1. This should floor me but it doesn’t. (2022)

The lengthy disclaimer. Hello! Your eyes do not deceive you. I am back, well, sort of. You may have seen me hocking 12-year-old stories on my podcast, the stories i wish you heard and while I’ve had fun writing for the audio medium, I find myself coming back to this space I have called home for many years. I’ve also been really trying to get back to writing new stories. What you’re about to read is the first of a five-part series called You, me, and a parallel universe.

  

Some days I miss it – holding hands in cinemas, the afternoon naps on chests, the rising and falling with each breath, the late nights that turn into early mornings, waking up and making a proper breakfast, as though people really did that in real life. But love requires effort. You put in the work when you’re in love.

If I’m being honest, I don’t even remember what it feels like anymore. These days, my bedroom feels like a conveyor belt of twinks who think they can save me. I see them honest and ardent in their fucking, like they fought for me in some war that was before my time and here they are claiming their spoils. 

It took me a while but I get it now. I’m not some damsel in distress in this story. I am not a goddamn prize and this boy sleeping beside me, who I’m sure has the purest of intentions, isn’t quite the white knight on a steed I had wished for. A train arrives and most people get on it without much incident. Some of us are still waiting on the tracks. 

I nudge him. Rude, I know but I’ve got an early day tomorrow. 

“Hey… buddy. Wake up. My boyfriend’s gonna be home any minute.” 

He stirs awake. “Billy.” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“My name’s Billy, not Buddy.” His eyes half open, the lines forming at the seams, proof that when you’re young, you could be at your worst and still look cute. 

“Okay, Billy. Wake up. I’m not fucking around. If he sees you here, he’ll beat the shit out of you.” I glance at my phone. It’s almost 3. If I get him out by 3:30, I can still catch 4, maybe 5 hours of solid shut eye. That should be enough. 

“Billy… Billy… Biiiii-lllyyyy.” The name plays around my lips. I open the door to the balcony and light a cigarette. The curtains sway in the October winds. It’ll be a few hours before sunrise but you can begin to see the hues changing just over the horizon. 

“What kind of a grown man is named Billy? Surely that’s a nickname. No self-respecting adult would be called Billy. It just reeks of immaturity.” He sits up, looking equally hurt and confused. 

“Look, you don’t need to insult me. I’ll leave. And you should stop smoking. It’s a disgusting habit. Makes your mouth taste like an asshole.” 

“You didn’t seem to mind last night.” He flips over, turning his back to me. 

“Oh c’mon, kid. I was just messing with you. You know we have a good time. But my boyfrie-” 

“Your boyfriend is coming.” He interrupts. “Got it.” 

He takes his time picking up his clothes from the floor. They form a Hansel and Gretel trail all the way to the front door. He puts on his boxers and looks me straight in the eye as though he was going to tell me something, then he stops and hesitates. He opens his mouth but the words don’t come out. 

“What?” 

He looks up, confused. 

“You look like you’re going to say something. What is it?”

“One toothbrush,” he tells me, his eyes scanning the floor for his shirt. 

“What about my toothbrush?” 

“There’s one toothbrush in the bathroom. One towel on the rack. One mug in the sink.” 

“Have you been snooping?” 

“That’s not the point. You’re right, we have a good time and just when I think I have you figured out, you pull this imaginary boyfriend thing out of thin air. It’s…” he sighs, comes towards me. 

“Doesn’t it ever get lonely in there?” His hand rested on my chest where my heart used to be. His eyes looked sincere but lonely. I felt a chill down my spine. 

“Wow, dramatic much?” I say to fill the silence. “You make me sound like I’m incapable of love. Didn’t we just make love?” 

“Don’t kid yourself. Give me a little credit.” He angrily puts on his pants and slaps on his belt. “I know what that was.” 

“That wasn’t making love?” 

“No, that wasn’t love. That was fucking. Release. You could have cum into a pillow and it wouldn’t have made a difference.” 

“But I didn’t. I chose you. Why isn’t that enough?”He puts on his shirt and grabs his phone from the table. “That wasn’t love because… I don’t think you know how to love.” He pats his pockets to make sure he didn’t leave anything. “But whatever. It’s not like I was expecting anything. Just… call me when you’re lonely again.” 

He looks at me one last time, skips the kiss goodbye, and shuts the door behind him. It’ll probably be the last I see Billy, and that should floor me but it doesn’t. I slide the bolt on the door, its metallic thud shocking but comforting, and make my way to the living room. 

He says I don’t know how to love. I look around me and see the things I’ve bought, the life I made, the sum of the parts that I call home and wonder if the price I paid was worth it in the end. I peer out my window into the city where a million lights seemingly stare back at me. I look at the roads and highways and listen for that hiss bus doors make when they close and open. It’s a sound that takes me back to a different time. 

♫: Clairo | Feel Something (2019)
Photo: @mynegativefeelings