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I never felt love the way the world wanted me to.
Maybe I had love, in the deep dark place I don't bother to acknowledge, but it wasn't something I wanted to will out of me. There was enough love to go around. I didn't need to take part in it.
I could just stay in bed.
I blinked, bleary eyed, as the sun shined in a manner far too bright for a quiet Wednesday afternoon-was I asleep for that long? I just took a nap after getting home from Higgs like usual, the sun wasn't supposed to be this low. I’d started walking alone, now; Nick and Charlie were too infatuated with each other for me to willingly be around them for more than ten minutes.
I'm joking. A little bit.
They were each other's world. I'm not sure when Nick and Charlie became Nick-and-Charlie, but the look of pure adoration whenever they even mentioned each other was something nobody would expect from a group of teenagers. But I knew they would last until the end of time, because they were Nick-and-Charlie and were completely hopeless idiots in love.
I looked up at the wall where the clock was. I needed to get out of bed.
Yes.
Out.
Thinking too hard about feelings didn't go well for me.
I blinked, slow and hard, before reaching for my phone on my bedside table.
It wasn't there.
I grumbled loudly, even though there was nobody left to hear, before shoving the blankets off me and climbing out of bed.
I paused for a moment, out of mental preparation before anything.
One breath. Two.
“OLIVER!!”
Oh, to have a family was truly a joy.
…
Michael Holden. What a strange boy.
He had no friends. Pity, that. It meant we could bond over similar grievances in theory, but his exuberance was not matched with enthusiasm. He actually felt more than nothing.
I did not.
Growing numbness was a symptom of having a rational mind. Control was of essence; while care could be extended, I don't think feelings could have. And if I wanted to survive in this kind of a world, I needed to have every bit of control in my grasp for as long as possible.
His response to this delicate fact I happened to share in passing was this: “Control is simply the way of obtaining illusory manipulation of the future, when it's something completely out of reach of any one person”. My response was “fuck off”.
What a ridiculous man.
I didn't know why I would ever willingly interact with someone like him.
But I kept doing it, and I’d keep doing it.
Even if it meant loosening the hold on myself.
That smile on his face made anything else irrelevant anyways.
…
I stared down from the roof.
I was cold.
Why?
Cold from bones down.
It wasn't numb.
It was hate.
I was so cold.
There were people down there.
Little specks.
Charlie was shouting from the grass.
The cold paused for a moment, seeing him, but it was fleeting.
The cold came back.
The analyst in me had vanished, all rational thoughts in the back of my mind.
This was who Tori was.
Destined to be alone.
I was finally doing what I meant to do all along.
The door opened behind me.
Michael came.
He was warm.
And then I broke out of my trance, feeling the warmth reach me in a desperate and kind embrace as Michael looked me in the eyes and started saying things I couldn’t process. There was a flicker of understanding there, underneath the relative complexity and curious mind, of never ending concern and care. I hated it, wished it would stop because it would have been so much easier if he were just awful, if he was just as insane and mental as everyone said he was. He was someone I could never be, would never be. He was irreplaceable, a lifeboat in a thrashing sea where trying to resurface had become my greatest battle. I had almost succumbed to the waves. And he chose to save me.
The horror of what I had almost done would come later. The apologies and thoughts and finality would greet me at the door of my home, a few of the “What were you thinking??” cards thrown violently at my face before I’d feel a hug from Charlie, one swallowing me whole and feeling a bit warm.
But nothing would be as warm as the gentle hold Michael offered, the one I begrudgingly accepted. The girl who felt nothing and the boy who felt everything, standing on a roof in each other’s arms.
Later.
I could go to bed later.
For now, I could just stay in his arms.
…
I could feel it.
Love.
Tickling inside the dark abyss inside me, waiting patiently to get dragged out in some manner concerning a certain loud mouthed individual.
It didn't feel the same as the novels described, or the talk Charlie gave whenever given the proper chance, or the quiet looks couples would share in an effort to telepathically communicate a form of longing.
It wasn't lustful.
It didn't burn. It was just…warm.
Michael made me feel warm. Safe.
He told me it was the same.
I didn't think so then, and it was only confirmed when we tried to have sex. It didn't fulfil any fantasies of mine, not any longings, nor any possibilities of joy. It was merely a confirmation, a firm cross in the box of where biological necessities were gone. The same detachment I often felt before he entered my life was pulling at me as I stared into his eyes, eyes that wanted more than I could offer. And then he popped the question. He asked if he could be my boyfriend.
I averted my gaze and fled.
Asexual.
A term I was completely familiar and comfortable with, but one that meant I was never going to be enough.
Not enough one way, not enough the other.
Love wasn't a half and half deal. You either didn't feel romance and lust or you did. It isn't supposed to be one or the other.
Of course, someone could argue that any love in any form that is not a woman and a man is “unnatural”, even with scientific evidence to prove there's nothing else anybody can do about it. And while I would not be that bigoted as to believe asexuality itself is a vile thing to be exterminated, it is an incredible inconvenience that likely means I never will find a partner who will stick around.
Well.
Then so be it.
I would just have to avoid Michael. The man was tall; it wouldn't be a terribly difficult feat to accomplish.
There was the summer fair where Charlie was performing, that I was obligated to go to (I also wanted to out of genuine curiosity and support; I loved my brother more than anything sometimes), and that Michael would undoubtedly be at as well. Michael and Nick got along surprisingly well despite the unsavoury words Nick initially had about him-a symptom of both being avid sports players, even when having vastly different interests otherwise-and Michael would love to support anything my “family” (including Nick, of course) took part in. The one sided game of hide and seek would begin then.
I could do this.
I tucked the comforter around me, despite the sticky heat threatening my body temperature just outside the door. I needed to feel the weight of something else around me, instead of this forbearing grief over something that wasn’t even intense anyways. We could never go back to what we were, and we couldn’t live in a half baked, unsatisfying world either. Michael didn’t deserve that.
My eyes were heavy.
I need to sleep.
…
Michael was smart enough to know I was avoiding him.
He wasn’t smart enough to stop trying anyways.
I’d watch him, see him find me in the crowd and attempt to wade his way to my side. I’d turn my head the other way, find a convenient friend I needed to talk to, a game I hadn’t played and wanted to try with Charlie.
Charlie was nervous, but I was proud of him. I made sure to tell him that much.
He’d grown up.
I needed to thank Nick at one point.
They loved each other.
The nutjob was doing a horrible job at getting here, though. I’d gotten frantic texts from Elle (I’d forgotten she’d given me her number when she initially joined Higgs) notifying us that traffic was slowing them down significantly. I told them they better fucking be here when Charlie goes on.
Apparently Nick was having a meltdown while this conversation was occurring via digital messaging space. At least he cared a little.
I saw Michael again.
I walked over aimlessly to another game. Another excuse that could be valid for a little while.
I watched him out of the corner of my eye.
He walked up to Charlie instead.
Damn the man.
They exchanged quick words (for Michael, this meant talking at the speed of light for an indeterminate amount of time) before Charlie laughed and stood up. I fled to the Ferris Wheel.
Charlie found me.
“Michael’s looking for you,” he said, pointing over at where Michael was looking with the most hopeless eyes like a sap.
I fled once again, this time dragging Charlie with me onto the ride itself.
We sat down. Silence for a moment.
Then: “So you don’t want to be Michael’s girlfriend?”
Did I?
“What does girlfriend even mean?”
Charlie smiled in the unsure way that most people tripped over their shoes for. “You’re having a weird amount of trouble with labels for a straight couple.”
Ha.
As if.
“Neither of us are straight, Charlie,” I said, blowing at the bangs covering my face.
Charlie sat up.
“I’m surprised you didn’t notice with Michael.”
I watched his face as he replayed every single moment Michael made a comment on men.
“Ooooooh my God.”
I would have laughed.
I didn’t.
Then Charlie asked the question I knew he would. “But…What about you?”
I looked over at him. “Have you and Nick had sex yet?”
I could have watched a balloon pop and compared it to Charlie’s flabbergasted face. “How is that relevant!?”
I waited.
He sheepishly said, “Y-Yes, we have.”
I pointedly did not look at him as I said, “I had sex with Michael and it confirmed some suspicions of mine.”
“What suspicions? Was he bad at it?”
I don’t know.
“He was…fine. It was fine.”
I took a breath.
“But I’m asexual.”
Charlie looked at me.
I carried on.
“I’m just not attracted to people that way. Even him. The one person outside my family who I deeply care about.”
There.
I admitted it.
“And before you say anything,” I said in a tone that was more rushed than I liked, “I know some asexuals enjoy having sex, but I’m not one of them.”
I’d known that asexuality was a spectrum, even before considering the label as mine.
Charlie seemed to think about that for a moment before saying, “I wasn’t going to say anything.”
He leaned forward a little bit, hunching his shoulders in a way I’d seen when he admitted something shameful. “I don’t actually know that much about asexuality…”
I sighed. “Yeah, you and most of the world.”
“So…that’s why you don’t want to be his girlfriend?”
I thought about that for a moment, trying to find a way to properly articulate the words that had been sitting inside me. “I think we want different things. I don’t want him to resent me.”
“But you love him.”
I did.
I do.
“And you want to be with him.”
I do.
“And have you explained this to him?”
I could hear the smile in his words.
…I have not.
Charlie laughed and threw his head back, making the entire compartment swing with the imbalance. “Tori.”
I scowled. “I already know what will happen! He’ll say he’s fine with it for now, but in like two years he’ll start having regrets and he’ll-”
“You’re being very pessimistic.”
“And you’re being annoying.”
Charlie let the laughter flow out before saying, “Fuck what anyone thinks.”
I stared at him.
He leaned back, watching the fair unfold beneath us as we climbed higher and higher.
“Your relationship can be whatever you want. Girlfriend and boyfriend, or not. Who cares? I said to Nick once that if he didn’t ever want to have sex then that would be fine. Like, yes, I really want to do that with him, but if he didn’t, I wouldn’t break up with him. I love him.”
He smiled at the thought of his adoring boyfriend, who was part of the reason Charlie survived here.
“I know not everyone feels that way about their relationships, and that’s fine, but I do.”
He offered me a knowing look. “Maybe Michael does too.”
Charlie gestured down at the crowd, where Michael was anxiously looking around in a vain attempt to find where I was hiding.
Charlie gave me a nod. One that I knew the meaning of.
“A lot of people would think you’re weird for saying that,” I remarked.
Charlie crossed his arms. “I don’t give a fuck.”
Oh, how I cared for Charlie.
Even when he was terribly idealistic.
I sighed, laying my head on his shoulder. I didn’t say anything else.
I didn’t need to.
And eventually the ride came to a close. A part of me wished we could stay in our little corner of the world for just a little while longer, high above any troubles that could face us now.
But I needed to face what I’d been running from.
Michael looked at me when I walked down the steps in an expression of thinly disguised trepidation.
I paused a little ways from his feet. He didn’t wait for me to explain myself before he said, “Whatever qualms you hold about our romantic connection, I don’t care! Having the title is to satisfy society anyways, it’s not like I need to be called your boyfriend anyways, and we can just continue this relationship as it has been for the past good while in an ambiguous but platonic matter, and-”
I held up a hand, and he shut up.
I took a breath and said, “Michael. I can’t give you all you want.”
I hesitated before adding, “I’m asexual.”
Michael blinked. “And?”
“And, I don’t like having sex. With anyone.”
“And?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “And, nothing. That’s it.”
Michael blinked again. “Then why don’t you want to formalize our relationship status?”
“Because…don’t you want a physical relationship?”
Michael looked at me, and I couldn’t tell what was going through his head.
Then he laughed.
Not politely.
Full on, heaving laughter.
While this was a common occurrence, there was usually a point to his laughter.
I crossed my arms and scowled. “What.”
Michael grinned at me. “Is that all? All that stopped you?”
I wanted to scream a little bit. “Yes!?”
Michael’s smile softened. “Then, Tori, I would still love to be your partner, if your cross mind would let me. I’ve never given a damn about sex determining the basis of any relationship over romantic connection.”
Relief.
How calming.
When Michael offered his arm to me, I let him hug me.
My boyfriend.
I was his. He was mine.
The world could quiet down for a bit. It would be waiting for me outside of this moment, as it always had when I was in my head.
For now, I’d just stay in his arms.