"I dunno..." I mumbled with uncertainty as I twirled around in front of the three way mirror of the dressing room. I could see Justin rolling his eyes and throwing up his hands in frustration in the mirror's reflection. He sat on a ottoman with his cane resting between his open legs as I twisted and turned and complained. I finally pouted. "It's just not me."

"Do you even know who you are?" he asked and I gave him a bored expression.

"One should talk, Matt." He sighed and stood slowly before he hobbled closer to me with his cane. He looked like an old ass man and my heart went out to him before he grabbed my shoulder and forced me to turn and face him.

"Look," he began, "Your figure is just great in this blouse. The stitching of the back curves you in and gives you a thinner waist-" I glared at him before he quickly added, "Not that you need one. It's just flattering all around. The flannel even looks good. Not many people can pull off flannel." I raised a brow.

"I think you might've been gay in your other life," I told him and he laughed as he shook his head.

"I don't know much about my old self, but gay? No."

"How can you be so sure?" I asked as I turned around and surveyed this fabulous stitching that flattered me. I guess I could see it.

"Because..." Justin trailed off and I sighed and shook my head.

"No," I decided, "I look like a butch farmer." I unbuttoned the blouse and revealed my white tank underneath. Justin shook his head.

"You're crazy," he told me, "That looked great on you."

"Yeah, yeah," I dismissed, "You're not convincing me to buy this, but I'm convinced you're as gay now as you were before."

"Why does a guy have to be gay the moment he's fashionable?" he pondered allowed. "That's such a terrible stereotype."

"You're also whiny, emotional, and too... I dunno," I said as I hung the shirt back up and slipped on my black sweater. "I've learned through all my years that any man who seems practically perfect is either gay, taken, or both. You can't have it all, ya know?" I put on my jacket and gathered all of my crap and as I turned to head out, I found a smiling Justin staring me down. "What?"

"You just said I was perfect," he grinned and I silently recounted my previous statement before shaking my head.

"No, I said you seem perfect," I corrected, "Not you, now, but who you were before... who you are now, despite your denial. I'm talking about the Big Shot on the cover of the magazines and whatnot. The way you're portrayed by the outter world."

"Right..." he mumbled disbelievingly and I rolled my eyes.

"You wanna add cocky to your list, or did you pick that up already?" He just smiled at me and playfully nudged me.

"It's okay," he cooed, "You can keep dreamin' about me and frontin'. I know how you really feel." It was my turn to laugh as I shook my head.

"Those guys really did a number on that big ass head of yours," I smirked. I grinned wider as he self-consciously touched his head as I brushed past him and out of the fitting room.

"Is it really that big?" I heard him ask from behind me as I handed the fitting room girl my unwanted blouse.

"Yes," I answered honestly, "I really wonder how you keep yourself balanced."

"Oh, ha. Ha." I chuckled at his dry laugh, but continued to tease him.

"Seriously, it's like... a golf ball on the tip of a toothpick," I paused to turn and look at him. He placed a hand on his slender hip and leaned on his cane with a bored expression as I examined his figure. "Yep, ball and pick."

"Are you sure this nursing thing is for you?" he asked, "'Cause you should consider being a comedian. Really, you're a riot." His dry sarcasm was met with my own; annoying him further, to my satisfaction.

"Actually, I have," I gushed, "I crack myself up all the time."

"Yeah, yourself," Justin stressed, "Remember that." I rolled my eyes and trailed over to the lingere section. I could hear Justin wolf whistle and turned to face him.

"Don't even start, grandpa," I warned jokingly and he smiled, freigning innocence.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, jutting out his bottom lip for a full effect.

"You're also full of shit, Matthew," I smiled as I turned back around and headed toward a wall of Hane's underwear packs, "Add that to your list."

"Okay, but I've been thinking..." Justin said as I stopped in front of the wall and felt him close behind, "How come you don't have a list?"

"Because I'm not an annoying jackass..." I mumbled as I searched for my size in string bikinis.

"Well, I do believe that depends on a person's perspective." I slowly turned my neck to face him with a blank stare.

"You wanna tell me something, fool?" He shrugged nonchalantly and aimlessly picked at the underwear in front of him.

"No, I'm not one for name calling," he said calmly as I rolled my eyes and turned back to the selection front of me, smiling triumphantly as I found my size. "But if the shoe fits..."

"You shove it up a white boy's ass?" I supplied and smiled as I raised my undies up. "Got 'em." Justin shook his head as I turned away and headed up to the men's section; the reason for me being here in the first place.

"I'm well aware of that I'm white," he said after a moment of silent rack browsing. I picked up a gray polo from the clearance section and glanced over at Justin.

"Yay or nay?" I asked and he rolled his eyes.

"Did you even hear a word I said?" I pouted and ignored him.

"Nay." I decided and placed the shirt back. I heard his frustrated sigh.

"Why do you care anyway?" he asked and I rolled my eyes.

"I don't."

"Then why do you always bring it up?" he bangered on. "It's always 'white boy this... and white boy that'."

"I dunno..." I answered honestly, "It just comes out when you piss me off."

"So I guess you're racist then," he stupidly concluded and I huffed.

"Oh, I'm racist?" I asked, "So is that why I'm buying your cracka ass clothes and is that why I picked your Casper ass up outta the streets and mended your wounds?"

"Oh dear god," he groaned, "Mended my wounds? Relax, Mother Theresa." I placed my hands on my hips and defiantly slapped down the white t-shirt I had picked up.

"You're a fuckin' ass," I all but screamed, "I take care of you out of the kindness of my heart and you can't even appreciate it."

"I do appreciate it," Justin argued, "I just would appreciate it more if I wasn't reminded of it every time I question something you say or do. I'd appreciate it even more if I wasn't constantly being called a white boy or Casper or cracker... I mean, for the love of god, woman, what am I suppose do? Get a tan? Go back in time and get black parents or get beat up in a white neighborhood so you wouldn't have to deal with me?" The more he spoke, the more he was right and the more I wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up.

"Shut the fuck up." Fuck wanting it, I had it now and by the look on his face, I could tell it would be reluctantly obeyed. We silently shopped the rest of the time we were in Target. Justin ended up being a medium/large and unfortunately, there were a lot of his size.

"232.78 is your total." I sighed and glared at Justin who was conveniently turned away from me. I shook my head and put my Target card into the slot, watching it suck up and then be spit out again. I signed the screen and pressed okay and waited for my receipt. "Have a good day."

Easy for you to say, my friend. You didn't have to pay that bill at the end of the month. I grabbed all the bags and slapped Justin's hand away as he tried to reach for one.

"Let me help you," he said and I picked up every last bag like I didn't hear him. I heard him let go of a breath as he hobbled behind me. We exited the store and I stood for a moment and tried to remember where I parked. I could never fuckin' remember where I parked when I went shopping. It was a flaw of mine. One of many and in my annoyed state of mind, I was just about ready to scream until-

"It's over here," Justin said tapping my arm and pointing to my distant car on the left. I was heading right, but I tried to play it off as I turned my direction and strolled acorss the lot. As I approached my dark green Buick LaSabre, I placed the bags on the ground and dug through my pockets for my keys. They jingled from behind me and I turned and saw Justin smiling. I walked over to him and snatched them from his hand.

"Stay out of my pockets," I reprimanded as I unlocked the trunk and placed the bags inside.

"FYI, Sash, they fell out of your pocket when you were too busy angrily digging for your Target card." I rolled my eyes and slammed the trunk shut when I was done. "You're welcome." I sighed and walked up to the passanger side, swining open the door.

"You getting in?" Justin tiredly looked up at me and shrugged.

"Don't really have a choice..." he mumbled as he hobbled his way to where I stood. I took his cane and leant it against the car as I aided him into his seat.

"Here," I said, handing him his cane before shutting the door and moving to my side. I slipped inside and locked the doors before starting up the ignition. As the car warmed, I flicked on the heat and sat back in my seat. I was being rude and as I glanced over at Justin, I could tell he was pretty much done with my attitude with him staring off into the distance and spacing out again. I wanted to apologize, but my pride would not allow it, so I waved the tiniest white flag I could find.

"Thank you," I muttered, "...for my keys." Even though I only caught a glimpse of his satisfied face before I turned back to my car and put it in drive, it was enough to make my skin crawl with defeat.

"Thank you," he retorted with a small laugh. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked as I pulled out of the lot and onto the street. I headed down Castor Ave this time to avoid the main streets.

"Actually, it was," I told him, "Down right painful."

"Now that's a shame," he smiled and I heard it in his voice. "You have to be some kind of evil to feel pain in kindness."

"You picked up my keys, that hardly qualifies as kindness," I argued, "Now, if you did something amazing like helping a complete stranger by taking them out of the street and taking care of them and buying them clothes..."

"I get it, woman," he groaned, "No need to reinerate."

"I'm just making sure you don't forget," I said, "People have been far too forgetful in my life." As the words leave my mouth, I quickly regret them. What the hell was I doing saying shit like that to him?

There was a silence, deep and awkward and I could feel him burning a hole into the side of my head.

"So is that your problem?" he asked gently, "People not appreciating what you did for them?" I sighed and licked my drying lips.

"Isn't that everybody's problem?" I could see him shrugging out of the corner of my eye.

"I guess it depends on what they're not appreciating." He paused. "Like a mom could have problems with her kids because they don't appreciate her hardwork. A man can be angry because his girl doesn't appreciate his love and cheats-"

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" I laughed to myself, "Mr. Cry Me a River."

"Why would I know that?" he asked, "And what's 'Cry Me a River'?" I shook my head, smiling as I remembered he didn't know what I was referring to.

"Nothin'," I waved off, "You'll remember later."

"Okay... well, is that your problem?"

"What?" I asked dumbly.

"Did your kids do you wrong or was it a guy?" I stopped at a red light.

"First off, no kids. Whatsoever. I hate the little bastards," I told him, "Secondly, my man problems; if any, are just that - mine. No offense, but you're not my best friend so I won't be dishing out my dirt to you any time soon."

"Okay, okay..." he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender, "But I'm a patient man, so I can wait for that time for dirt dishing."

"Who says you're gonna be around that long?"

"Who said it would be long and who said I wouldn't be around?"

"Whatever..." It was so pointless talking to him sometimes.

"So who is?" he asked as I made a left on Rhawn Street.

"Who's what?" I asked curiously before I made a right on Broad.

"Who's your best friend?" I sighed and was quiet for a moment. I didn't like the topic of best friends. They were severely overrated, in my opinion. I had a best friend once. I actually had four at a time, but life went on and things changed. Half of it was dumb shit, the other half... not so much.

"I don't have one," I answered as nonchalantly, "They're stupid. A friend is a friend. It's foolish to name someone the best." I settled into the left lane and waited for the traffic to go by as I put my signal on, ready to turn into employee parking again. The hospital was well lit and illuminated the snow in the darkness of the evening.

"Wait," Justin said, "So you never had one?" I turned when it cleared and slowed for a speed bump.

"I did..." I trailed off.

"Well. . . what happened?" I pulled into an empty spot and parked. I took the key from the ignition.

"You ask too many damn questions." I unbuckled my belt and sat back.

"You don't really answer any of them, that's why," he told me seriously, "You're impossible to read. I have to ask to know anything."

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"It's not...some times," Justin yawned. "I think I had a best friend."

"Everybody wanted to be your best friend," I smiled, "Shit, friend or lover."

"What did you want to be?"

"I wanted to be your bank account," I laughed and he joined me as he shook his head.

"You're terrible," he smiled, "But I like you." I laughed tangled itself in my mouth and I cleared my throat and turned from him.

"Oh.... thanks," I said with uncertainty and I could hear him fidgeting beside me.

"I didn't mean it like that," he clarified, "Not that I couldn't, but I'm just saying... you're cool. Unbearably mean and sarcastic, but cool nevertheless."

"Thanks, I guess," I mumbled, desperately searching for a subject change.

"So anyway, best friends," he clapped his hands, "What happened there?" I turned my head back to him.

"Didn't I already tell you you're not my best friend?"

"Apparently, nobody is anyway," he quipped, "You might as well tell me."

"You are nowhere in the range of close friend. Hell, you're not even my friend," I snorted, "I don't know you."

"You can."

"I have boundaries, Justin. You need to respect them."

"I respected the boyfriend thing," he whined, "I can't even get in on this one?"

"No!" I laughed and rubbed my hands down my face, "You're so annoying."

"Feeling's mutual," he retorted, "But thank you for today."

"Whatever," I yawned, "You owe me five hundred dollars."

"I spent like three somethin', max."

"Boy, you're a millionaire," I reminded, "I'm charging for that taxi and food and time-"

"Time?!" he laughed, "You're kidding me."

"I'm not," I assured, although my smile was telling him otherwise, "Don't let the grin fool you, my friend, gas ain't cheap and neither am I."

"Fine, I got you one of these days when I get my bank account back," Justin promised, crossing his finger over his heart, "I'm gonna repay you for everything and so much more. I swear." I squirmed beneath the scrutiny of his eyes and looked away.

"We should probably get inside before we freeze in here," I said, despite the fact that it was quite comfortable in the car. Justin paused, but then began to get his cane ready as he unlocked his door. I slipped from the car and walked over to his side as he tried to stubbornly get out without help. It was a terrible sight as he hissed in pain and I reached out to hold him.

"One of these days, I won't be embarrassed to be held by you," he chuckled as he settled up with his cane.

"Justin, that day will never come because I'll only hold you when you're unable to hold yourself up."

"Isn't that always the case when somebody holds another?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked distractedly as I opened the trunk of my car and began to grab the bags. I was so concerned with balancing myself that I didn't realize he had hobbled his way over until he grabbed three of the five bags I had been ready to carry from my hands.

"I'm talking about somebody being unable to hold themselves together..." he explained, "Therefore, they allow another person to open up their safe, warm arms and embrace them to get them through whatever bullshit they're going through." I stared him down as he stared me down as well. I hated looking anybody straight in the eyes, but I didn't want to give up. He was making me seem soft and I wasn't going to allow that.

"Some people don't need to be held," I told him as I reached for the bags in his hands. He pulled them back and never broke eye contact.

"Some people don't know how to ask for help," he challenged, "Or accept it, for that matter." I rolled my eyes, finding a reason to finally look away.

"Is this the part where I confess I'm insecure?" My voice was strong, but something deep within me trembled with my words.

"Not necessarily," Justin shrugged, "But it's a start."

"Justin, here's some things you can add to my list," I said, standing up straight, "I'm stubborn as hell, I don't need nor ask for help, and no matter how many problems I have had to deal with, I don't let it get to me. And I'm definitely not a fan of the whole psychoanalysis thing either."

He laughed and shook his head. "I guess you can add unhuman to that list because nobody can say something like that with a straight face."

"We all can't be emotional, fashionable, gay men," I retorted.

"Can I add immature and full of shit to your list?"

"Fuck you," I scoffed.

"Angry too," he teased, "Your list is getting a little long here, babe."

"I'm not your babe, fool," I spat as I brushed past him and headed toward the side doors of the hospital. I could hear his cane clanking on the cement as he followed behind.

"Melodramatic?" he continued, "A scoffer, a sigher, and a huffer."

"Shut up!" I called to him before the automatic doors slid open and let me in.

"One more! One more!" he cheefully exclaimed as he made his way beside me.

"Say something again and I'm gonna punch you in the balls."

"Why so serious?" Justin smiled, "I can see why you like this list thing so much now. They're fun."

"I no longer have a list," I stated firmly, "We're back to working on yours. Add jackass and childish to it."

"Oh, no, no..." Justin wagged a finger in protest, "You cannot take back the list. It's been done."

"Says who?" I argued as we turned down a quiet hall, "You didn't make up the list, I did."

"Actually, I'm the one who started when I told you I knew something about myself that I didn't know before-"

"Oh my god, shut up," I groaned as we reached Ridner Hall's elevator. I pressed the up arrow and it lit up as Justin snickered beside me.

"Does everybody usually get under your skin this quickly?" he inquired and I rolled my eyes.

"No, you happen to be the first to make me roll my eyes so much that I fear they'll become stuck that way."

"Cool," he chuckled, "That's probably the nicest thing you've said to me all night." I narrowed my eyes at him as the elevator arrived and we stepped in.

"You're an idiot."

"And you're mad," Justin smirked.

"Do your really enjoy biting the hand that feeds you?"

"Only when it's yours."

"Seriously, you couldn't have possibly been this annoying before you got beat up because how in the world could anybody adore you?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

"How would I know?"

"Because you adore me, baby," he grinned, "You adore so much and you can't even stand it."

"I don't know you to adore you."

"Oh, but you do," he argued, "You know all I know about me. What more can I give you when I've lost myself completely?"

"You're babbling."

"I'm telling you how I feel," Justin said and I rolled my eyes for the billionth time.

"Well don't," I requested, "You're much more tolerable when you're not talking."

"Fine, I'll be quiet."

"Good," I added.

"Great," he retorted.

"Fan-fuckin'-tastic," I shot back and he glared at me.

"That world should be removed from your vocabulary," he complained.

"And you should be removed from my life." I squeezed my eyes shut and wished him away before I opened one eye comically.

"Nope, still here," Justin shrugged, "Sorry, sweetums." I sighed dramatically.

"Damn it," I cursed, "I should've clicked my heels three times." He chuckled.

"Wizard of Oz..." he mumbled thoughtfully, "I remember that."

"How can you remember the Wizard of Oz and no Sponge Bob?" I asked and he shrugged.

"I don't know," he smirked, "I wish I could remember my bank's account number above all things. Or at least my social security number."

"That would be nice," I sighed in agreement. The elevator dinged and we both stepped out onto his floor, trailing slowly aside one another.

"Sash," he called gently and I looked up at him.

"What?" I asked, not bothering to correct him for using my nickname.

"Thank you," he said and I waved him off.

"It's whatever," I said, ready to dismiss the subject, but he put up his cane to stop me from walking.

"Seriously," he said, holding my gaze, "You were mad when you said I didn't appreciate what you're doing for me and I know that you mostly said that out of anger, but I can't help but feel like somewhere in you, you're feeling underappreciated. I don't know if that's from me or from the people you don't like to talk about, but I apologize. You're really all I've got right now and I don't want you don't get frustrated with me. So... thank you... a million times over."

As I stared back into the blues of this mysterious man, I couldn't help but wonder if all that nonsense about destiny he talked of in the car was true. I couldn't help but wonder why I was being such a bitch to somebody who couldn't help but be dependent on me. Yeah, he was annoying and whiny and straight up clingy sometimes, but I could see through his eyes that part of him was terrified and I was the only person he felt comfortable enough to be all those soul irking things without so much as a second thought.

I envied him for a moment and wished I could be that open. If I had been him, I probably would've laid in that snow and died instead of called out for help just to prove a point... To whom, I don't know. I would've been so caught up in not showing my wounded and hurt self that I'd face death rather than a helping hand.

I had to stop myself from frowning on the outside as much as I was on the inside. That would've just started another round of 21 questions with this boy and I wasn't really in the mood.

"You're welcome," I finally told him before continuing up the hall. He took a moment to follow, but the clanking of his cane against the tiled floor soon sounded in my ears as I smiled. It wasn't as annoying as it was before; the sounds of him following me like a lost puppy.

I guess I could kinda-sorta-maybe-just-a-little-but-not-too-much...get used to it. To him. To his whining and pouting and bruised up face.

It made my stomach churn.