we meet the day when we're both entering sophomore year in high school, and that day i'm just your average sixteen year old loser who's never even had a girlfriend, and then you walk into the room and all of all sudden all that i can even notice in those few split seconds is you and your hair and eyes and smile and arms and everything, as if there's some sort of radiation surrounding you that just screams perfection
(i pause at this for a second just so i can soak myself up with the moment of meeting you for the very first time)
and that's also the moment when all of all sudden, i fully consciously realize the real reason i've never had a girlfriend before and it's standing right next to me and smiles a smile that looks like it's been cut straight from a tooth paste advert, and right then and right there it just hits me out of the blue alongside vague memories of awkward group showers after gym class and that one really hot guy from that one mediocre band and boys in eight grade who i wanted to be with be with a lot more than is normal, but all i can actually notice at that moment is how the oddest thing about this whole revelation situation is that i'm not even wowed that much.
(i press play)
and now your lips move again and i hear your voice for the very first time, "hey, i'm kyle,” you say and take a seat at the desk next to mine, and i think i may have been so lovestruck by you and your presence only two feet away from me at that moment that i completely forget that i'm supposed to be a functional human being, so i just sit there for a while. in my mind this goes on forever, just me sitting there and staring at you, but the tape doesn't lie and it's actually a few seconds. you extend your hand, and i awake from my vegetable state and say “i'm josh,” we shake hands, and your hand is so warm and soft and perfect in mine that i kind of wonder how someone who is this perfect just so happened to find me.
(fast forward to the weekend after)
we're lying in your backyard and i'm not even sure anymore why we wanted to hang out in the first place, i'm pretty sure it was basketball but you'd given up on trying to teach me how to play after you realized that i was only the most out of shape person in the universe.
so we're lying on the grass, the trees and the sky above us, the dewy green below our bodies and there's only about a foot distance between us and my heart is up in my throat and beating like there's no tomorrow because this is happening and you exist and i could totally swear that i'm falling in love or something, and that sounds just like a scene from some cliche chick flick, except for the bit where neither of us happens to be a chick, but who cares because you're right next to me and you're fucking perfect and the rather large part of me that thinks with his dick just wants to roll over and kiss you, because you're just so fucking perfect that you probably wouldn't even mind and maybe you'd kiss back because you're perfect and obviously any situation involving you would also be perfect and and and, but just as that part finally manages to convince the rest of my brain to just go for it, you sit up and ask me if i've ever had a girlfriend before.
at that, my heart does an abrupt sinking motion from the back of my throat down into the very bottom of my stomach, and i could have sworn that i could hear a little swooping sound effect, like the one used in cartoons when something really heavy falls from a really great height, and i also could have sworn that the really heavy something just fell out of the sky with a small swooping sound and was about hit me in the head. that's exactly what it feels like, a large blow to the head just waiting to happen, and a part of me just really wants to cry at this because of course i have to finally meet someone i'm actually consciously attracted to and then you just have to prefer girls over awkward slightly overweight boys like me, but i just swallow and say “no”, and then, “have you?”, because if i can't have you i at least want to know if someone else ever has – had you, i mean.
you let yourself fall down onto the grass and shrug, “well yeah, i had a girlfriend back in washington, but i've just moved here now and i guess now i'm just gonna see what's going to happen”, and i nod and ask you what washington is like to get away from the subject as quickly as possible, but the whole situation kind of feels awkward and there's still a small echo of that stupid swooping sound playing in my head and i really just want to ask you why you can't just be gay because that would make the whole thing a lot less complicated, but i don't and so we just wind up talking about how much washington sucks for a while.
(fast forward to a few months later)
it's your average november day ('average' meaning 'the sky consists of fat gray clouds which kind of remind me of particularly bad porridge') and you and i are sitting on the old tacky couch in your parents' basement which kind of looks like the 70's puked it up. i guess we were supposed to be playing video games or something equally substanceless, but it degenerated into staring at the screen, eating stale nachos, watching our virtual selves get slaughtered by zombies and just talking.
there's actually no “just” about the phrase “just talking”, it just makes it sound like talking is the easiest thing in the world, as if there's no barriers to be crossed or awkward silences. as if everybody in the whole world just spends their days talking about things that matter and things that don't.
i think we were concerned with the things that don't when you finally brought it up. it.
you begin to speak, “oh yeah, i've got”
(but i press fast forward fast enough before i have to hear those words again. those words that made the exact same metaphorical really heavy something from three months ago finally finish swooping and fall onto my head with a daft thud. those words, “i've got a girlfriend now by the way”.)
i'm not even sure what enraged me more at that very second – the fact that you had a girlfriend for what was probably a while now and didn't even bother telling me, the fact that it just had to be a girlfriend rather than a boyfriend, further decimating my chances, or the “by the way”, as if you didn't even think of me, as if your life was completely irrelevant to mine, and as if you didn't even realize how much those words hurt my feelings.
how could you realize, it's not like you know that i'm gay, it's not like you know that you're the single most attractive person i have ever met, it's not like you know how much i want to be your boyfriend, and a part of me really just wants to scream at that moment and tell you how much you mean to me, but i don't because i already know that i have no chances with you and we've only met a few months ago and this would just ruin our whole friendship before it even really started andandand.
“nice”, i just say instead, “what's she like?”, and you tell me her name (maggi, short for margaret, after her great grandmother) and how you met last week at the mall (at the virgin megastore) and what her favorite color is (light green) and how good she smells (like cinnamon rolls and sunday mornings – whatever a sunday morning may smell like), and i nod and say “nice” after all of those facts, but i know that it's fake and you probably did as well.
(fast forward into winter)
we're sitting on the same old tacky couch again, and when I say we, i don't mean you and me, i mean you, me and maggi, or as i should probably say me, you and maggi, because she's pressed up against your side and during the gory parts, she buries her face in your chest.
and even though i know i should be paying attention to the action on screen i just cannot help but look over towards you and her. and even though i know that i shouldn't be jealous of her, i am. and even though i know that she's just a girl and probably has a great personality and we're still in high school and eventually you two will break up, i cannot help but wish for a flaming rock to fall out of the sky and hit her in the head.
eventually the movie ends, and you get up to look for more popcorn, and then i'm alone with maggi, which is pretty much the equivalent of putting a spider next to a house fly, and i don't even know whether i play the part of the house fly or the spider in this one.
“hey, are you okay?” maggi's voice is light and soft, and i can almost understand why you're so attracted to her – she's just about the perfect girl equivalent to your perfect boy, and maybe that's why i hate her so much, because i will never be perfect enough to be with you (not be with you, actually be with you), and maggi just sits there and looks at me, and she says “josh?” and only then is it that i realize she actually just asked me a question, and i blink and say something to the extent of “no, no, i'm fine”, and she says “oh, i was just wondering, you weren't looking at the screen at all during the movie”, and i shrug and then you finally come back with more popcorn and we start the next movie.
(and eventually maggi leaves, and i fast forward to later that night)
i think we must be on horror movie number six or seven at this point, but it's cold outside by now and so we had moved up into your room, with both of us laying on your bed, eyes focused intently on the small screen, and now that we're all alone and there's nothing – or no one – between us, a part of me really just wants to nudge closer towards you and bury my face in your neck during the gory parts, but i don't because you're not gay and you have a girlfriend and i really don't want to fuck things up and besides, even if all those other points were void i'd still look like an even bigger pussy than i already am, and so i stick to eating popcorn and hoping that my hand accidentally brushes against yours.
after a while this movie ends too, and you turn your head to look at me and mumble, “dude, i'm tired”, and i nod and mumble “yeah, me too” and i'm still not sure whether that one was a lie, but i get up and make myself as comfortable as possible on the inflatable mattress on the floor, and you turn the lights off, we say “good night”, and then for a while we just lay there and breathe, and after a while your breathing gets quieter and more regulated, and i'm pretty sure you've fallen asleep.
there's a part of me that kind of wants to get up and crawl in next to you, not ravish you in your sleep or anything that's even remotely sexual, just lie next to you and hold you, feel your chest heaving below my arms and your breath against my face, and you would never even know, and i would get to actually do something close to being with you, even just for a night, what could possibly go wrong?
i sit up, and just at that i hear your voice again, “hey, can i ask you a question?”
i freeze for a second, but then i relax again, there is no idea you realized what i was about to do, i was just going to get a glass of water or something, something like that, and i say, “yeah, go ahead”, and you switch the light back on and turn to face me.
“well, you know, i was just noticing that you kept looking at me and maggi earlier today, so i was wondering...” my stomach cramps up again at this, i was so sure of the question that was about to follow, are you gay?, and i already dread the idea of answering that question, no matter how you reacted, it would likely just fuck up everything. fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. “are you jealous of me or anything?”
i exhale loudly at this (never minding the fact that i didn't even remember holding my breath in the first place), and you furrow your brows and continue, “are you okay? i mean, i was just wondering, since you've never had a girlfriend or anything, and yeah, i'm not gonna be mad if you say yes.”
it takes a few more seconds until i fully regain my ability to talk, because you didn't suspect anything, thank the lord or some other spiritual entity. “i was just wondering, alright?” and i mumble, “naw, she's not really my type... maggi, i mean,” and you nod and say “okay”, and turn off the light once again.
we just lay there in the dark for another few minutes, and the silence in the room is so thick you could cut it with a knife, and once again i consider just doing it, just crawling in next to you and pretending that we're actually being with each other, but now i know for sure that you're awake and this would be just way too weird, and that's when you begin speaking again.
“so... this is kind of awkward,” and i shrug and say “awkward,” partially to break the silence, partially because it's true, this is the single most awkward situation i have ever been in, and there's just something about talking in the dark that's much easier than regular talking, and that's when i say it.
“you know, kyle...” i take a deep breath. “i think i might be gay”, and that's when the light goes back on.
(i take the opportunity to pause the tape just so i can see your face, and you seems to be genuinely surprised, with no trace of hate or anything to be seen, and then i press play again)
“are you kidding me?”, you ask, there's still nothing but surprise in your voice, and i just shake my head.
“so... you like guys? as in, sexual like guys?” and i just nod, “well, i'm pretty sure i like guys, you know... not like i ever actually had a boyfriend or anything, but yeah... you know.”
(i pause yet again, and your face still has the same expression of surprise on it)
“well, then... that's okay, i guess”, you say, “wow... i have a gay best friend i guess.”
you laugh nervously at that, and i exhale loudly, you're not going to hate me, you're not going to hate me, and you switch off the lights yet again and say, “well, good night then”, and i say “good night” as well, and i close my eyes and try not to think about you or being with you or what i had just said, and in the end i actually fall asleep to the sound of your breathing.
(fast forward another few months)
it didn't last. of course it didn't. “maybe we're just not compatible,” you snivel and wipe your nose on my bedsheets, “that's what she said, maybe we're just not compatible.” you're lying on my bed, your head next to mine and your arms around my neck, and this would be almost just everything i'd spend the last few months hoping for, but right now you're crying like a baby which is kind of ruining the moment.
a part of me kind of wants to tell you that of course it didn't last, because you were just kids in high school and high school relationships never last and that you're acting like a fucking pussy and that i'm going to have to wash these sheets later today, but i am actually holding you and you are actually lying on top of me, and even if you are crying this moment is kind of way too wonderful for me to say anything like that, and so i settle for stroking your back instead.
“maybe we're just not compatible”, you repeat for the third time before burying your head in the pillow and breaking down into a string of sobbing and semi-incomprehensible words, many of which are either “maggi”, “compatible” or “fuck”. and then for a while i just lie there, with you sobbing into the pillow while still halfway on top of me, and i'm not sure how much time passes while you're still sobbing, and i kind of wish i could say something right now, but it's not like i've ever been broken up with so it's not like i'd understand.
i think it takes around ten minutes of sobbing in total before i finally do ask you if everything's okay, and you roll off of me and look up and shake your head, and you're still so perfect even if your face is stained with tears and even if you have snot running down from your nose, and the look in your eyes just screams of the feeling of being hit in the head with a metaphorical swooping object, and at that moment you just look so goddamn heartbroken that i just want to lean in and kiss you.
just kiss you, as if that could possibly fix anything, but i just know that i shouldn't and you just keep looking at me like that and it's then that i start crying too, and i'm not exactly sure whether it's because you're crying or because i can't have you, and then we just sit there and cry for a while until you sit up and look at me once again, and then your hand is on my cheek and you say, “hey, stop crying. not your fault”, and that's when it happens.
that's when your hand is on my jaw and my lips are on yours, and i'm still not sure which of us started it. the kiss, my first kiss, technically. it's sort of awkward because your face and lips are sticky from tears and snot and mine are probably too, and there's no tongue or anything, but it's a kiss, and i think i might have cried just a little more at that because it's nothing like the way i expected my first kiss – or our first kiss – to be, but still it's everything i'd hoped it would be,
(and that's when i take the time to rewind back just a few split seconds before the kiss, and now i can clearly see that it's actually you who started it which makes the whole situation in retrospect just a little better, and then the whole thing happens again until you pull back and exhale.)
“wow,” you say, “wow, i'm sorry,” and i just want to tell you that you don't have to be because this is more or less everything i've ever wanted, but instead i just lie back and say “let's never speak of it again,” just because even thinking of bringing this up ever again would just be way too awkward, and you say “never,” and then it's sealed.
(fast forward to spring break)
it's a quiet night and we are sitting in your backyard with nothing but a bottle of jack daniel's between us. our knees and arms brush together, and if either of us tilted his head just a little slightly it would be lying on the other's shoulder, and this is almost just like i'm actually being with you, except for where in my dreams neither of us were drunk, but right now we are and so i grab the bottle and take another sip.
“you know”, i say, “it's spring break. we should be in california getting laid right now”, and you say, “i know”, and lie back, “but i don't really care.” you take a sip as well, and i let myself fall down onto the damp grass next to you, the sky is almost a little too clear right now and this just seems way too fake, as if some spiritual being had made us characters in a metaphorical movie without our knowledge, but maybe that's just the alcohol and the sky isn't really that clear.
and then the silence starts to get awkward, so i take a closer look at the sky again and ask, “hey, isn't that orion?” even though i know literally nothing about astronomy and neither do i care, and you shrug and say “probably”, and then you laugh and reach for the bottle again.
“you know”, you mumble, “maybe this is actually a lot better than being in california and getting laid”, and i just nod because in california i'd have to share you with a girl and you'd have sex with all of those californian girls pop songs are written about and i would just sit there and have extended make-out sessions with my bottle of jack.
“speaking of getting laid,” i say “you got a girlfriend again?” and you shake your head and ask me if i've got a boyfriend yet, and i also shake my head and then we just sit there again in semi-awkward silence, until you grab the bottle by the neck and say “dude, i'm bored. let's play never ever have i ever,” and i pull the bottle from your hands and take a sip and say “never ever have i ever is boring if you're only playing with two people.”
you shrug and sit up and reach for the bottle yet again before handing it to me, and i prop myself up on my elbows and take a sip. we take turns drinking the rest of the bottle until it's empty, and that's when you collapse down onto the grass and say, “josh, i'm tired”, and i just nod because i'm pretty sure anything coming out of my mouth by now would be complete nonsense, and you wrap your arms around me and now i can feel your breath on my neck and holy fucking shit, i'd probably have at least a semi by now if i was less drunk.
“'m cold, hold me,” you mumble, and so i put one arm around your shoulders and the other around your waist and this seems like the perfect moment to try and kiss you again, and i open my mouth slightly and try to aim for yours, but i get your nose instead, and you twitch and i whisper “sorry,” and that's when the tape cuts to black and i probably fell asleep.
(fast forward a few weeks)
her name is janie and she has curly brown hair and freckles, wears oversized sunglasses, listens to early 90's punk rock and smells like marlboro's and chocolate. she's the exact opposite of maggi and yet somehow next to your perfect boy she seems to be just as much of a perfect girl, and maybe that's why i already hate her despite having never spoken a word to her.
“janie, this is josh,” you say, and she stiffly sticks out her hand, her face frozen in an expression somewhere between apathy and imminent dislike. i reach out and shake it, her palms are clammy and her nails are painted dark red. she pulls back almost immediately after about a second and then twists her fingers into yours, and the way you and her just seem to complement each other to the point of something beyond perfection makes me want to claw out her eyes even more than 'just' the fact that she's the one who is with you.
for a few seconds we just stand there in the middle of the hallway, you're looking at janie, janie's looking at you, and i'm just standing there and pretending to look at something remotely interesting right behind you two, and after those few seconds you clear your throat and say, “awkward”, and i say “awkward” and laugh nervously, mostly to even try and get a normal conversation going, and janie lets go of your hand and says “well, i don't know about you guys, but i have calculus now”, and you nod and kiss her on the cheek, which just fuels my desire to push those stupid sunglasses to the side and dig my fingernails into her eyeballs even further, but before my homicidal urges can take over me she already kissed you back and walked down the hallway (in the single most perfect way a girl can walk, of course).
“so this is your girlfriend now?” i ask in the most passive-aggressive tone of voice possible, mostly to let all the hate out, but also to assure a very small part of me that no, this isn't a very elaborate and mistimed april fools prank, and you nod and ask me if there's something wrong with that.
“i don't think she likes me,” i say (by which i mean that i don't think i like her, but that's not something i could say out loud in front of you without delving into an extended discussion of my sexuality), and you shrug and say “i think she's amazing. she just takes a while to warm up to, but i swear she's a really sweet girl,” and if it weren't for the fact that i really don't want to get into an argument with you, i'd set you and your lovestruck ass straight and outrightly call her an ice cold bitch.
instead, i settle for asking exactly how you guys met, mainly to try and pretend to be not so bothered by the idea of you having yet another girlfriend, and you say something about last week's pep talk and “you were right next to me, josh, don't you remember”, and i just say “oh yeah, right, i remember now” which is a blatant lie, but you swallow it and change the subject to something less relevant.
(fast forward into the beginning of summer)
i first meet him at the cheap doughnut shop three blocks away, it's a sticky arizona summer evening and he's in line in front of me and ordering a blueberry doughnut and a small latte.
it doesn't take long until he pays for his stuff before he turns around and leaves, and that's when he just happens to me, or probably i should say that i just happen to him, because all that i'm doing is standing in line and waiting to order my doughnuts, and he is turning around and preparing to leave but instead he winds up running straight into me and his doughnut and coffee cup slip out of his hands and onto the floor and he goes down right with them, and i get the feeling that i shouldn't just stand there and watch, and so i kind of fall right onto my ass too even though he barely even pushed me.
“wow, holy shit man, are you okay?”, he asks, and it's kind of the day i first met you all over again but without the electric feel of oh my god oh my god oh my god running down my spine (amongst other body parts), and i quickly open my mouth to try and not seem like a vegetable. “yeahyeohmygodi'msosorri'llbuyyanewcoffee,” i sputter out and immediately feel even more embarrassed, because seeming like a blabbing, attraction-struck mess really isn't much better, but he just laughs and reaches for my hand before pulling me back onto my feet.
“i'm brandon”, he says, or probably that should be brandon says, because i know his name now and i also know that he likes blueberry doughnuts and is apparently accident prone so he's not just a stranger anymore, and i should probably tell him my name as well so i say “josh regan” and brandon laughs again. it's only then that i notice that we're still holding each other's hands but brandon doesn't seem to mind.
it takes a few more seconds of us standing there awkwardly before i finally let go of his hand and walk up to the counter and order him a new latte and blueberry doughnut before placing my own order (a chocolate glazed doughnut, a strawberry jelly filled one and a medium mocha latte), and brandon nudges me over and says “let me do that” and pays for my stuff even though it costs a lot more than his, and we grab our doughnuts and go outside.
i still don't really know how it happened, but we wind up on the pavement right in front of the shop, and in the end we just sit there just talking for around an hour or two, genuinely just talking without any awkwardness or uncomfortable moments, about bands and horror films and junior year and other things that don't matter that much, and eventually one of us brings up being gay and holy shit is this really happening, and eventually it gets dark and brandon stands up. “look, josh,” he says and pulls me up once again, and once again he doesn't let go of my hand (and in retrospect i think that maybe i should have actually felt something at that moment, but i don't because at that moment all i can think of is the fact that i'm not thinking of you for once). “i really really enjoyed this and well, i was wondering if you wanted to see a movie or something soon?”
i just completely zone out at this point because i think that's the part when i realize just how perfect brandon actually is because this is the first time i'm not too busy talking to him to actually notice how his eyes and lips and hands and hair and everything just scream perfection, and it's obviously not the same perfection as your perfection but it's perfection and that's good enough.
“i mean, if you don't want to see a movie we can also have pizza or something”, he adds, and it's only then that i realize that he just asked me a question and so i say “yeah, pizza sounds good”, and brandon asks whether thursday night would be okay, and i just nod and say “great”, we exchange phone numbers and then he lets go of my hand and says “well, see you on thursday”, and i nod once again and then we both leave into different directions, and it's only once i'm a block away that it finally hits me that i'm going on an actual date with an actual gay guy who's actually attractive, and in retrospect i probably should have been happy but all i can think of is how brandon isn't you.
(fast forward to thursday night)
we are sitting at the very back of the classiest cheap pizza place in town with a large peperoni shared between us, and when i say we i obviously mean me and brandon because you are too busy being with janie, and i probably shouldn't be thinking of you and the fact that you just have to have a girlfriend right now, and so i try and focus my attention on the pizza in front of me.
“you not hungry?” brandon asks, and i just shrug at that and finally take my first piece, it doesn't really taste like anything but that might just be the feeling of not you speaking. after a few seconds brandon is still looking at me so i swallow and say “i don't know, this just feels really weird,” mainly to even say something, but also because it is weird, because this is my first actual date and i should probably be happy but all that's on my mind is you and you're not here, but it's not like i can just tell brandon that.
“you're gonna be okay,” brandon says and smiles, and i nod and say “i guess,” and then we just eat in silence for a while and somehow we manage to actually strike up another just talking conversation.
eventually the pizza is eaten and we just keep talking until we don't have anything to talk about anymore so we pay up and leave, and brandon drives me back home and somehow we just think of even more even less relevant things to talk about during the drive.
i think we're talking about our least favorite brand of cereal or something equally meaningless when brandon pulls up in the driveway of my house. “well, tonight was a good night,” he says, and i nod because it actually kind of was, ignoring how he still isn't you, and i have already opened the door as brandon grabs my hand.
“wait, wait,” he says, and i pull the door closed again because it's actually pretty cold for a summer evening. “yeah?”, i ask, and he twists his fingers into mine and next thing i know his lips are on mine and i can feel his breath on my face, and that's when i open my mouth and slip my tongue into his and at this moment all that's going through my mind probably should be holy actual fuck i'm having my first real kiss, at seventeen years because i'm a total loser but that's okay because he's the closest thing to perfection i will ever be with be with, and he also tastes like molten cheese which is pretty sweet i guess, but instead, the only thing on my mind is that it should have been you.
eventually, we break the kiss and he says “i'll call you tomorrow,” and i just nod and get out of his car and he drives off, and for a while i just stand on the lawn and think that i should probably be happy.
(fast forward to the last weekend before summer's end)
it's another sticky arizona summer night, but it's not like i actually notice much of it firsthand. your parents were out of town and you'd told me that you wanted to “make our summer go out with a bang” just a few nights back, with “a bang” apparently equating to sixty-odd strangers sitting around your house drinking gross beer, destroying precious belongings, having unprotected sex and doing whatever other things people at high school parties supposedly do.
you'd also said “our summer”, despite the fact where you'd spent most of your summer having a girlfriend and i had spent most of mine being with brandon trying to ignore the fact that he's not you. but right now brandon isn't here and janie left only a few minutes ago, and actually i'm not too sure of where you are either because i've been sitting in the exact same spot on your couch for around five hours now, clutching a now empty glass of what once was soda.
technically i could be getting shitfaced off trashy cheap lager right now or snort coke off your parents' toilet seat, or i could even go over to brandon's house and get laid and actually not be a ridiculously late late bloomer for once in my lifetime. instead i am sitting here and trying to pretend that i'm having fun, but it more than obviously doesn't work and so i'm just that one kid who's sitting on a sofa at two AM and is the only one at the party who doesn't enjoy themselves.
i kind of just keep sitting there until everyone else has gotten bored of their beer, coke, sex or whatever else they might have been doing, and after i'm sure everyone has left we should be having the house to ourselves, except for the bit where i'm still not exactly sure where you are and it takes me another ten minutes of sitting on your couch before i finally get off my ass and go look for you. in the end i find you curled up on your parents' bathroom floor, eyes halfway closed and clutching a half-empty bottle of jack.
“kyle? you okay?”, i ask, which in retrospect probably was the dumbest question i could have possibly come up with at that moment because it was quite obvious that you were anything but okay.
you don't reply, and so i ask again, louder this time, and you open one eye and shake your head, and i probably shouldn't just leave you lying in there, so i pull the bottle from your hands and then wrap my arms around your chest and slowly pull you up.
you just hang in my arms like a wet sack of rocks, and if it weren't for the fact that it's you and that you've probably been lying on the cold tiles for a while now i'd probably just let you fall, but i tighten my grip and drag you into your parents' room.
“fuck, you're heavy”, i say, and you slur something that vaguely sounds like “sorry”, and so i let you fall onto the king size bed as gently as possibly, and because it's already past two and i had just spent the last few minutes with possibly the heaviest physical activity i have done in the past few years, i crawl in next to you and drape the covers around us, and at that you open your eyes once again and mumble something that could probably be interpreted as a “thank you”.
you close your eyes, and after a while your breathing gets quieter and more even, and even if you just passed out you're still so perfect, and i really just want to wrap an arm around you and hold you at that moment, and for once there's no part of me protesting against this because even if you were to wake up you're still so drunk you wouldn't remember any of this in the morning, so i nudge in closer and put an arm around you, and i can feel your breath on my face and even if you do smell like whiskey this moment couldn't possibly be more perfect, and it doesn't take too long before the tape cuts to black and i fall asleep.
(fast forward to the morning after)
i wake up to the sound of someone choking, and this time it doesn't take me that long to figure out that it's you and it's coming from the room next to this one. i get up as quickly as possible, stretch (and crack around half a dozen joints in the process), before i walk into the small bathroom, and there you are, leaning over the bathtub and puking your guts out, and i shouldn't just stand there and stare, so i hold your hair back as the second load comes from your throat, then a third and a fourth, and by that time all that's even coming out of your mouth anymore is water and gall juice, and you get up and turn around to lean against me.
“dude, i'm never drinking that much again,” you say and i just shrug and wrap an arm around your shoulders, “never”. i nod and you wriggle free of my grip and stagger back into the bedroom before throwing yourself onto the mattress.
“you okay?”, i ask, which still sounds just as stupid as the night before because you just puked up what has to have been at least two days worthy of meals, and so i quickly add “can i get you something?” onto the end, as if that would make the question any less stupid.
“never drinking this much again,” you mumble once again. “think you can get me some painkillers?” i nod and go into the kitchen to get a glass of aspirin, and when i come back you've rolled yourself up into the same fetal position as last night again. i hand you the glass and you slightly raise your head and drink it all up in one sip, and it's only then that i realize just how goddamn tired i still am.
“move over, i'm sleepy,” i mumble before climbing into your parents' bed once again, but you don't move and so i just kind of adjust myself until one of your legs and arms each are thrown across my torso, and you're just so comfortable in what isn't even a sexual way. i turn around to face you and because i never really know what to do with my limbs in situations like this (not that i've actually been in situations like this before) i throw one arm over you, and for a while we just lie there like that until you tap my shoulder and mumble “dude, this is kind of gay, nothing personal.”
i just shrug and roll over onto my back once again and say “fuck off, we've done gayer things,” because right now you're so tired that you probably won't even care if i brought up the kiss again and besides it's a valid argument, and you nod. “besides, i can't even properly hit on you since i've got a boyfriend now,” i mumble, and you say “didn't know that” and wrap your arm around me just a little tighter, and i should probably feel guilty because you're not brandon but instead you're you and this is almost like being with you and so i just shrug and say “well,” which isn't even a proper fragment of a sentence, but it's not like i can really put the feeling of “i-wish-you-could-be-my-boyfriend-instead” into actual words without ruining this whole thing, and so i just say “well,” and that's enough for both of us.
in the end we spend the whole day just lying there until your parents come home and jokingly ask you when you'd “switched teams”, and when your mother starts complaining that there's empty bottles and plastic cups all over the living room and that someone had puked in her bathtub, even that doesn't bother me that much anymore.
(fast forward to yet another average november day)
“you know, i never really liked rain,” brandon says, and i just shrug and put my arm around him even tighter. i'm not even aware of what we were doing in the first place (or what we are supposed to do now) but i'm pretty sure that it amounted to exactly nothing, which is exactly what we are doing now so it all works out.
“i mean, yeah, i know that it's good for something and all but it just kind of bothers me. you know what i mean,” he continues, and i could say something to the effect of “yeah, i get you,” now, but at this point i'm kind of tired of talking and i'm kind of tired of listening to brandon talk, and so i just settle for turning my head and kissing him, and he kisses me back and this goes on for a while. we break apart for air after a few minutes, and he rolls on top of me and we go back to making out, and this is most certainly the part where i realize that i should probably be feeling at least something at this point, but i don't stop because making out in itself is just much more fun than actually talking about anything, and brandon is rather good at it (that is, if i'm allowed to say that without having a proper comparison).
i think it's at some point around five minutes in when he sits up and asks me if everything's okay, and i just shrug and mumble “i guess,” and for a few seconds we just sit there in silence before i ask him if he wants to go watch shitty talk show reruns or something.
he just says “okay then,” and we turn on the TV and at that moment it kind of feels like everything is said and done even though it's clearly not but it's not like i'd ever be able to tell him about you, and so we just lean into each other and watch a man in a dress and a pregnant teenager have a heated argument about something which apparently involves excessive use of sound effect bleeps, and if i don't think about it too much i can kind of pretend that you are brandon and brandon is you.
(fast forward another month into christmas break)
we're lying on his bed with the covers pulled tightly around us, and by now it should be kind of obvious that “we” is brandon and i. i think at this point we're not even trying anymore to even pretend we're doing anything productive, at the moment we're just lying there, with his lips locked on mine and my tongue twisted into his.
brandon breaks the kiss at one point and says “i think it's snowing,” and i just nod and rub my nose against the side of his face because really i would rather just make out than talk to him right now. making out is pretty easy, once you get the hang of where to put your nose and how to not bump your teeth into the other person's, but instead of telling brandon all that i just say “hm”.
“d'you think it's snowing?” he asks, and at this point i just want him to shut up so much, so i just mumble “maybe,” before reattaching my lips to his, because if there is one surefire way to get brandon to shut up for good it's this, and then for a while we just return to lying there and making out. this time i actually kind of enjoy it, but that's most certainly because when i close my eyes and block out the smell of brandon's shampoo i can pretend that he's you.
it's around three or four minutes in when brandon breaks the kiss once again and i'm forced to open my eyes and realize that no, he's still nowhere near your level of perfection, but it's not like i can actually say any of that out loud so i just ask him what he's doing, and the moment i ask i realize that i probably should have known what he was about to do sooner than that, because that's also the moment when i realize that i have a hard-on rubbing against my leg which most definitely isn't my own. it's also the moment when i realize that i'm already half hard myself, so i don't even object when he kisses me again and one of his hands sneaks down my stomach and into my pants.
“you sure you want to do this?” i ask, and it's not even that i don't want it because hey, would you look at that, i may or may not be about to actually get laid, and it's not even that i don't necessarily want it with brandon because it's not like i'm ever going to have sex with you and brandon is the next best thing to that, it's just simply that i'm not sure if he actually wants to do this because i may or may not be about to actually get laid and it's not like i ever actually thought this through.
“yeah,” brandon says and the hand moves to stroke my dick through the fabric of my boxers, and holy shit, his hand is on my dick. “i mean, if you want to, it's all up to you,” he continues, but i don't even say anything because there's a loop of holy shit going on in my brain and so i just settle for kissing him and moving my hand down near the waistband of his sweatpants. it takes me a second or two of realizing that holy shit i am getting laid before i build up the courage to actually stick my hand into his pants, and then, for the first time in my life, i have a dick in my hand which isn't mine, and once again, the issue isn't even that i'm touching another guy's dick without being inherently disgusted by it, but the angle is awkward and i'm not really that sure on what to do now and to top it all off, brandon's arm keeps brushing against mine which just adds to the awkwardness.
i'm still torn between whether to try and jack him off or just straight out say that this is my first time doing anything sexual ever that involves more than one person when brandon breaks the kiss and says “dude, this is awkward, take your pants off or something,” and before i can even say anything he's already slid them off me and thrown them to the floor but it's not that i really object because i no longer have to try and deal with the fact that i'm holding a dick (or was, until five seconds ago).
“so, hey, do you want me to suck your dick or something?” he continues, and i could have almost come right there because brandon just asked me if i wanted to get my dick sucked which is only the single most sexual thing anyone has ever said to me, and because you just don't pass up an offer like that if you're a seventeen year old teenager with a penis, i just nod and say “go for it,” and i lean back and that's when i feel the tip of his tongue and holy fuck and i must have said that bit out loud because brandon laughs and takes it in his mouth and holy jesus titty fucking christ this is awesome.
at that point i close my eyes and imagine it being you sitting there between my legs and i'm pretty sure after that it only takes me around three more minutes until i have what is quite possibly the single most awesome orgasm in history and come all over your chin, until i open my eyes and you turn into brandon again, brandon, who's wiping his chin and smiling at me with the sort of smile that comes straight out of a porno and basically screams was it good for you?
because i can't just say no to that sort of smile i mumble “jesus christ, brandon,” and it takes me every single brain cell that doesn't feel like it's just been sucked out of me to concentrate and not call him kyle instead. brandon just smiles that smile again before he crawls back up the bed and kisses me, and it's only then that it occurs to me that he still hasn't come yet, so i motion him to take off his pants and wrap my hand around his dick once again, which goes slightly smoother than the first time but still not completely smooth, but in the end he comes and we wrap the covers around us.
brandon falls asleep pretty much instantly, and he just looks so peaceful when he's asleep that he's actually kind of cute, so i wrap an arm around him and for the first time since i met him i don't wish that he was you, and at that moment life almost seems really good so i curl up and fall asleep as well.
(fast forward two months)
we're sitting on my couch, and this time we means you and i again, and you're clutching your hand in mine and that's probably what i should be focusing on right now because hey, you are holding my hand, but instead all i can think of at that particular moment is the bit where you mumble “josh, shit, i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry.”
i don't think that you actually have any idea of what to say because that's all you've been saying for the past minute or so on a loop now, “i'm so sorry, i'm so sorry,” and the issue isn't even that you don't know what to say or that you keep telling me you're sorry for something that has virtually nothing to do with you, the issue is that i'm not even sure whether you should be sorry, because i'm not even sad about having broken up with brandon because he's obviously not you and brandon probably isn't even sad right now either but that's not the point, the point is that you need to stop.
so i say “stop saying that,” and you say “okay,” and then we just sit there in silence for a while but you don't let go of my hand and i think that if anything i'm the only one who should have a reason to be sorry right now because i basically dumped the guy who could have been considered my boyfriend up until two hours ago without even giving him a valid reason, but it's not like i could have just told him that he isn't you and he never will be and that's the only real reason i'm breaking up with him, because that would just make matters worse.
it's at that point when i let my head fall down onto my chest and say “i'm sorry,” and you just say “stop saying that,” in a poor attempt to imitate my voice, but i shake my head and tell you that you wouldn't understand because you wouldn't because it's you. there's a few seconds after that when we just sit there in complete silence and neither of us even moves, and even though there's not even music playing or anything i can't even hear your breath, and if it weren't for the fact that you're still holding my hand i'd guess that you just hate me right now.
(and if i didn't know any better i'd say that i pressed pause at that point but i didn't)
i think it takes around a minute or two until you sit up and ask me if i wanted to drown my sorrows in chinese takeout and jack daniel's, and i obviously say yes because at least that would give me an excuse to think about something that's not brandon.
(fast forward to another spring break)
it's another quiet night and we're sitting in your backyard once again, sharing another bottle of jack and talking about getting laid in california yet again because we're seventeen and drunk and it's not like either of us ever actually got laid laid before, and we're sitting so close that your head is on my shoulder and the moment is just as perfect as it had been last year, even if we just so happen to be both drunk and you just so happen to have a girlfriend.
“hey, josh,” you slur and i turn my head, we're sitting so close that my nose is brushing against yours in the process. “i'm tired,” you mumble and i just nod, and you let yourself fall down onto the grass and say “let's go sleep, josh” and i say “okay,” and you pull me down next to you by the shirt collar and laugh, the sort of small, pointy giggle people get when they've had a little too much but somehow it's still the definition of perfect when it comes out of your throat.
“do you think you're funny?” i ask and just as the words come out of my throat i kind of regret saying them, but you just laugh and say “yes,” and then you close your eyes and it's only a matter of minutes before your breath evens out and you've fallen asleep, and somehow you're still just as perfect as usual even when it's long after midnight and you've passed out in the middle of the lawn.
at that moment i just want to lean over you and kiss you, actually kiss you, slip my tongue into your mouth just to figure out what you taste like (and i'm pretty sure at this moment you'd taste like jack but i wouldn't be able to tell the difference between jack and perfection), and you'd never know because you're asleep and we're both drunk and even if you did remember it in the morning for some reason i could still blame it on the alcohol, and while my brain is still debating with itself whether to go for it i've already rolled over and pressed my lips to yours.
i lick across your bottom lip just really slightly, and if heaven had a taste i'm pretty sure this would be it, even if you only taste like jack and make-out session mouth, because it's you, and i roll over onto my other side once again and mumble “good night, kyle.”
in the end i fall asleep right there next to you, with one of your arms outstretched over me and your head on my shoulder, and just the moment before i drift off to sleep, i come to the conclusion that this is easily the greatest moment i have ever lived.
(fast forward two months into the beginning of summer)
we're sitting in your car outside of the nearest fast food place, eating greasy burgers and sipping something that tastes like stale coke and may or may not actually be dishwater.
“y'know what's funny?” you ask, shoving a sad-looking french fry in your mouth. “it's my eighteenth birthday, i should totally be getting laid by my girlfriend right now,” and i don't really know what to say to that, considering i'm not sure whether you're actually serious. “and instead, i'm sitting outside of the cheapest micky dee's in the universe, in a minivan, with my best friend, eating cheap hamburgers. funny how those things work out, isn't it,” and now the sarcasm in your voice is overwhelmingly obvious, and so i just shrug and take another bite of my burger (which looks like it should have been sold around eight hours ago).
“hilarious how things can turn around,” i mumble, and you lean back in your seat and say “of course, i would probably be stuck balls deep in some vagina right now, but my girlfriend just picked the greatest day out of all days to have ever existed to decide to break up with me, isn't life wonderful?” and by that point the tone of your voice is so exaggerated in a 'comically sincere' sort of way that i can't help but burst out laughing, and for some reason you start laughing at that as well, and then we just sit there and laugh for a while, and if a random stranger were to walk right past the car right then they would guess we were both high as kites.
i think it takes around five minutes before we've both finally come down and then we just sit there for a few seconds, panting in an attempt to regain our breaths. “honestly though,” you then say and take a sip from your cup. “i'm pretty sure most girls just suck,” and i just shrug at that because it's not like i can talk.
“you know, if it weren't for the whole dick thing and all i'd probably go gay, you guys must have it a lot easier,” and i could swear that i could feel my heartbeat stop for a second or two right there because holy actual god in heaven did you really just say that, but instead of saying anything to that effect i just shrug once again and say that guys suck just as much as girls, which really isn't something i can talk about either seeing that i broke up with my first and only boyfriend for the sole reason that he happened to be not you, which probably makes me the one who sucked more in that relationship, and besides, the only guy who ever actually managed to break my heart janie-style is still you and it's not like i can flat-out tell you that because it's not your fault that you happen to like vaginas.
you just shrug as well and say “people just suck in general,” and i nod and then we just sit there for a while before you start talking about senior year and i just go along with it because i don't particularly want to talk to you about janie or the advantages and disadvantages of being gay or anything else even remotely relevant to relationships.
(fast forward another two months)
it's the last sunday before senior year and just like last year we're lying on your parents' bed and somehow this time your smell of vomit and alcohol almost seems a little too normal, and you just mumble “dude, i swear to god i'll never drink this much again,” but i just shrug and roll onto my back and say “that's what you said last year, too,”
you swat your hand in my general direction in what is probably a desperate attempt at hitting me before grunting, “shut up, i'm hungover,” and then we just lie there for a few seconds, with your arm loosely thrown across my chest and your head resting on my upper arm, and this isn't even remotely close to being anywhere near romantic or like being with you because all that i can think of is you throwing up what has to be bucketloads into the bathtub and the smell just reminds me of that even more, and so i just stare at the ceiling for a while, but the ceiling isn't actually that interesting and so i just shrug after a while and mumble “dude, summer sucked this year,” not just to break the silence but because it's true.
it's not like i'd ever had a particularly good summer but this year was particularly the worst. you just shrug at that, and i'm assuming that this means you're too tired to talk so i just keep talking, “i miss brandon,” i say, which isn't even a lie because even if he's not you he still was halfway decent at giving blow jobs, and maybe my summer would have been slightly less terrible this year if i had at the very least gotten my dick sucked on a regular basis.
you roll over onto your stomach and mumble “i miss janie,” and then you close your eyes and bury your face in the nearest pillow, and if i didn't know any better i'd guess that you started crying again, but there's no sound and i can see your chest heave regularly, and at that i realize that you've fallen asleep, and so i get up as carefully as possible as to not wake you. i wind up throwing out all the red plastic cups and beer bottles and also clean out the whole bathroom before i climb back into the bed, and you turn around and open your eyes at that.
“you feeling better?”, i ask, and you just shrug and ask me if your parents are back yet, and i shake my head and tell you that i'd already cleaned the house. you mumble something that vaguely sounds like “thank you”, and then we just lie there again in silence for a while, and it's only when i'm around ninety-nine percent sure that you've gone back to sleep that you tug my sleeve and say “josh”.
there's a small pause, as if you'd forgotten what you were going to say, but you're way too hungover for me to accuse you of being, well, drunk, and so i just look at you questioningly before you continue, “josh, i got laid. don't remember her name.” i could swear that i physically swallowed at that point, because the thought of you having to have a girlfriend is bad enough and the thought of you having sex with your girlfriend is even worse, but the thought of you having sex with a random girl just genuinely makes me want to throw up, and i'm not even sure if i'm just thinking that because i'm attracted to you or because it genuinely grosses me out (but it's probably a bit of both).
“last night, in the guest room,” you continue, and it only hits me then that i'm probably supposed to say something, and so i just ask whether it was good for you, and you nod and i'm glad that i was spared from being told the exact details.
(fast forward to october)
it's a surprisingly stormy night for this season and you and i are sitting on the same old ratty couch in your parents' basement just as we did two years earlier. there's a movie playing on the small tv screen, but it's not like either of us are really paying attention. i'm pretty sure the only reason it's still playing is because neither of us can be bothered to actually turn it off, and so we just sit in the dark for a while and don't really talk about anything.
“remind me again why we're not going to homecoming?” you ask and pull out a self-rolled cigarette from somewhere under the couch (your secret stash, as you'd told me a few months ago). you light up and take a long drag, then lean back against the arm rest and exhale loudly, and i cannot help but stare at the thin blue wisps of smoke caught between your lips because damn, and i'm not exactly sure whether that applies to you and your mouth or the fact how someone can still be so attractive even when they're slowly poisoning themselves.
it's at that point when i realize that that was a legitimate question, so i lay back and roll my eyes. “because you don't have a date and i don't have a date and they probably don't even have booze,” i say. you just shrug at that, take another drag and say “homecoming is probably overrated”.
i'm not really sure what to say to that, so i just try and focus onto the screen again, but by now the movie is almost over and besides i'm not really sure of the plot anymore, so i just stare into the flickering light for a while until my vision starts to blur and i look away, back to you and your cigarette.
we just sit there like that for a while, with you exhaling smoke towards the ceiling and me just sitting there and staring at you, until the silence gets awkward and you sit up, stub out your cigarette on the cheap upholstery and light another one. “girls just suck,” you mumble and take a drag.
i shrug and say “boys suck just as much”. you laugh at that and lean back, then suck harder on your cigarette before opening your mouth wide and blowing smoke rings up against the ceiling. i'm still not exactly sure whether i'm staring because your lips are moving in a way that's highly reminiscent of sucking a dick or because you simply look so perfect while smoking, but i'm pretty sure it's a mixture of both (but mostly the first reason, because holy fucking shit this is hot).
it's at that point that you sit up and ask me “want one?” and i'd be lying if i said that my first thought upon hearing that was “a cigarette”. it's also at that point that i realize that my staring must have been pretty obvious, and so i say yes just to make the whole situation slightly less awkward, and besides, smoking couldn't possibly be that difficult.
i light up and take a drag. for a split second i don't feel anything but then it kicks in and it all happens at once, the slightly dizzy feeling in my head and the taste of ashes in my mouth, and that's also when i start choking and i cough and i choke and cough and cough and in my head i spend at least two minutes choking on the smoke in my throat. it's actually just a few seconds, but that's enough to make my eyes water, and by the time i finally get my throat free there's tears streaming down my face.
“josh? you okay?” you ask, and there's that stupid question again because from the looks of it i'm obviously not okay, so i shake my head and stub out my cigarette. god, i must look like such a pussy right now, i can't even figure out how to smoke, and that thought really isn't improving the whole situation so i just keep crying, and it's then that you put your arm around me and say “no, no, it's okay, it gets better,” and that's when you move your hand to my cheek and wipe those tears off my face,
(and i actually have to pause at this exact second because that exact moment just makes me cry all over again, and i'm not exactly sure what does it, the fact that i'm crying or that look in your eyes at that split second, that look that just says love, and it takes me a few seconds to get myself together before i can bring myself to press play again)
and after a few more minutes i wind up smoking a second cigarette which goes down a lot smoother than the first one, and in the end we just spend the night sitting on the couch, talking about nothing and smoking, until you curl up on your side of the sofa and fall asleep, and it doesn't take that much longer until i fall asleep as well.
(fast forward another few months)
it's new year's eve and we're at some party. i'm not really sure whose house it is or if i even know the host of the party, but they have plenty of booze and so i'd spent the majority of the evening so far in the kitchen with a bottle of jack. i'm not exactly sure where you are at the moment, either, but at the moment i'm kind of a little too intoxicated to care about anything, that is until he enters the room. he, the guy with the nose piercing, the antler tattoo on his wrist and what looks like a gay pride shirt and holy fuck he's attractive, not attractive like you in the i just want to be with you be with you way and not attractive like brandon in the you're hot and have a decent enough personality let's make out for a while way, but attractive in a i just want to fuck way. he walks right past me and grabs a bottle of beer from the freezer, and it's on his way back when he does stop and stand next to me.
“hey,” he says, and from the tone of his voice he's only slightly less drunk than i am. it's then that it occurs to me that i must have been staring, so i say “hey there” to seem slightly less awkward, and because i feel like maybe i should try and get to know him a little better i quickly add an “i'm josh” afterwards. he just smiles (a slightly too huge toothy smile that just makes him seem drunker than he actually is), then says something along the lines of “great party” and introduces himself. i don't actually catch his name, but it's not like it really matters because he's drunk and i'm drunk and in the odd event that we ever meet again after tonight it probably wouldn't be too embarrassing to ask for his name again. in the end we wind up exchanging small talk about booze and guys and college for a few minutes (despite the fact that i'm still a senior in high school, but at this point i'm sure he's too drunk to pay that much attention to me), but after a while i'm fed up with talking and listening to him talk and so i just grab him by the wrist and lean forwards to kiss him, after all, he probably wouldn't even mind.
technically, he was only the third person i ever kissed and practically he was only the second, so it's not like i really had a lot of comparisons, but from what i could tell he was pretty good, not as good as brandon but still pretty good – even if he did taste like cheap beer. we just stay like that for a while, with my hand wrapped around his wrist (the one with the antlers) and his hand still on the beer bottle on the counter behind me.
it's only when some guy i vaguely recognize enters the kitchen and tells us to get a room before yelling “BRO, LOOK AT THOSE FREE RANGE FAGS” that we break apart, and he suggests that we could look for some place quieter. i don't really object to that because well, he's hot and besides i don't really feel like being the source of amusement for a bunch of stupid high school boys (not like i have any room to talk because it's not like i'm any less of a stupid high school boy). it takes us a while until we actually find a room that's actually empty, but once we finally find one and close the door behind us, there's no holding back
(and that's when i begin to fast forward, i fast forward through us making out up against the wall, stumbling onto the bed, taking off our clothes. i fast forward through him fumbling for a condom and me telling him that it's my first time, him saying that he'll be gentle. i fast forward through the sex, through my stupid face when it hurts like fuck at first, through my stupider face when it gets better and through my even stupider face when it gets really good, and i fast forward through me coming all over his stomach – and i may or may not have called him kyle at that point, but if i did he probably didn't even notice, and in the end i fast forward through him coming and throwing away the condom, and i fast forward through him falling asleep next to me, and that's when i fall asleep as well and the tape cuts to black)
when i wake up in the morning, it's seven am and the first thing i notice is that he is no longer lying next to me. i sit up, and only that's when i really notice how much my head hurts, holy fuck, as if someone had split it in two with an ax or something similarly gory and painful. fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck, and i let myself fall back down onto the bedsheets and it's only then that this whole thing really sinks in. basically, i'm lying naked and hungover in a stranger's bed in a stranger's house, and less than six hours ago i lost my virginity to a guy whose name i didn't even know. fuck.
i get up as quickly as possible, and it's only when i bend down to pick up my clothes that i realize how much my ass hurts, as if this day couldn't start off any worse. in the end i actually manage to get dressed and sort out my hair and face to the point where i don't look completely dead. i make my way downstairs only to realize that i'm by far not the only one to have woken up with a shitty hangover, if the amount of guys and girls sitting around clutching coffee cups and looking generally just as dead as i probably did a few minutes earlier is any indication. some of them look up when i open the door and one guy says something that vaguely sounds like “bye josh” but between his hangover and my hangover it's kind of hard to tell, and that guy may or may not have been him, but in day light and sobered up he doesn't look anywhere near as attractive as he did the night before.
i don't bother with saying anything to him, and it's at that point that i stop thinking of him as him and the guy i slept with and start thinking of him as just antlers, the guy with the wrist tattoo, and i can't help but kind of have to wonder why i ever wanted to have sex with him. for a while i'm not exactly sure where i'm going, it's not like i could go home because my mother is probably there and she wouldn't be too thrilled about me coming home with a hangover and a sore ass, and so i decide that i should probably go to your house instead.
besides, it's closer anyway, and after i've spent a few minutes walking i want nothing more than to just collapse on your bed and ask you to crawl in next to me and hold me, just like you did the two summers before, and so i'm more than happy when i finally arrive at your house. the sound of the door bell just makes my headache worse and your mother winds up trying to hold small talk about how my holidays were which really isn't improving my general condition, but then you finally show up and just seeing you stand there in the door frame in just a t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweat pants makes me feel much better.
“hey,” you mumble, and even though it's just a hey it totally makes up for everything, and i say “hangover” and you nod and lead me into the house and into your room. i collapse onto the bed right then, and you ask me if i want coffee or a painkiller or something like that. i shrug and say “coffee?” even though i have the distinct feeling that i might throw up if i eat or drink anything right now, but there's always the slight chance that it will actually make me feel better.
you just nod and leave the room, and i bury my head in your pillow which smells a lot like your shampoo and your sweat and just you in general. it's then that i wonder once again why i ever decided that it'd be a good to fuck antlers, because it's not like i wouldn't have been able to get a proper boyfriend and just fuck him instead without the hangovers and the regrets, but then again any boyfriend i would have still wouldn't be you and the thought of that just makes it all feel so much worse.
just as i'm about to metaphorically drown in self-pity you enter the room with two cups of coffee, and i feel better almost immediately as soon as i drink my first two sips, and you smile and ask me if i'm better now. i say “i guess” and you ask me if i can get something else, and because i really don't feel like being alone again i ask you to just stay here with me, and you laugh and motion me to move over.
your bed is smaller than the one in your parents' room and so the whole situation is kind of awkward, but in the end we find a position we're both comfortable in, and you wrap an arm around me and ask me how last night was. “lots of booze,” i say. “i lost my ass virginity.” you laugh at that before saying “congratulations,” in the most awkward-sounding tone of voice you could possibly congratulate someone, and then ask me if it was good for me.
i shrug and say “pretty good.. well, i guess it could've been a lot worse” and we both laugh a little, and then we just lie there for a while until the hangover gets to me again and i wind up falling asleep in your arms.
(fast forward to april)
it's the night of my birthday and you and i are sitting on my back porch, each of us armed with a bottle of jack. technically, it's not my actual birthday in another four minutes, but it's a friday night and so we decided that we might as well start drinking beforehand. “dude, this is boring” you say for what has got to be the fourth time and light a cigarette. “we should've gone over to my house, at least there we could have watched a movie or something,” you continue, and i just shrug and take another sip of whiskey and say “next time we're going to your house.”
i take a look at my phone's screen, still three more minutes until my birthday, and because it's an unusually cold night for this season i zip my jacket closed and reach for my bottle again. we just sit there like that for a little you're blowing smoke rings and i'm clutching the bottle next to me while trying not to stare too much because damn. after a while the silence starts to get awkward, and so i nudge you in the side and ask you if i can bum one off you, and you just nod and then we sit there again for a few seconds and smoke, and when i look at my phone once more it's two more minutes to go.
you blow out smoke and say “you know, i kind of miss having a girlfriend.” that's so out of the blue that it takes me a good few second to actually process what you'd just said and find a response – not out of shock or anything, but it's not like i expected you to say anything at all right now. “i kind of miss having a boyfriend,” i say, which isn't really all that true because i doubt that brandon would want me back (and for that matter, i kind of doubt that i'd want him back), and besides i kind of doubt that there's another you out there who would want to be my boyfriend, and so i mostly say it to pretend that we're having some sort of conversation. you just sigh at that and say “too bad relationships suck in general,” and i'm not really sure what to say to that so i just nod.
i look at my phone once again, one more minute until i turn nineteen. nineteen. not really a milestone or anything like that, and i still wouldn't be able to legally get drunk for another two years but still, at least nineteen sounded like a pretty big deal. “in retrospect,” i say and take another drag from my cigarette. “being eighteen was pretty boring.” you laugh and stub out your smoke and say “being eighteen is pretty boring,” and we both laugh.
you take another sip of whiskey and it's then that you nudge my side and say “josh, it's midnight.” “i know,” i say, and you laugh again and say “happy birthday or something i guess.” i stub out my cigarette and say “thanks or something i guess,” and we both laugh again.
“so, any special birthday wishes or anything?” i just shrug at that, honestly, i never really thought about making any specific wishes because i'd figured i would just get money from my relatives and you'd take me to see a movie or something like that. in the end i settle for saying something about how a boyfriend would be nice, which isn't really a lie because having someone there would be nice, even if it were just for sex and extended make out sessions, but it's not like that someone could ever be you so it's not like i'd be actually happy.
you just laugh and say “come on over here,” and the look on your face right at that second is so perfect that i kind of want to take a picture of it and keep it forever, because you're obviously drunk (but in an attractive way) and everything about your smile just screams kiss me. it's not like i could say anything though, and so i just move closer until there's no more space between us. you laugh once again and take another sip of whiskey before wrapping an arm around my shoulder.
“oh, fuck fuck, hang on a second,” you say, and then we just sit there for a few split seconds and stare at each other and i still kind of wonder how a single human being can possibly be so perfect and that's when it happens.
that's when you lean in and your hand is on my cheek and your lips are warm and wet on mine, and i probably should have done something, but at that moment i'm just way too wowed and my brain is on a way too huge loop of fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck this is happening to actually get my body to do things, and so i just kind of sit there and wait until you pull back and look at me with that same kiss me smile (which is kind of ironic because you just did, but it's not like i kissed back).
(i take that moment as an opportunity to rewind to the moment when you lean in and watch it all once again, you closing your eyes and cupping my face and me sitting there, eyes wide open, just kind of staring into somewhere between you and the hedge a few feet behind you, until we break apart and i kind of keep staring and you smile that smile once again)
“happy birthday man,” you say and i don't really know what to say at that so i just laugh and ask if you want to get fast food, but really all i wish for at that moment is to go back in time just a minute so i could be prepared and kiss you back and everything would work out much better
(and i still kind of wish i could go back)
instead you just nod and we spend the rest of the night sitting in your car and eating cheap burgers, and i still want to kiss you so much even if you'd taste like a mediocre sandwich.
(fast forward to june)
it's 2.30 in the morning after your birthday and everyone else has already left. we're halfway sitting halfway laying on your bed, and the fact that your arms are wrapped around me and your head is pressed against my soulder could almost be considered romantic if it weren't for the fact that you're crying once again.
“you don't understand it, i fucking loved janie,” you say and i can feel your lips brush against my collar bone at that. “i loved her and then she just got some other guy and she just had to show up,” you continue, and i don't really know what to say to that so i settle for rubbing your back and telling you to calm down.
“i fucking loved her,” you repeat once again and i just nod, and then we just lay there like that for a while, until the tears stop flowing and you raise your head to look at me. “better?” i ask, mostly to even be able to say anything because the odds are that you're not feeling better, but you actually nod and reach for the bottle of jack on your bedside table.
you take a deep chug and ask me if i want some too, but i decline because i don't particularly feel like drinking at this very moment. we just sit there for a moment once again before you reach across the bed and grab my wrist. that's when you said it.
“you know,” you say, in the smallest voice i've ever heard you in. “i could use some cheering up right now.” for a second i just sit there and stare at you before what you just said properly sinks in, and even then i still just sit there for a few more seconds because i can't believe that you'd ever actually say that.
(and in all honesty, i still can't believe you really said it, and so i take the opportunity to rewind and replay that line again, “you know, i could use some cheering up right now.” you sound completely genuine saying it, intoxicated and perhaps a bit shy, but you're definitely being genuine.)
even when i accept the idea that you basically just asked me to hook up with you, i still don't know how to reply to that other than something along the lines of “are you sure you want to”, “what if you regret it in the morning” or “you're way too drunk for this”. honestly, i wouldn't even think to tell you something along those lines because god damn i've wanted this so bad for the last few years and the fact that you're a little drunk wasn't going to stop me, but i still don't know what to say and so i just settle for leaning in and kissing you instead.
honestly, it's not like i'd kissed a lot of people but from the second that you open your mouth and let your tongue glide against mine i can already tell that you're a better kisser than brandon and a much, much better kisser than antlers, and at this point i don't even care anymore that you taste like whiskey because i probably taste like the taco i had for dinner but who even cares because i'm kissing you and you're kissing back and this is only my number one masturbation fantasy from the last three years come to real life and oh god oh god oh god.
we stay like that for a few minutes before eventually breaking apart for air, and that's also when i open my eyes and see you sit there right next to me, and all i can say at that is just “whoa.”
you just laugh at that, and there's something about you at that point that basically screams SEX, and there's nothing i want more at this moment than skin on skin, and so i reach down and pull off your shirt. you do the same with mine, and at this point i don't even feel self-conscious because you fucking want me and i want you too and can we please just get back to making out now, and so i pull you in once again.
your chest is warm and smooth against mine and i'd be lying if i said that i wasn't completely fascinated with your body before this, and i'd also be lying if i said that i wasn't spending considerable time running my hands along your arms, back and ass right now because holy fuck i'd spent so much time hoping for this and now i finally have it, but it's not for long until this just isn't enough skin to skin anymore and so i snake one hand between our bodies and begin to undo your pants.
you do the same with mine and it only takes around ten seconds after then until we're both naked and you're lying on top of me and there's lots of friction, good good friction, and if we're being honest here i'm kind of surprised that i didn't come just from seeing you naked, and then we just lie there for a couple of seconds before i tell you to move or something, and you do, really carefully, and holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck this is so much better than anything i've ever done before (even though i'm pretty sure that's only because it's with you).
“holy fuck,” you say, and all i can even think at that moment is don't stop don't stop don't stop so tell you to keep going, and you start rocking against me, a little harder this time and fuck oh fuck oh fuck FRICTION
(and not going to lie, this is pretty hot, and so i pause to unzip my pants before i keep watching)
eventually i feel myself getting closer, and so i wrap my arms around you even tighter until there's literally no space between our bodies and holy fuck. it doesn't take much longer until i come all over your chest, and i probably made a really stupid face at that second but if i did you probably didn't notice, and it doesn't take much longer until you come as well
(and i come as well)
and you roll off me and kiss me once again and tell me how fucking good i look right now
(and i just have to rewind and hear that again, “you look so fucking good right now,” genuine)
and it's then that we both fall asleep.
i wake up the morning after the greatest i've felt a long time, which may or may not be because it actually happened, we actually happened, and it was the most fantastic thing i'd ever experienced. when i roll over, your side of the bed is empty, but the sheets are still warm and besides it's already ten-thirty and so i figure that i might as well get up. it takes me a while to actually find all of my clothes, but in the end i go downstairs fully dressed only to find you in the kitchen.
“morning josh,” you say with a smile. “want coffee?” i don't even like coffee that much but i say yes more or less automatically, because it's a monday morning and everyone drinks coffee on monday mornings.
you grab a full mug from the counter and take a sip, and you just look so good right there with your little smile and your hair that's still kind of messy from last night, and i kind of feel like i should say or do something right now and it's not like there's that much room in the kitchen either way and judged by last night you probably want this too, so i just take that one step forward and kiss you and that's when i feel you freeze up
(i press stop and eject before your coffee cup hits the floor)
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