Shiny! by Amy Lane Page B

love” that went with a failed relationship.
    Will had helped Kenny get past that.
    For one thing, for all that he looked like a refrigerator (and the more comfortable he got around Kenny, the more gracefully he moved), his mind was incredibly quick. Once he’d started unloading his character bible, Kenny had realized that Will had entire worlds of layered depth, of pathos, of creativity, lying beneath that broad-faced surface. Sitting there making preliminary sketches, listening to Will’s ideas on layout, on plot arc, on which graphic elements to stress to make the ending more impactful, Kenny became lost in their idea, their steampunk galaxy, complete with rocket-powered giant-wheeled tricycles and giant sentient house cats made of metal. The characters too, a man and a woman, were fascinating, culpable, flawed, and ultimately heroic. Kenny felt like he’d known them after the past weeks, like they were people he’d grown up with, and they’d gotten to star in this little drama because they were worthy.
    He’d never drawn so well in his life.
    It was amazing ,how well he could draw, how many sketches he could produce with his computer stylus, just listening to Will detail what a scene was about. He’d never been a cooperative learner, had always disdained groups in school, sprawling in his desk and listening to the planners plot while he simply produced artwork on command to save (in his opinion) their lame ideas.
    But Will—Will brought it .Kenny wouldn’t have been able to do any of the stuff he was doing now without Will’s dynamic, creative ideas.
    So that was one reason to be grateful to the big guy.
    The other reason was more… complex.
    He was just such a nice man. Kenny did snarky—he got snarky. But Will was just so… so… sweet .
    Kenny didn’t have a whole lot of memories of that night Will had accidentally gotten him drunk, but what he did have reflected pretty awesomely on Will. The end, he seemed to recall, was lying on Will and watching Orphan Black and crying all over Will’s solid, straight-boychest, the big ugly kind of cry, while Will just patted him gently on the back and told him it would all be okay.
    Kenny didn’t know how to thank him for that.
    How did you thank someone you just met for actually being the “I love you, man!” man? The guy who would listen to you whine and complain and then stay the night and make you toast to eat with your painkillers and giant ice water? How did that guy even exist?
    The morning after Kenny’s little super-hoppy beer indulgence, he’d nibbled on his toast and said, “Too bad you didn’t go away to college. You would have been very popular in your dorms!”
    Will had shrugged and started pan-frying some canadian bacon he’d found in Kenny’s refrigerator. “I wasn’t this comfortable in my own skin,” he said frankly. “It wasn’t until—never mind.”
    “No!” Kenny protested, and he didn’t even wince. “C’mon—you heard my worst day ever . Tell me yours?”
    Will had stayed the night, and he’d actually packed for it that time. He was wearing a clean pair of sleep shorts and a T-shirt and flip-flops on what must have been size-fifteen feet. He kept his back turned long enough for Kenny to read I Aim To Misbehave on the back and feel stupid because he hadn’t even spotted the Firefly reference. Briskly, Will started plating up the canadian bacon and some fruit salad he’d opened. He set it down in front of Kenny without speaking—and without even making eye contact—and Kenny was just about to totally apologize for whatever it was he’d just dredged up when Will said, “My father died.” And then he sat down and looked at his food.
    “Oh Will—”
    “See, he wasn’t a bad guy, but he wasn’t… I mean, he wasn’t a communicator. I used to stay up late with my ear pressed against the wall because I could hear my mom talking to him. She’d tell him things like ‘Will got an A in science today!’ and my dad