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I parked my car in my usual spot in the garage; not that there were any others free anyway. "Wow," Kyle remarked, "This is nice."
I turned off my car and put my key in my bag. "Thanks." I responded, "I'll show you my room." I got out and closed the garage with the button next to the door. Kyle followed me as I walked inside, up a set of stairs, down a hallway, and into my room.
Kyle looked around the room. There was a dresser against the left side of the wall with the door we just went in, a bed, and a door leading to my bathroom on the left wall; and on the right wall, a desk with my desktop computer and other hardware on it, and a round table with two chairs. There was also a blue, cloth couch on the foot of my bed and a coffee table right in front of it. "Your room is massive." Kyle said in awe. He walked over to my desk to look at my currently powered-off desktop.
"What's in this thing?" Kyle asked, looking through the glass. "It has an i9, 32GB of 3400 ddr4, and a 2TB nvme m.2 drive.."
"Graphics card?" He continued, looking at my computer in amazement.
"a 1080ti; 8GB. Nothing *too* fancy"
Kyle looked around the back. "What's this?" He asked, pointing towards a thin, yellow cable coming out of a PCIE slot. The cable went into a port in the wall, next to two taken and two open ethernet ports, an HDMI, and a display port. "It's a fiberoptic cable. It goes at about 50 gigabits per second.
"Why do you need that?" He asked.
"I don't need the 50 gigabits, I usually only use like 4, but ethernet is too slow for that, even cat 7."
I didn't answer his question, "Why do you need 4 gigabits?" He clarified.
"A lot of stuff I do uses the local network. I backup all my files on a server in the basement and I also do a lot of neural network training and I can't store all the necessary data in there. It's mainly just the length though, even a sheilded cat 7 ethernet cable only goes at about 1 gigabit a second because of its length, so, fiberoptic."
"Why do you have a couch?"
"So I can watch stuff on the TV with multiple people without the awkwardness of them being on or in my bed."
Kyle looked around my room more, "Wow..." He exclaimed, avoiding commenting on my family's wealth.
"So..." I started to ask, "what do you want to do?" I didn't really have a plan or anything, he just called an hour ago to see if he could come over. "Are you hungry?" I asked. "No, I don't really have an appetite." He responded, "Something to drink?" I suggested. "Sure," He responded, "what do you have?" The answer to that was: pretty much everything. I shrugged, "What do you like?" He pondered for a part of a second, "Whiskey?" He asked.
I walked over to a cabinet up against the left side of my desk and took out a glass and a bottle of Jack Daniels. "You keep alcohol in your room?" He asked. I didn't respond for some reason. I walked back to the coffee table set the glass down on the coffee table and filled it a third of the way up. I set the bottle down on the table and sat down on the left side of the couch. I handed the glass to Kyle when he sat down on the other half of the couch.
"Thank, you." Kyle said before quickly drinking half of what I gave him. He kept the glass in his hand. "So," I asked, we didn't talk all throughout the 45 minute drive. "How are you doing?"
Kyle hesitated, then said nothing. "Can't decide?" I asked, knowing full well that was true. "No," He rebutted, "I'm just feeling everything."
I didn't know how to respond; he drank the rest of his whiskey, and poured another glass, he turned to face me again when he was done. He leaned his left arm on top of the back of the couch, and lightly rested his head by leaning his neck on the back of his fingers. He looked into my eyes, "You're such a good friend." He said, "Thanks again for this."
"You're welcome." I said. Kyle finished his whiskey, set his glass down on the table, and smiled at me. Then all of a sudden, without me fully realizing it, he put his arms around my and kissed me, on the lips. He then moved back to his original position, and seemed a little shameful, and sad at the same time. "Are..." I started, "Are you okay?" I asked, like the answer wasn't obvious. "No..." He said, like the answer was obvious. "I just, I don't know... Sorry."
He was right to apologize for that, but at the same time I didn't want to make his feel bad for it; he couldn't control himself.
I poured him another glass, I knew he would get drunk eventually - It was best for both of us to forget that.