Sisi / Season 1

28⁒

maybe - alina baraz

I wash off a good amount of glitter. I like the thought of midnight. I like the thought of being in timelessness, and being in between now and then.

I walk out of the bathroom. Étienne is stuck to the TV. I've gotten used to him now. I've gotten used to his unseen sins.

He's starting to use my Bath and Body Works stuff. I feel like he's not moving out anymore.

I walk up behind the futon where he lays his body without guard. He squeezes his sore shoulder at times. He must have had basketball. My gel nails slide their way into his scalp, his mind. He didn't even flinch—like he knew I was there and was going to do that. I guess he's gotten used to me too.

My hands make their way down his neck. Softly scratching his bagel skin.

I climb in and snuggle between him and the back of the futon.

He groans, "Would you—your elbow."

I roll on my back and stare at the ceiling.

"It's my sofa," I state.

He shuffles, until he's comfortable again.

I click the remote and the TV shuts off, washing us in dimmer darkness.

I watch Étienne open his mouth to cuss me out, but he closes and gives me a pissed look.

"It's my TV."

"You don't have to be mean," he mumbles, closing his eyes.

I laugh a bit. I decide to stretch my limbs. My arms land in his face.

He sighs heavily, "I'm tired."

"So am I."

"You have a bed," he adds.

"And a sofa."

"I'm really sore, Sisi," he sighs, taking long blinks.

I lift my head and turn to look at him. If only he'd go visit the barber. My fingers softly play with his ear. My leg and his leg touch.

I whisper tauntingly, "Do you want me to kiss the pain away."

Because that's all my mind can manage. Kissing. It's like meth. All of a sudden. I did it once, now I want to do it again. For no particular reason. I'm desperate to simulate the sensation, the adrenaline that I had over an hour ago. My lips covet it.

Étienne looks at me.

"I could just take Tylenol."

"Tylenol only works for twelve hours," I tell him, like I'm a pharmacist.

He just stares, because he doesn't know whether to take me seriously. He knows me to be a jester.

So I lean in closer, hovering over his lips. He stares at me hard. I wonder what goes on in his mind, or what hormone just popped in him. I glide my hand up his chest. I can feel his pulse hitting against my palm. My knee rises to his hip. I watch his Adam's apple dip, as his breaths become heavier.

I whisper, "There's some in the medicine cabinet."

I then give him a disdainful grin and back up. I look him over. He exhales and closes his eyes again.

"Sisi, don't do that," he defends.

He sits upright, although my leg is still around him. He looks annoyed. I watch his jaw tighten.

"Don't do what?" I act clueless.

He throws me a quick glare, before landing in the bathroom. When the door shuts, I try to smother my laughter.

But he soon reappears, with the same expression. No, it's not the same.

He dives in the fridge for a bottle of water. He pops the pill in his mouth and washes it down swiftly.

He stands around there for a while. I rest my chin on the back of the futon, keeping my eyes on him.

"You can have the bed," I offer generously.

"No, it's fine," he says, leaning on the counter.

He takes some more sips from the river of life. You don't have to tell me it's fine, I think to myself.

"You never invited me to one of your games," I randomly point out, tired of the quiet.

I guess he's feeling tranquil, because he lies down in the futon again. He takes up all the space. I draw up my legs to my chest.

"You don't like basketball," he says in my stead.

"Shows how little you know me," I reply, smirking.

·•●⦁·

stockholm – conner youngblood

Pills.

Alexandra and I sit on the fuzzy carpet in George's basement with a bunch of friends. It feels fuzzier when the fuzz gets in my fuzzy place. Alex and I giggle. My eyes have the bottle opener in its peripheral. I reveal to her that I kissed some guy. Her eyes grow wide and our fuzzy giggle get louder.

Somebody pours something in my cup. I didn't even know I had a cup. But there's no time to ask question

Liquor's pouring. I have to catch it.

I've only heard of E. I thought it was a myth, just like the end of rainbows or the edge of infinity. My sides tickle with an upward shiver. The chill hits me nicely.

Alex twirls her hands with the downtempo instrumental. I follow the movement and smile extensively.

I'm wide open. Some of the guys across us weed their lungs. Some banish morals. Some obstruct their common senses. It's hard to act normal when under pure pleasure and above cloud nine. E kicks in my consciousness.

My vision is blurred, then clear, then blurred again, then clear. I blink a few times and look at Alex. I can feel the air. My hands try to grasp it. My fingers open and close, open and close.

I want to say something, but I hear how others slur their words unable to utter syllables between their numb tongues and fuzzy giggles.

I feel like a puke comes on. I laugh it away. I take a deep breath. My mouth is dry.

"Oh my Go—" I chant, "Oh-ho. Ha, ha."

The circle of bodies sitting on that fuzzy carpet chat with no way.

"Rave?"

"Rave," I nod my head.

My eyes close on their own.

"How are you?"

"Go-od. So, like, good. Like. Yeah."

"Yeah."

"What?" Alex asks.

I look at my hands, as someone says, "It's hot in here."

This is certainly brain damage.

"Where'd you get this stuff?" Damien asks.

George answers, "My uncle, man."

"Is this what sex feels like?" Alex asks me, whispering my ear.

I turn to her and stroke my forehead, "A-B-C-D-E-F-G spot!"

We laugh again some more.

Besides there's no amphetamine in sex. 

·•●⦁·