we're listening to classical music in the garden when camille announces he'd procured a boyfriend in the shortly after we had separated in the summer preceding 11th grade.
"he was very tall. very handsome. very, i don't know—big. he took up space in the rooms her was in. you would've loved him," he explains, his head swinging back and forth off the rusting white chair in front of the hydrangeas. i'm patiently waiting for the blood rushing to his head to drain out of his nose.
"mhm? and how'd you go about meeting him, may i ask?"
"the club," he explains succinctly. "you know my brother's queer...he brought me along one night, when our parents were out of town. it was called le place. great music. he was a dj." he twirls a little blade of grass he had pulled out of the ground, before suddenly mashing it with his fist.
"you see, that's the kind of freedom i miss having. that's the kind of freedom i don't have anymore, here at lakewood."
"what, dating twenty year old guys as a response to a breakup with your sixteen year old girlfriend?" i question calmly. he narrows his eyes in my direction, and plucks another blade of grass.
"what would you do if i said yes, renata, huh? shoot me?" he challenges, steeling his jaw for my attack. we fight like this: our words twice as sharp as daggers, piercing longer, deeper, harder. if i ever killed him, the entire world would be baffled. the police would find no murder weapon, saved for the one stuffed inside my mouth, blood staining my tongue.
"i'd say more power to you, cam. i wish i had done that."
"you—you do?" he replies, curiosity slacking his expression. "how do you mean?"
"i mean i wish i had done something other than lock myself up in my bedroom and wait to die an early, mysterious death," i tell him, backtracking slightly. camille nods, retracting into himself. he stares for a very long time at the thinning grass below his head, before he sits up completely and looks at me again.
"what are you thinking about, renata?" he asks, his voice hushed, cautious.
"nothing. why are you asking?"
he shakes his head, laughing bitterly. "you're judging me, aren't you. you don't have to pretend. if i can handle the judgement of half the entire world's, i can certainly manage with a little bit of yours."
"really, cam? can you?"
i'm prying the lid off him. he had this look come over him—slightly glazed and shiny in the eyes, his complexion going rubicund in the heat of the sun. i blink my eyes and it is my favorite and worst summertime all over again, with the doors wide open. we're sixteen years old, exactly two weeks apart, and he's just broken up with me because it just wasn't working anymore, and i won't let him leave until he explains exactly what that means. what it was. who broke it. when did it stop working, and what god did i have to shoot of the sky to fix it—totally unaware that it was him who had killed the thing dead, not even the girl. dead so neither of us could fix it.
"no, ren," camille says finally. i have to strain to hear his voice. "i was lying. i can deal with the world's judgement, but i definitely cannot deal with yours."
"i'm not judging you, camille. why would i judge you?"
"because i'm bisexual, renata," he blurts out. "aren't you afraid i'll cheat? that i'll leave you for some random girl or guy?"
"yes," i say plainly. he blinks at me twice in shock.
"what?"
"yes, i am afraid of those things, camille, because you've done them before," i continue. "but not because you're bisexual. it's because you're you, cam. can't keep your eyes on one rainbow if another one appears right beside it."
he smiles sadly, plucking a small flower from below. he places it in my palm and kisses my knuckles.
"i'm sorry, renata. you didn't deserve to have your heartbroken like that. i was—i was crazy, back then. walking up walls, and shit—but even at that, i shouldn't have done that to you. i'm sorry."
i slip the flower into my pocket and squeeze his hand. "it's okay. maybe you wouldn't have ever met that guy if we hadn't broken up. maybe you would have been stuck with me and mozart forever."
cam shudders exaggeratedly, before a pensive look comes over his face.
"i still have his number. i think about calling him every once and a while. i used to think about it every day, when i first broke up with you. my brain flipped back and forth between you two—one day, i was ready to gravel at your doorstep and ask for your hand in marriage, and the next, i couldn't stop picturing bobby—uh, that's his name—showing up outside my house, throwing rocks at my window, asking me to run away with him to south africa or canada or some town in the midwest where there are only white people, and just live there with him, forever."
camille shrugs, wrapping his hands around his knees tucked tightly under his chin.
"i feel like that right now, actually. running away. maybe i'm just lonely," he mumbles. "maybe i just need some new friends."
"you should call him," i suggest suddenly. "maybe he's around. maybe he's looking for you."
"i absolutely fucking doubt that, renata," he dismisses. but i see it in his eyes—the flash, the interest standing up on its two feet. the love, flickering, like a flashlight. i see my reflection in his eyes.
"you should," i say, getting up. "promise you will. you owe me one, you know."
i'm only kidding, but i still see the way guilt eats away at camille, deflating his presence.
"yeah, i do. i'll call him, ren, for sure. and if he's around, you'll be the first one to meet him."
i smile widely at him, and he returns one—tight-lipped, pained, but a smile.
sometimes i wonder whose heart was really broken, when camille met dani. mine, ours, hers. on day's like this i think it was just his. it must be something like suicide, like pressing a bullet to your own chest, cheating on someone you love.
—
to: robert jeremiah simpson (bobby, fka babyyy)
from: camille the french boy americanized
sent 1:05 a.m.
bobby! hey man, it's cam. was just thinking about you. wondering where you are. tell me if you're around.
1:08 a.m.
are you thinking of me when i think of you?i think i'd sense it if you were. there was always something scary about your intuition. dating you felt a lot like leaving parts of my brain inside of yours, trusting you'd keep it safe. like jedi mind control except i
1:10 a.m.
you gotta meet renata. my ex-girlfriend that i told you about? she's amazing. she's an angel, and you've got to meet her.
1:11 a.m.
and i'd love to see you. to see you i would love. it's probably going to kill me but hey. if you were wondering
1:11 a.m.
i won't leave! i can stay, this time!
1:13 a.m.
you fuck just like a star.
1:13 a.m.
i haven't forgotten. i never will.
1:30 a.m.
text me back when you're in the area!
—
1) the like a star line is inspired by the song "touch me tease me" by tiara thomas
2) should i make this a full length story lmao i have some ideas but idk
