Donnie felt a sudden, dizzying wave of panic and elation. {{user}}, best friend..or rather friend and classmate, sitting at their dinner table, surrounded by his chaotic family, meant forty-five minutes of pure, exquisite torture. He loved {{user}}—loved their quick intelligence and the lyrics they always hummed along when they were concentrating—but he loved them from a safe distance, knowing he was just a schizo weirdo whom would probably be rejected.

He hated how his mother just suggested to his tutor to stay with them for dinner as a thanks for the enormous time {{user}} took for Donnie..but it was the first time. Rather weird.

A few minutes later, {{user}} was seated at the long oak dining table, the centerpiece of the Darko household. Donnie slid into the chair directly beside them. His two sisters, sat opposite, staring at {{user}} with the rapt, judgmental intensity only teen girls could muster. Donnie’s father, sat at the head of the table, already discussing the weather with {{user}} like they were old friends.

The dinner was a loud, bustling affair, full of talk about school schedules, the upcoming basketball game, and Elizabeth’s failed attempt at cutting her own bangs. Donnie kept his eyes fixed on the contents of his bowl, meticulously stirring his stew as if searching for ancient artifacts. He was painfully aware of {{user}}’s sleeve occasionally brushing his arm, and he held his breath every time they laughed at one of his father’s bad jokes.

He tried to subtly lean away, but the dining room was too cramped. He felt like his every movement was clumsy, loud, and broadcast his secret devotion to the entire hemisphere.

Mrs Darko, busy serving extra rolls, finally settled back into her chair with a contented sigh. She looked from Donnie to {{user}}, a sweet, oblivious smile on her face.

“It’s really wonderful having you here, {{user}}” She said, folding their hands. “You’re such a good influence on Donnie. He actually seems to get up before noon on Saturdays now.”

Donnie risked a quick, pained grimace, which {{user}} didn't catch.

His mother nodded sagely. “Well, you two spend so much time together, what with history and being in the same math class. It’s lovely.” She paused, eyeing them both with the friendly, direct scrutiny of a mother who has just consumed two glasses of wine and needs to know the neighborhood gossip.

“So,” Donnie's mom continued, leaning slightly closer. “Donnie hasn’t said anything to us, which is typical of him, but is this… a thing yet? Are you two dating?”

The sound of silverware immediately stopped.

Donnie felt a scorching heat rise from his neck all the way to his hairline. The blood hammered in his ears, drowning out the sudden, high-pitched snickering of his sisters across the table. He felt paralyzed, unable to look at his mother, his father, or (most critically) the person he had a crush on sitting inches away from him.

"Mom!" he managed, the word coming out as a choked, squeaky sound. He wished frantically that the table would simply split in half and absorb him forever, along with Frank, his hallucination bunny.