Reaching into the dark
And I love you so much
I'm gonna let you kill me
-- Florence + The Machine, I'm Not Calling You a Liar
She pulled the door open with a smile on her face. It came off as disingenuous to him, so he didn’t trust it, squinting at her on the way in. Why was he really here? A deep, rich scent filled the air as he squeezed past, something that reminded him of the color purple, a dark shade. Lilacs, maybe—were they purple? He breathed in when she walked past him again, this time to go through the archway. It must be a new bottle of perfume if he was only now noticing it, the scent of lies and deceit. Who knew they’d smell so nice.
The kitchen area was too small for a table and chairs, so Emily and Ryan had put them in the living room corner, right next to the kitchen door. That way, the TV was left undisturbed if one of them was setting the table, walking back and forth. It made sense. She’d set down two plates with eggs and toast and two glasses with what seemed to be apple juice. Simple, but still nice and thoughtful. Theodore placed his backpack on the floor before taking a seat.
“Do you like cayenne pepper?” she asked. Her tone was way too friendly, instantly suspicious. Had she doused the eggs in pepper? Would he choke on them?
“Yeah, I love it.” He’d never had it before.
“Good.”
She sat directly in front of him, easy to watch. For the first time ever, her eyes didn’t have the winged liner on them, but a different kind of makeup, softer on the lids, a smoky look in warm colors. On second thought, that was probably how she did her makeup on a day-to-day basis, saving the eyeliner for the weekend. She hadn’t done her lips yet, probably because they were about to eat. Was this how her mornings usually went? It almost felt like he was intruding somehow, like he shouldn’t be seeing this side of her, too intimate. Picking up his fork, he mirrored her, having some of the eggs. They were actually really good, not too spicy at all.
“I want you to tell me something,” she started, looking him straight in the eye. “Why did Laith call me to ask if I could keep an eye on you today?”
He stared at her, suddenly unable to breathe. “What?”
“He seems to think you’re going to do something stupid, you know, hurt yourself. He said you were acting weird all day, and that just before you left, you said the three forbidden words.”
His eyes grew wide. Oh, shit. Well, there it was then, the trap he’d suspected all along. This wasn’t about Laith at all. Stunned into silence, he blinked.
Serious now, Emily put her fork down. “What’s going on with you, Theo? You’re losing it.”
“I know.” Fuck it; there was nothing she didn’t already know, so he might as well start being genuine. At this point, he had absolutely nothing to lose. “I’m an idiot,” he confessed. “You told me to be careful, that it was too easy to fall for him and get hurt, but I didn’t listen and now guess what—that’s exactly what happened. I feel like a fucking dumbass. We hang out and all I wanna do is hold his fucking hand. He looks at me and it feels like I’m dying, like there’s a scream ripping through my throat.” His right hand motioned to his own neck for emphasis, fingers bending into a claw.
“He’s perfect,” he continued. “He’s everything. It’s not his fault; I’m just—I should’ve listened to you, but I guess I wanted it, in a way. I kept pushing my luck on purpose, because deep inside, I wanted to see it happen, the heartbreak, the falling out. I wanted it to burn.”
“So you said what you shouldn’t to set it all on fire.”
“Yeah. Might as well, you know? I already feel like shit; it can’t possibly get any worse, so fuck it. Let him hate me.”
Emily leaned back in her seat, arms crossed. Her shoulders poked out of her sweater; it either had two thin straps holding it up or she wore a tank top underneath it, just as black. He couldn’t tell, but it looked nice, a classy fit that matched the velvet choker around her neck. This one had a heart rather than spikes. She looked very fancy. Was this how she usually dressed?
“You sound like such a loser. Man, what happened? Where’s the confident guy who stole our hearts? Who elbowed his way to the front of the line and pushed Ryan out of the picture? You’re such a turn off right now. I’m not even hungry anymore.”
His eyebrows furrowed, lips parted with indignation. What the fuck?
“Listen.” She leaned forward and placeed her forearms on the table, folded over one another. Her nails were black, silver rings shining in the light. “You’ve gotta quit whining. Laith doesn’t hate you and he never will. What you said scared the living shit out of him, but wasn’t enough to make him want to stop seeing you. You’re more than a random fuck, anyway; you’re his friend, so you get chances that other people wouldn’t. Think about that.”
They held the stare. He wasn’t sure where she was going with this or what her point was, so he kept his silence. Naturally, she continued.
“I have to tell you about the Serpent. I’m assuming you don’t know about him yet.”
He shook his head.
“Laith dated him a long time ago—five years now—and yes, I mean dated, as in they were in a committed relationship. You’re probably not surprised, I mean, someone who doesn’t date was clearly done in by a relationship, right? Yeah. Well, the Serpent was a motherfucker. He was so possessive of Laith we could barely see him, and when we did, the Serpent was always lurking around, breathing down his neck. He was a creep. A good-looking creep, but one nonetheless. He hurt Laith in ways you can’t even imagine.” She leaned forward as she spoke, adding pressure to her arms. “Obviously, I’m not going to tell you the details. If you really wanna know, you’ll have to ask Laith himself. Just know that if you do, he might shut you out entirely. We’ve only ever talked about it once.”
Her eyes dropped to the table between them, introspective. “He’s a lot to handle. I don’t think the Serpent knew that at first, but he figured it out soon enough; it’s not very difficult to notice. They met at a really bad time, right when Qasim died. Laith went down for his jacket and didn’t come back for a week. When he did, the Serpent was with him.”
“They went to this one dungeon a lot. I don’t know if you know this, but people in these places tend to know each other and talk. It’s a community. At the time, the Serpent wasn’t welcome there—like I said, he was a motherfucker. When he showed up with somebody new, people started talking and what Laith heard surprised him. Let’s call it a series of red flags, reasons why the Serpent had been banned. He was a grown man, by the way—almost thirty—but still couldn’t handle any sort of criticism.”
Her lips pursed, eyebrows up on her forehead. “Let’s just say Laith’s questions put a lot of strain on their relationship; arguments that ended on bitter notes and were always his fault. He’s sensitive, so the whole thing took a huge toll on him. As the relationship failed, he got worse, and when he gets like that—when it gets bad—it’s impossible to know how much of it he’s going to internalize. That’s the thing about him—he’ll always take it out on himself. The Serpent just used that as more evidence that Laith was the one at fault. He even blamed him for the breakup, despite being the one to do it. It was the worst case of gaslighting I’d ever seen. That was when I made Laith promise me he’d never get too close to anyone again.”
Theodore could feel the scowl that had dug between his eyebrows, heart bleeding quietly. His hands squeezed each other so hard they hurt.
Their eyes met.
“I need you to stop being a huge fucking loser and get over yourself. So you opened up a little too much—so what? He already knew that. You’ve never managed to hide it very well in the first place. Okay, now it’s out in the open. Do you really think Laith’s gonna do anything about it? He’s gonna continue seeing you regardless, so your self-destructive plan didn’t work. Weh, weh.” She mocked crying with two hands closed into fists twisting under her eyes, fourth grade bully style. He hadn’t seen anyone do that in years. “Now what?” she continued. “You’re going back there later, aren’t you? What the fuck are you gonna do?”
His hands shook, jaw setting. “I don’t know.”
“You’re going to be the charming and confident guy we know,” she cut him off. “The guy who swept Laith off his feet the first time and gave me three weeks’ worth of headaches. The guy who’s so relentlessly cunning and smart that an entire group of people still couldn’t stop him from snatching the prize from right under their noses. You’ll be that guy—you, not this embarrassing caricature of you.” She lifted a hand, face turning slightly aside. “Put those sad eyebrows away; they’re making me sick.”
His lips moved wordlessly, mute as the gears in his brain began to turn. He wasn’t even sure what to say. “I don’t think you’re getting the point,” he started, voice low. “I can’t stand pretending I’m not in love with him, that I’m not dying to make him my boyfriend. Every time he looks at me, the question rushes up my throat and hangs off the tip of my tongue, one bad decision away from slipping out. I can’t be near him without being with him.”
“Then win him over.”
He stared dumbly at her, so she elaborated.
“Make him so obsessed with you that he’ll have no other option than to want to make you his. It’ll be easy; you’ve done it once, so do it again. Whatever you did the first time, replicate it. Make him want to spend every single day with you, and when he does, I’ll deliver the killing blow.” She reached her hand to the center of the table and mimicked dropping an imaginary a-bomb on it, fingers stretching out to emphasize the impact.
“Why would you do that?”
His question drew her eyes up.
“You don’t want Laith dating anyone,” he explained. “Why would you let him break his promise?”
“That promise is a defense mechanism. If he’s ready for a relationship, he’ll break it. All I’m gonna do is plant the seed in his mind, that the possibility is there and he’s practically already taken it. At the end of the day, the decision is his.”
His leg bounced under the table. “I don’t think I can do it,” he blurted out. “It hurts too much. Being next to him hurts.”
“Then let it hurt you. It wouldn’t be worth it if it didn’t.” She waved at the plate in front of him. “Now eat your breakfast. I spent time making it.”
***
The next few minutes were spent mostly in silence, as the two of them ate and Theodore mulled over the conversation they’d just had, replaying Emily’s words in his mind. Her plan made sense, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to manufacture so much confidence, fake it till you make it style. It was one of those things that he either had it in him, or he didn’t. Up until yesterday, he did. When he’d asked Laith out and paid for his beer, he did. When had he lost it? Probably when it’d dawned on him that, sooner or later, Laith would grow tired of him and move on to somebody else, but he supposed he’d gone about it the wrong way. If he made himself interesting, then Laith wouldn’t have any reason to part from him. That was the sort of thought process Emily must’ve wanted from him, the winner mindset, ways to slide down the hill and make himself a home rather than plans to turn back and surrender. He’d been so sure Laith would be his; every stride they’d made in their relationship was because of him. Where had that confidence gone?
Nowhere—he still got it. What had happened earlier had been a simple lapse of judgement, a moment of weakness; he was fine now. He could do this. Laith already cared for him; one strong push the right way would do the trick. Saying the forbidden words hadn’t helped his case, he’d admit that much, but maybe he could turn it around and use it in his favor. It’d been genuine, after all; now Laith knew how serious he was about it. At the very least, he knew he was loved. How many people could confidently say that? Theodore had been the one pining over Laith for far too long; it was time to turn the tables. He’d make himself so enviable that Laith would simply not be able to pass him up. He’d turn himself into one of the Hollywood boys, a perfect recreation, starting with his hair. As Emily hastily did the dishes, he looked at his own reflection, standing in front of a circular mirror near the table. He pulled his hood down and ran his fingers through blonde locks.
“You got a haircut,” Emily commented. Her voice came from a couple of feet behind him, on her way across the room. Instinctively, he followed.
“Do you like it? It’s not very different from how it was before.”
“It’s very chic, like a classy version of the old one.”
“Hollywood worthy?”
She pondered his question with a tilt of the head, leading him to the door at the end of the hallway, directly across the entrance to the apartment. Unsurprisingly, it was a bathroom. “If you’re asking whether you look like one of the Hollywood boys or not, you already know the answer to that.”
He didn’t follow her inside the bathroom. Instead, he stood in the doorway, watching her retrieve a dark red lipstick from a drawer and put it on.
“A haircut isn’t gonna change what your face looks like,” she continued. Her eyes were trained on her own reflection, hand carefully coloring her top lip. When she was done, she pressed her lips together. “If you’re trying to look like one of them, you just need some extravagant clothes. Coats with feathers on them and bright colors. Think peacock bright.”
This was the first time he’d seen her without the Cheshire cat grin painted on. The way she’d just lined her lips gave her a heart for a mouth, full and round on the bottom, cute in a different way. A hand slapped the lights off before she squeezed past him, out into the hallway. He followed.
“If I just showed up with a feather coat on, don’t you think that’d be a little too obvious?”
“Of course it would be. Everyone would talk about it.”
She walked into her bedroom, a door on the same wall as Ryan’s but on the opposite end of it. Her bed was a twin on the right side of the room, under a big window that allowed some brightness in with none of the sunshine. Next to it was a nightstand, followed by an L-shaped desk with two computer screens and a tablet pushed to the left corner of the room. Her wardrobe was on the same wall as the door, behind the two of them.
A pair of knee-high platform boots stood by the foot of the bed, which she promptly stepped into and zipped up. As soon as she bent over for that, Theodore’s first instinct was to look away, but he quickly realized that no one was around to catch him staring. It was a victimless crime. In mischievous silence, he watched her sweater ride up to show the near-invisible outline of her underwear, difficult to see against the black of her skintight pants. His pulse skipped, blood rushing to all the wrong places.
She straightened up soon enough, hair flying up in the air. Her hands fixed some strands out of her face before she turned around, going for the bottom of her sweater next. He quickly moved out of the way to let her through, but this time, she didn’t leave. Dark eyes squinted, scrutinizing him instead. It held a breath in his throat.
“What did you do?” she asked. Her tone was very suspicious.
His face must’ve blown his cover.
“Were you staring at my ass?”
“No,” he lied. “I didn’t mean to,” he lied again.
Her lips parted with surprise, head cocking aside. “Theodore Elizabeth, I thought you were gay.”
“That’s not my middle name.”
“Are you bi or am I just hot?”
“Yes.”
She laughed. It didn’t last long though, cut short by an alarm clock that went off in the other room—Ryan. They held the stare, and without another word, hurried out of the apartment. She slipped a jacket on before shutting the front door.
In the silence of the elevator, he felt his face burn. Goddammit, he shouldn’t have looked. Actually, he should refrain from doing anything like that again until he learned how to properly cover it up. It’d take some practice, considering Jessie had caught him almost immediately that one time and Emily had been able to tell just by looking at his face. Girls seemed to have an incredible eye for that stuff.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
In his peripherals, Emily fixed her jacket in place and swung her backpack over a shoulder. “It’s fine. Honestly, I’m more surprised to learn you’re not gay.”
“Why does everyone think that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Probably because you’re head over heels for the gayest man I’ve ever met?”
“All that means is I’m not straight.”
“I know. Going from straight to gay is a bad habit; it’s like bisexuals don’t exist.”
“Aren’t you bi?”
“Yeah. This habit I’m talking about is societal. We grow up being told that if someone’s not straight, then they’re gay, but that’s not true at all.”
The elevator dinged, and a second later, its doors slid open. Naturally, he towed behind her.
Since both of their first periods didn’t start for another hour, they ended up hanging out on campus. The fact that this was the first time they’d ever hung out wasn’t lost on him; he felt the weight of it banging into the back of his mind every time she spoke. Nothing serious was discussed, but a sense of awkwardness still lingered inside. He felt unbecoming next to her, the unpopular kid and the older girl who was far too cool to give him the time of day. He used to think that about Laith too, but his massive ego had soon gotten rid of that feeling. The biggest difference was that, every time Laith had caught him staring, he’d decided against mentioning it. Emily, on the other hand—god, he’d feel like shit about this all day long.
In class, he thought about asking her out to lunch. He knew her times were probably different than his, since she wasn’t an undergrad anymore, but guessed that lunch should have remained the same. His guess was right; the reason why she couldn’t hang out had nothing to do with it. Apparently, she was an intern for Laith’s tattoo artist, who saw her every afternoon after class; she was only on campus in the morning. Laith was usually working when she went down, so they couldn’t really meet. It was no big deal, though; Theodore ended up having lunch with the girls instead.
This time, the talk of the table wasn’t Justin, but what the girls would be doing that weekend. Until further notice, the plan seemed to be Streisand’s on Friday, some club downtown on Saturday and somebody’s house on Sunday. Would Theodore be partying with them? Uh, maybe; he had to check with Laith. His answer pulled awws from the girls, both sincere as well as ironic—the latter could be attributed to Hannah and Daisy, the skeptics.
“So you’re not dating,” Hannah remarked. “You’re married.”
“It’s not like that; I just want to know if he has different plans. Emily and Justin are seeing us on Saturday, but I don’t know what we’re doing on Friday.”
“They are?” Jessie asked. “Where?”
“Probably at the DP—that’s where they like to party.”
“The DP…” she echoed, eyebrows pinched together. “That’s where Justin works.”
“Yep.”
“He works at a club?” Hannah asked.
“Apparently.” Jessie’s shoulders bounced. “I’ll ask him about it tonight. If you guys are going to the DP on Saturday, then we’ll go too.”
Oh, she didn’t know about Justin’s job. On second thought, it made sense, because that wasn’t a conversation topic for a first date, but still—she’d have to know at one point. Tonight, from the looks of it. Did Justin lose a lot of people like this? Maybe. Then again, he also got to know a lot of them because of it, so ultimately, it was a tradeoff. Theodore wouldn’t be the one to tell her.
The nonchalance with which she’d agreed to hit the Dead Ponies with the others clearly alluded to the fact that she didn’t know it was underground. If she knew, she would’ve never agreed to it. Theodore decided not to be the one to tell her about that either. She was Justin’s problem now.
“Well…” He cleared his throat. “I’m just guesstimating, to be fair; I don’t actually know where we’re going.”
“If you have any suggestions for Friday, let us know,” Daisy added.
“It has to be a good one, though!” Nadia jumped in. “Streisand’s is throwing a zodiac sign party this week with quizzes about your sign and compatibility charts, so whatever you have to offer has to be better than that.”
“We talked about the zodiac just last week,” he defended, “before you guys showed up. How interesting can it be?”
“Oh.” Nadia stared at him. “So you don’t know anything about it…”
“Oh god, here we go.” Daisy rolled her eyes as a big grin slowly cut through Nadia’s face. A hand reached across the table to grab Theodore’s wrist, dark eyes glinting with excitement.
“I have so much to tell you. What’s Laith’s sign?”
“Why don’t you guys have that conversation on Friday?” Daisy suggested. Her voice was nicer than Theodore had ever heard it, eyes fixed on her girlfriend’s face. “It’ll be much more interesting with Laith there to participate.”
“You’re right. It’s settled, then; Laith’s coming to Streisand’s with us.”
“Well…” Theodore tipped his head. “I still have to talk to him about it. He doesn’t really go to Streisand’s anymore.”
“But he will this week.”
“Now he has to,” Jessie argued.
Hannah was the only one who didn’t have anything to say about that, sitting with her arms crossed.
He supposed there wasn’t much of a way out of this one.
***
This time, he actually set an alarm. It woke him up at eleven to messages from Justin, Hwan and Emily, in that order. Since Justin’s was the newest one, from only twenty minutes ago, he decided to check it first.
Soo you guys are hanging out at Streisand’s on Friday huh? Very cool
Jessie told me about it but as you know I can’t make it
I told her I could hang out on Saturday tho… it’d be cool if we could all meet up and stuff
I miss you :(
An absent smile tugged at his lips.
Hey, papa bear. I miss you too.
Promise I’ll see you this weekend?
I don’t think the girls would want to hit the tunnels so maybe the DP is out.
While Justin didn’t reply, he tapped on Hwan’s message. It’d been sent to the group chat with Marquis about an hour ago.
Seems like your relationship with Laith is getting serious. You’ve been to his place every day this week. Does that mean we’ve lost a friend?
Does it?
I didn’t realize being with him meant I was choosing sides. I don’t want that.
I might not really be a Poison Dart, but at this point, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be.
Justin got back to him just as he’d typed out that last text.
Baby boy we don’t need to make plans to see each other! YOU’RE the one with a tight schedule (and tight everything else…)
If you ever wanna see me just say the word and I’ll come running to you. You know that!
What if I DO wanna see you? Would that clash with your plans of seeing Jessie too?
Noo listen… I’ll see you one at a time. There’s enough of me to go around. Yall don’t need to fight.
I’m at Sunset by the way… ;)
Hm. Seeing Justin was always a good idea, but he had to speak to Laith first. There was an entire can of worms to address, all of his own doing. He’d bought it, taken it to Laith’s place, opened it, thrown the worms everywhere and left. Now, he had to clean up.
I’m always down for debauchery, especially if you’re involved. How long are you gonna be underground for?
Probably until sunrise. Business starts to dwindle around four tho so if you don’t wanna be surrounded by people that’s probably when we should meet up.
Alright, daddy. I’ll keep you posted.
Hwan had replied during this back and forth, so he went back to the group chat.
If you keep hanging out with him, you’ll be a Pony pretty soon.
I wasn’t suggesting you took sides though. What I mean is that you’ll probably stop speaking to me as time goes on.
I won’t blame you for that. Unfortunately, it’s a side-effect of being his friend. You’ll end up taking his word over mine, and before you know it, we’re not friends anymore.
I won’t do that. I respect you just as much as I respect him.
Actually, I think I respect you more, but don’t tell him that.
When the next part came to mind, his heart skipped. He didn’t mean it that way, but it’d still be pretty damning, depending on how Hwan—and his boyfriend, who could read all of this—decided to interpret it. His fingers hesitated for a moment, hovering over the screen.
Can I see you tonight?
There. He stared at the three dots that came up as Hwan typed, bouncing in a little bubble. The dichotomy between these texts and the ones he’d just sent Justin was massive. Somehow, he had a much easier time faux flirting with a straight guy than making the mildest of plans with someone he’d already slept with.
Are you sure about that? I wouldn’t want to make your boyfriend angry. My dad’s store doesn’t deserve a visit from the dogs tomorrow.
He wouldn’t do that, and anyway, we’re not together. I can see you as much as I want to; he can’t tell me what to do. How about 7 a.m.?
I usually go to bed at six, but I’ll stay up for you.
Those words made his heart swell.
Would six be better for you? I don’t want you to lose sleep over me.
Either one is fine.
I hope you know that, even if you don’t tell him about this, he’s gonna know.
Oh, I’ll tell him.
See you soon. :)
He tapped on Emily’s message next, the oldest of them all, sent a little after 5 p.m.
Sorry for blowing you off earlier. If it’s any consolation, I just left work, so I’m free now.
Ah, shit.
I was asleep! Do you still wanna hang out?
At this point, his invitations were less about actually seeing his friends and more about how many he could cram into one packed schedule. Laith from 12 to 4, Justin from 4 to 6, Hwan from 6 to possibly 8 and Emily from 8 to 9. What was that, an entire night and morning reserved just for his friends? It seemed like a good deal to him, the opposite of lonely. If he could manage to do that more often, it’d be the perfect life. Was that why his parents liked having the neighbors over so much? They were all friends, so it made sense. Perhaps he was much more similar to them than originally thought. A faint echo of Ryan’s accusations last weekend rung in the back of his mind, but he quickly waved those thoughts away. No need to think about that ever again.
Since Emily didn’t immediately call him, he supposed he’d missed her; she was probably asleep at this hour. That wouldn’t be much of a stretch, considering she studied all morning and worked all afternoon. Did she have any time for Ryan at all? Did they even have meals together? The possibility that they didn’t filled his chest with wicked warmth.
***
Every time he undressed in front of a mirror now, he turned to check the color of his skin. The mere sight of his purple bruises was enough to put a smile on his face, heart beating deeply. He wasn’t sure what that feeling was, that spread through his veins like hot sauce and flames, but he liked it. Seeing physical proof of his involvement with Laith reminded him that they were more than just friends, even if he didn’t belong to Laith the way he wanted to. They weren’t strangers or best friends either, but something unnamed, stuck in between. It’d be nice if Laith let him brand him too. It was his turn, after all.
Back in his room, Emily’s voice drew his hand over to the colorful jacket he’d bought two weeks ago, telling him about the peacock style of the Hollywood boys. He was pretty sure they wouldn’t actually wear this, much more interested in Versace and Gucci anyway, but Laith liked it on him, so he put it on. It was the illusion that mattered; looking like one of them was enough. He brushed his hair to the side, the way Laith liked it, and left the room.
This next hour would fucking suck.
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