empath.

chapter 1

Packing up my room is bringing fragments of the past to the surface. Some are pleasant reminders of childhood, others are more complicated to sort through. The most significant "other" is Gemma Blue. She was my first girlfriend. From all outward appearances, she's thrown together in every way. Gem had a unique way of speaking and talked twice as much as me, which was perfect. I loved listening to her use pretentious words neither of us understood. Her ashy blond hair was dipped in pink dye when we dated. She had a way of dressing that only she could pull off, band tees with overalls and grandma sweaters. Gemma was misunderstood by most. But I got what kept her awake at night. Underneath all of the self assuredness was a girl just as confused as any other 17 year old. We bonded mostly over our mutual love of pop punk bands, and hatred of math teachers. Many nights were spent passing a single cigarette in-between making out. The album "Nothing Personal" was always the soundtrack to nights like these.

A small laugh escapes my lips, "Coupla emo kids" I say under my breath. I continue to flip through the scrapbook she made me. There was a flattened cardboard cigarette box taped next to a picture of her sitting in my lap. I had just dyed my hair black, and the tips of her hair had started to fade. We both pulled a goofy face right before the picture was taken. Opposite the picture was an unopened condom attached to the top of the page with a paper clip. We always pretended to be a lot more rebellious than we ever were.

After six months, we realized we were only playing around. When she told me she wanted to be "just friends" it felt like a slap in the face. Six months or six days, Gemma was a part of my story.

The last year of secondary school without Gemma was painful. It felt unnatural to walk our usual route to school alone. My bed smelled like her soap. A collection of post it notes and cringey formal pictures littered the bottom of my locker. Her existence haunted my thoughts, but I'd rather have her exist intrusively in my mind, than not at all. After graduation, things started to get better between us.

I realize it was never love. But I regret nothing. I still hear from her now and again, she supports me when I send her a song I'm working on, and we text. We like to get Chinese take away and hang, but it's not like old times. She jokes about the relationship like someone might blush over a one night stand. That stings.

We hung out last week and it came up again. "Dude we were so young and dumb, I dated you because you reminded me of Alex Gaskarth." She practically chokes on a mouthful of rice.

I playfully swat her hand because I know she's half kidding. The plastic fork flings to the ground and her eyes grow wide. For a split second it feels like we're 17 again, when we had each other in the palm of our hands.

But then I remember. We're hanging out one last time before I move. I walk a block with her and drop her off at her apartment. We hug. She tells me to go kick ass and get laid and be safe and that she loves me. I say it back. I tell her not to break too many hearts and send me proofs of her short films before she submits them. She'll probably forget, but she promises she will.

I will always care for Gemma Blue.

She's dating a guy now who's 25. He's got an adult job at a copyright office in Sydney. Just transferred from the Nashville branch. Really clean cut, a little southern. The type who'd probably laugh when he hears I'm trying to make it as a musician, because he knows the business inside and out. I've never met the guy but I don't like him.

I tear my eyes away from the book and scrunch my face in frustration, slamming the cover shut. It's insane how a simple walk down memory lane can leave me feeling this way.

That is not the kind of guy Gemma belongs with. Gemma is a beautiful mess. She has a bizarre assortment of interests. I highly doubt Mr. Money understands her affinity for foreign films and whiney "get me out of this god forsaken suburbia" music.

I'm laying on my back now, thoughts consuming my mind wildly as I pull at the comforter beneath me.

"Nik?" My mother's voice interrupts my bout of nostalgia.

I turn my head to the side and smile. She's leaning in the doorway, a brown box in arms labeled "kitchenware".

"How's packing going?"

"Eh, alright mum" I sigh sitting up.


"I got distracted clearing out the shelf." My eyes meet the carpet.


She sets the box down next to my bookshelf and sighs, making her silvery bangs flutter.

"You moving away is going to be hard on all of us, but you'll be alright. You're strong."

I swallow nervously. She has good intentions, but she'll never understand.

"I know mum, I know." I say, stowing away whatever reservations I have about moving to a back file in my mind. This calmness is artificial but I don't want to place the burden on her so I smile.

"Sweetie, I'm so proud of you, lemme know if you need any help, there are more boxes on the counter in the kitchen if you run out."

"Okay I will, thanks." I answer sincerely.

"And stay hydrated!" Mum yelled over her shoulder as she left my room.

I carefully lowered the last book into the box and sealed it, ripping the tape between my teeth.

This move was taking a lot out of me, but I wanted to make the most of it. Last year when my parents brought up the idea of applying to American universities it shocked me. Why would I? I was born and raised here and liked how familiar it was to me. I knew all of the hang out spots, the backroads, and the streets to avoid. Gem was here. My dog was here. I'm going to miss being able to walk to the ocean whoever I got too stressed. I'm going to miss the way the vibrant sunset hangs above the rows of rooftops on my street.

Even though I spent my entire life wanting to get out of this town, now that I am, I'm scared.

I'll probably miss Cole the most. Since my parents had me later in life, having a sibling was sort of out of the question. I met Cole when we were six years old and he's been a brother to me ever since. Meeting him for the first time is another clear memory.

I was sitting at a table doing a writing activity in primary school. His mum brought him in a little late and the only empty seat was next to me. Fate. I remember him walking in concealed behind his mother's leg. Cole was a shy kid with a thick lisp so the other kids teased him. I knew what that felt like because I was called names for being too sensitive. When the other boys stomped on ants at the playground for fun, I couldn't bare to watch.

"Hi I'm Nik" I looked at the boy next to me but he was focused intently on the green crayon in his hand. He nervously ruffled his mop of brown hair and smiled, then continued to write a story about a turtle. It took two weeks until I actually heard Cole's voice.

Now he's a total badass at football. I can't believe Cole was ever shy around me. At this point, we probably know too much about each other. We write and play music, and get into all kinds of shit. Cole's happy for me to have this opportunity in America, but it's hard for him too.

As if on cue, my phone dings with a text from my best friend.

"we're doing something later. im bored and ur leaving me."

I smile and swipe open the message. One last hoorah before I board the plane to America tomorrow. We have to make it count.

AN: Hi! i hope you enjoyed this introductory chapter. i'm excited to develop this story and share it with all of you. feel free to leave comments with your thoughts/reactions. chapter 2 soon! peace.