18
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"Jude, how the fuck do you expect me to be friends with a rapist?"

A loud gasp sounded in the room that came from neither Ciro nor me.

My brows tensed for a moment and then that was it. I could have expressed no more.

Fegan screamed, "What the shit, Ciro?"

Ciro picked up his socks. "Finally."

"Ciro, dude," the bleach-haired guy mumbled, shock still evident in his face and voice as he approached his friend. "You can't just say shit like that."

Ciro was disgusted by Fegan's words. "I'm not just saying anything. It's true." He faced Fegan's disappointment and softened for a moment before saying, "No, I'm not gonna be quiet about it like it didn't happen, Peach." He turned to me and stuck his finger in my face. "You're sick, man. Something's wrong with—"

"Dude, woah." Fegan came between us. "Chill." He gently pushed me back, attention still on Ciro. "What's gotten into you?"

"Me? I'm the insane one, yeah? Let's talk about what you gave us last night. Yeah. Let's talk about that."

"I never gave you anything. Take responsibility for your own—"

"Oh, wow! You're talking about responsibility?" He walked off, chuckling. "That's just—that's just hilarious."

"You're being weird right now, dude. Chill."

"He raped me, you cunt. You expect me to just play pretend it never happened?"

"Rape? That's wild! How can you—how can he rape you if you were the top?"

"You see this shit?" Ciro gestured to Fegan and I. "I can't right now."

"You can't answer it. That's what you can't do."

Ciro opened his mouth to argue further but decided against it, resuming his search for his clothes.

Fegan followed him around. "You were always telling me about how Jude can't accept himself, but you were just projecting all along, weren't you?" He lowered his voice for emphasis. "I saw you last night. No amount of ecstasy, no drug in the world could make someone something they're not. That's why I fuck with that shit heavy. It brings out the truth in people.

He scoffed in thought before continuing, "I always wanted to... see the real you. That voice in the back of my head always told me that that could never be your real personality. That all that optimistic, goofy shit couldn't be the real Ciro but... but I never expected the real you to be this pissy, dude. Something's fucking wrong with you."

Ciro brushed past his friend and walked out the door. Fegan followed after him to continue, "You know what the worst part is? What we took doesn't even cause memory loss."

I too walked out the door, but passed them.

Fegan continued, "You remembered every second of it, yet you're acting like..." The rest were lost to my ears, but I didn't care.

I saw Ciro observing me, but I couldn't turn. I heard Fegan calling after me, but I couldn't react. I only moved.

I walked, and I walked, and I walked, and I found myself home. I trenched up the stairs, ready to burst into well-prepared tears, but I couldn't as I saw my mother. She was reading my diary.

Her fingers quaked as she brought them to her mouth, eyes piercing through mine. She must have flipped through the whole thing, exposing herself to the pages that expressed my suppressed desires for gay sex and cynical fantasies of murdering the innocent. I had drawings and poems and imagines of such and she read every last one.

So she looked at me now and, suddenly, I no longer felt like crying, just like I had that night.

I felt different; distant. Like I was suddenly severed from myself; the self. I viewed myself from above, observing a surge of emotions and thoughts wash over me, but failing to ever reach them—to ever feel their wrath. It all felt muted and distant, as if my thoughts and feelings weren't to call my own.

I moved like a puppet, controlled by a vessel I couldn't see as I moved through the opened door. From there, to the one downstairs, I left.

I walked, feeling the weight of my footsteps and its weightlessness at once. It all felt horrible and like nothing at once. I marched on, unsure where my body would take me, but I didn't have the control to stop.

So, I marched onto the sidewalk, and then into the city, hearing conversations blended into an indistinguishable hum; distant and jarring at once. I tried to breathe—to ground myself in myself, but the feeling of detachment persisted.

I found myself at the end of a dirty alleyway, the sense of scent lost to me as I crept through it. A dumpster marked the end, and I climbed into it, closing the lid before I closed my eyes.

Soon, I was drifting, drifting, drifting, but interrupted by a bright light and the bang of someone flinging the lid open. They flung their wet trash all over me and fled before I could gather myself.

I had something over my eyes but I couldn't smell it, nor could I feel its weight, so I stayed there until I drifted into unconsciousness.

★・・・・・・★

I was yet to see Ciro, and the same went for Fegan. It was weird for three reasons. One, as soon as I got to express myself for who I truly was, it came at the cost of not only my values and beliefs but also my best friend—my... person. Two, I grew really fond of Fegan. He made me realize that I wasn't the bad one in the situation and I appreciated that. And three, even though Ciro wasn't in my life anymore, I lay clothed in my bed with a tummy full of food.

I lay there, contemplating it all, refreshing myself with the memories I shared with them all.

"Jude?"

I sat up and sighed. "What do you want, Saf?"

"I wanna talk to you. I want to... apologize."

"I don't need—"

"I'm sorry, Jude." She sighed. "I'm sorry that you had to walk in on that. That you feel like you can't trust me anymore."

"Because I can't."

"No, you can."

"Yeah, sure."

"Jude... I don't—I don't talk to any of them anymore, for the record." She looked down at her feet as she spoke, "They were a bad influence on me, so..." She stared deep into my eyes. "I cut them off."

"I don't care what you do, Saf."

She huffed. "Jude, I'm trying here. I really am. You're being... impossible."

"I don't know what you expected. You think by telling me all that I'll magically trust you again?"

"No, I—I... you want to know the truth, Jude? I don't see the big deal. I'm sorry, but I don't. What did I do, Jude? What did I do that was so bad that made you lose all trust?"

I scoffed, "What did you do?"

"No." She patted her chest. "I know what I did. I just—I need to hear what you think I did. I wanna see it through your eyes."

To be honest, she stumped me there. I couldn't answer her. It was terrible, but I couldn't even remember why I was mad.

I sighed. "I don't know."

A scream from her would have been nothing compared to the deafening silence. She scraped the depths of her throat to gurgle, "What?"

"I don't... know, Saffron."

"Are you messing with me?"

"I wish I were."

"Jude, why—" She took a deep breath, passing a hand through her hair. "Can you—can you tell me why we broke up?" She shifted her weight to one foot.

I scoffed. "You know exactly why, Saf."

"No, I really don't. I don't get it."

"Even your friends know why."

"They... you're gay..."

"Bingo." I flashed her a smile, but she didn't share it. I approached her as she had her gaze set downcast. "Listen, you were my... ideal girlfriend. You're pretty and smart and weirdly sociable. I admire you... a ton. You were everything I've ever wanted in a woman, but I've never wanted a woman. Staying with you would have just made me a liar."

"Don't..." Her forehead momentarily scrunched, a visual representation of her inner turmoil. "Don't... do that." She squinted at me. "Don't act like you're so noble now. You were gonna leave me just like that. You broke up with me and left me with the thought that I lost the best thing in my life and it was all my fault.

"Jude, you are a liar and a cunt and I wish you the fucking worst."

An awkward silence enveloped us as she panted, anger still surging through her veins.

"God, don't just stand there!" She took in a shaky breath, voice cracking as she grumbled, "Say something."