Chapter 3

My speedy flight back to the flat absolutely wasted me, and the second I got in I practically collapsed in the wicker chair that Derek got me as a flat warming present. It was old and it was rickety but it seemed to fit in with the rest of my home perfectly. I was still feeling rather dazed from the message on the bottom of the receipt. It felt silly to get so worked up over a few lines on paper, but I did not know how to react to such a blatant proposition.

Perhaps this was where my early dating years in London had ruined me. Here everything was about playing games, not in an unkind way, but more like a social dance. Everyone had a pokerface about what was really going throughout their minds, never showing their hands until they had a good idea of what cards the other guy had. I had been pretty good at playing the game before Aidan came on the scene. Unfortunately that left me completely unprepared for someone who actually preferred the direct approach.

My phone jingled in my pocket, an auditory spray of cold water in the face and it broke off my cycle of thoughts about the audacity of the indie boy.

I fished it out and saw it was a response from Rosie,

"What shop are you in right now? Xx" as blunt as ever.

I sent a speedy reply to let her know I was back at the flat. I didn't tell her why, it would of been too tricky to explain, I just didn't have the emotional capacity to condense and summarise it for the benefit of a text.

Her response was just as instant as mine.

"On my way, I'm bringing ice cream and vodka xxx."

I had to hand it to the girl, she certainly did know her way to a sad gay mans heart. Of course it was only just noon, so she had to assume that alcohol was the best remedy, a couple of hours earlier it would of been a bag of chips.

Rosie worked at an HMV a couple of tube stops away, so she would be here pretty quickly. The fact that it was the middle of the day didn't matter, she was engaged to Mike the manager of the branch and he tended to let her get away with a lot. For instance running out after half a day, smoking by the entrance, and on one memorable occasion getting a bit hot and bothered with him in the stock room. That being said on that latter point he had been a willing accomplice so he was hardly going to be in the mood to punish.

Of course that also meant that I didn't have much time to clean up my pig sty of a home. I was a little bit anal about cleanliness when other people were in my personal space. Me on my own and I could quite happily let the mess pile up to the ceiling. But the second I knew there was going to be someone else coming I had to at least attempt to clear it up.

I was tempted to just leave it this once, I didn't feel up to an adrenaline soaked blitz through the flat, especially since Rosie has on more than one occasion destroyed my flat after one or two of our more heinous nights in. Still I could not help it my hands reached immediately for the dirty clothes and I started transferring them to the hamper, along with the bed linen. I had already taken all the plates into the kitchen and started washing em when the buzzer went off on the hall phone. I didn't even bother to check who it was and I pressed the button to let her in the front door, she would then have to climb the stairs a couple of flights to get to me, I had asked her nice why she didn't bother with the lift, and she answered only, "the smell". I gave a quick look round the flat, and regretted that I had not fobbed her off with excuses, the place was still a tip, but it was too late now.

Knock, knock, knock.

I sighed and I went to get the door.

As soon as I opened my home up to her she wasted no time barging past me, If I wasn't used to it she would of trampled me, or crushed me behind the door.

"OK I am sticking the vodka and the freezer, you can thank me for that tonight, but the ice cream is vanilla for you and cookie dough for me, and for that I deserve a nice big smacked in the lips right now," she turned to me and I had one second to appraise her appearance before she gave me a very loud and overly dramatic kiss on the lips. She knew I batted for the other team, but she liked making me uncomfortable.

My Rosie was a 5'8" Irish girl, with bottle red hair that hung about her head in tight curls like a crimson halo. Her eyes were a deep chocolate brown and her lips were always bright blood red, and mixed with her hair made her skin a milky pale which brought all the more richness to her colouring. She had an immediate likability to her and when she laughed it was infectious as chicken pox.

She broke away from me eventually and I dramatically wiped my lips.

"Why are gay boys always the best kissers." It wasn't a question, and I felt probably not entirely accurate but I was too used to her ways now to be phased by it. She had turned her back on me and rustled through her bags.

"OK I need a couple of spoons here before I end up with a nice pair of flavoured puddles on the floor."

This was one of the things that defined my relationship with Rosie, we usually bonded over food, drink and snacks. I swear to God I would not ever eat so much if she wasn't piling high another plate for me. We had actually met at a party last year, but we talked like we had known each other our whole lives. She passed me a bowl of vanilla ice cream and walked past me towards the sofa and emphatically threw herself into it, nestling quickly against the arm rest. She drew up her legs so she could rest her own bowl on them, and she looked at me, and I knew what she was going to ask.

"So how are you holding up babes?" It was a question that didn't need answering, she knew me well enough to know I was not handling this well at all.

"Serious truth?"

"Always."

"Im still hoping I get to wake up in a minute. That it was just a very bad dream" with Rosie lies were impossible, but in this case the truth was just as hard. To be truthful with her, I needed to be truthful with myself, and the truth was that I was hurt, and badly.

She just looked at me with those chocolate eyes, and patted the sofa with her free hand, calling me to sit with her. I could not say no, even knowing there would be more questions to come. The well was tapped, and now all that ice water from earlier was beginning to rush to the surface. I sat down and spooned some of my vanilla ice-cream in my mouth, and I kept quiet, I didn't want to volunteer anything yet, things still felt a little too raw for that, but I knew she would question me on something and I would answer.

"Has he called at all?"

"No" I managed, keeping my voice even and as unemotional as possible, "but then after that last slagging match we had I don't think he would."

"Slagging match? Seriously? Where was I?"

"The bar, where else", I smiled to her and she smiled back taking my jab in the humour it was intended. "to be honest it was over so fast, you didn't miss much." Rosie stared at me in a quiet, almost thoughtful way. She didn't break eye contact with me as she ate, begging me with her eyes to continue. "One of the doormen came over when he started yelling ..... so I took it as my cue and left." The memory still felt raw, and my voice had begun to quaver as the corners of my eyes began to sting. I looked up to the ceiling waiting for the emotion to pass so I could continue. "There was just no way that I was going to stay there after I found out about that other guy."

My memory flashed and an image was thrown up like a a poloroid. Aidan, my Aidan kissing someone else. I like to think I'm as liberal as the next man, I know that my ex would give the odd peck on the cheek to his mates, and some of them had been gay men, that never bothered me. But on that night, that felt so close that it might of happened last night, I had seen him in the arms of another man, and It was not a peck on a cheek, it was a proper full on snog. I could still picture the other man, very tall, very topless, and the kind if gym perfect body that made the naturally skinny men of this world weep.

I filled Rosie in on everything that I knew. The man was named Christian, and apparently he had actually dated Aidan a few years previously, but only briefly. He was a tall blonde haired young man from Basildon, and went to the dance academy that was based there, he also managed to secure occasional work as a member of Star Quality, a typically extreme cabaret come gogo dance review which tended to work out of some of the clubs and pubs around town. As a result he became a famous face, and a famous body.

I only found out after Aidan and I had been out for a few months that that they had a brief romance before. I remember the first thing I felt was tremendous inadequacy. This was a gorgeous guy, perfect muscle definition, and am exhibitionist nature, and in looked at myself and I saw a little runt by comparison. Of course Aidan always said he was much happier with me, of course things had changed.

Rosie was as patient as ever, and even when I had finished filling her in on Christian and how he and Aidan knew each other she still kept quiet. In all honesty it was quite eerie, I had never known her to go this long without filling the silence, but I felt grateful too, it meant I had more time to rein my emotions back under control.

"I spoke to him a couple of days after the fight" she said it so quietly and so calmly that I froze, I could hardly believe what it was saying. "He said he was torn up by what had happened, and that he was sorry he hurt you, and that he wanted to talk when you were ready" My head swivelled round so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash as I turned to stare at her, my first impulse to scream and demand to know why she hadn't said sooner, but she cut me off.

" I was going to tell you at the time," I hated how it was almost like she could read my mind.

"Why didn't you?"

"Well.. you weren't picking up the phone," she stammered quickly, hearing the unusual edge to my voice "Then I thought it would be better if I came and told you in the flesh." she reached over and out a hand in my shoulder. "Are you mad at me?"

If I was honest, I wanted to be mad. I could not explain why but somehow it felt like my ex was a personal and private pain. I dont know how it came to be that way, after all Rosie had been friends with him for years before we got together. But still something cold and irrational deep inside me flared white-hot at the mention of his name. But there was my red haired friend with her hand on my shoulder, and her face was etched with guilt. She had only done what she thought was right, how could I let myself be mad at her. The simple answer was "I can't".

I took her hand from my shoulder, and gripped it tightly in my right and I pulled her toward me so she could lean against my chest and I let my other arm rest against her shoulder.

"Of course I'm not mad at you," I filled the words with as much sincerity as I could, trying to harpoon my anger before it crested and emerged. "You weren't the one who cheated and kissed another man..... For once" I turned to her and winked, hoping the light job would clear the air, and she snorted back a laugh in return.

She squeezed my hand for a minute longer, both of us trying to get comfortable in the pregnant silence. Normally it was so effortless for us to talk to each other about anything, but here I could sense that she was walking on egg shells

"Men suck, and not in the good way" she managed after a long moment, still trying to make me laugh. I smiled in response but I could not fake a laugh, I felt raw and exposed again, and I didn't want to risk drawing too much emotion to the surface, I was afraid I would not be able to handle too much feeling to soon.

"So he said he wants to talk?" I felt her go tense as the words left my lips.

"He said anytime you were ready to just call or text him" the words slipped out quickly, she was seriously uncomfortable being the piggy in the middle so I just let the matter slide and decided to think about it later. I knew I wanted to see him, even after all that had happened, there was still the need to see his face. But now the need felt perverse and wrong, I needed to give myself time to sort this out in my head before I did anything else.

"So what did you get?"

"Huh?" I was pulled back to reality with an almost audible thud, "sorry was miles away."

"At the shops. You said you were shopping earlier."

"Ah right." I shrugged. "Nothing much really a couple of shirts and I went for a coffee." suddenly a light went off in my head and I remembered the earlier confusion. "Oh, and you are not going to believe this babes, but I actually got asked out, how weird is that." I actually smiled, I hadn't been expecting it either. My sudden smile seemed to help Rosie to unwind too, she suddenly became a lot chirpier.

"You serious?" She joyfully slapped my arm, "why didn't you say."

"I actually forgot until just now, it was just the most random thing, I think he is new and works at the shop I go to you know the one?" She nodded emphatically. "Anyway I was getting my stuff and I had my back turned because I was texting you at the same time, and he wrote out his name and number on the receipt when he out it in my bag." I reached down to the plastic carrier which was next to the sofa and rummaged through till I found the piece of paper and handed it to her. "Take a look for yourself."

She held the receipt and scrutinised it closely. "Jay." she sighed and pressed the receipt to her chest. "I'm in love already, so tell me is he gorgeous? He's gorgeous right?" she looked at me with a look of mock judgement, but I knew she was actually thrilled.

"I guess so, to be honest I wasn't looking all that closely, had a lot on my mind at the time. I think he is cute in an indie boy sort of way, longish hair really dark, and he did have really nice eyes." She started fanning herself for effect, and I could not help but giggle a little at the sight. Surely this was a drag queen trapped in a girls body.

"What did you say when you text him?"

"I haven't text him at all yet. I don't think i can go out with him." Her facial expression froze and quickly shifted to confusion as if I started speaking a foreign language.

"Why not?"

"Well, it's a bit soon. I mean Aidan and I only split up a few weeks ago. Don't you think?"

She suddenly slapped my arm again but there was no Joy in it, and it did sting.

"Oi, what was that for then?"

"Are you out of your mind? A cute fit boy asks you out and you are worried about your ex?" She puffed herself up in indignation. "Look I know you are a sweet boy, but still I sometimes want to hit you. I mean you have been shut up in here for god knows how long..." she suddenly trailed off

"I know what you are saying, but come on it's been a couple of weeks that's all. I am not sure if I would feel right." It was true, I was never the sort of person who jumped from one man to the next like a boy crazy flea. "I mean I'm sure there has to be some sort of rest period".

"Lovey, that's been and past, besides it looks like a date that's all. Doesn't mean he is going to slip a ring on your finger. Unless-"

"-No!!! I am not in to that" I gave her the dirtiest look that I could manage without laughing back at her.

"What I mean to say is..... It's a date with a cute boy, and between you and me, I think you deserve one after the last few weeks." She suddenly checked her watch. "Look hunny, I need to shoot, I need to get back to work soon."

"What you didn't take the rest of the day off then? Normally Mike let's you wander off whenever you want.

"Weeeell, thats sort of what happens...." she started to look a little guilty "but I didnt ask him before i left. Technically this counts as my lunch break and I think I am going to be seriously late....." She checked her watch again, "I am so going to have to do some sick and wrong things to my boyfriend to get out of this one.

She came close and wrapped her arms around my neck again. "Call me later tonight, and promise me that you will text the cute fit guy."

"Fine, I promise." my stomach suddenly felt like it was dropping through the floor at the thought.

"OK" she whispered. She disengaged herself from me and gave me another of her mischievous smiles, "I expect a full report by tomorrow morning soldier, and don't you chicken out or I will make you give back the vodka." she kissed my cheek and headed for the door. "Tata darling!"

She walked out the door without another word, and I sat there feeling as though a bomb had been let off. The flat suddenly felt empty, and too quiet, and far too untidy. I knew I would have to get into gear and clean up but now I had something more important to do. I knew she would kill me if I didn't text the indie boy, so with far too much reluctance and more than a little trembling in my hands, I pulled out my phone and looking at the receipt I checked the number and started to send a text.

Chapter 2

It did not make any sense to me, but the streets of Soho had taken on an alien quality. The colours seemed to be too bright, the sounds too strange and loud, even some of the people seemed peculiar. But then I reminded myself that peculiar people in the streets of Soho were rather common place, especially on a weekend. If I had to think about it then nothing really was out of the ordinary, the truth was, it was I who had changed, I just was not sure why.

The weather was gorgeous and a pale blue sky loomed overhead. The sun beat down with a relentless heat that quickly brought beads of sweat to my forehead, but there was an occasional blast off cool air that whistled through the tall buildings that refreshed me almost instantly. If this had been a normal Saturday I could easily imagine myself wandering around with a Aidan. We never went out to buy anything, though it never really stopped us going back to the flat laden with heavy bags, admittedly all mine.

It was nice to think of the good times, but the edges of those memories seemed ragged and they were filled with that same hurt, the ache of loss. I tried to think about something else, but found no respite from my feelings.

As I wandered I felt unusually exposed, almost naked. No, naked was not the right word, I felt skinless. Even as I thought the word I knew it sounded mad, but it also felt like a harrowingly accurate description. My protective coating was gone and now I felt fragile, almost like a strong wind might topple me over and I will break again. I hated the rawness of it all, but I tried to turn away from it. If you pick at it, it will not heal, as my kosher once told me.

I checked my watch and saw that it was still early in the day, barely even 10.00 . But even at this relatively early hour the streets were full of early morning shoppers. Of course a lot of them were tourists, looking at the infamous Soho, and a few locals who I recognised and gave a quick nod as I walked by towards the nearest clothes shop.

Like before I felt like I was acting mainly on auto pilot, I had no real desire to rifle through the racks in the shop, but my higher brain functions seem to be too heavily occupied trying to keep the bad memories away.

The shop itself was rather small, with high gun metal grey walls and simple wooden shelves painted to match, and most of its selection was out on display, but it was still one of my favourites. Their clothes always felt good on me and i happened to think they looked good to. My head was still buzzing with unwelcome thoughts, so I wasn't really looking at buying anything, but that didn't stop me from picking up a few shirts. In a way there was comfort in doing this, and I felt much more myself. I pulled off a couple of shirts from the racks and shuffled over to the dressing room. In a shop this size there was only one dressing room, but since it catered for an almost exclusively male clientele it never mattered, and the store wasn't enough of an oddity to appeal to the tourist trade so I didn't need to wait to hop in the cubicle and draw the curtain behind me.

The face that greeted me in the mirror still held echos of the wraith like visage from this morning, it was very unnerving to still see myself that way, even in the midst of my ennui a sarcastic and droll voice piped up in my head.

"Oh so Emo" it said quite plainly.

It was impossible to not smile at the thought, even though it was more of a rueful grin that did not quite reach my eyes. I pulled of the jumper and my shirt and tried on the selection that I had picked up. They were not overly flashy, or shiny or as multicoloured as some of the clothes you saw on the younger twinks these days, but they were nice and suited my figure quite well. As I turned too and fro to observe the effect in the glass I felt that same warmth I had felt in my flat earlier, a kind of comforting wave that seemed to travel in my skin. Even though the icy mass of heartache that sat in my chest had not lessened or been forgotten, this warmth made it feel somehow more manageable.

It was on the basis of that feeling, that I whipped out my debit card to buy them. Anything that could of made me feel better on a day like today was worthy of purchase. At least that's how I was planning to justify it when my statement came through.

The clerk that was meant to be at the till was currently moving clothes to various racks when I got to the desk. He spotted me out the corner of his eye and called over.

"I will be right with you sir."

Sir he called me. Sir!!! Did I look old enough to be a sir ? Then again, maybe today I did. I swallowed back the remark and just nodded and stood waiting for him. I did chance a quick look his way while he worked, and I realised that there was something oddly familiar about him. This being one of my favourite shops I tended to recognise most of the people who worked here, and probably worse was that I came here so often that most of the people who worked here usually recognised me and knew me by name. But I didn't think I has ever seen him here before.

I looked closer, and realised he was a little bit of an indie boy. His dark brown hair was a little long, and he had the sort of naturally slim build that inspired lust as well as loathing, of course I wasn't looking at him in that way, but I could still appreciate he was a bit of a looker. He kept his face turned away, focused on the task at hand, but I had the odd impression he was looking at me from out the corner of his eye, but I dismissed the thought.

He walked over eventually, and I was fully able to see his features, high dark eyebrows and black hair framed his face, and his eyes were a type of cobalt blue, almost grey. I think I realised that I had been taking a little too much interest in his face, so I turned away a little embarrassed that I had been staring. But even as I made a deliberate effort to not look I was still possessed by his seeming familiarity, and I pummelled my memory to try and find his image.

"Just these two then?" his sudden question interrupted my thoughts, as he held up the shirts I had picked out.

"Yes ...... thank you" I corrected myself, there was no need to be ungracious.

He rung up the purchase and I handed over my card, still feeling a little distracted by the strange familiarity. Once I had entered my PIN I decided to turn away and make out that I was looking out the door. I didn't want him to think I was a nut job of some kind, my ego had taken enough battering recently.

I suddenly felt bad when I realised how much the opinion of a complete stranger mattered to me, especially since I had not even made the effort to get in touch with any of my actual friends. What kind of person did that make me?

"Here you go cutey, receipts in the bag" I turned and the clerk handed me a plastic bag, as I pulled out my phone and started letting my fingers do the talking. I was texting Rosie first of all, her threat of violence to my ex made her a stand out as a sudden first port of call. The phrase ex was still not something I was used to, and my throat seemed to constrict slightly at the idea, but I dutifully ignored it.

"hey bird, please keep the bloodshed to a minimum :), I'm just havin a wander round shops right now what you up to? Xx ". I didn't let on any of my emotional baggage, trying to be as flip and aloof as normal. I knew I would not be able to keep it all back from Rosie, but there was no need to pull her into my own personal black hole.

"thanks babe, means a lot x." that was all I could say to Damon, he was a man of few words and usually found this sort of thing difficult. It didn't make him any more or less of a friend, just he didn't believe in the power of textual healing.

I checked the time, and it was still to early to text Callum, he was probably still sleeping off his shift at the bar he worked at. I did not doubt that he would text me back, but I didn't want him loosing sleep over me, it was bad enough that he had probably been worried about me in the first place.

I didnt feel remotely hungry, which worried me a little, but I was still feeling a little weak from my hermit like lifestyle of the past few weeks. So I made a bee line to the nearest cafe. They had put up the chairs and tables outside to welcome the beautiful day, and I decided that it might be nice to sit in the open air. I nipped in to the cafe and put in my order, I think the drink was probably one sixteenth of coffee topped off with lots of whipped cream sprinkles and all sorts of things that were probably very bad for me. But I had a weakness for these confection drinks, and the second I handed over my money I took a deep swig of it while I went back out to sit down.

I knew I was putting off getting in touch with Derek, he may of been my best friend, but he was also something of a surrogate parent, so I knew he would be angry that I had not text him in so long. I sat at the table trying to write out the text in several different ways, but somehow I just could not string the words together, which was rather worrying, since I had never really known what it was like to be lost for words. In the end I gave up and put my phone down, and started to chip away at my coffee, still feeling the same guilt that I didn't know how to talk to my best friend. At that moment that cold place that still whirled and raged within me suddenly began to warm, then to heat, and before I knew it I felt as though I had been filled with a scalding liquid. I was angry with myself, and I acted without thinking and I just picked up the phone, dialled the number and put the receiver to my ear.

The phone hadn't even been ringing for a second or two before he picked up.
"Thank god, I thought I was going to have to go over and break down your door" even though I could not see him, I could hear the smile in his voice, I could not stop myself from laughing.

"Hahaha, well you would of gotten a shock if you had made the trip and seen I wasn't there."

"You went out? Even better, where are you?"

"Just sitting down and enjoying a coffee right now," I quickly took a quick swig for effect. "Other than that I have just been wandering round shops, bought some new shirts."

"Sounds like you are feeling better then?" I could tell from his hopeful tone that he wanted to be right. I wanted to respond in the positive, that I had pushed past the bad feeling and was my own normal self again. This however was the one man who knew me well enough that he could tell when I was lying.

"Almost," it was the best I could do to keep my voice level, the ice inside me was swirling again at the thought of my isolation and the reason behind it. I added "one day at a a time.... I guess" optimism never hurt.

"Well as long as you are ok, you fancy coming over for dinner tonight, I think I could whip up my famous lasagne". I knew he was playing dirty, he knew that was my favourite, and for the first time in I don't know how long I felt properly hungry.

"Haha, twist my arm why don't ya. Sounds fun, but can we make it tomorrow night? I have a few things to do at the flat so I think I'm going to spend the night cleaning up". It was true, the place looked an awful state as I was leaving, and I didn't like living in mess.

"Fine by me," he said the right words but there was a slight hesitation in his voice I didn't like. "you are ok aren't you?" There was nothing but sincerity on the end of his question, and suddenly I felt the corners of my eyes stinging as somewhere in the dark recesses of my head I wondered about that question too.

"Of course" I said with a fake smile spreading on my face. "See you tomorrow, bye". I hung up quickly, cutting him off. I didn't like to dwell on my feelings, and this was the wrong day to do that.

As my coffee cooled I decided to take a closer look at the shirts I had just bought, and see if I would wear one of them for dinner with Derek. As I pulled one of them out however a folded piece of paper slipped out from the fabric. I picked it up swiftly and saw that it was the receipt, but my eyes were suddenly drawn to the bottom.

There written in black biro was a phone number, and beneath that was short message.

I know it's a long shot but here's my number. I hope you use it. Jay xx.

I didn't know a Jay but it was clear to me that only one person could of written this note. The indie boy must have written it when my back was turned. Then like a ton of bricks I was hit with the realisation that he had actually called me cutey as I left the shop. I was dazed, confused, and suddenly speechless. I drank the rest of the coffee in one gulp, and I half walked half jogged back to the flat. There was only so much stimulation I could handle in one day.

Chapter 1

I don’t know where I was, but I know he was there with me. I don’t know what we were doing, all I could tell was that we were together. I felt suspended on mist, clouding my eyes and relying purely on the senses. The touch, the taste, even the smell of him was so potent, so real, so intoxicating. For the barest most infinitesimally small moment I felt another heart beat pressed against my own.
Then I woke up.
At first there was nothing but the listless awareness of the bed sheets surrounding me, the unseemly sensation of rising to the surface after being peacefully submerged in a calm and pleasant ocean. But within minutes I felt like I was coming back to myself, thread by thread the tapestry of my self awareness began to stitch itself back into its unique patterns. Though I was heartbroken to know it was not fast enough.
I was half in a dream and half out when I whispered his name.
“Aidan”, and found myself drifting towards his spectral form in my minds eye to gently slid my hand around him and press myself against his warm flesh. When I touched it however I felt nothing but the cold and bare sheets and as if by some wind the mist-like silhouette vanished into nothing. My heart exploded with a force and I jolted myself awake and let my eyes scan the still and silent room.
“Aidan!?”
There was a flash of lightning in my head and a rush of unwelcome memories, and it all flooded back. Aidan. The Fight. The Break Up. Everything.
I hated in that moment that everything still hurt as badly as it did when it first happened. Even though it had been so long ago now and so much had happened since, it felt like a scar on my heart had opened up and a cascade of loss escaped me like so many tears from my eyes. I could not bear it, and in a sudden rush of bed sheets I found myself running to the bathroom and throwing myself on my knees before the toilet, before finally throwing up. To this day I don’t know why that happened, I only knew that I would be sick and that was all my legs needed to know before I bolted. I didn’t feel unwell, only this all consuming vacuum inside. Could it be like when stars die? Bursting outwards into the blackness and shedding itself of its former glory, before collapsing into a whirling maelstrom consuming all light around it, and with it all hope.
After what felt like Eternity to the power of 10 I finally stopped purging, leaving behind that familiar feeling of self loathing and wretchedness that always comes when I feel my composure slip so far. I fell backwards onto the cold tiling and felt an agony as the heat of my body was immediately stifled by it.
There I stay for a moment, turning the white ceiling into a blank canvas where I engraved a portrait of my memories. I saw warmth, and felt him against me still. The feeling of us dancing alone in my pokey flat in Soho, listening to Sinead O Connor while we held fast to one another. I remember that beautiful and exquisite pain and rush of longing as I remembered how it was like when we made love.
I finally forced myself to shut my eyes away before my heart would tear itself in two, and finally made the effort to stand and crawl back into the bed. I wrapped myself up in the fabric and hoped against hope that I would find some sense of warmth in this cloud-like bed. But no sense of comfort could find me while I was lost in the wilderness of my own mind, and before I knew it the sensations became more potent and all consuming.
I wanted to struggle against it, I wanted to pull out my new phone and call everyone I knew to pull myself back from such a hopeless precipice. But even through the sheen of my held back tears I could see that the light that came into my room was pre dawn and on a Saturday it was an unspoken commandment that no one would call a friend while in the midst of sleep/hangover/ last nights conquest.
So in that moment I felt myself resign to it, and felt myself fall into the black, shed of all my past glory. I swear even now that I could hear the gentle sound of glass breaking and I knew it was my heart.
The tears came unbidden and unwelcome, and I could do nothing to stem the tide. I drew my knees up under the duvet and held them tight against my chest, as if by making myself smaller I could some how lessen this unimaginable pain.
How in the world did I think I was getting over him? I almost laughed at the futility of all my efforts at distracting myself. Where were all my grand plans now? Where was everything that I had planned on, focused on doing? The bigger flat, the better job, all the goals that I hoped to achieve. Nothing meant anything without him. I fell further and finally let myself give way to silent sobs.
I think that was the part that was the worst. Everything I was going through right now and I could not even work myself up enough to make a sound. Some people live their lives like explosions, chaotic and almost beautifully and affecting everything around them like ripples pouring out through the very air that we breathe. But I seemed more like the king of guy who lives life like a shadow, always there but rarely noticed or even considered as anything more than negative space.
The tears came faster then, more frequent and my body shook with every gasp and my tears were wet and salty against my pillow. I put my face into them to try and stop them from flowing, or perhaps more likely that somehow I could smother myself into blissful oblivion.
It was like an eerie calm had settled on me, and I knew it was true. In that moment, a small moment of pure and despicable sadness I had found a desire that I never thought I would feel again. Not since the long nights when life was at its blackest had I thought about it. That silent, exciting and horrifying hunger for self-destruction.
“Could it be?” I thought to myself. “Could it be, that through everything I have gone through that it would be the thing that made me happiest could finally kill me?”
I almost felt the sides of my lips prick up in a wry grin when I considered this impossible paradox to everything I had considered so vital. My God what is wrong with me? Is this hysteria making me see these things flash into my head? How can anyone, no matter how sad or alone feel that there is a funny side to suicide? Oh great now I am writing it in poetry, what’s next a limerick? Shall I write this down, this “Ode to a broken heart”, shall it be posthumously taught in high schools across the country? Will I be remembered in dog eared text books for years and ages to come with children doodling in the margins and scribbling out my name to write simply A. Cunt.
It was pathetic, and that made it worse. Why could I not be an idiot? Someone who did not think and did not care, what is the point of having a heart if all it does is hurt? I could not help but torture myself with the happiness that we once shared, the silent and penetrating anger at his betrayal. I wondered about his heart and if the place I once had there was empty now? Could it be that I was never there at all and that it was all just me? Did I make a relationship out of nothing?
No, if only it was really that simple. The reason it hurts so much is because I did love him and I knew that he loved me back, if he hadn’t then I would never have fallen so far, so deeply, so destructively in love. Without me meaning to do so I made him into oxygen. Pure and necessary, something that is constantly with you and something you always need, but simultaneously one you don’t consider till the moment that you loose it and are left breathless.
The tears mean nothing, I pray that by crying as hard as I can this once then it will not become drawn out and as agonizing as it was feeling now. What I know however is that I am only at the beginning of what is to come, and all that I have to look foreward to is this pain, and how it will eventually dull and weaken. Until the part of me that loved him, the space within me where Aidan lived, was dead forever.
I could not bare to sit in such pathetic sadness, nor did I really have the strength to put myself back together again. So I simply whispered to myself in the black, “its time” and tightened the resolve to force myself into action. The time it took was long and before it was done the sun had properly ascended to a height that put it above the surrounding buildings, disolving the previous nights mist leaving behind sparkling golden motes of moisture that coated the roads and streets. In any other mood I would’ve appreciated this single unexpected act of beauty, but I wasn’t.
I walked back to my bathroom, the site of my earlier purge. I will always remember the strange feeling of those few steps almost like a man had taken me by the strings and was slowly and sluggishly forcing my lifeless body ever forwards. What was left of my dignity wanted me to just avoid my mirror but the pragmatist in me was too much of a nuisance and my ego relented as I cast my sore and itchy eyes to the mirror frame.
The sight that I beheld was truly the face of heartbreak. My eyes were swollen and rimmed with red so deep one could easily suspect my tears were so strong that they were like blood. My hair hung lank and lifeless, covered in sickening grease and had the overall consistency of damp straw. My cheeks were scarlet and ruddy and all across my face were small salty trails where my tears had slid unhindered down my unwashed face. My eyes however were the sight to behold. My usually shining eyes seemed almost as if they had been blacked out. the usual shy twinkle that other people often remarked on seemed to have been deadened. I tried to fake a smile to see if it would reawaken those tiny sparks, but to no avail. I was vaguely shocked to see that the shadows beneath my eyes were as black as pitch and almost appeared to have been drawn on, All at once as I looked at myself I felt a strong and avid repulsion of my face so smeared with tears. I stripped off my bed clothes and stood naked before the glass. I looked so sad and miserable almost like the images of people in the deepest dankest hospitals. I wanted to erase the scene from my body even if I could not wipe it from my memory.
I quickly hopped into the shower and turned the nozzle and let a cascade of water stream on top of me. The first shock wave of icy rain was like a sharp slap across my shoulders and pure agony as it slid down my naked body. For a moment I was nullified, unable to move pushing my face up into the cold shower and slowly feeling the sticky sensation from my face slowly slide away with the water.
In a minute or two which felt like forever, the icy water was tinged with heat and before long there was a thick mist of steam billowing all about me. The heat was almost as unbearable as the ice but I took it all. After all my heart had been abused perhaps it was fitting that my body be punished just as severely.
I ran my fingers through my wet hair, slowly untangling the unkempt mess and ringing out the grease almost letting the shower take care of the rest of my body. I operated the soap and shampoo and conditioner almost on autopilot, my own thoughts still awash with the events of recent days and the undeniable feeling of loneliness. Any other Saturday like today I would be calling Aidan and asking him to come and visit me here at the flat, or I would be looking through the cinema listings to see if there were any good films that we could watch together. Indeed sometimes while I was working at the bar I was subconsciously planning out each of our dates in my head, trying to think of new things to do and new ways that we could have fun. I even managed a wry smile again as I remembered how much trouble I had once got in for nearly kissing him while I was on the job. I then realised how I may never feel him kiss me again I felt a slow weight build around my heart.
“No” I commanded myself. “No No No, Don’t let yourself go back you have to keep looking ahead”.
This of course was the most sensible thing that I could of done, but even as I looked towards the horizon I felt with a slow pang of pain that I had never really conceived of a future where Aidan was not there. I was furious with myself. After all that time on my own I prized myself on the ability to not look ahead or back, both caused too much pain in those times, how could I have let Aidan do so much damage.
As I the soothing shower gel across my stomach I felt a mercurial sense was through me, it seemed that after being sick I felt strangely weak and unlike my usual self. I had not really looked at my body in a long while, and I noticed that my stomach was very tight and flatter than usual, and my ribs had begun to jut out.but had always been thin but I had never before looked this skeletal.
“Typical” I thought to myself, “anyone else would be gaining weight right now, not loosing it”. I could already see Derek’s face in the back of my mind, chastising me for letting my curves go downhill. Other people would probably love it if they lost weight in the wake of a rough break up, I imagine that would help the healing process come along nicely. In me however the new definition to my rib cage and the ever-present thinness of the limbs made me look ever more like a posterchild for anorexic heroin addiction.
“Look what you do to me Aidan”, the words were out my mouth before I even really had the chance to process that I was saying them. Even though the words were lost out to the loud splashing of the shower on the porcelain tub, I still felt mortified with myself, and I turned the shower taps in disgust.
I drew the curtain open and tried to glimpse my reflection, I wanted to see if I had somehow washed away the wraith-like image I had seen before, the steam however had denied me that making the mirror a perfect fog of condensation. I dried myself perhaps a little too vigorously leaving red patches on my flesh where I had rubbed the towel against me a little too hard, but I don’t think I could even register the pain of the flesh while in my current gloom.
I walked to my wardrobe, thinking that I should feel better when I look better. I knew even as I thought it that it should be the other way around but it did not hurt to pretend to myself that everything was ok. In the less than 2 seconds walk to the cupboard door I made a mental inventory of all my clothes and what I felt like wearing, and I had just settled on the black shirt and was debating the choice of jeans when I opened the door.
Horror of Horror’s. Hanging there in amongst the mass of familiar items was a single item I knew was not mine. It was a small green jacket with sewn on black buttons that didn’t match but somehow seemed to work. Aidan’s favourite. My breath caught in my lungs and for a second no air could escape and my heart seemed to skip 1, 2, 3 beats in that moment. I reached out and touched it, and I could not help but remember the first time I ever saw it, the first time I ever saw him. I recovered from my shock soon enough and grabbed the jacket off the railing, some sense of anger steeling me in a way I never expected. I opened a side cupboard full of nothing but the usual detritus that always gravitates towards an unused space and I threw it in, practically slamming the door behind it, and almost catching my own fingers.
There was a strange feeling of absolution in that final act, but I would give myself no respite, I went back to myself and decided that the light blue jeans would do for the day. I did not look back, I knew I couldn’t. Now was not the time.
Once I dressed myself the sense of weight loss was enhanced, my usually snug 30 inch waist jeans were working hard to slip from my narrowing waistline. My extra small shirt was still a nice tight fit, but the defined skeletal structure was showing through, so a loose fitting jumper was pulled on top to make it at least a little bit less obvious to the casual observer.
When I was dressed and cleaned up I felt immediately a lot better in myself. It was like I had pulled on a new skin to stop myself feeling a little bit less vulnerable and exposed, and the jumper warmed me from outside which made my aching heart a little bit more comfortable to handle. It was like having a hug in a way being clothed in this bulky monstrosity. It was a jumper I would never wear on a night out, one I would never when I went to see friends, but somehow it helped me, if only in the most superficial ways. I tried to remember where it was that I had actually bought it, but I couldn’t remember, now for some reason I wished I could.
The sun was beginning to beat down onto the street and through the gap in the curtains I could see the first signs of civilization finally begin to flood onto the streets of Soho. I was marveled by how care free they were, how oblivious that barely a few feet away I was watching them, careless of the fact that I felt like I was falling further and further away from the world.
A part of me wished that the world outside would stop turning. I wanted everyone to wear black and walk with their heads down. I even wanted it to rain, slamming onto the pavement like it did in my shower. It seemed to hard to conceive that the world had not ended, even though within me it felt like it had.
Even I had to smile at that, had I become so vain as to think that the world should stop just for me. Maybe there was something in all of the agony that was purely self indulgent, after all in less than a week since the fight I had become an emotional masochist and I had mostly been taking to my bed. When I tried to remember when it was that I last ate something I realised I could not even remember.
“Well that explains my new Starvin’ Marvin Look” I thought to myself.
I do not what I wanted in that moment, the shower had gone some of the way to making me feel better that I had in the last week, but I still did not feel like me again. I put a hand to my face and felt a near beard slowly rising out against my face. Disgusting the state I was in. I went back to my bathroom and ran the tap to let it get warm while I smeared the acrid smelling Shaving foam across my face, and quick as a flash I picked up my razor.
I found myself looking at the blade, morbid fascination seemed to surge into me and feelings I had not felt in a long time seemed to become stark and strange in the forefront of my thoughts. I felt my skin prickle and itch as I had memories seep back from a half forgotten adolescence, and the tiny row of scars on my inside leg seemed to tingle in anticipation, like they did the night Aidan first touched them. It was pure frustration with my thoughts of Aidan that forced me to look away and without even looking I proceeded to shave away the beard till my skin was taught and smooth again. Once again it felt like I was going through the motions on a kind of auto pilot. My head was still washing in the details I did not even care to recall, it was so potent that it only occurred to me when I had finished, that I had not even spared a moment to look at my reflection in the fog free mirror.
The image was simply me, but it was not me. With a now beard free face it was easier to tell that I had lost weight and the slightly hollow look of my cheeks seemed to pronounce it even more. But the same young face was staring back at me, the same lips, the normally religiously straightened hair now tousled and half dry rising up into a mass of dark brown curls. The dark circles were less noticeable and I was confident that no one but me would notice them in the light of day,(though to be safe I mentally picked out a pair of aviator sunglasses for when I was on the street). My eyes were still not the same however they seemed to have been altered. I could not imagine how or why, after all they were the same as they were every day, but I knew in my heart that they were just not the same. It was like a marble statue in a museum, which had become chipped and broken and worn by time, and by mankind, something had been lost along the way.
I picked up my phone from be bedside cabinet and flipped it open. It jingled back to life after being off and seemed a cheerful note with which to start the day. Within seconds I had been alerted to 27 text messages. I was frankly rather amazed but then I rarely switched my phone off, as it was my one link to the outside world sometimes, a small lifeline which I have always treasured. I looked through the notes and saw that a few familiar messages, Callum was telling me it will get easier and to hang in there. Rosie was angry with Aidan and said that she would gladly scream at him for me if I only said she could. Damon had even sent a rather brief message saying simply “It gets easier Bun”. It wasn’t till I filtered them till I saw a whopping 12 texts from Derek alone. I felt a sharp pang of guilt somewhere in the pit of my stomach, I had promised him I would call when he brought me home that night.
“Well fun as this has been”, I said to no one in particular, “I think its time to get up and walk.” I did not know where I wanted to go, all I could really say was that I needed to get up and get out of this scene from a broken heart and see what the sun feels like. I also needed to text people to tell them that I was ok, but I did not really want to pick up the phone if they called, being in a shop was as good an excuse as any not to answer and to text periodically.
I picked up my aviators, and my phone and slipped them in my pocket, but as I made my way to the door, I suddenly looked back towards the bed, where not an hour or so ago I would have sworn blind that I had been with Aidan again. I felt like Orpheus looking back trying to see Eurydice, only to watch her wither and fade into the shadows. There was only my bed and my rumpled bed sheets, I am not sure if that was worse or not.
I put the shades on and turned my head towards the door hoping no one would not notice my red rimmed eyes through the reflective shades, and walked on towards the sun.