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i pull my coat tighther around me. the rain has already begun - and it's not even a little drizzle. it just sort of started heavy. no one is out on the streets: a good sign.
i switch on the porch light and sit on the step, letting the wind refract the rain onto my face. the droplets are like tiny bullets on my cheek. he said he'd be coming to me again. he said that he would be here four weeks ago. i'd waited for him forever.
when he left, my life fell apart. june felt like september and i felt like i could never find true happiness again. obviously, i did, but that's not the point. the point is, there is still a kevin-shaped hole in every part of my body. i pull my phone from my pocket and close my eyes, knowing i'm making a mistake.
kevin wimmer: 74 outgoing calls
and not one time had he picked up. he's training. that's it. he's training. he's fucking someone else. he's training. maybe i shouldn't worry so damn much. maybe... maybe i should look for more options, like he has. there are some pretty decent boys here. but no.
i get in my car and head for the motorway. there's a sense of peace between those white highway lines; and when you get out of the city, and everything is silent, all you can hear is your thoughts and the ringing in your ears from when they stopped telling you they love you gets violent.
"kevin? are you there?" there is a long silence and i regret calling him. "kev?"
"yeah, i am."
hearing his voice calms me. i feel like i can finally breathe again. god, given the chance, i would stop pretending to be upset and fall straight back into his arms. but i pushed him away for too long and he gave up. i don't blame him.
i can never forget when he told me he was leaving. i was so distraught that i didn't even see it from his point of view. i suppose, now, he was right. but it was strange: i went from crying out his name to crying into christian's shoulder in about five minutes. i called christian, still breathless, half naked, desperate to leave. i wonder what kev thought when he found out i'd gone.
he's like a broken record, kevin is. he used to be my favourite record, the song stuck in my head, every song i've ever loved. but now all he says is that he wants to move on. firstly, no one is stopping him. of course, i want him back, but if he would only tell me he was ready to move on, i think i could, too. maybe. secondly, if he wants to move on, he's not made it very obvious. he's doing nothing about it, to my knowledge. maybe he is.
i don't want to think about that anymore. i remember how i fell for him: he used to buy me a pint without being asked and we'd sit there alone while all of the other lads were dicking around in the beer garden, our heads so close together that we seemed to disappear. but the sweetness never lasts.
the rain is practically torrential by the time i pull into my drive. it get out the car anyway and let it freeze my skin. i go back to the porch.
"i love you, heungmin."
my breath catches in my throat, even though i know he doesn't mean it; he's drunk. and when i say drunk, i mean his words are indecipherable and i feel disappointed in him. i want to question him. how can he say he loves me after what he's done? but i don't.
"i love you, kevin. please come home."
and that's it. i'm here in a long black coat tonight, waiting for him in the downpour outside.
i'm singing, baby come home, in a melody of tears while the rhythm of the rain keeps time.