personal blog: simon

after forty minutes of sitting away from Bryan and shifting my eyes from watching Bryan flipping through the channels and the TV, I move to sit beside him and reach for a pizza slice. the whole ordeal feels a little too organic, domestic… without any pretenses. the exposed imperfection of the room, the stained rug from a red wine spill, the unkept sink and the kitchen counter, the pile of tossed books on the floor that should have been put away weeks ago. I secretly grin at all of it and unsure whether Bryan has changed at all; but then again, as Bryan has pointed out, I don’t know him that well.

I had every choice to leave and find Jacob, but I asked to be escorted to Bryan’s room and Bryan complied. wrapped around my finger and I loved it. I was Bryan’s kryptonite. I cut our seamless gaze and reached for Bryan’s shoulder, pinning him against the door and leaving a stolen mark. too brief to bequeath a lasting impression, yet Bryan’s hands lifted in the air, caught in the moment, as if he was kissed for the first time. but I didn’t know the extent of compliance and frightened by my own actions, I pulled from Bryan as if he was a repellent. Bryan, however, stood motionless waiting for my next move.

I was the first to set on the bed. Bryan cautiously followed, lying down next to me. his right arm under his head. the other guarding his chest… and I curled to Bryan’s side, gathering courage to sweep my fingers across Bryan’s knuckles and then drift them to his arm. I was so nervous and unfamiliar with what I was doing.

forty minutes and we barely spoke. the only time Bryan spoke was to inquire what I want on the pizza and what I usually watch on Monday. I muttered few syllables to provide an adequate enough of an answer. like a staring game and I didn’t want to lose and speak first. plus, it’s not like I don’t want to answer or talk. moreover, I’m not sure as what to expel.

it’s simply difficult for me to articulate anything of value about myself. it’s best not to expose anything about myself. “so, this is hanging out?” I finally utter.

“yeah. what do you think?”

“I don’t like silence.”

“and yet, you don’t like talking either.” Bryan teases. “you are complicated.”

“this is uncomfortable.”

“sitting quietly in someone’s company?”

“yeah… it’s like being on a bus with strangers and you avoid making eye contact.”

Bryan laughs. “wow… that’s harsh. have you never made a friend or had a friend?”

“yes. of course, I had a friend… this is different. it’s unsettling… something’s supposed to be happening.”

“and nothing is happening and you can’t relax because what’s the goal? what’s the objective? to be always on the go… to avoid eye contact… to avoid being seen… and you’re running.” Bryan doesn’t sound argumentative, if anything it is more like pointing a simple fact out. “would it make it easier?”

“what?”

“if I set the expectations?”

“what’s your expectations?” I’m skeptical.

“right now? for you to feel safe and relaxed.”

“and how do I do that?”

“stop trying to figure out what I’m thinking… because I’ll tell you my secret that’s coursing through my brain… and it’s not about you… the secret is,” and Bryan leans slightly to me, “which movie to watch but I’ll let you choose,” and he hands me the remote.

“is this a test of taste?”

“no… just pick something funny because I’m too tired to sit through drama and think.”

as much as the forty minutes felt uncomfortable, the truth is I don’t want to go home either. at least the present argument is more fulfilling than the despicable noise in my head in my empty and quiet room. Bryan’s voice is somewhat soothing even though it may sound therapeutic. plus, I’m too tired to drive. the lack of sleeping might be finally getting to me.

“you’re not on a showcase being evaluated. nothing’s a test. I just wanted some company, apologize, and make it right. you said you’ve broken up with someone recently and I was selfish for kissing you. I’m the one who doesn’t look good here… I gave you the wrong impression.” Bryan’s sweet and apologetic brown eyes meet mine. “and we don’t have to talk about it,” he adds.

maybe. but it didn’t mean I wasn’t curious either, not about kissing Bryan, but getting to know him. after all, the night we spend together was sweet. I give but a crooked yet accommodating grin, then pick some random film, close my eyes, and promise myself to rest them for just a moment. take a deep breath in, hold, and breathe out. take a deep breath in, hold, and breathe out.

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© simon whittle — second act