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“Fuck me…” He pushes himself against the back of the seat, hands on his face, tracing over tiredness and frustration. The thoughts of the words he once said echo in his head, over and over like a curse he had placed upon himself.
“You’ll never find anyone that loves you.” Not like I do. Yet those words he swallowed go unheard and the way the boy’s heartbreak increases with the words he did hear crush William’s own soul, as if he had harmed himself in the process.
It had been a while after their breakup and, even then, Hugh had allowed them to remain friends. Yet, who could be friends with someone who was so hurtful? William knew Hugh was just being kind, as he usually was. He couldn’t find it in himself to throw him away, to completely lock him out of his world after they had shared a chapter together.
The ping of his update on Facebook serves as a reminder;
- You still have him highlighted on your Facebook, William.
- He found someone who likes him, someone who might just be better at it than you.
“Fuck…” It spins in his head so much that he compulsively stands and pushes the seat away from the table, walking over to a nearby counter, he thinks to open one of the drawers, yet his phone illuminates right at that instant.
[ New message from: Maggie ]
The door opens after minutes of waiting and the red-head enters the room, placing a bag over on the table. She takes a quick peek at the post still open on the laptop and a chuckle escapes her.
“Am I some kind of dog to you?” William asks, hand holding the open messages at her.
“More or less. Thought your willingness was a little odd but I can see why now. The twink finally found someone else to date after you, huh? And here you said that was nearly impossible.” Half a smile forms and the man lets out a scoff, dropping the phone back on the table.
“Guess we both suffer from the same arrogance. But we’re not here to explain why we’re a bunch of unfortunate cunts. What happened with you and Elena?”
“You’re right, we’re not here to explain, right? I don’t want to talk about it.” Maggie comments, walking over to the man and planting a quick, desperate kiss. He pauses for a second, he stares at her, confused, yet the look in her eyes is almost enough of an explanation. They both need this.
With a fervor for someone different than the one before them, they crash into each other. Touches that are not meant for them are intertwined and the lingering anger, the sadness, and the joy they had hoped for is mixed with sweat and gasps of the replacement they conjured just to feel something. Kisses that fall short but get the point across, a rhythm they don’t prefer but are content with, a connection that only runs skin deep. Just for this night, just to be able to lay down in warmth – any warmth.
When the frenzy ends, they stare at the ceiling, they catch their breath. The faint artificial smell of smoke and fleeting satisfaction encapsulated the two for but seconds. Yet, as they were predisposed to do, they fall right back into the abyss they are so good at conjuring up.
“She broke up with me.”
“It was a matter of time.”
“...” A quick glance towards her again tells him all he needs to know – she was suffering and not even the relentless encounter of two dejected bodies could keep her from feeling that sadness.
“You’ll get over it.”
“I won’t. You never did.”
“You’re not me, Maggie.”
“I’m also no better than you.” She pauses, a sigh trailing on smoke. “She was the only good thing…”
“You’ll get over it.” He repeats, placing an arm over her to pull her in. She leans over his chest, closes her eyes, and imagines nothing is wrong, just to keep the tears from falling. “We both will.”
The night goes by with the quiet sleeping of Margaret, laying down on her friend William’s arms. Instead of giving in to the momentary peace, he remained up, staring at that same boring ceiling, the post of his ex playing in his head.
“Who the fuck is Starlight?” The single question prompts him to move himself away. Away from the warmth of his friend, from the chance of peaceful sleep, from a semblance of normalcy his brain so desperately needed but abhorred. So, carefully does he let the girl rest on the bed as he walks over to the computer. He flicks a finger over the mousepad, it lights up…
Click click at the request of his pin: 0424. Welcome.
A defeated sigh escapes him yet again. There he was, along with a reminder he had placed for himself a long time ago. Leave him alone, he’s doing better without you.
Leave him alone. That was the only thing he thought to give him, the only courtesy…
But why should he leave him alone when he is miserable? He’s been miserable ever since he left him. He stares over at the picture before the computer screen dims again and he has to flick on it once more. He hovers to Facebook, the dreaded post is still there. He rereads it, he checks the likes, he moves over to Hugh’s friend list, Had he added someone new recently? Who would he even call like that?
Hours upon hours topple over as he searches every single woman – on Hugh’s friends list and otherwise. But he finds nothing remotely close to confirming who could be called Starlight and why.
Daylight peeks over from the windows, the only alarm that finally breaks him out of his trance. He leans back on the chair and, finally, he takes a deep breath, as if he hadn’t taken one in a long while.
“Still hung up on the post?” Margaret’s slightly groggy voice comes up, she’s leaning on the doorframe, fully-clothed, messy hair tangled over the edges of the frame as she places her vape between her lips. The way the man lifted his gaze towards her, bags underneath his eyes so prominent, she couldn’t help but chuckle a puff of smoke, walking over.
“What are you even doing there?” She asked before pulling a seat close to his own. The tab was open in a random woman’s profile – 1 mutual friend. “Are you seriously looking for the woman he was speaking about?”
“What’s it to you?” He answers, slightly defensive, tired.
“I mean– why? You couldn’t be any further away from who it actually is.” Margaret shudders, staring at the lady and imagining her having such a nickname.
“Wait, you know a cunt named Starlight?”
“It’s not her actual name , but yeah… I know her.” She pauses on purpose. The way Butcher stares daggers at her is almost hilarious, but she remains with a blank expression… One that softens ever so slightly. “It’s Annie.”
“Annie? Wait… your old school fling Annie January? ”
“The very one. Don’t ask me about the Starlight nickname, it’s a nerd thing. Her dating the same twink that broke your nearly null sanity was not on my bingo card for her, but here we are.”
“He didn’t break my sanity.” They both pause to stare at each other.
“Well, he certainly doesn’t leave your head – ever. It’s like you live and breathe the stupid Facebook News Feed… That and Instagram, I guess. Which makes me wonder why you haven’t tried talking to him again. You know he’s going to answer regardless.”
“Because he doesn’t deserve that. You know what I did. It’s better if he forgets me altogether.”
“You’ve never been one to think of others like that… I can’t believe it. You fucking love him, even now.”
His silence is loud, he refutes nothing as he glances back at the stupid ceiling. He’s tired, he’s desperate… He wants to talk to him – the glaring reminder to leave him alone resonates, it pulses on the edges of the ceiling he stares.
“Well, I don’t think someone like that should be with Annie. She’s too much of a good girl for him.”
“He’s too much of a good boy for anyone. They might be the couple of the century. Hell, they even decided to go out on a date on February 14th like some kind of highschool romance – no offense.”
“Non-taken. I was never big on that Valentine’s shit…” Which was probably why things didn’t work out, but she kept that to herself.
“That’s why we’re stuck where we are. Two unfortunate cunts, sucking at love, and not in the good way.”
A shrug eventually comes out of Margaret as she resigns herself to their fate.
“Well, no use wallowing in it, right? Let’s go grab something to eat.”
“You go… I’m staying here.”
“Come on, Butcher… Don’t be like that. You need to get out of this obsessive slump or he really is going to be the end of you. I wouldn’t want your epitaph to say you were killed by a bottom.”
“Does it really sound that bad to you?”
“When I imagine his face? …Yeah, it does. Come on, let’s get going.” She encourages and the man, though he gives it thought, stands up from his seat. The two walk out towards the nearby diner – food always makes things better, they were both trying to convince each other of the fact.
They order a regular breakfast; pancakes, bacon and eggs, tea and coffee. And their conversations go from idle, to downright boring, avoiding the elephant in the room, the sadness looming on top of the two… The lighting of the phone’s screen showing: (1) New Notification.
“Go on, you’re just dying to check your damn phone.” And god knows she would be too, if she could just get the right name to light it up.
[ New Update from your friend Hugh Campbell ]
“Son of a bitch! ” The expression comes out so out of the blue and so loud, even Maggie does not expect it from her companion.
“What is wrong with you?” She asks, putting down her fork, staring down at him and then back at the phone. Oh boy…
“It’s today. They’re going out today.”
“Huh… Well, that’s… good for them, I guess?” She asks, eyes tracing the man that is already standing up from his seat, he has his wallet out, placing some money on the table. “Hey, you’re not planning on–”
“Take care of the tab for me.” He says absentmindedly as he storms right off without giving her a second to even stop him.
Fuck, what am I doing? Though he asks this and tries to convince himself of doing the contrary of what he’s thinking, he continues walking. He walks and walks, and walks continuously down the street, down towards the nearest Tony Cicero’s. Maybe it was rotten luck, or fate, but he knew that was the exact one in which Hugh would be.
Opening the door, he is greeted by a nice woman.
“Hello! Welcome to Tony Cicero’s! Table for one?” The smile the lady shows lasts only seconds as Butcher looks over from one side to the next, towards the tables, agitated. She seems a little confused, yet she continues. “Is someone waiting for you?”
“...Something like that,” he answers, rushing over towards the interior of the place. Scanning the room, it doesn’t take him long before his eyes land on Hugh’s… and his heart sinks.
There he is, all smiles. Light, joyful.
Fuck, he is actually happy with that girl… And the two laugh, her blonde strands bouncing lightly as the two share a joke together before the waiter interrupts to take the order.
And, as expected, they both ask for something safe and regular; the famous Tony Cicero’s pasta, albeit with different variations for each – their choice of drinks also safe; juice and water.
“Understood, we’ll be bringing you your food very soon.” The waiter says and the two thank him as he steps away. Expectant, the girl glances over at the boy, encouraging him to continue the story.
“So, then I’m walking over the sidewalk and–”
“Hughie.”
A jump comes out of both the girl and the boy that had been enjoying a normal conversation as the man greets the seated one out of nowhere.
“ Butcher …?” Hugh asks, almost baffled at the possibility of them meeting.
“Do you two know each other?” The blonde woman asks, big eyes turning over to the stranger – my god, isn’t she stunning? She looks like a nice woman, a person with principles and values, your total opposite.
“Yeah, we–” Hugh is interrupted by the sudden, uneven smile of the individual interrupting their date.
“We do. We know each other… really well. ” His head tilts and he turns over to look at the boy, he stares just as shocked as he did at the start. Intensely staring back doesn’t help his case, so he stutters, trying to formulate words.
“I–yeah. We used to know each other,” he emphasizes the past tense, much to Butcher’s dismay, despite knowing he spoke the truth. “But it’s all in the past. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen you in a while, didn’t expect you to even be around the city anymore.”
“Well, ending a relationship doesn’t mean ending another’s life now does it?”
“Relationship? Did you two–?”
“Don’t worry about it, Annie–”
“No–no, why shouldn’t Annie worry?” A dramatic gasp comes out and Hughie braces himself, eyes closing. “Are you already keeping secrets from your sweet, would-be girlfriend?”
“That’s not– No. I mean, there’s nothing to hide.”
“What do you mean by that? We–”
“We used to be and now we’re not. It’s as simple as that. You’re part of my past, not my present. And– and vice versa. So, thanks for stopping by but, if you’d be so kind as to–”
“As to disappear from your life like I’m dead, right? Because I might as well be to you. So much for staying friends, eh?”
“ No– Butcher– that’s–!”
“Hey! There’s no need to be rude about this–”
“Oh, now you’re going to throw your new girlfriend at me?”
“Butcher, please…” Hugh turns over to Annie, shaking his head lightly. “It’s alright, I got this.”
“No–no. Let her continue, Hughie.” Butcher asks and, Annie, swallowing the desire to tell the man out, instead gives a slight smile.
“Actually,… I need to go to the bathroom real quick, you two should catch up in the meantime, alright?” Annie excuses herself and almost immediately rushes off to the bathroom. She gives a quick glance at Hugh, who thanks her with a small bow of his head.
“Dammit…” Hugh comments from under his breath and Butcher takes the chance to lean over him.
“Took you no time to forget about me, huh?”
“Butcher, it’s been months. I’m just trying to start again, this was just our first date.”
“Can’t even call me by my name. It’s baffling. You’re baffling, Hughie. I didn’t think you the type… Maybe I was wrong about you.”
“Careful with what you’re trying to say. Look, I– I also deserve to move on. I know what you’ve been up to. Ever since we broke up, non-stop one night stands, parties, overall a good time for you while I…”
“While you what? Wallow in self-pity? Don’t be a cunt, Hughie! Better yet, don’t be a liar! You’ve been meeting this blonde goody two-shoes and for what? To make me jealous? Well, it’s–”
“It’s nothing! I meant it when I said you were part of my past. Not everything is about you, Butcher. Not anymore. So, please just leave me– Are you sweating?”
“What? No, I’m just agitated. Fuck, Hughie, have you never confronted someone before?” Hughie rolls his eyes in response, choosing to keep quiet. After all, many a times did he have to fight with the very man standing before him – the same one that seemed to be swaying from where he stood.
“Hey… Hey, are you alright? You’re looking pale, you should take a sea–” The sentence goes incomplete the moment the man struggles, slumping against the table before falling over to the ground. Hughie is quick to aid him, trying to turn him over. A touch is enough to let him know the man was running a high fever that was just now taking a toll on him, enough to knock him out. From the distance, he can hear the boy’s voice call for him – his last name, always his last name…
It feels like a second, the moment in which he faded and returned. He’s back to staring at the ceiling, though a different one, seemingly sterile and eerie. He smells the clean sheets, hears the beeping of machines, feels a remnant sting on his arm… And as his eyes adjust to the light, the blurriness fades and he turns over towards the presence of…
“Hughie…” He calls for him, it feels like he’s been calling for him for decades, it stings now. It’s dry, bursting with affection, but hoarse.
“Butcher, how are you feeling?” Always, his last name. He brushes the pain aside, nodding slightly.
“What the fuck happened to me?” He asked and the boy sighs, relieved.
“You fainted. You were– are running a high-fever… Apparently due to exhaustion. Have you– have you been sleeping well? I mean, I guess not but… Butcher, you need to take better care of yourself.”
He expects a reply, retaliation or something similar, but the man remains quiet. He stares on from over the bed, he studies him as if this were his first time seeing him – and Hughie can’t help but feel his heart leap just slightly. Yet, he crosses his arms.
“Butcher,” he calls for his attention and the man can only blink. He blinks again and stares.
“Sleep doesn’t come easy to people like me, you know that.”
“Not true. You sleep well. You can sleep rather quickly…” When you feel safe. Or that’s what he recalled him saying once or twice when he was held by him. A shrug comes out of the older man and he turns over to stare at the ceiling. It was an action Hughie was used to seeing. More often than not, he’d just zone away, staring at one point or the other when something was on his mind, when it weighed so heavily he could barely ignore it. William was a man of vices, of obsessions… That was the only thing Hughie knew for certain – it was always a mystery just what his obsession was, at the time.
“When you left, I forgot how to sleep properly.” It comes as a type of confession, like the ones sinners are reluctant to express. He says it in a tone that is so low, anyone else would’ve missed it. Not Hughie. That voice, he would hear it anywhere. “So now, I either knock myself out or find something else to do with my extra free time.”
“Butcher, you can’t just–”
“Call me by my name.”
“...”
“Hughie.”
“I–I can’t…”
“You can.”
“I can’t… Not anymore,” William. “Please, don’t ask me to.”
“Just this once.”
Long sigh, a slight scratch to the back of his neck. His thoughts race. He doesn’t want to comply, but he doesn’t want to hear him beg like that anymore.
“Billy. Please, take better care of yourself.” Close enough, William acknowledges and he replies with yet another nod.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“No. You have to promise you’ll take better care of yourself.”
“I’ll be honest, Hughie, I don’t want to lie to you.”
“Can you at least try? …For me?” Now it was Butcher who found himself in the same predicament the other had been in before. He’s a good boy, considerate, and so selfless… The way he stares at him, practically begging with every fiber of his being for something that would ultimately change nothing in his life as it was… All for the sake of someone that had broken his heart. Ah, it hurt to see, but he adored it so much. He selfishly wanted that attention, that devotion just for him. So, having his defenses brought down with ease, he picks his broken pieces back up.
“I’ll try, for you.”