#artofsky

Things didn’t change until the day Karofsky asked if he could pick Artie up instead of meeting him at the skate park. “I, uhm,” he’d smiled, scratching the back of his neck, “I have room in my truck for your chair.”

Staring up at him for a couple of seconds, Artie finally adjusted his glasses, sitting up straighter. “If you bring coffee.”

Relief had lightened Karofsky’s face. “Deal.”

Setting his chin, Artie rolled up to where Karofsky was sitting alone in the corner of the quad, barely touching his lunch. He cleared his throat.

When Karofsky looked up, shock made his face go blank. “Ar-Artie,” he coughed. Pink tinged his ears.

Artie stared at him.