SomeWhere On... (BXB)

...Deck 12

Murph messages me a day later. His first message to me in almost three years is literally an apology in all capital letters. I don't really give a shit because he's messaging me again.

And, weirdly, it feels like we just picked up right where we left off.

So he asked me to play mini golf. This twenty-four-year-old fuckwit asked me, this twenty-two-year-old fuckup, to play mini golf.

I'm not sure what's worse: the fact that I'm enjoying the game, or the fact that this twenty-four year old fuckwit is really fucking good at mini golf.

Murph was smart about it, at least. He picked a time when everyone was gone for lunch and the area around the mini golf course – the back of the ship behind the smokestack thing – was deserted. And he doesn't ask any heavy questions about what I've been up to since he left England. It's a lot of this innocent small talk that I don't know how to react to.

And then he asks, "How're your parents?", which is not a light question. And he isn't looking at me, either. He's more interested in sinking the ball into the hole.

I shrug. He isn't watching. "They're fine."

He finally looks at me. "Weren't they about to be evicted?"

I'm actually kinda impressed he remembers. "Yeah."

"Did they? Get evicted, I mean."

"...yeah."

He stands. This is, of course, after getting the ball into the hole. "What now?"

I sigh and look at my purple ball. "Um...they've applied for council housing." I watch the ship stir up the water behind it. "They're still waiting to hear back." He doesn't say anything, so I continue. "I think it was more hard for my brother because he's still studying." Still nothing. I'm getting fidgety and him not saying anything is unnerving. I cough. "Uh, I tried to go to uni. Took a couple classes." I wait for him to ask about it, and he doesn't. He's not even looking at me. He's looking at the ocean around us. "Um, just...just some classes on - "

Finally, Murph turns and grabs my putter. His face is scrunched into this look of desperation. "Tommy," he breathes.

I shudder. "What?"

"Why did you do it?" he asks.

I look away. "I don't know."

He grabs my head and pulls my eyes back to him. "Tommy, please." His blue eyes are glossy and close to welling up with tears.

I'm shaking now. "The fuck is this?"

Murph clenches his jaw and a steady stream of tears come flowing down his cheeks. "Tommy - "

I push him away. "Was this some sort of revenge scheme you came up with?" Because that's where my panicked mind goes to - revenge. "I could've just ignored you that night. I didn't. Do you know how many times I thought about what to say to you in the three fucking years I last saw you? How to apologise?"

He's gasping. "Tommy - "

My stomach's twisting. "Is this it? Is this all just some ruse so you can go back to your room and masturbate thinking to yourself, 'God, I finally made him feel as shitty as he made me'?"

"You know that isn't true!" he tells me.

And he's fucking crying.

What is wrong with me?

"Then what? Why do you still fucking care about me so goddamn much?"

Technically, you could ask me the same question.