Chapter 19: The Roommate Talk
The key in the lock felt like it weighed five pounds. Kyle turned it, pushed the door open, and stepped into the apartment he'd left that morning feeling like a completely different person.
"HEEEY bud! How ya doin'?"
Kyle flinched. Joaquin was on the couch, legs kicked up on the coffee table, a bowl of cereal balanced on his chest.
"Did you have a good time with Roha last night?" He grinned wide and gave Kyle a slow, deliberate wink.
Last night. That was before everything. Before the walk in the park, before "I'm a genie," before Kyle's brain had decided to short-circuit in real time.
"Yeah," Kyle said, shutting the door behind him. "It was great."
He kicked off his sneakers and tossed his keys onto the entry table. They missed the bowl and clattered onto the floor. He left them there.
Joaquin's grin didn't waver. "Uh-huh. You look like you had a good time."
Kyle ran a hand through his hair. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing, dude. Just saying you look tired." Joaquin set the cereal bowl aside and sat up. "You two have fun catching up or whatever?"
"Or whatever."
Kyle shuffled into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. He drank the whole thing standing at the counter, staring at the wall. Somewhere behind him, Joaquin had gone quiet in that way he did when he was deciding whether to push.
"So," Joaquin said finally. "Rough morning?"
"You could say that."
Kyle set the glass down and leaned against the counter. His hands were shaking a little. He didn't know why. It wasn't cold in the apartment.
"Do you wanna talk about it?"
Kyle opened his mouth. The truth sat right there, on his tongue, ready to spill. Roha is a genie. I accidentally made him my friend with a wish. I made him a corn dog restaurant, too. He's been hiding it from me this whole time.
Then he looked at Joaquin's face. That easy, open, ready-to-laugh face. The face of the guy who'd known him for three years and never once looked at him like he was crazy.
"I don't know how to handle this thing with Roha," Kyle said instead.
Joaquin's eyebrows went up. "What thing?"
"The thing where we've known each other for, like, four days and I already want him around all the time." Kyle rubbed his face. "Is that selfish? Wanting him to stay when we barely know each other?"
Joaquin was quiet for a beat. Then he pushed off the couch and walked over, hip-checking Kyle away from the counter to grab a box of cereal.
"Dude, you're overthinking this." He poured himself a refill. "Roha's clearly into you. The guy looks at you like you hung the moon."
"He does?"
"I was there at breakfast. I saw him watch you walk to the shower. That was not the look of a guy who's just friends." Joaquin pointed a spoon at Kyle. "Even if he leaves, he'd be happy to visit you again. That's obvious."
Kyle stared at the cereal box like it held all the answers. It didn't. Just a cartoon toucan with a smug expression.
"That's not the same thing as wanting to stay forever, though." He heard how pathetic that sounded and winced.
"Forever?" Joaquin snorted, milk dribbling down his chin. "Dude, you've known the guy four days. Nobody knows if they want forever after four days. That's not selfish, that's just, like, regular human stuff."
Kyle grabbed a paper towel and threw it at him. "I'm serious."
"So am I." Joaquin wiped his face. "Look, here's the thing. You like him. He likes you. That's already a win. Most people don't even get that part."
Kyle thought about Roha's face in the park. The way he'd said I don't want to return to the lamp. That raw, quiet honesty. He'd meant it. Kyle was sure of that much.
"What if he doesn't want to come back?" Kyle asked.
Joaquin tilted his head. "Did he say that?"
"No. He said the opposite, actually."
"Then what are you worried about?"
Kyle didn't have an answer. That was the problem. He couldn't explain the real reason without sounding insane, so he just stood there in the kitchen, feeling the weight of the secret pressing down on his chest.
"Okay, different approach," Joaquin said. "When you hang out with him, does it feel good?"
"Yeah."
"Like, actually good? Not just 'he's hot' good, but easy?"
"Both," Kyle admitted. "It's both."
"Then enjoy it." Joaquin shrugged, picking up his spoon again. "Whatever happens, you got to have that. That's more than a lot of people get. If he stays, great. If he doesn't, you'll still have the memories. Don't wreck what's happening by worrying about what might not."
Kyle wanted to argue. He wanted to say that this was different, that the stakes were bigger than Joaquin could possibly understand, that there was a lamp and a contract and a final wish hanging over everything. But all of that would lead to questions he couldn't answer.
"Thanks, man," Kyle said instead. "I needed that."
Joaquin waved him off. "That's what roommates are for. Now go take a nap. You look like a ghost who forgot how to haunt."
Kyle laughed, and it surprised him. It came out easier than he expected. He shuffled to his bedroom, closed the door, and collapsed onto his bed face-first.
The pillow smelled like Roha. Faintly, under that, the expensive cologne he'd been experimenting with, but mostly just warmth. Kyle pressed his face into it and groaned.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. The crack in the plaster that had been there since he moved in. The water stain in the corner that looked like a sad elephant.
One wish left.
He'd used two without even realizing. The first had bound Roha to him through friendship. The second had conjured a corn dog restaurant, something Roha had been forced to grant against his own judgment. Kyle had seen that flicker of reluctance on his face after. He just hadn't understood it then.
Now he understood everything.
If he used the last wish, what would he even say? I wish you were free? He thought about Roha, alone in the lamp for three thousand years, emerging only to serve whoever rubbed the brass. He thought about the look on Roha's face when he'd said he'd never had friends before.
Roha deserved freedom. Any reasonable person would see that.
But if Kyle freed him, what would that mean? Would Roha stay anyway, of his own free will? Or would he walk away, grateful for the gift and gone before the sun set?
Kyle didn't know. And not knowing terrified him more than the lamp ever could.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket. Roha's contact sat there, right at the top. The little message icon. One tap, and he could text him. Apologize. Say he needed a minute but was okay, mostly, sort of.
His thumb hovered over the screen.
He locked the phone and pressed it to his chest, staring at the ceiling again. The elephant stain stared back, unimpressed.