Gentry's room was an eerie reflection of him. His papers were in order, not a book out of place, all the clothes neatly folded and put away. The gray carpet was flawlessly vacuumed, and the blank walls were a spotless white. The minty air was cold and dry.
Zach uncomfortably sat down the neatly made bed, and Gentry hurried to smooth out the newly disheveled cover. Both boys were silent.
“Nice room.” Zach spoke up.
"If I didn't tell you, you wouldn't know which room was mine."
"I would, because everything’s neat.”
Gentry didn’t say anything, so Zach awkwardly went on.
“I bet you never lose things.”
"You'd be surprised how many things were lost here."
There was a lingering silence.
“Why did you come here?” Gentry asked, taking a seat in the white lounge chair opposite the bed,”Were you feeling lost, or did you want to lose yourself?”
Zach blinked,”No… it’s…”
“Couldn’t find a girl? Decided my lips were as good as hers?” Gentry laughed.
“No.” Zach stood up,”Look… I thought about a lot of crap these last few days.”
“Poor you.” Gentry’s eyes shifted their gaze.
“Don’t talk down to me!” Zach raised a hand against him, but put it down.
“You aren’t the only one with sh*t going on.” He breathed softly.
Gentry’s amber eyes looked to Zach,”Do you still wet the bed? Are you bulimic? Do you cut yourself? Does your uncle touch you in your swimsuit area and does it make you feel all confused and TINGLY inside? Is that what you wanted to say?”
“No.” Zach’s lips formed a thin line,”I’m gay. You knew it, I knew it. But now, I accept it.”
He paused, and Gentry put his fist to his mouth, looking up at Zach and expecting him to go on.