There was still a lot more to tell Russell, but Russell wanted to get food first. Although Sal he didn't feel so hungry. He forced himself to take another bite of his Whopper Jr., wishing he hadn't gotten it at all.

"Are you still upset about what I said?" Russell asked. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are. I'm not mad at you." Sal poked his burger, then dropped it into the bag for later. Forcing himself to eat could lead to disaster.

Russell noticed. "You always eat your food. And everyone else's." He reached out to touch Sal's leg. "What's wrong?"

"I'm tired of it. You know?"

Russell nodded. "I know. People were always telling me to pick a gender, saying pansexuals don't exist. Or calling me an attention-seeking bisexual. Or giving me pans." At the last point, he raised his eyebrow at Sal, who felt himself turn pink.

"I'm sorry," Sal mumbled.

"It's okay. You actually thought that." Russell chuckled. "No, I've gotten so many pan-lover comments from people who knew that wasn't what it was."

"Does it ever get better?"

Russell was silent for a moment. He finished chewing his last fry before he shook his head. "No. The comments never go away. You get used to them, but they'll always be there when you're feeling at your worst."

"That's not very uplifting." Sal watched Russell toss his empty fry carton in his bag, and crumple it up.

"It helps when you have someone who gets it." Smiling, Russell linked his arm around Sal's. "Add in Terry, and we can start our own gang. And since none of us actually exist, we can get away with all sorts of stuff."

Sal snorted. "What would you even do? Decorate your bedroom with pride flags to rebel against your parents, and take them down before they can even see them?"

Russell shoved him playfully. "And what would you do? Steal food?"

Sal shoved him back with twice the force. "That was too far!"

Russell rubbed his shoulder, giving him a blank stare. "I'm sorry?"

Unpleasant memories flooded Sal's brain, and he debated on if he should share them. Or at least give him some sort of explanation. He felt guilty enough for his sudden outburst. Maybe Michelle had a point. Maybe he did have a bit of an anger problem.

Sal did Michelle's "count to 10" exercise, then sat up straight. "I'm sorry for stealing your pudding cup on the second day of school."

Russell's blank stare changed to one of surprise. "What?"

"And you'd be stealing food too if you spent years of your life not knowing when you'd get your next meal."

"You stole my pudding cup? Christ." Russell ran his fingers through his hair. "If you had been nice to me, I would've given it to you."

"Well excuse me for mistaking a crush for hatred."

"It started that quick?" Russell gave him a half-smile, and ruffled his hair. "Cute."

Sal slapped his hand away. "This conversation is over."

"Alright. I've gone a bit over my lunch hour, so I really should head back."

Lunch. Lunch never filled him up, though he had gotten good at stealing other people's food. But things weren't always that way. His mother used to make lasagna every week, and it was the best lasagna ever, regardless of what he told Brenda. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he made an attempt to wipe them away without looking like he was wiping away tears.

In a flash, Russell's arms were around him, pressing him to his chest. Sal couldn't hold back any longer, and let the tears fall.

"I can't leave you like this," Russell said softly.

"No. Go. We need the money." Sal pulled away, forcing himself to smile. "I'm fine."

Russell's eyes studied Sal's. Sal widened his smile, but had a feeling that his feigned happiness was about as successful as his seductive poses. Russell put his hand on his arm. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

It turned out Russell had left to get his manager's permission to leave work early. Sal found himself being dragged to the beach, despite his protests. They sat in the car, parked facing the ocean. Russell in the driver's seat, Sal in the passenger seat. Since it was a weekday, there were only a couple people around. A brown-haired woman walked past their car, pausing to pull out her phone to presumably snap a picture of the view.

Sal crossed his arms and, after kicking off his Converse, pressed his feet up above the glovebox, knees bent. "Why did you drag me here?" he asked, focusing his attention on the deteriorating, wooden fence that separated the parking lot from the beach.

"To cheer you up." Russell removed his shoes and socks before opening the door.

Sal continued staring. "I don't want to get out."

Russell grabbed one of Sal's legs and tugged at his sock. Sal shook his foot out of his grasp. "What are you doing?"

"You don't want to get your socks wet."

Sal groaned. "If I join you, will you shut up?"

"Probably not." Russell stepped out onto the asphalt, and shut the door behind him. After removing his socks, Sal followed him down the hill of sand that burned his feet, cursing Russell for making him walk barefoot down it.

The fresh, salty air did little to cheer Sal up. Russell took his hand in his as they walked along the empty shoreline, the waves lapping at their feet. Or, at Russell's feet. Sal wanted nothing to do with the waves. A large one rolled in, and he pulled away from Russell to avoid it.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of water," Russell said, making a move to grab Sal's hand again.

"I'm not. I just don't want to get my feet wet because sand will stick to them and it'll be harder to get off."

Russell raised an eyebrow.

"It's true," Sal said. And it was.

Russell didn't seem entirely convinced, but dropped it. Instead, he picked up a washed up rock. "This is pretty."

The rock was tan, with thin, white swirls encircled around it. "It's a sedimentary rock for sure," Sal said, taking it from Russell. "My guess is sandstone, given how common it is." He rubbed his fingers over it's scratchy but smooth surface. "The ocean helped make this."

"Wait- you know that?"

"I don't know how to tell the minerals in it, though it could be quartz. Or feldspar." Sal tossed the rock in the air, and caught it.

Russell blinked at him. "How do you know all this?"

Sal shrugged. "I'm taking geology. It's one of my favorite classes."

"You like a class?"

"It's a class about rocks. What's not to like?"

"I'm in shock." Russell wrapped his arm around him. "Have you thought of being a geologist? I bet you'd be good at it."

"A geologist?" Sal pondered the option he had never considered. "There's an idea."

Russell smiled, and kissed the top of his head. "It's a great idea."

A geologist. What do they even do? Sal stroked his chin, wondering what lengths he'd have to go through to become one. College. He shuddered, and pulled away from Russell, pointing a finger at him. "Is this a ploy to get me to go to college? Because if so, it's not gonna work."

"You're that against college?"

"Absolutely. I am more than happy working at Kovyn's for the rest of my life." Sal slipped the rock into his pocket, and continued ambling along the shoreline, Russell at his side.

"You are truly the weirdest person I have ever met," Russell said. "Stewart included."

"And you're so normal." Sal stopped walking. "Who wears their work uniform to the beach? You're getting sand all over the bottoms your best pants."

"I'll get sand all over you." Russell pushed him. Sal made a move to push him back but Russell ran, away from the shore. Sal chased him down and tackled him, pinning him on his back.

Russell gave him that half-smile. "This brings back memories. Remember when I pinned you down, after you shoved me in mud?"

Sal rolled his eyes. "It was an accident."

"Yeah right." Russell pushed Sal off. "I bet you wanted me to kiss you then."

Sal scrunched his nose. "Why would I ever want to kiss you?"

"Shut up." Russell wrapped his arms around Sal, and pressed his lips to his. Sal returned the kiss, all worries forgotten.

Russell rolled onto his side and rested his head on Sal's chest, while Sal stroked his shoulder lovingly. They held each other, watching the sun set behind the horizon in a comfortable silence.

But they could only watch a few minutes of it. Russell checked his watch, then stood up, brushing sand off his pants. "I need to go back to work, before my mom gets there and finds out I left."

Sal sat up and attempted to brush sand out of his tangled hair. He glanced away from Russell, towards two women marching towards them. A blonde and a brunette. And the blonde woman looked very familiar, and very upset. "I don't think you have to worry about your mom picking you up from work."

"Why?" Russell asked.

"Because she's picking you up from here." Sal pointed towards her.

Russell followed his finger, and grabbed Sal's arm. But it was too late to run.

Russell's mother approached them, looking angrier than Sal had ever seen her. Russell's grip on his arm tightened.

"I don't believe it," she said. "I had to see this for myself."