by Jay E. Tria
“Julio.”
“Because he’s Julia’s twin?”
“Because he’s spicy. Doesn’t he look like a Julio?”
“He does. Julio and Julia,” Miki deadpanned, and they burst out laughing in the same second. “Nice one.” He bumped his shoulder against hers, trying to catch her flighty gaze. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Depends.” Her laughter died in synch with his. “I don’t see Ana around. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Maybe not tonight.”
He tucked his phone back in the pocket of his ripped jeans. Maybe it was good that Ana hadn’t picked up. He didn’t think he would’ve delivered his script well enough, not with Jill here to distract him. He raised his beer bottle in the air, and Jill met it with hers in a quick cheers. They drank, two deep glugs in unison.
“I hope you work things out with Shinta,” said Miki, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Do you really?”
“Of course I do.” He paused, waiting for the idea to bother him, for the first glitch of a lie. It was slow to come. He gave her a small smile. “It’s too soon to have you bawling on my shoulder again. You’ve stained too many of my shirts. And I’ve told you. I like it when you’re happy.”
Jill smirked before she wet her lips with more alcohol. “Because you love me?”
“Yes.”
“Aw. I love you too, you dork,” she returned, laughing.
“I’m in love with you, Jill.”
Miki had a glimpse of the ironic glint in her eyes and the amused set of her lips before he leaned in and kissed her. Her lips tasted of apple beer, cold at first touch but warm and soft as he pressed closer. He could have kissed her for days. He could have held her face in his hands and moved his knees so that his thighs pressed between hers, and it would have made the longest, happiest moment of his life.
But Miki kept his hands to himself, stuffed inside his pockets in tight fists. And he kissed her for only a few seconds, long enough to burn the memory in his head. He pulled away and there Jill was, staring back at him, her dark eyes wide as full moons.
When you say something out loud, it loses its power over you. It’s not a secret anymore, no longer a monster growing inside your heart, feeding off the heat of her skin, the weight of her words, of memories and feelings that you heightened in your head and gave more meaning than what they had in reality. That was what a confession was supposed to do. How it was supposed to make him feel. Relief, then release.
Miki felt none of those. He took a deep breath and inched further away from her. “That will do.”
He stood up, sloping in an off angle as he went. He walked off, blood rushing to his head, half of his brain hoping that Jill would call him back.
She didn’t.
October 17, Saturday, morning
Miki had been wide awake for a while, the base of his palms pressed over his eyelids as he willed sleep to reclaim him. His dreams weren’t safe haven though, if last night’s REM session was any indication. He’d been dreaming in snippets, episodic shots that featured different endings, all sharing the underlying theme of him kissing his best friend, and his best friend disappearing from him. But he was better off there than he was here in the realm of consciousness, where he would be forced to face the consequences of his rash acts.
Rain lashed at his windows, wind and water coming through the gap in the paned glass. Maybe if he stayed in this position for an hour or so more, the light in his brain would flicker off and die, and he could remain where he was for a day or two. Kim would hunt him down for missing work, but that was the least of his worries.
He heard his doorknob twitch before the door flew open.
“Hello, jerk.”
Miki cursed ten times over under his breath. He should have expected this. Watching and waiting was his MO, not hers.
What was the probability of her stalking off and leaving him alone if he stayed still long enough? “Nil,” he muttered, answering his own question as he opened his eyes.
Jill was standing at the threshold of his room, head bent, eyes on him in an open gaze. He blinked until the spots of light stopped dancing in the line of his sight.
“Hello, Jill. Don’t just stand there,” he said by way of invitation as he sat up.
She took two long strides, pausing at the foot of his unmade bed. Miki reached over and patted the mattress, motioning for her to sit.
“You look terrible,” she said as she plopped down, a good meter away from where he sat.
“Thanks. So do you.”
She was dressed for the road. Oversized polo shirt and frayed shorts, sporting drops of rain, her long hair piled in a loose ponytail. A comical contrast to him in his old sweater and cupcake-print boxers, huddled behind his fortress of pillows. But her eyes drooped, each blink a heavy flicker, and Miki knew he wasn’t the only one who didn’t sleep well last night.
“Do you need breakfast before we get to this?” she asked.
“I was actually hoping we’d do this much later,” Miki admitted. “Or you know, never.”
“So screw breakfast?”
“Yep. Give it to me.”
Jill looked past him, her gaze wandering to the view of the torrent outside, gray water swirling with the wind. This burst of rain had been at it for hours, overpowering the light of morning, if it was even properly morning already. Miki couldn’t know for sure.
“So how long have you had this going on?” she said with no preamble.
“A year. Give or take three or four.” Miki tried to pull off the same casual tone Jill was using. “It was a love-at-first-sight kind of thing.”
“Well.” Jill nodded with good grace. It seemed she came prepared to hear the worst. “At least we know that doesn’t only happen in the movies.”
“Primary data right here.” Miki thumped a fist to his chest. “I’m glad to help, as always.”
She gave him a look that studied each twitch of his face, making him wish even more that he had come to this discussion wearing something more than boxers. “Why did you kiss me?” she asked, voice firm.
“I wanted to be honest.”
“Did you want me to choose you?”
“No.”
“Fuck honesty then, huh?”
Her words sounded harsher when they reached Miki’s ears, jarring his brain like glass shards on broken skin. Miki realized this conversation couldn’t be easy for her too. He must be so used to being selfish by now.
“Yes. I want you to choose me. Or I did, before Ana.” He struggled to fight the gravity that was pulling his eyes down. “What was that class you said you wanted?”
“Emotional Safety 101.”
“That. I’d like a semester of that please.”
“You don’t have time for that Mikhail.” Jill clucked an impatient tune. “You know you like Ana.”
“I do.”
Jill leaned toward him, one fist closing on his sheets. “You’re in love with her.”
“I am?”
“Yes.” Jill nodded with complete conviction. “This is just classic you. Normal people act once they’re sure. But you. When you’re sure, you wait. And I don’t know what the hell for.”
Miki frowned, her words coming to him like a lecture that was going over his head. “If I’m in love with her then what the hell is this I have for you?”
Jill lifted her shoulders, a corner of her lips lifting up. “A time-bound tradition? A learned dependency? And I’m not saying it’s not real. I haven’t slept at all because I’ve been thinking—”
“Oh so you were walking the realm of the waking dead too?”
“Yes.” She released a small sigh before she fixed him another stern look. “And I’ve been thinking, maybe it’s the kind of love that you get used to, because it’s there. Not the kind of love you need.”
She stared at him a few beats longer before she broke her gaze. Miki thought it was brave of her to look straight into his eyes for that long,
all while releasing those words that punctured his heart. He could barely keep his feet from bolting out of his own room to get as far away from her as possible. Jill had always been the braver of them both, by a very long shot.
She looked at him again, head down, eyes up. “I think the logical thing to do now is for me to give you space.”
Miki’s chest was trapped by something cold and solid. He couldn’t breathe. “Will you do the logical thing?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Of course that’s not what I want,” he said through gritted teeth.
“But if that’s what you need—”
“Jillian Marie,” he growled, stomping one foot on his clothes-strewn floor. “I am a grown man. I can take care of myself.”
She didn’t look convinced, but Miki knew she was well aware of when he had pushed on the stubborn button. And he was stepping on it now, hard. She sighed and lifted her eyes to meet his again. “I’m sorry I was thick.”
“I’m sorry I was a coward.” He managed to pull out a smile. “I don’t know if it would’ve changed anything though. If I had told you how I felt sooner. You like your men sparkly and difficult.”
Jill’s mouth popped open, eyes flashing with anger. “Mikhail. Just because I’m not in love with you doesn’t mean you’re not wonderful. That I don’t think you’re wonderful. Don’t be stupid.”
He felt a rush of pain, then a swirl of cold air. He felt something sharp snip the cord of hope inside his chest, as a balloon of warm air filled the gap it left behind. He didn’t know it was possible to feel pain and happiness at the same time.
“Were you really thinking that?” she demanded, voice shaking. “How dare you? If it makes you feel better, you’re being pretty difficult right about now.”
His voice found its way to his throat, but the words he spoke still sounded pretty dumb. “How about sparkly?”
It looked like Jill wasn’t sure if she wanted to slap him or leave him alone in his room with his stupid question. Lucky for Miki she was never one for theatrics. Instead she turned her glare back to the rain pounding against his windows. Darkness was complete outside, but it was probably already a few hours into the morning, too late to search for stars.
She didn’t sound angry anymore when she spoke again.
“You’re constant, Miki. You’re like the sky. You’re here. Always.” She turned to him, brow furrowed, but a warm smile danced in her eyes. “I know when you’ll be light, and I know when you’ll fade to black. Unlike the stars. Sometimes they’re there, sometimes they’re gone. They come and go at their own time, not always when I need them to.”
Miki allowed himself to drown in the depths of her dark eyes. She was still, and Miki knew she had said all she could of this topic. He felt very exhausted now too.
He moved toward her, touching her forehead with his lips, sealing a kiss there as if it wasn’t a morning drenched in rain, as if it was a night under the stars like any other, where nothing had changed between them.
He did not think anymore—about lines, or rules, and zones—when he reached out and grasped her hand. She fit her fingers through his, her grip on him tight. He bowed his head on her shoulder, and she returned the pressure. They allowed this rare moment, probably the first and last in his lifetime, when he got to be so close beside her, this best friend that he was in love with, her breaths playing on the short waves of his hair.
Miki had vowed to be more honest. But he didn’t think he needed to tell Jill, that although it felt good to be her dependable sky, he wanted to be the stars to someone too.
***
“This is an ungodly hour for you.”
Miki grunted in response, his steps resounding through the halls of the hospital until he stood in front of Kim. “Can’t sleep.” He parked himself beside his friend on the cold metal bench, resting his acoustic guitar on the empty seat beside him.
Kim fixed him a wary look. “Do I want to know what happened?”
“Nah. You have your own worries.”
Miki had managed a few winks of sleep after Jill left. He woke up to the absence of rain, the soft whistle of the wind through the cracks in his windows the only reminder of the deluge. He expected sun and heat to be flooding his bedroom floor. But when he staggered out of bed to slide the glass panes open, he was met with the slow crawl of dawn against the purple sky. How Jill managed to break into his room only hours before was beyond him.
Miki stared at the entrance to the chemo ward, watching the steady stream of nurses padding down the hall, clipboards in the crook of their arms and stethoscopes dangling from their necks. He turned to Kim. “Your mom’s still in there?”
“Should be done in a while. It doesn’t take long.” Kim poked a sealed paper bag beside him. “I always have to have spaghetti and cheeseburger ready or she doesn’t stop yapping. These chemo sessions leave her starving.”
Miki bit down his tongue, feeling idiotic for coming to Kim with his self-inflicted woes when his friend had worries such as this. “You’re okay, right?”
“Of course.” Kim flashed him a wry grin, clapping his shoulder once. “What’s with the guitar?”
Well since you asked… “Oh security blanket. How’s the preparation for Free Fall festival going?”
Kim’s eyebrow quirked up. “The one that’s happening next week? The one we’ve dreamed of playing at since college freshman year?”
“The one all five of us crashed that same year,” Miki continued, accepting the invitation to draw out shared memories, old waking dreams. They could have been sitting on the curb outside Commute Bar, reminiscing while watching a lime green Beetle drive away into the purple night. “We woke up the next morning in the middle of the sunken garden, surrounded by empty cans, crumpled tickets, and used up glow sticks.”
“We found Son sprawled a few meters away between the overflowing trash cans. Jill was grounded for a month after that, and we learned our lesson.” Kim was grinning now, his low voice a rapid rumble. “We’ve attended it every year since with no similar incident.”
“We're fast learners,” Miki summarized with an emphatic nod. “And yes, that’s the one.”
“Well, the band has been practicing. You were there.”
“Right.” Miki paused for a heartbeat. “Is the set list final?”
“If you’re asking if we’re still launching To The Moon as our second single at Free Fall, yes,” Kim confirmed. “That’s still happening.”
“Right,” he said again.
“It’s homecoming,” Kim went on. “You’ve heard Mars. He talks about it as if it’s junior prom for a bunch of never-been-kissed virgins. He thinks it’s the best venue to launch the new single.”
“So do you.”
Kim dipped his head towards him, and Miki knew to expect his leader-of-the-band voice. “It’s a good song, Miki.”
Miki sighed, conceding. He thought so too. Its rhythm had kept him up for days, wanting his words, demanding the hours it took to weave the song together. And he carried around that tune and those words in his heart for years. Nino was right. The feelings behind the song had not changed, and neither had he. How was he able to afford that? To stand still, to delay motion, while everyone and everything around him was moving, leaving him behind?
Kim leaned his head back against the wall as Miki sustained the silence. Kim closed his eyes, resetting.
“That can’t be why you called me up so early this morning. Now what’s so urgent that you had to ambush me in the hospital for crying out loud?” Kim’s mouth moved to a small smile as he flitted his gaze back to Miki. “I didn’t realize we were best bros.”
“Come on. I like you well enough.” Miki chuckled as he peeled his guitar out of its soft case. “I come bearing work, actually.”
Kim let out an exhausted breath. “Should’ve known. And again, so early in the morning?”
Miki ignored Kim’s gripes, settling his guitar on his lap, plucking the bottom string, and turning the
key. Just like those years ago, a rhythm was haunting his head, the words plaguing his heart. But today it was a different feeling, an unfamiliar force, pushing him forward.
“Have you ever felt something break that you know you can never fix? Time won’t do it. Nor gifts, or sentiment, or apologies. My usual instinct is to flee, or to wait it out. If I was a teenage boy I’d write this all down in a diary and pick on my thoughts for weeks. But I’m a grown man with a guitar. So why don’t I at least be productive about it?” Miki tried strumming a stray tune, willing the sound to break through the void inside his head. “I broke something today.”
Kim took his time weighing Miki’s words. “Does it hurt?”
“Like shit,” Miki answered with certainty. “But you know what else? And maybe I can think this now because I managed a few hours of sleep after it happened. But it wasn’t much so I could still be delusional. But you know what I thought when I woke up?”
“What?”
“Finafuckingly.”
Kim allowed the tick of few seconds, staring back at Miki’s unblinking gaze, before they both burst out laughing. Their barks filled the hallway, earning them snorts and disapproving squints from the rushing nurses and patients. Miki swiped his tears with the side of his hand, not sure what they were for.
“So do you have a melody?” Kim said, his face reverting to stone serious after a security guard swooped down to shush them. “For this work you want done this morning?”
“Nothing good yet.” Miki gripped the neck of his guitar, restarting his strumming with a softer tune. “But I have a lot of words.”
“We can work with that. But I’m not your usual writing partner. It won’t come out the same.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.” Miki’s strums were building into an insistent beat, new and unknown, fast and echoing in the now barren hallway. “Some things have to change.”
“Okay, bestie. This will be fun.” Kim pulled his knees up to his chest, leaning over to Miki. “And did you say you used to have a diary?”