It had been awhile since Sal had last seen Stewart, and he found himself missing him, in addition to feeling like that asshole friend who ditches everyone for their new lover. After English class, Sal asked if they could eat with Stewart that day. Russell agreed and they walked to the cafeteria together.

As soon as Sal spotted Stewart, he rushed over to his table. "Hey, sorry I haven't been eating-" Sal fell silent when he saw who sat in his old spot.

"Hey Russell," Terry said. "I see you've been spending a lot of time with Sal lately."

"Yeah, well..." Russell rubbed the back of his head.

Terry. All this time, Terry had been sitting in his old spot, talking to his old friend. Sal gripped the back of the empty chair next to Stewart. "You replaced me with Terry?"

"Well, gee Sal, you stopped eating with me. And then Terry started sitting here. So I've been eating with them now.

Sal slumped into the chair. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I'm used to it."

A wave of guilt washed over Sal, which changed to jealousy when Russell took a seat next to Terry, who eyed him. "Cool necklace," Terry said. "Are you finally rebelling against your parents?"

"A little. Maybe." Russell glanced down at the table. "Sal convinced me to get it."

Terry watched him pull his sandwich out of his lunch bag. "You can do a lot better than him, you know."

Russell pulled his jelly sandwich out of his lunch bag. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Nor do I." Sal flicked his hair back, and picked up Stewart's half-eaten apple. "If you are implying that Russell and I are an item, I assure you that we are most certainly not!" He bit into the apple for dramatic effect, expecting a loud crunch, but it was all mush. No wonder Stewart hadn't finished it.

"Definitely an item," Terry said under their breath.

"No we aren't!"

"We're really not," Russell butted in.

Terry watched him chew his thumbnail through narrowed eyes. "You're lying."

Russell stopped chewing his thumbnail, and ran his fingers through his hair. "What makes you think-"

"You always chew your thumbnail when you lie. And run your fingers through your hair when you get caught in one."

"And how do you know all this?" Sal asked.

"Because I've known Russell longer than you have." Terry arched an eyebrow. "I know him a lot better."

"You know nothing." Sal took another bite of Stewart's apple.

"No, they know me pretty well," Russell said quietly.

"They do not." Sal pounded the table with the apple, making a sticky mess. "You will never love him like I do!"

Russell covered his face with his hand. Terry grinned. "So you admit it!"

"Does anyone want the rest of my chimichanga?" Stewart asked.

"Please don't tell anyone," Russell said to Terry, hands clasped against his chest.

"I won't," Terry said. "On one condition."

Sal swallowed. "What's the condition?"

"I'll give you this chimichanga if you don't tell anyone about Sal's crush," Stewart said, waving it.

Terry swiped it out of his hand, and pointed it at Sal. "I want you to do something for me."

"Never!"

"Sal, please," Russell said. "Just do what they say."

"It's nothing bad." Terry took a bite of the chimichanga. "You know Brad Williams?"

"I know a Brad in my English class," Sal said hesitantly.

"That's him," Russell said.

"Unless this involves punching his face, I want no part of this."

"Then I'll tell the whole school about you and Russell."

"Terry, you wouldn't."

"Shush, Russell." Terry looked to Sal. "Brad took something that belongs to me. I want it back."

"Have you tried asking for it back?"

Terry rolled their eyes. "Please. This is Brad we're talking about."

"Then how am I supposed to get it back? What is it, anyway."

"My favorite pen." Terry pointed to a table several feet away. There, Brad sat with a couple of other boys. "Go get it back."

"Now?" Sal asked.

"This is ridiculous."

"Quiet, Russell. This is important." Terry looked towards Sal. "Unless you want Brad to know-"

"Alright, I'll go." Sal stood up with weak legs, and took a few steps towards Brad. No, asking him wouldn't work at all. He'd have to steal it back.

Brad's backpack was on the floor, sticking out from under the table.

"I can help." Stewart appeared by his side. "I'll distract them."

Sal muttered a thanks, and dropped to his stomach, ignoring the odd looks he received for his army-style crawling. He stopped at the table before Brad's, and waited for Stewart's distraction.

"Hi Brad," Stewart said cheerfully. "I couldn't help but notice your hair. What kind of products do you use in it?"

The group stared at Stewart with baffled expressions. "I just use shampoo," Brad said. Sal crawled to the opposite side of the table, where none of the three could see him, and reached for the backpack.

"I use shampoo too," Stewart said. "We have something in common."

"Uh-huh."

"We should be friends."

"Don't you hang out with those losers?"

"Gee Brad, whatever do you mean?"

"I'm talking about that emo guy, Russell. That weird Mexican girl. Or boy. Or whatever it is."

"They're agender," Stewart explained.

"They're pathetic is what they are."

Sal slowly unzipped the smaller pocket of Brad's backpack, taking care not to make noise.

"And don't get me started on that freak, Sal."

Freak? Sal ground his teeth, and searched the pocket. It was filled with pens and pencils. Terry never gave him a description. Which pen could it be? They were all plain and boring. His own pen was better than all of these combined.

"He's annoying. I don't know how you can stand to eat lunch with him."

"Isn't Sal that one guy who brought the gallon of milk to school, drank it all, then threw up?" the boy across from Brad asked. "Who does that?"

"Sal's a swell guy, once you get to know him," Stewart said. "And he always finishes my food for me so it doesn't go to waste."

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Sal beamed at the compliment, and decided to take all of Brad's pens. How dare he trash talk him.

"And there's his weird obsession with Russell. All he does in class is stare at Russell, or argue with him. And I'm pretty sure he doodles Russell's name in his notebook, with hearts everywhere."

Sal jerked his head up at that, banging it on the table. Brad and his friends peered under the table at him

"What the hell are you doing?" Brad asked.

Sal crawled out from under the table, and pointed a fistful of pens at him. "I do not write Russell's name in my notebook! Nor am I obsessed with him. You're just jealous of me."

Brad glanced at his open backpack, and at the pens in Sal's hand. "Are you stealing my pens?"

"Damn right. It's what you get for stealing Terry's pen!" Sal spoke loud enough to cause most of the cafeteria to stare at the scene unfolding.

"I never stole that girl's pen!"

"Person's," Stewart corrected.

"Yes, you did!"

"What? Are you in love with her now? You, her, and Russell gonna have a threesome?" Brad snatched his pens from Sal with no effort. "Go away."

"This isn't over!" Sal snarled, and spun around, back towards his table.

Sal sat down in his chair, trying to ignore the laughter coming from Terry.

"Oh my God, I didn't think you'd actually do it," Terry said. "That was gold."

Stewart sat down across from Sal. "I'm sorry it didn't go as planned."

"It's okay. You did your best." Sal smiled, before turning to Terry. "It would have been nice if you told me what your pen looked like."

Terry flicked their hand. "There wasn't one."

Sal's eyes widened. "What!"

"I made it up."

Russell groaned. "Terry..."

"I wanted to see what would happen." Terry held back another laugh. "I never intended to tell anyone about your little fling, so don't worry."

"You... you..." Sal gritted his teeth. "Why would you make me humiliate myself like that?"

"Simple. Because you're a self-centered twat."

Sal pounded his fist on the table. "I AM NOT A SELF-CENTERED TWAT!"

The entire cafeteria fell silent as all eyes turned to Sal. "Well I'm not!"

A few people laughed while others shook their head, and they went back to their business.

"You totally are," Terry said.

"I'm normally a laid-back guy, but there are two things you don't call me."

It was after school, and the two boys stood outside the building. Sal was venting to Russell, referring to the incident that had occurred during lunch.

"Two things," Sal repeated, holding up two fingers. "You don't ever call me a self-centered twat, and you don't ever call me a faggot. I swear to God, nothing pisses me off more than being called a faggot."

Russell nodded in understanding.

"And that's why I hate Terry. They pretend to blackmail me, and then call me self-centered. When I so selflessly go out of my way to help them, risking my neck in the process."

"Terry was just being Terry," Russell said. "To be honest, I knew they were messing with you from the start."

"Seriously?" Sal's hands dropped to his sides, and he gaped at Russell. "And you went along with it?"

"I wanted to see what would happen."

"Russell!"

Russell ducked his head, giving Sal a sheepish grin. "I'm sorry. But... You kind of did deserve it."

"What, you think I'm a self-centered twat too?"

"No, but I think your dislike for Terry is unfounded. So what if they shoved you into some lockers? You deserved it for insulting their gender."

"I had never heard of their gender." Sal pounded his fist in his hand. "If they would've answered my questions in a mature way-"

"Are you sure you're not using all of that as an excuse to hide your jealously?" Russell asked, brushing his hand next to Sal's.

"Jealousy?" Sal jerked his hand away from Russell. "Why would I possibly be jealous?"

"Because they're friends with me."

"I don't care about that. You're allowed to have friends." Sal crossed his arms, chin jutting out. "But they called me a self-centered twat. I do not like being called a self-centered twat. There are two things you don't call me..."

Russell shook his head. "Come on. Let's get Slurpees."

"I don't want a Slurpee." Sal stomped his foot on the concrete. "I want respect!"

"I respect you," Russell said. After checking to make sure nobody was around to see, he intertwined his fingers with Sal's, leading him to the car.

"Wait," Sal said, once Russell drove out of the school's parking lot. "I'm not done being mad."

"You're always mad."

"No I'm not. I'm a chill and laid-back person." As if to prove his point, Sal pushed the back of his seat down.

"You have anger issues."

"Screw you."

"What was that? You'd screw me?"

"Gross!"

Russell let out a chuckle. "It's okay if you're not ready. I'm not either."

Sal pulled his seat back up and looked through his window for a moment, watching trees pass by. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Of course. We're in a relationship. Relationships are all about honesty and trust."

Sal's stomach tensed as he looked over at Russell, who had his eyes fixed on the road. "I do not want to have sex with you."

"And that's okay," Russell said, pulling into the 7/11 parking lot. "I prefer taking things slow too, sexy as you are."

Sal watched a couple walk into the store, hand-in-hand, wishing he could walk around freely with Russell's hand in his. But he'd be lucky if Russell would even stick around after this conversation, much less hold his hand in public. "What if we... took forever?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Sal waited for Russell to pull into a parking spot in front of the 7/11 before continuing. "I don't want to have sex with you. Ever."

Russell put the car in park, and turned off the engine, gaze focused straight ahead.

Sal swallowed. "Is that going to be a problem?"

Russell continued staring straight ahead, though pulled up his emergency brake, silent.

Sal squeezed his eyes shut. "It is a problem, isn't it?"

Russell didn't answer.

"It's not just you," Sal said quickly, glancing back over at Russell. "It's everyone. I've never wanted to have sex."

Russell stared at the dashboard until he finally spoke. "You're a teenage boy."

"Exactly, that's the weirdest part of all." Sal tore his eyes away from Russell. "I wasn't abused. Not sexually, anyway. I've just never been interested."

"You've never experienced sexual attraction?"

"I don't think so."

"And you're a 17 year old boy?"

"Yes."

"Just my luck." Russell buried his head into the steering wheel. "You're asexual."

Asexual? Sal wondered if he should be offended. "Did you call me a plant?" he asked, raising his voice. "I told you, there are three things you don't call me-"

"I won't call you a plant if you don't give me any more pans," Russell promised. "But you do sound asexual. Oh God." He rested his head on the steering wheel again, body slumped.

"I'm pretty sure you're calling me a plant."

"I'm not calling you a plant. Asexuals are people who don't experience sexual attraction." Russell's face fell slack for a second, but he turned it into a smile and looked at Sal. "You're not alone."

Sal found himself wondering what sexual attraction even was, and if he had ever felt it. Certainly his attraction towards Russell wasn't sexual, given how he didn't want to see him undressed. On top of the incident that had happened during their first make-out session. And even before Russell. Sex-ed, where everyone made a big deal over sex being some amazing thing, Sal wondering why he secretly disagreed. He thought he was alone. But all this time, there was a word for him. Excitement rose in his chest. "There's really other people like me? I'm not the only one?"

Russell placed his hand over Sal's. "It's rare, but it's a thing."

Asexual. It explained everything. His lack of interest in girls. His lack of interest in boys. His lifelong dream to die a virgin. All this time, he wasn't straight, or gay, or both. He was neither. "It makes so much sense," Sal said aloud at the Slurpee machine.

"Freeing, isn't it?"

"There's nothing wrong with me?"

"Nope."

"I don't need to be fixed in any way?"

"Nope."

"My dad can go to hell then." Sal poured himself a blue-raspberry Slurpee.

Russell stuck a straw into his own cherry Slurpee. "I assume you mean your biological one? And not Tyler?"

"Of course. He was always calling me a faggot." Sal followed Russell to the register, wondering what his mother would have thought of this. She probably would have been supportive.

A sudden weight dropped into Sal's chest, as if someone had shoved his entire Slurpee down his throat, cup and all. "We have a problem now," he said, once they returned to Russell's Mazda. "Are we still boyfriends? Or are you going to break up with me? I understand if you want to break up."

"I don't know. I still like you a lot. But sex..."

Sal groaned.

"It's okay." Russell set his hand on Sal's thigh. "I'm sure we can work something out."

"I don't know." Sal rested his head against the window, watching the couple from earlier walk out with ice cream bars, feeling thankful that Russell was still sticking around. Who knew how much longer though.

"We'll worry about it later," Russell said. "I have a lot of homework tonight, so I can't hang out today."

Sal covered his forehead with his hand.

"It's alright. We can hang out on Friday." Russell patted Sal's thigh reassuringly. "I really like you a lot, you know."

Sal poked at his Slurpee with the straw, face flushed. "So we're still boyfriends?"

"We're still boyfriends."

"It's over." Sal paced around his bedroom. "It's all over." He flopped face-down on his bed, next to Mouser. "How will I ever satisfy Russell? I'm a terrible match for him. This will never work out. The one person I fall in love with, and we're sexually incompatible." He gave Mouser's back a scratch. "I guess it doesn't matter. I'm sexually incompatible with the majority of the world, it seems. What am I saying? I don't even want to date anyone. Just Russell."

Mouser rubbed his face against his hand, purring.

"You always know the right thing to say."

"Meow," Mouser meowed.

"You're right. I should look up asexuals." Sal left his bed for his computer. He pulled up a search engine, typed in "asexual," and hit return.

"Wow," he said, when 8 million results came up. "Russell was right. Asexuals are real." He clicked on a link that seemed reliable, and began to read.

Asexuality is a sexual orientation where the person does not experience sexual attraction toward any gender. They can still enjoy intimate activities such as kissing and cuddling, and some may participate in sexual activities for a variety of reasons, such as pleasing their partner or procreation.

Asexuals may desire romantic relationships, and due to this, "romantic orientations" are relevant for them. An asexual can be heteroromantic, where they want a relationship with the opposite sex, but have no sexual interest. They can also be homoromantic and biromantic, respectively. Additionally, there are aromantic asexuals who do not experience romantic attraction... (Read More.)

Sal clicked "Read More" and read through the rest of the article. "This describes me perfectly," he said to Mouser, after he finished reading. "I'm not some broken, freak of nature. I'm asexual. It all makes sense!"

Sal was thrilled. And he felt a need to share his newfound discovery with the outside world. The only problem was, he wasn't sure how the outside world would react.

"Have you heard of asexuals?" Sal asked during dinner.

"As in, asexual production?" Tyler asked.

"No, as an orientation. People who don't experience sexual attraction."

Tyler frowned, his fork halfway to his mouth. "That doesn't sound normal."

"I've never heard of such a thing," Brenda said. "What brings this up?"

"Someone at school came out as asexual and I thought it sounded weird." Sal shoved a spoonful of corn in his mouth.

"Very weird," Tyler said, setting his fork down. "The human species would die out if everyone was like that."

"Couldn't the same thing be said about gay people?" Sal asked.

Tyler picked his fork back up, taking a bite of his chicken, chewing it slowly. "I suppose. But gays still have that natural drive. Sounds like that person needs to see a doctor."

"I have a cousin who never married or dated," Brenda said. "I wonder if she could be asexual."

Sal looked up from his plate. "Really?"

"It would explain a lot." Brenda took a sip of wine.

"She could be a closeted lesbian though," Tyler said.

Sal decided to remain a closeted asexual.