it never gets any easier to meet an ex-lover and leave with a box full of things. under his bed back at his mum’s, there’s a treasure trove of old shoe boxes stuffed with fragments of people he’s loved ; strips of polaroids from nightclub photo booths, half-finished chapsticks left in his coat pockets, labels peeled from bottles of wine shared on a tube to notting hill carnival, the glittery remnants of a shoddily fashioned mix tape. he used to leave things behind — favourite kitchen knife, a roll of film, his dignity — so that he’d have an excuse to go back and collect them. they’ve tried this before, only he’d gone round to jenny's place, with the intention to be in and out with the last of his stuff in no more than five minutes. instead, he’d ended up in and out of jenny. sex always feels so much fucking better when it might be the last time. he’s chosen a park this time around, because it feels like they’re unlikely to fuck in broad daylight with like, kids and ducks and old people present and shit. but then again, it’s him and jenny, and given their track record he probably shouldn’t rule it out. she finds him on the bridge, skimming stones across the pond with one hand, lost mary vape in the other, his body betraying him with a smile when he looks at her. he slips back into old habits despite himself. eyes snap back to the water to watch his stone skim, only to realise that in his distracted state it's the vape that's left his hand and not the stone. “ oh, for fuck sake. ” jude watches as the little bottle of oil kisses the surface of the water once, twice, then sinks below the current, before turning his attention back to jenny. “ hi trouble. ” at once he’s both too casual for the intensity of what they’d shared and too familiar for what they’ve become. it feels like he exists in a fugue state where he no longer remembers how he’s meant to behave, the simultaneous desire to draw her closer and lengthen the distance between them resulting in him standing upright and wooden like a shitty 90s video game NPC, unsure of what to do with his arms. “ you got my warhammer figurines in there ? ” despite the lack of humour in his delivery, it’s obviously intended as a joke. possibly the only person, living, dead, or fictional that jude would ever stomach himself to have a figurine of is marcus rashford. or at a push taylor swift.
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