The entire scenario was unfair. Everett and Julien shouldn’t have told anyone. They shouldn’t have had to tell everyone over and over, losing sleep planning and holding their breaths waiting for reactions, bearing down in constant preparation for inevitable rejection. They were wrong; this was wrong. The world chanted that mantra -- beat it into Everett’s head any second he caved to the self-doubt and anxiety always hot on his heels -- before it even knew, before he could open his mouth to pipe an explanation.  This wouldn’t be the last time that they would have to spend nights agonizing over what to say and how to say it. It wouldn’t be the last time he would catch himself staring at an empty wall wondering whether or not it was safe to speak, the phantom sting of a split lip still vivid months after it’d healed.<br/><br/>In seventh grade, Everett would walk home with Emma Caldwell every other day. He’d swing their hands between them and hum about his classes. The worst that ever happened was the offhanded comment on puppy love and how it never lasted. Even he knew that come next semester, they would forget about one another. He would be returned to his friends and no one would bat an eye. There was never any need to plan elaborate confessions. He and Emma had done nothing wrong. And, Everett was adamant, he and Julien were doing nothing wrong. He and Julien shouldn’t have told anyone. They shouldn’t have had to tell anyone. There was nothing to confess save for how desperately, on that day, Everett wanted to walk home from class, humming about his day and swinging his and Julien’s hands between them or how he didn’t ever want to let go.<br/><br/>It wouldn’t be the last time they would need to confess their innocence. But, this time, things worked out. Their friends understood and Everett couldn’t stop beaming at the wave of relief that brought – at the confidence endowed by the knowledge that Maddison and Case stood behind that door, ready to talk, ready to listen. He wanted to tell Julien everything – his suspicions that they weren’t alone, his assurance that Case could explain, and how they could finally, finally walk home from school hand-in-hand because he was done hiding, done with preplanned confessions for as long as he could be.<br/><br/>But Julien’s hand between them cut him off. That scowl shoved the words back in his throat and Everett’s smile faded as his jaw dropped. He choked on his apology, stood frozen as Julien opened the door and dropped his hand. He let the door swing shut as Julien burst off to walk ahead of the group, body catching up with his head a moment later, to open the door himself.<br/><br/>When he emerged, he only glanced briefly toward Maddison and Case, eyes just failing to meet their faces before falling to focus on the toes of his shoes as he followed after Julien, fighting the urge to reach forward and beg for the chance to explain or to make it up to him. Distinctly aware that he’d made a mistake, Everett kept his head bowed, shoulder slumped and mouth pursed before finally, despite the fear of putting his friends in between another fight, calling after, “Jules, wait up. I’m—”