March 3, 2015

Jerome:

Dammit. I don't think I've ever failed that hard in my entire life. That was bad. Even Lachlan's getting suspicious and he doesn't take his eyes off his phone long enough to take a piss. And now Mitch won't even talk to me. I can't tell if he's royally pissed off or if he just doesn't know what to say. Can't say I do, either. We haven't even been living together for a week and I already fucked everything up. And it hurts – it's like something's squeezing my heart and every beat gets harder and harder to bear.

Taking your best friend out for dinner and a lame ass movie on his birthday isn't that weird, right? Other people do that. They do it all the time. So why does it all fall to shit when I do it? We used to go out all the time when we were teenagers, except we'd just go to Mickey D's for nuggets instead of an actual restaurant for actual food. And we only paid for like half of the movie tickets. But now that we aren't broke ass kids living in different states and I finally have a chance to start the tradition back up, he has to go and get another fucking airheaded girlfriend. Are you fucking kidding me? Are you actually fucking kidding me? If I'da talked him into going out two days earlier, he woulda been single and I mighta had a chance. That was the most awkward fucking dinner I've ever had. Even worse than the one we had after my great-grandma's funeral when half of the people were whispering about her will while the other half cried and made everyone stare at our table. It was fucking awful. He wouldn't even let me pay for his food like I said I would.

And you know what makes it even worse? Mom calling tonight and asking how things are going with Mitch. And not house things, either. Kissy-kissy goo-goo, 'oh, I thought you two were dating' shit. She thought we'd moved in together because we'd been together for months. She thought the dog tags I'd bought him for Christmas like three or four years ago were our cracky ass version of a promise ring. I guess that's what I get for never bringing my two-second-long-girlfriends home to meet my parents – they think I'm dating the guy who won't give me the time of day. He won't even talk to me about it.

What ever happened to the old days? What happened to us being able to talk about things without having to have a boss battle with the massive twelve-headed elephant in the room every fucking time and someone always getting pissed off and storming out? What happened to us telling each other everything and not trying to hide shit? That wasn't one-sided. What happened to that scratched up tungsten ring I bought him that he used to wear everywhere and his parents used to joke was going to be his wedding ring? Yeah, he outgrew it, but he wore it on a chain around his neck for the longest time. That wasn't one-sided. What about all the plans we made together, first as Jerome and Michelle Aceti with our parents laughing their asses off, then as Jerome and Mitch Aceti against all the odds and the stares? That wasn't one-sided. So why am I the only one who remembers this shit now? What changed?

You ever have a song stuck in your head that you just can't get rid of? One that feels like it has some kinda profound meaning? Like it was written just for you and your shitty ass life? I feel like a nutcase, sittin' here listening to Nancy Sinatra eighty times in a row with my headphones on while I churn through the stockpile of videos I was supposed to start editing three days ago. I'm not even really listening to the commentary anymore. All I can hear is the song and all I can see is the look on his face when he put my hand back on my lap.

I was five and he was six,

We rode on horses made of sticks.

He wore black and I wore white,

He would always win the fight.

Bang, bang.

He shot me down.

Bang, bang.

I hit the ground.

Bang, bang.

That awful sound.

Bang, bang.

My baby shot me down.

Seasons came and changed the time,

When we grew up I called him mine.

He would always laugh and say,

'Remember when we used to play?

Bang, bang.

I shot you down.

Bang, bang.

You hit the ground.

Bang, bang.

That awful sound.

Bang, bang.

I used to shoot you down.'

Music played and people sang,

Just for me, the church bells rang...

I guess he didn't hear 'em. He didn't even take the time to lie. He just walked away. Yeah, I'll apologize and yeah, I'll pretend to forget all about it just like he will. I'll pretend to move on and find another girlfriend so everything can go back to how it was this morning when we filmed that dumb ass challenge he came up with. I'm just so sick of the games that I always play but never win.

---

March 3, 2015

Mitch:

"Oy, you hungry?" Lachlan asks as I walk past him in the kitchen, his sleepy blue eyes hopeful as they follow me across the floor. Bringing him to the States for three months might have been a bad idea; I have never seen anyone get addicted to food as quickly as he got addicted to Chipotle. He might have to check into the hospital for withdrawal when we finally send him back home, if he'll even go. With the luck I've had lately, we might have the immigration police pounding on our door armed with assault rifles to escort him back onto a plane after his temporary visa expires.

"No, I'm good. The spare keys are in the junk drawer if you want to make a food run."

" 'Kay." He watches me dump the spoiled milk out of my cup and rinse it out, and he looks surprised when I unlock the back door, flip the porch light on, and head outside to the dark backyard. "You okay, bud?"

"Yeah. Life's great. I'm just going to take a swim." He glances down at his phone briefly before he does a double-take and follows me out onto the back porch. I throw my t-shirt and hoodie aside on the patio chair, followed by my phone and wallet, checking my pockets one last time as he scurries out to stare at me in disbelief.

"A swim? It's like three degrees outside, mate, and you're going to take a swim?"

"Yep. It was nice knowing you." I lean backwards at the edge, falling straight back into the pool with an ear-shattering smack. The last thing I see is Lachlan's eyes widen in horror and his mouth form a little o, then the light grey, chlorinated water washes over my head. I honestly thought it would be colder than this. My skin is still burning and I'm going to be bright red when I finally get out of here, but I'm not worried about that right now. I just want the dark cold to numb everything. I don't want to feel anything for a while, even if it's only for forty-five seconds until I run out of air and start panicking. I'm not the strong, fearless swimmer Jerome is.

Jerome. Even thinking his name hurts. Why does he always have to do this to me? Around and around and around we go, when we stop, nobody knows. Doesn't he see how hard it is for me to try to keep him at arm's length so everything won't fall apart? To put it simply, he doesn't get it, or he does get it and he just doesn't want to see it. Things aren't how they used to be. More than half of our lives are spent in front of a camera with millions of people watching. If I fuck up with Melanie, I can quarantine it and everything will be fine. After a week or two, everything will go back to normal and I can threaten to sue her for slander and take everything she has if she tries to screw me over. If I fuck up with him, it will spread to every part of my life like gangrene and I will lose a lot more than just my boyfriend. I can't do anything to keep him from ripping me apart except lock him in an obsidian cage and throw the key into a pit of lava.

If I screw things up with him and I cause him to lose his temper and go nuclear on me, he could out me and destroy my personal life, my friendships, my career, my house, my car, everything. I would be back home so fast that my head would spin and I would never recover from the fall. I would be one bad fight away from total annihilation, and it seems like we fight all the time now. I would be the punchline to everyone's jokes, the laughingstock of the YouTube world. Although he isn't the kind of guy to do something like that on purpose, when he's pissed off he doesn't always think things through before he says or does them. As Lachlan is so fond of singing: conceal, don't feel, don't let it show. If I make one wrong move, then everyone will know.

I lean forward and kick back up to the surface just as the first jolt of fear shoots through my veins and sends most of the air bubbling up out of my lungs. I open my eyes to see his wide, baby blue orbs peering down at me, his face blank and uncertain. He gives a nervous laugh and uncrouches to walk back toward the house. Usually unnerving Lachlan is hilarious, but for once I wish he would just mind his own business and butt the hell out. I wish he would go pig out on Chipotle until they close, then come back home and pass out on the couch again.

"You're fucking mental, bruh." I grab as much freezing water as I can in my hands and chuck it up at him, watching him sidestep and stumble as it drenches him. He curls in on himself like a cat and limps inside like I had just punched him in the gut. "Naw! Naw! Now my balls are gonna fall off!" I don't know if it was the splash or Lachlan's shrieking that brought him back downstairs, but when I look up again, Jerome is standing in the kitchen, staring out at me with an unreadable expression on his face and his hat brim pulled ominously low over his forehead. I nod at him in recognition and he nods back before I take another gulp of air and sink back down into the icy pool. I wish I was frozen, too. The fucking Disney princesses always have it so easy.