Page 11 of The Broposal

With the “no bullshit” rule, I was supposed to trust that Han would tell me if I’d done something that bothered him, but sometimes Han didn’t realize himself when things were bothering him. Still, if being with Jackie had taught me anything, it was that I had one major talent: fucking things up.

I was constantly saying or doing the wrong thing. According to Jackie, she was the only one I could trust to call me on my shit, and if Han’s lack of criticism was anything to go off, shewas right. I might not have knownwhatI did, but it was clear I’d fucked up once again, and I desperately needed to make things right.

When I was depressed like Han seemed to be, I had a particularly hard time doing chores. Maybe I could ease Han’s load a bit by doing some of his?

I went to Han’s room and got to work. I was surprised to see clothes on the floor instead of in his hamper. This looked more like my room than Han’s. The closest I’d ever gotten to using my hamper was tossing clothes in its general direction and hoping for the best. But Han wasn’t like me.

There were only a few outfits on the floor, but it felt so un-Han that I stood there for a moment before getting to work putting them in the hamper and carrying it down to the laundry room. Luckily, I had plenty of spare change for the washer from my serving job.

Han still wasn’t back when the clothes were dry, so I decided to put them away. I hung up his nicer shirts and folded the T-shirts and pants before putting them in his dresser.

I must have accidentally bumped the desk, because the computer screen lit up, and a video with Han holding his guitar popped up.

I smiled. Han sometimes recorded original songs on his computer, and I loved watching him sing. Whenever Han recorded a new song, he’d casually mention it to me, then leave it on the screen and leave the room so I could watch without him having to see my reaction. He was a bit shy like that.

I assumed this was the same, so I pressed play.

He talked instead of singing, but he was strumming his guitar, so it took me a while to realize this particular video wasn’t meant for me.

I don’t think I can stay here anymore.

Han wanted to leave?

Just then the apartment door opened, and I quickly paused the video and shut off the computer, running out of Han’s room and into the living room.

“Han,” I started, but didn’t know how to finish. I couldn’t just beg him to stay. I wasn’t even supposed to know he wanted to leave!

“You okay, bro?”

I hated that he was asking me that instead of the other way around. “I’m worried aboutyou.”

“What’s to worry about? I’m all good. Just needed to clear my head.” Han grinned, but I didn’t buy it. He was thinking about going back to Mexico! And he wasn’t even going to tell me. He was notall good. And neither was I, apparently.

I needed to be better. Needed to be more trustworthy.

“What do you need from me? I’ll do whatever I can to support you,” I said, sounding more desperate than I’d hoped.

“What are you talking about? We’re good, bro.”

I snapped my fingers as a brilliant idea came to me. “I can get you a job at the restaurant!” I hoped that would be enough to get him to stay. He’d said he might leave because of getting fired.

“Really?” Han asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

“Yeah! Two cooks got fired yesterday for fighting. And as assistant manager, I don’t need permission. I can just hire you! You’re already a natural with cooking.”

“Thanks. I, uh, appreciate that, bro.” Han finally smiled, for real.

I drove Han to his first shift the very next day. Now we both worked at Joe’s Cheesecake, which was basically the Cheesecake Factory, but cheaper. As a server and assistant manager, my shifts changed every couple of weeks, while Han’s were expected to stay pretty consistent as a cook. Our shifts didn’t overlap today.

“Jackie said our relationship isn’t healthy because we never fight,” I blurted out as we pulled up to the restaurant. The thought had lingered since the night before.

I wasn’t quite sure why I felt the need to bring it up. Maybe I needed validation that she was wrong. That there wasn’t something wrong with the relationship I had with my lifelong best friend.

“That’s bullshit,” Han said. “Fighting doesn’t make a relationship healthy. And even if we did fight, it’d be nothing like your fights with Jackie. She has no respect.”

I sighed. “I thought you were making nice with her?”

“I’m trying, man.” Han shook his head. “I just don’t like how she talks to you. She puts these weird-ass ideas in your head.”

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