It was just an innocent evening.
A lost invite.
A polite greeting.
A once over that gave me chills.
A confidence I admired.
But then he opened his mouth, and all the right things came out of it.
And then I stared for a second too long, and maybe I was too drunk to care about what was being whispered around us.
There was a hunger painted in green and black.
And I should have left it at the small peck.
It should have been enough. Just a taste.
But self-control has never been my virtue.
He wants me. And I want to be wanted.
He’s in the palm of my hand.
I get up.
He follows suit.
No words needed.
Hungry kiss.
You’re pretty - I hear myself saying.
Stunned.
Another hungry kiss.
I touch my lips. My hands shake. A noise from the side we separate.
We agree to never talk again.
Sunday.
It’s late. I’m alone. I’ve been thinking about him for the last three days.
An innocent text. It’s late and windy.
You’re not a serial killer, are you? -
he laughs.
What makes it serial? —
like three I think-
Oh ok! No not yet. —
I giggle.
His hands are warm. His coat is adorable. The moon is full. The wind is strong.
We kiss. Feverishly and messy and hot.
I’m stone cold sober. A choice. A bad choice but a choice, nonetheless.
I almost miss the last bus.
He waits until it drives off to go on his way. Makes my heart tingle.
Monday night.
A deserted metro station. Three bottles of beer. Another act of chivalry I won’t forget soon.
A hug that meant the world to him.
20 bucks in my pocket when I get home.
Friday.
Drunk and high. I used to turn my nose at that.
but now I’m just a hypocritical liar.
A movie no one quite understands. A hand down my pants. A hot kiss in the kitchen. The almost bathroom meet up.
A shared taxi home.
Saturday morning.
A retrieved wallet and a paid for coffee.
A weekend getaway. The lies keep growing.
A train ride filled with what ifs and excitements for the day.
A small stop on my queen size bed. A hickey. A good cry.
A meal. The lake. The boat. The planes. The plans. The terrace. The beer. The walk to the bench.
I’ve never met someone like you —
A beat or two
You will rise to the occasion -
A promise
A walk home
The wind in my arms
Sunday.
Another million lies.
His bed. His room. His smell.
Homework and music.
A tense conversation. Another good cry.
A breakup of something that never was.
Wednesday.
We can’t stay away.
His favourite bar. The Waiter that knows our names now. Probably thinks we’re together.
Doesn’t know about the lies.
The red death machine I may never actually get to ride.
Drinks and cigarettes.
Worried over the shoulder looks; laughter and freedom in the same breath.
Thursday.
I get off late from work. He waits outside. In his nicest clothes.
Others join us to our demise.
His first introduction to the work after work drinks place.
A stolen lighter and a dropped beer.
Another lie.
And you were here waiting for her? -
I was listening to a girl talk about her plants while out of the corner of my eyes I see his widen.
My tongue finds the roof of my mouth.
No, no I was just in the area! ———
His bar again. David the waiter knows us. Greets us like old friends. The other guests look over, some with wonder others jealous.
I shake his hand.
Good to see you again-
Drinks. He has one too many. Spills it over the table and me. Talks too loudly. Gets up and hugs me out of my chair.
I feel embarrassed.
We get up to leave.
We fight.
I get into the taxi without saying goodbye.
My lighter and credit card in his pocket.
No hug?—
I tell the driver to move.
We almost hit him with the car on his bike.
I’m home and I can’t sleep. I call him to sort things out.
We talk a lot.
It’s three am when I see him fighting his sleep and me my meds.
Good night.
Friday.
We go to my favourite place for once.
I pay for our meal and his drinks. I feel bad about how much money he’s spent on me already.
He looks at me with huge eyes.
No one has ever paid for anything for me before! let alone a girl -
I sometimes forget he’s a fucking crown prince at home.
If I had known that was all it would take to charm you, I would have paid for stuff way sooner- I say half-jokingly
We take the long way home. Both drunk and high.
And hungry.
His belt comes off.
I must restrain myself.
I pay for his taxi home.
He doesn’t remember half the night.
Sunday
We get one drink after work. He’s anxious. Home and business plagued him the entire day.
An important meeting. He can’t tell me about.
He leaves at ten.
I go home alone.
Monday.
I wait for him all day. Hunger written across my face.
I run to meet him ahead of everyone else. He looks gorgeous. And we kiss. Hungry and desperate. But good. Oh god was it good.
Wow you’re drunk! - he grabs my waist to hold me still for a second, look into my eyes.
I am! You missed happy hour I ordered two big cocktails - I say with a big grin.
We walk to the others.
And we kiss and touch and can’t keep our hands to ourselves.
The wind flows through my hair and cleans my soul a bit while I stand on the bridge. The free-flowing water beneath my feet grounds me.
A welcoming haze and an unpleasant cough guide me to the floor of the bridge.
He lays down. I sit down beside him.
We talk.
Again, an uncomfortable conversation that can’t be avoided anymore.
The others come and I leave.
I think you like me more than I like you…—
Oh
I guess I should leave then-.
I leave and he doesn’t follow.
He lets me go in the middle of the night. By myself.
I cry on the way home.
We talk on the telephone for a while but nothing good comes of it.
Tuesday
I met up with the others, we are trying to find something to do.
His name gets said a thousand times.
We wait for him by the side door. He doesn’t know I’m there.
Standing in a white dress.
He sees me and freezes.
He barely looks at me all night.
He’s off to buy drugs. I wait with the others far from him.
He calls me, the call is cut short I hear him yell “Fuck”.
Stay where you are okay, I have to go get him! - I yell while already running in his direction.
White dress flowing in the wind, brown locks flying all over the place.
I don’t think I’ve ever run this fast in my life; lawyers and excuses are running through my mind.
I yell his name. it rolls off my tongue too easily.
I see him. Red death machine and all.
Are you okay? - I yell over to him
Fuck, yeah, I am fine the police stopped me! ---
I fucking knew it; I think to myself.
Because of your bike, right? I touch his arm, franticly looking over him to see any signs of hurt.
Yeah…
We join the others.
DUDE what happened? Ana just started booking it after you hung up!!
A secret exchange of warm and grateful looks.
We smoke in the park.
We don’t see each other for days. Barely talk.
Tuesday.
I fucking won. I can hardly believe it.
I get flooded with congratulations all day. I get drinks and prizes. Ruhm und Ehre.
It tastes great.
Congratulations on your winnings and a red heart… Was all it took to make me crumble and call.
We meet up. It’s late again. He looks taller, a 5 o’clock shadow coming in nicely.
A hug I longed for. We touch like nothing ever happened. It’s just so easy to pretend we aren’t what we are.
Rot12 welcomes us again. We drink, step outside occasionally, to kiss and laugh. To dance and sing.
I got you riiiiight here!--- he is pointing to the palm of his hand. If he is making a reference to the first night, we met is unclear to me. In the drunken state he is in I highly doubt that.
I only nod. He is right.
How the tables have turned- leaves my mouth before being kissed again.
We get another round of drinks.
He is way too drunk, dancing outside while smoking his blue camels. I can’t hesitate any longer, practically sprinting out the bar to join him.
He puts one of his headphones in my ear and starts singing out loud to the song that’s now blasting in my ear as well.
It’s a horrible song that I would never dare listen to. But he is singing it to me. So, I listen.
The lyrics are bad but bring the message across just as well.
It's 5 AM and I'm drunk right now
Tell me, can we still fuck?
Tellin' you just how I feel right now
You say it's just the drugs, and I know
I lied too, way before, before
Before I had you right inside my arms
It’s ridiculous. He is ridiculous. He is jumping around, yelling and rapping this song at me. But damn it I am a bit smitten.
He buys me a rose.
I mean you’ve won right?---
I hate him.
He gets more drunk.
He starts behaving like a dickhead. I yell at him to stop.
I’ve had enough. I try to leave, tell them all to have fun without me.
He runs after me. Apologises. But it’s too late.
He might be rich and full of ambitions and dreams. But class? Class, he has none.
I start crying.
If you cared a little about me, you’d know how important it is to me to care. I care! I know you don’t, but I do! And I am kind! And maybe you’re too privileged to see it but I fucking care. And if you liked me even a tiny bit you would too!
I missed you! That’s why I am here. It’s two am!! Look where we are!
I shout. Tears running down my face.
I missed you too! He speaks. But I am almost sure he doesn’t mean it.
Do you mean it? Or are you just saying it back? I say.
He pauses.
Fuck! Look at what I am doing! I cheated on my fiancé for NOTHING! I yell in his face.
Wow. --- he takes a step back. Face turned with pain.
I take a breath. When I am hurt my words shoot to kill.
He takes my hands in his. I know where this is going.
It’s over. ---
Give me my phone back! -
No, I promised I’ll get you home…---
It’s over, right? My head is turned at an angle, tears running down my face, mascara painting my cheeks black.
He nods.
Then give me my fucking phone!
He hands it over.
I never want to speak to him again.
I’m at work.
My phone lights up.
Missed call. (I blocked him everywhere; glad he’s found a way)
Oh... maybe he wants to apologise. I call back. I can’t let him know how excited I am.
Hi, how-
Is it important I am at work? - I cut him off.
Yes, it’s important, do you have my keys?---
OH shit
He comes to work. I meet him at the door; drop the keys in his hand and turn around. I don’t give him a chance to speak.
The day finally ends after a cruel 12-hour shift, and I climb into bed but not before thinking of how much of an asshole I can be to people I love.
-
I’m speaking to my manager; walking down the restaurant
I can feel eyes on me- I turn my head and find his entire family sitting in my fucking restaurant.
His eyes widen. His mother has a knowing grin on her lips.
I roll my eyes still annoyed and upset. I grab Manuel’s arm and make a run for the wardrobe with all the jackets and expensive scarfs of our guests. No doubt that one of these belong to them.
Fuck me.
Days pass.
I’m drunk and have been for hours. The girl that truly knows me, who’s seen me with all my faces and masks is sitting across from me.
All words my mouth can produce amount to this; I want to see him again.
So I call him. Drunk. But with nothing but truth hanging from my lips.
We make up. Again.
It’s the usual. We’re all drunk and high spread across Freyja’s room.
We share some glances, but nothing comes of it.
His head hurts. I am worried sick. I always am. Not matter what I’ll never be able to stop caring about people who once meant something to me.
Almost two months pass
My hair has grown, a new tattoo graces my skin. The bags under my eyes have grown and the urge to run away has subsided if only a little bit.
You have a tattoo?
He grabs my arm. Thumb pressing harder than it should on my freshly inked skin.
Yes..? I snarl a bit childishly back to him
And also, aua! I rip my arm out of his touch. He looks apologetic, like a kicked puppy; I feel bad
Days have passed since then and sometimes I catch a glimpse of him around the house and have a quiet laugh to myself about how once we couldn’t stay away and how now we barely know what the other is going through.
I overhear him speaking to Adam.
-…. The funeral….
I hear as I pass.
I turn my head and catch his eyes. I try to make him understand that I didn’t mean to overhear.
He looks like hell.
It’s hard not to reach for his hand when he runs by the restaurant. Tell him to slow down and tell me what’s happening. Try to lighten the load. Carry his world with him.
But I can’t.
It’s not my place and it’s not my right. Not anymore.
So I pray again. The first time in years. Quietly and rushed. On the metro, alone to myself. I shoot the big guy upstairs a glance.
Take care of him.
I plead.
Time moves through me. My body only protests quietly, knowing that I will push through any pain to get moving.
I don’t know how it happens but all of us are going out tonight.
Some DJ he knows is throwing a party, I don’t really care. Any excuse to get drunk and high will do.
I’ve only just gotten back from my vacation. If you could even call it that.
My mother is recovering well.
My head hasn’t been the same since they called to tell me she’s in the hospital. The surgeries and the endless pain.
I am drained. Spent too much money to try to fix things. Make up for the time I didn’t spend with her.
But no money in the world can turn back time.
So now I want to get drunk.
We are at the party. Him and I pay for everyone’s drinks… like always.
He barely looks at me and I feel silly. I just needed someone who could understand the stress about having your family rest upon your tired shoulders. I wanted to be understood.
But that’s selfish.
He looks great. And I wish I could tell him. Everyone leaves. I stay back hoping he’d talk to me. Or even fucking look at me.
It doesn’t matter. He’s over it. And all I really needed was a friend who could understand. But he is hurt and over it.
And now we’ll work some confusing days together. Where I want nothing more than to be his friend again. And he’ll rightfully push me away.
He was in Prague. Brought us back some cards and keychains. I didn’t think he would.
It makes me smile all the way home.
To really understand what happened between us I have to be the most honest and vulnerable I’ve been with myself in a long time.
Whatever this was meant a lot to me. Maybe it didn’t mean anything to him. But that does not matter because it meant everything to me.
I radiated youth and a will to live by his side. I grinned so wide my mouth hurt. I felt free. Carefree. And fucking alive.
I know I will be haunted by his lips and the way his cigarettes used to find my mouth after every drunken night
How his hands on my waist felt right and the smell of his cologne mixed with beer and nicotine will always find home within me.
I’m not sure why I did what I did. I will never know. Somehow some of my favourite spots in my hometown will now also have a DYL stain on them.
And I will never be able to explain why.
All I know is that I knew him from somewhere. Somewhere and long ago.
I haven’t felt this way in a long time.
If I had to- explain it, I mean
I’d say he was a fucking fresh breath of air. A gust of wind.
Freedom.
That is what he will always be to me. And that will always be my biggest regret.
Because in the end he is just a boy. And I will just be a girl in his story as well
Even though we shared so much, and I could paint his pains with my fingertips and he could reach within my chest to feel mine. It will never be enough.
Looking at the stars on that bench talking about the inevitable hardships we will have to face will mean nothing to him. But everything to me.
Because people like him are like
Planets with their own gravitational pull.
They will always have someone around them. Thousands and thousands of moons floating by them. Steady and near him.
So one tiny star in such a big sky will never matter to someone who owns the whole universe.
The end is in sight. There is an uncomfortable air around us.
We are planning what to do as a good bye party.
I might not even be able to join.
I will have to choose, figure out what I want more.
Freedom or security.
A final breath of fresh air or lay in waiting.
Frozen.
He is getting more annoying and reckless as the days go on.
Sometimes this hard shell he insists on putting on now, slips. And I am reminded of the lovely guy I met.
Charming and polite.
There’s a game they want to watch on Wednesday. I’ve tried everything to get there on time but won’t be able to.
Even if I could- I’m not sure I’ll go
I want to. But the chance of being ignored all night and making a fool of myself by begging for his attention is too great to also pay for my actions when I inevitably arrive back home to my reality.
I did go to the Game.
We lost.
The energy was as predicted stale and uncomfortable.
like bread that sat too long on the kitchen counter. A faint promise to return to it later and finish it long forgotten.
It doesn’t matter. He is leaving. I am staying.
We throw the party. Spent too much money on him again.
Fabricating stories days before, getting the others to lie.
It’s ugly and gross. But I need to see him before he leaves. Before I leave
/
I come back from Paris. A shot glass with the Eiffel Tower on it my hand for him.
But he doesn’t respond. Avoids me.
So he leaves. And I stay behind. Glass in hand, looking up at the sky each night.
The Little Dipper shines particularly bright tonight.
A deep understanding of the consequences settled finally in my chest. Like dust.
He’ll be back for a few days.
In a few weeks from now.
We will see each other and try our hardest to be normal. At least I do.
We are soaked to the bone at the after work hang place.
We say our usual lines.
He says something gross-
I tell him to stop-
He does it again. On purpose-
I roll my eyes.
He tells me he’s stopped smoking
I cry about the hell that awaits me when all of us have to leave tonight.
It’s ugly. But that’s just how it is now.
He leaves, for good now.
I congratulate him on his birthday. I almost forgot.
Weeks pass.
He doesn’t wish me a happy birthday.
End of September always has such a special smell. New beginnings. The end of the summer. A new number to remember me by.
Something happens. Again, I don’t know how exactly but he’s screaming my name through a phone screen.
Tell me! -
Why would it concern you? -
A look on his face I can’t quite figure out.
Tell me how is it going with him!-
Will there ever be a future for us? -
Our friends are watching this exchange not daring to breathe as to not interrupt.
No!-
A Quick Look of panic on his face. I only grin and start walking out of frame.
Then it is no matter to you!
No wait! Ana! Wait, YES YES!!-
I exchange looks with Freyja, making sure I’m not hallucinating.
I turn around, pop my head back into frame.
Well, it’s going well. We are going to Brazil very soon! -
….
The day that I’ve been dreading is finally here.
10 months of indecision plagued me.
But I am flying. But not before I tell everything to the new hire. I can’t keep it in any longer. Not after that phone call.
I talk and talk and talk. About him about us about all and everything.
When I am done, he tells me how my eyes have changed. A light in them that wasn’t there before.
I stare blankly at the dirt spot on my leather shoes.
Time has no meaning.
Freyja and I dissect the last 7 months. Talking openly and way too loudly. We sit on the bench in front of the Bristol.
We pass his bar. We walk the streets we all spent hours on.
See familiar faces. Laugh at the universes silliness as even the fox makes his presence known.
We watch night turn into day.
Talk only about love and what I ought to do.
But it is no matter now.
He drunkenly confesses he has someone.
My heart sinks.
So, I make up my mind. I think.
Who do I think I am? Of course he can have someone else. I do.
I fly.
I sent a picture to the group chat.
A new ring.
I get congratulated by almost everyone.
/
I’m drunk. I’m calling the group chat.
He picks up.
I can’t let him know how nice it is to see his face and hear his voice. Know he’s ok.
He congratulates me on my engagement.
He puts an honestly after. I stare at the text.
A simple thank you is all I can muster up.
Time again seems to just run away, escaping my grasp.
Again, days have passed. Weeks even.
Normal life will resume now.
