Fortuitous (BoyxBoy)

Sixteen

MOVING ON

            They say the hardest part of moving on is starting over. I think the hardest part of moving on is accepting that there is something to move on from. Some things I would rather not move on from. Is it possible to be brokenhearted and indifferent at the same time?

            “You’re not even trying!” Simon shouted. He tossed his console on the coffee table. The plastic hitting the glass made a terrible sound that made me flinch. He didn’t even pause the game.

            “What…” I looked at the screen. Simon was kicking my ass, terribly. “But you always beat me. What’re you talking about?”

            “I’m not stupid!”

            “Sy, I know that. What’s wrong?”

            “Nothing. I don’t want to play anymore. I’m getting a Uber.”

            I could not remember the last time Simon was mad at me. “What did I do?” I asked. “You’re supposed to stay over tonight.” He ignored me and continued to use his phone.

            “You’re both so stupid!” He snapped instead. “You want to be with each other. But you’re both being stupid. Because of some douchebag.” Speechless. That was the only word. “You can’t even play a stupid game and not think about him. All he does is ask me how you’re doing. I hate you both.”

            “You don’t mean that,” I told him. My eyes began to burn. The tears as streak after streak warm my cheeks. I couldn’t fight them.

            “I don’t. I didn’t mean it. I’m mad. Okay. I’m so mad. You’re both selfless and it’s going to leave you both miserable and alone. Put yourself first for once. Be fucking selfish. My Uber is here.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “Stop being sorry!” He snapped again. I sighed. “I love you. I gotta go.”

            I feel like he grew up overnight and I missed it.

            ***

            On top of Simon “I’m so done with your bullshit episode”, I had to deal with a phone call from Sein. It wasn’t much of a phone call because it rang once and that was it. It was around the time we usually spoke on the phone. In the past, whoever headed to bed first would call. And when my phone rang and disconnected just as fast, I knew he called to tell me goodnight then realized he wasn’t allowed to do that anymore. I wanted to block his phone number right then and there.

            Instead, I turned the light off and turned to face the side of my bed he had made his own. Just as I began to doze I heard my phone vibrating. I waited for it to stop but it didn’t. Turning, I picked it up, and looked at the screen. I slid the bar to answer but said nothing.

            “I didn’t mean to call you earlier,” that addictive voice said. “It was an accident.”

            “I know,” was my response.

            The was quiet for a long time and I found a sad comfort listening to him breathe.

            “I feel like I’ve let you down.” I listened while he spoke. “You were scared and I told you to hold onto me and I…I let you go.”

            What the fuck do I even say to that. Am I supposed to feel bad? Am I supposed to feel good that you feel bad? What the fuck?