Sander and Robbe, Minute by Minute

The Only Passenger

The sound of footsteps downstairs broke his train of thoughts. Sander glanced at the clock on his bedside table. It's 8:47 AM and he hadn't slept at all last night. When he got home, he had called Robbe to make sure that he was okay. Robbe had been quiet, even more than usual, and he had said good bye shortly.

He didn't even bother trying to sleep. He was sitting again in a moving carriage, but there was no window or door, just walls of images flashes left and right, above him, below him. He was stuck in the seat, the only passenger; watching yesterday like a movie that kept rolling endlessly. Sometimes, the details would changed. He was wearing different shirt, or it was different pub. It were only two men and they fought them. Sometimes it was an alley, dark and dirty, and they were being beaten by stangers. He felt punches on his face, hard kicks landed on his ribs. He heard Robbe's screams, painful groans. He was lying on the ground, and Robbe was whimpering. He had gasped then, and found himself trembling until he remembered that it didn't happen. With each rolls, the color was brighter, the details were brutally richer.

What about next time? Could he protect him? He had pushed him too fast, he brought it on them. He was always so reckless, something always happened. Remember the supermarket? The paintball? What next? He saw it again, the blank, shock look on Robbe's face, the ugly cut that was just next to his beautiful soft eyes. The shame on his face, his embarassment because he was terrified if the losers were hiding in the dark, waiting for them.

There was the lie he told Robbe last night. And his mind greedily pounced on it, taking the memory from the back of his mind and put it on the light. Fear, and humiliation, the agony of not being able to protect the hazel eyes boy, the helplessness, pain, and the pity. He hadn't forgotten his BD, no matter how hard he tried to separate that part of him from them. Lie over lie over lie.

"Sander?" There was a knock at the door.

Sander didn't answer and just close his eyes. The sound of door opening.

"Sander? Have you eaten?"

Still closing his eyes, he said, "Mom, it's Saturday. Let me sleep."

"It's past eleven honey."

What? Sander opened his eyes and looked at the clock; It's 11:07 AM.

"I will eat later mom."

"Okay, but don't forget, okay? I got to run some errands, there are eggs and bacons on the kitchen. I probably won't be back until after five. You can order some pizza later or something else, I left some money in the jar."

"Okay, careful. Bye."

"Don't forget your meds sweetie."

Sander grunted a yes and after a moment the door closed.

*

He was pacing from the door to the window, circling the avalaible space in his room. His things and clothes were scattered all over the place. He went to the desk, sat down and grabbed some blank paper. Pencils in his hand, he just moved his fingers across the page. Halfway, he saw that it was nothing, just a chaotic line of blacks that mirrored his inside. He got up and started pacing again.

He saw his phone on the desk and snatched it. He opened Robbe's contact and typed: I am sorry, everything is too fas— He deleted it. He sat down on the bed and tried again: It's better if we took some time for the mome— He deleted it again. Typing new message again: I love you. He didn't send it of course. He knew that it's better to end things with Robbe. Robbe had too much on his plate; his mom, his jerk of a father, didn't seem to have any sibling, almost getting beaten or crippled, or worse, just because. The attack had scared him, possibly traumatized him. He really didn't need him to make things worse. But Sander could not let go. He could not lost him.

He got up and circling his room again. The air was choking him; he needed to get out. His mind raced. He grabbed his phone. There was a party tonight, he remembered seeing a broadcast message by his friend. He checked and found it. He snatched his jacket and got out.