lyn missed the warm strength of Brad’s arm around his shoulders, but his friend had dropped the pretense of being friendly once they were out Alexander’s dorm building.
“What’s eating you?” Lyn asked, more aggressively than he meant to be.
“I dunno. That guy’s loaded, do you get it? Of course, you do. You repair things like it’s a hobby, and that guy accepts it like you’re a vassal who owes him the annual tribute.”
“What do you have against Alexander? You’re the one who insisted on being friends with him in the first place. I wasn’t particularly crazy about him, if you remember.”
“Yet you do more things for him than you do for me,” Brad accused him openly.
“Really?” Lyn snorted. He was about to enumerate the many things he did for Brad, starting with his essays and papers, but decided against it. The mood was sour enough without him adding vinegar to it.
“Yeah. You two are pissing me off.”
“Are you jealous?” Lyn shook his head. “We’re not in middle school.”
“Yeah, you know what? I am jealous,” Brad admitted, taking his hands out of his pockets and throwing them up in the air. “I’m your better friend. Your best friend.”
“Okay,” Lyn said slowly, not really knowing how to react to this version of Brad, who seemed set on throwing a tantrum like a child.
“Say it.” Brad pounced on him, hugging him tightly and lifting him off the ground.
Lyn knew better than to struggle. “You’re my best friend. Now put me down.”
Brad continued to shake him like he was a sack of potatoes. “Say it again.”
“You’re my best friend,” Lyn repeated, feeling his shirt was coming out of his pants while Brad pulled it upward because of his continuous shaking. Soon enough, he’d be half naked.
“Again.”
“Are you kidding me? Brad, we’re in the middle of the street. People will start staring.”
“It’s late. No one’s watching. Say it ten times.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Yeah, crazy about you.”
“Try this stupid line on that chick you’ve been texting all evening.”
Brad dropped Lyn as fast as he had picked him up. “Right. I should head over to her place.”
“Good,” Lyn said, primly pushing his shirt back into his pants and smoothing down his hair. “Do that.”
Brad grabbed him by the front of his shirt, causing permanent wrinkles. “Thank you for your blessing. But this ain’t over.”
“What ‘ain’t’ over?” Lyn parodied Brad’s speech mannerism.
“This.” Brad walked backward, pointing at Lyn with both index fingers. “You’re my best friend. Never forget it.”
Lyn shrugged. “As if you’d let me do that.”
“Yeah,” Brad said, his face breaking into a huge smile. “Totally yeah.”
Lyn closed his eyes to show how fed-up he was with these shenanigans. When he opened them again, Brad was gone, and he was alone.
TBC
Thank you for reading!
@Derek - a slow boil indeed... I like it :) Lyn's image of Alexander from the past needs to overlap completely with the one from the present so he can finally see the truth. There are still plenty of secrets from the past to explore!
If you enjoyed this story, consider supporting the author on Patreon.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.