plastic blue

1999

the first time we meet, he's dressed in all black, shaggy dark hair hanging to his shoulders and pale skin, so pale that it makes the walls behind him look gray. "my name is g, but you can call me risk", he introduces himself, voice cold and emotionless.

2000

it's a cold, windy day in february, and risk and i are wandering around the neighborhood. we're talking about life and everything else, and his voice is just as empty as it had been on the first day. he's talking about how he'll move into his own apartment after his birthday in a few months, and then buries his hands deeper in the pockets of his jeans, then kicks a can of soda across the street. "you can come too, you know", he says, looking at me, and his face is just as empty as his voice.

2001

we're sitting on the couch in our apartment, facing the wall, and watching a movie on the old television set. neither of us know what it's about, but it's not like there's anything else to do. i occasionally laugh, but else than that the room is silent, apart from the occasional sound of rain hitting the glass of the window behind us. "risk?", i ask, slightly nudging his side. he turns around to look at me, and that's the first time when i notice how blue his eyes are. "can we change the channel?" he doesn't reply, just grabs the remote. we end up watching some porno, a blonde with big breasts being fucked at what seems to be the speed of light, and then some. he grins an incredibly fake grin, then leans back and watches. i shrug and look down at my feet; to be honest, i couldn't care less. the man on tv goes for her ass now, and i can hear risk unzipping his pants. "damn, that's hot", he mumbles under his breath. i can see him stroking himself out of the corner of his eye, and in all honesty, at that moment he's clearly the hottest thing in the room.

2002

it's the day after my sixteenth birthday. supposedly, that's the day when you'll start feeling grown up, mature and competent, but at the moment i feel more helpless than i have ever before. risk and i had decided to spontaneously crash on the living room floor, and at the moment his head's in my lap, hair splayed out all over my thighs. i tangle one of my hands in it, it's unbelievably soft and cold. his breath is soft and quiet, and he's still as pale as he was when we first met. i look across the room, there's still some empty beer bottles on the floor, and the smell of sex in the air tells me that someone got quite a good fucking in here after i fell asleep. "jason?", a raspy voice asks, and it's risk, he's awake. i quickly try to remove my hand from his hair, but he just shakes his head. "feels good", he mumbles, blinking, "i'm hungry." i just nod, then move to get up and head towards the kitchen.

2003

the sky outside is grey and stormy. we're sitting in the kitchen, eating pizza, and risk is reading the newspaper. his hair is messy, and his eyes aren't the perfect shade of blue they used to be. he reaches for another slice of pizza, letting a string of cheese drop down onto the paper. "i fucking hate sundays", he mumbles, letting his eyes travel around his room and taking a bite. his lips look so beautiful right then, and as he runs his tongue across them, i can feel my pants get a little tighter, shit, not again. he looks at me, then at the box in front of me. "you didn't eat at all, j", he remarks, and his face remains empty. i just shrug, then pick up a piece and take a bite. risk gets up, then leaves to watch tv. i just stay there for a while. when i'm sure that he's not going to return, i reach down and jerk myself off, but it's not as great as it'd be if he were doing it.

2004

risk is leaning against my side, telling me about the girl he broke up with. he's calling her a dirty whore, and saying that she should die in a fire, and i can hear small sobs in his voice. i just listen, occasionally nod and pat his back. he looks at me, and his face is emotionless as ever, except for the small teardrops sparkling in the corners of his eyes, and at that moment he just looks so small and helpless that i can't help but lean in to kiss him. he just looks at me for a second, then kisses back, and his lips feel incredibly soft as they part under mine.

2005

we're both incredibly drunk the first time we have sex. it's risk's birthday, and we had locked ourselves up in the apartment with tons of alcohol and action movies. we're on the third movie, and a bomb explodes on the screen when he pulls me in and starts kissing me. i kiss back, he pulls me in and shoves his hand into my pants, a bunch of guns fire. we take off our clothes, he mumbles „let's fuck“ into my ear, and someone is shot in the head on screen.
later that night, we're lying on the floor, naked, panting and sweating. "you're amazing, you know that", he whispers in that empty voice, tracing patterns on my skin.

2006

„you know, j“, risk says, lighting a cigarette and exhaling, „i met this girl in town today.“ i just nod, curling up further against his side, and brush one of my hands over his ribcage. „she asked me out on a date“, he continues, and that moment is the first time in all the years i've known him that there's some sort of emotion in his voice. i just lie there for a moment, he just has to tell me this right after we've had sex. in the end i just nod and roll over to turn my back on him.

2007

i'm sitting on the couch, watching a movie in the middle of the night, and risk is halfway sitting in my lap, halfway splaying out on the couch. that's when he announces to me that he's getting married. my first reaction is the urge to sit up straight and scream at him, because apparently all those times we fucked and the years we've been living together apparently meant nothing. i don't know what i'd do after i'd finish screaming. maybe i'd jump up, pack my things and run off, look for a new flatmate or something. not that i'm independent or cool enough to do anything of that sort. i bite my lip, and just mumble „congratulations“ through clenched teeth. risk turns around to look at me, and judged by the look in his eyes he actually thinks i'm being honest.

2008

it's a sunny, warm summer day when risk returns to my apartment. he's sitting in my lap, just like he had only a year ago, but this time he's a sniffling, sobbing mess, his tears staining my shirt and his hands clutching the upholstery. „she killed herself“, he whispers, wiping his eyes, and at that moment i really want to say something to cheer him up, but all i can think of is „there's other fish in the ocean“, and that didn't seem too appropriate, so i just hold him and listen to him. „she, she told me she'd do it, but i didn't listen“, he continues, „and she said it's because of you.“