by Alice Oseman
“Yeah.”
“Well … before you two were friends, he used to come to my house a lot so he didn’t have to be around her. And then you arrived and … he didn’t really need me any more, I guess.”
“That’s— But you’ve been friends since you were born. You’ve been together for years.”
“If he cared, he’d talk to me more.” He took a breath, like this was the first time he was admitting it to himself. “I don’t even think he likes me that much, in that way. I only think he does that because he’s used to it, because he’s comfortable around me and … because he feels sorry for me. I don’t think he’s really … into it … or anything.”
He paused and I noticed his eyes were tearing up. He shook his head again and wiped one of them.
“It’s usually me who initiates it.”
“Then why …” My voice was near a whisper, even though we were the only people on the street. “Why don’t you just … end it? If neither of you are that into each other any more?”
“I never said I wasn’t into him. I care about him so badly.” A tear dripped down Daniel’s cheek, and he huffed out a laugh. “Sorry. This is lame.”
“It’s not lame.” I raised my arms and pulled him into a hug. We stayed like that for a moment before I let him go again.
“I tried to talk to him about it on his birthday,” he continued, “but he wasn’t having any of it. He just kept trying to reassure me that he likes me. And that just made me angry, because I could tell he was lying. He even lied in that Never Have I Ever game … pretending he’d never lied when he said ‘I love you’, to me. I can tell. I can tell when he lies to me! Why would he avoid me so much if he fucking loved me? He doesn’t even want to admit what his sexuality is. Not even to me.”
He wiped an eye again.
“And … that night … he kept saying that he wanted to, you know, get with me, but I didn’t think he was telling the truth, so I said no, and then he got angry as well.” Daniel shook his head. “He’s just used to me and he doesn’t want to upset me because he knows— he knows I’m in love with him. He doesn’t like me in that way any more.”
“How do you know that for sure?”
He glanced at me. “You’re pathetically optimistic.”
“No, I mean …” I bit my lip. “But … what if … I know he finds it hard to say what he’s really thinking … and like, I know I find it hard to tell what he’s thinking, but … what if he does … erm … love you? How can you know for sure if he hasn’t said he doesn’t?”
Daniel laughed. It sounded like he’d given up entirely.
“Everyone wants the gay couple to get the happy ending, don’t they,” he said.
I felt so sad that I wanted to leave.
“My worst nightmare is making him do something he doesn’t want to do … without knowing …” More tears fell from his eyes. “A-and … I guess people change and we have to move on, but …” He leaned forward and put his head in his hands. “He could have at least— at least broken up with me officially, instead of just leaving me like this …” His voice was shaking badly through his tears and I felt so sorry for him that I almost thought I was going to cry too. “It’s okay if he doesn’t like me in that way any more … it’s okay … but I just want my best friend back … I just want to understand what he’s actually feeling. I don’t know why he avoids me. Every time I decide he just doesn’t like me any more, I start to doubt myself because he hasn’t told me anything. I just want him to tell me the truth. When— when he lies to me because he thinks it’ll make me feel better, it hurts.”
He let out a sob and I hugged him again and I wished there was something I could do for him – anything.
“Sometimes I think he only cares about his YouTube channel … It’s all him, his Universe City. It’s just his soul in audio form. Radio and February Friday and being trapped in a grey world … it’s just his life. A … dumb science-fiction analogy.”
At the mention of February Friday I felt my heart lurch a little. I wondered whether he even knew that it was him.
“He’s my only real friend,” he said. “And he just left me here. I just miss him … not even getting with him, just … being with him … him sleeping round my house … playing video games … I just want to hear his voice … I want him to tell me the truth …”
I held him for a few minutes as he cried and it struck me how we were both in the exact same situation though it was a hundred times worse for Daniel. I wanted Aled to come back too. Why wasn’t he answering our messages? Did he really dislike us that much?
It had been me, hadn’t it?
I’d betrayed his trust. I’d driven him away. And he wasn’t coming back.
We didn’t know whether we’d ever hear his voice in the real world again.
Once Daniel had calmed down a bit and sat up properly again, he said, “You know what? The first time I kissed him properly … he flinched.”
EXTREMELY TIRED
On the drive home, Daniel and I didn’t really say anything to each other, though there was the vague sense that we were friends now. After around half an hour of silence, Raine said:
“Guys … like … if you don’t get in, I mean, it’s not a disaster, is it?”
We both felt that it would be a disaster, but I very quickly said, “No. It’s fine.”
I think Raine could tell I was lying. She didn’t try to talk to us for the rest of the journey.
Back home I re-enacted with maybe a little exaggeration the exact expressions the interviewers had made as I’d rambled through my interviews. Mum laughed and called them all a variety of names. Then we ordered pizza and watched Scott Pilgrim vs. the World.
I was pretty relieved it was over, to be honest.
I’d been stressed about it for almost a year.
Even if, maybe, I didn’t actually want to do English literature any more, it didn’t matter. The decision had been made. What was going to happen was going to happen.
I decided to give myself a night off homework. I collapsed into bed at around twelve and tucked myself in with my laptop on my lap. I thought about doing some drawing – I hadn’t done any for weeks now – but for some reason I didn’t really want to; I couldn’t think of anything to draw. I scrolled through Tumblr for a while before the feeling that I should really stop wasting my time crept in and I closed the tab to stop myself continually refreshing the page.
I considered trying to catch up on some of the recent Universe City episodes – how many episodes had I missed now? Four? Five? I hadn’t ever missed so many in a row before.
That was … that was pretty weird, wasn’t it?
For someone who prides herself as one of the top fans in the fandom.
For someone who knows the Creator so well.
I didn’t even check Aled’s Twitter any more. I didn’t check the Universe City Tumblr tag. I’d turned off my ask box on Tumblr ages ago so people stopped asking me questions about Aled and the Creator. I wasn’t on the show any more and I wasn’t making art for the show; I wasn’t even connected to the show any more. I hadn’t posted any drawings on my blog for over a month.
I suddenly felt extremely tired. I turned off my laptop – there wasn’t really anything interesting I could do on it – and turned off my fairy lights. I put some earphones in, downloaded the latest episode of Universe City on to my iPod and started to listen.
UNIVERSE CITY: Ep. 142 – yes
UniverseCity 93,937 views
hi
Scroll down for transcript >>>
[…]
I don’t know … I’m getting a bit tired …
[10 sec pause]
So I was walking yesterday evening down Brockenborne Street and I saw this— this phosphorescent …
Hm.
You know, it doesn’t matter.
I was thinking, actually— I mean, I had a thought … I was thinking … what if— what if we were to end this?
Haha, no, sorry, that’s a
— that’s not—
Ah.
I do wish February Friday was here. I haven’t seen them in … in, well, years upon years.
[…]
HOURS AND HOURS
It was abysmal.
It was a terrible episode.
Radio barely spoke any full sentences. There was no discernible plot. No characters appeared. It was just Radio rambling on for twenty minutes about things nobody but Aled could possibly understand.
And that February Friday mention at the end?
What was that?
Hadn’t seen them for years?
Wasn’t February Friday Daniel? Aled had seen Daniel only a few months ago. Was he just exaggerating? Surely he was just exaggerating.
Daniel had said that Aled was writing about his life in Universe City, which sounded ridiculous at the time, but after hearing this …
I mean, February Friday was a real person. Aled had essentially confirmed that.
Maybe the rest of it was real too.
I sat up. I wasn’t tired.
February Friday was Daniel.
Or – I don’t know.
If Aled had been literal in saying they hadn’t seen each other for years …
I decided to re-listen to the episode to see if there were any more clues in there, but all that ended up doing was reminding me of how tired Aled’s voice sounded, how much he stumbled over his words and didn’t seem to know where he was going. He hadn’t bothered to pitch-change his voice – it was just him, here, putting on that silly old-time radio accent. Even that slipped a few times.
This wasn’t like him. If there was one thing Aled cared about, one thing he never allowed to be half-hearted, it was Universe City.
Something was wrong.
I tried to sleep, but it took me hours and hours.
4. CHRISTMAS HOLIDAY
AN INTERNET MYSTERY
Aled’s Twitter account, @UniverseCity, was something that I used to have open on a tab on my browser at all times.
Here are some examples of Aled’s tweets from @UniverseCity:
RADIO @UniverseCity
THE SOUNDS ARE LOUDER IN THE DARK -!
RADIO @UniverseCity
i know what ur dreams did last summer,,, yes im talking 2 u, romy. u cant hide anymore
RADIO @UniverseCity
universe city fashion update: gravel is in, hobgoblins are out, make sure u have a holepunch with you always (u have been !!! WARNED !!!)
RADIO @UniverseCity
@NightValeRadio we are listening “” always listening
These usually made absolutely no sense to me and that’s what I loved about them. Needless to say, I always retweeted them.
But after I got to know the person behind the Twitter account, I began to read into Radio’s – Aled’s – tweets far more than I probably should have done.
He tweeted this after his English literature exam:
RADIO @UniverseCity
the alphabet has been compromised, only seven letters remain.., !! SAVE THEM !!
He tweeted this one September night at 4am, several hours after he told me he’d argued with his mum:
RADIO @UniverseCity
*** IMPORTANT: the stars are always on ur side. ***
But now that he was at university, Aled’s tweets were becoming darker and darker.
RADIO @UniverseCity
how many miserable young people does it take to change a light bulb. please , i am serious , i have been sitting in the dark for 2 weeks
RADIO @UniverseCity
career options: metallic dust, the cold vacuum of outer space, supermarket cashier
RADIO @UniverseCity
Does anyone have any tips for avoiding sinking into the concrete?
I supposed he must have been doing it deliberately. Universe City was taking a bit of a darker turn anyway. I didn’t worry too much about it.
Instead, I spent most of our three-week Christmas holiday re-listening to every single Universe City episode in an attempt to work out who February Friday was.
But I still had no idea.
Aled had actually mentioned several times before that he hadn’t seen February Friday for “years upon years”. So it couldn’t be Daniel, really. I’d been wrong.
Which was annoying. I hated being wrong.
And you know what? When it comes down to it, there’s nothing I hate more than an Internet mystery.
GALAXY CEILING
It was the afternoon of December 21st and Mum was psyching me up to go and knock on Aled’s door.
I was doing a little jog on the spot in our porch and Mum looked down at me, her arms folded.
“If Carol answers the door,” said Mum, “don’t bring up the following: politics, school dinners laws, alcohol, and the old lady who works at the post office.”
“What does she have against the old lady who works at the post office?”
“She overcharged her once by accident and Carol never forgives, Carol never forgets.”
“Of course.”
“And if it’s Aled …” Mum sighed. “Don’t blather on saying sorry over and over. I think he knows you’re sorry since you’ve said it a billion times already.”
“Thank you, Mother, that’s very sensitive of you to say.”
“Going into the marsh, gotta be harsh.”
“Great.”
Mum patted me on the shoulder. “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Talking always makes things a little better, I promise, especially in person. I still don’t trust you young people and your … what is it? ‘Tumble’?”
“Tumblr, Mum.”
“Yes, well, it all sounds a bit dodgy to me. Talking in person is the easiest way forward.”
“Okay.”
She opened the door and pointed out of it. “Go!”
When Carol Last opened the door to her house, it was the first time I had seen her since the hair-cutting incident, which I genuinely still thought about at least once a day.
She looked exactly the same. Cropped hair, plump physique and wide, blank expression.
“Frances!” she said, clearly a little surprised to see me. “Everything all right, love?”
“Hi, yes, I’m really good, thanks,” I said, speaking too fast. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m getting along, you know.” She smiled and looked into the air above my head. “Got a few bits and bobs going on. Being kept busy, bustling about!”
“Ah,” I said, trying to sound interested but not so interested that she would embark on a conversation. “Well, I was just wondering whether Aled was in.”
Her smile dropped. “I see.” She studied me as if deciding whether she was going to start shouting at me. “No, my love. Sorry. He’s still at university.”
“O-oh.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Is he— is he coming back for Christmas at all?”
“You should probably ask him yourself,” she said, her mouth a thin line.
I was terrified by this point, but decided to press on.
“It’s just— he hasn’t been answering my texts. I was just … erm … a bit worried about him. I wanted to see if he was okay.”
“Oh, darling.” She laughed pityingly. “He’s just fine, I promise you. He’s just a bit busy with all his university work. They really do work him hard up there – as they should! He stayed behind during the holiday because he missed a few deadlines.” She shook her head. “Silly boy. He was probably out partying instead of doing his work like he should have been.”
Partying was the least likely thing for Aled to be doing, but I didn’t want to accuse his mum of lying.
“And you know,” she continued, “he’s always had some problems with his work ethic, that boy. He’s got such potential – he could do a PhD if he put his mind to it. But he’s always distracted by his silly little projects and whatnot. Useless stuff. Did you know he used to spend all his time writing some ridiculous story and reading it out on his computer? I don’t know where in God’s name he
got his hands on a microphone.”
I laughed, even though it wasn’t funny.
She continued, “So silly! This is such a vital stage of your life, you know. You should be one hundred per cent focused on your studies, otherwise you could ruin your entire life!”
“Yes,” I said, forcing the word out.
“I’ve always been very supportive of our Aled, but … I do worry sometimes he doesn’t have the right attitude, you know? He’s an exceptionally bright boy, but he just doesn’t utilise that. And I’ve tried so hard to help him, ever since he was a toddler, but he just doesn’t listen. He was never as bad as his sister, of course.” She laughed bitterly. “Hateful child.”
I started to feel very awkward, but she met my eyes with a new excitement.
“I’ve been working on a little something since he telephoned me a few weeks back actually. He was complaining he was feeling unmotivated about his degree, and … well … I really do think it’s to do with the mindset he puts himself in. So I’ve been moving a few things around in his bedroom.”
I did not like the sound of this.
“You’ve really got to be in the right place to stay motivated, haven’t you? And I really do think his bedroom was one of the main problems. So messy all the time – you remember, don’t you?”
“Er, I guess so …”
“Well, I’ve had a little rearrange and I think he’ll do much better with things like this.” She stepped back suddenly. “Why don’t you come and take a look, darling?”
I was starting to feel a little ill.
“O-okay,” I said, and followed her inside and upstairs towards Aled’s bedroom.
“It’s just a few little rearrangements here and there. I’m sure he’ll appreciate a change.”
She opened the door.
The first thing that took me aback was how white everything was. Aled’s multicoloured duvet and cityscape blanket were gone and had been replaced by plain white and cream striped sheets. The same thing had happened to the curtains. The carpet was the same, but it now had a white rug on it. The fairy lights were tangled up in a cardboard box at the side of the room. All of his stickers had been scraped off his chest of drawers and there was not a single poster, postcard, ticket, leaflet, flyer or piece of paper on any of the walls – there were a few of these crumpled up in the same box that the fairy lights were in, but there definitely wasn’t everything in there. The houseplants were still there, but they were all dead. The walls were a plain white and I honestly didn’t know if they’d always been like that or if Carol had painted them.