Page 15 of Hamartia

Jesus, I can’t think properly in here. I need a beer and some weed to organize my thoughts a bit before I message him.

The driver doesn’t seem to have recognized me and is talking to me about football instead. I always pretend to be into football because it’s just easier, and I know enough about it to fool the casual conversationalist. But honestly, I could give less of a shit about the draft or the NFL or the fucking Superbowl. All things I’m sure are in Diego here’s top ten reasons to get out of bed in the morning.

I’m just pulling up at the house when my cell rings. My heart flips out even though I know it’s not gonna be him calling. I look at the ID as I hand the driver a $50 and thank him.

“What’s up man?”

“You at home?” Crawf yawns. He sounds half asleep. Like he’s just woken up. Or like he’s wasted. Given how I know he can be on our downtime, it’s either of those options.

I glance at my watch. Almost 7 p.m.

“Just getting home now, why? You good?” I punch the code into the gate and spot my truck straight away. Parked in front of the garage.

“Where you been all day? Camille’s gone right?”

“She left this afternoon. I had to go to the ER, got a door opened in my face earlier.”

He laughs first. Yeah, he’s wasted. “Shit man, you’re so fucking clumsy. You okay?”

“Tell me about it. Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing’s broken. Hurts like a motherfucker though.”

“I’ll bet.”

Rosita, our cleaning lady, has been because there’s fresh flowers in the hall table—Camille insisted we get a subscription—and the place smells lemony fresh like it always does after. I literally cannot retain the information about which days she comes no matter how many times she tells me. Mainly as I’m never here, but also because my memory is disturbingly shit sometimes.

“So, what you up to now.” Crawf says. “Fancy getting fucked up with me? I’m bored, dude.”

It took me a surprisingly short amount of time to understand that Crawford hates his own company. He simply cannot fathom a period of time where he has to spend time with himself. When he doesn’t have anyone near him or around him. Where he has to deal with whatever demons he’s got hiding in his head. I’ve always found it curious too because he doesn’t like other people very much either. His girlfriends never last more than a few weeks.

“You sound fucked up already, man.” I go directly to the fridge and pull out a beer, holding it to my nose for a few moments. The throbbing eases slightly. I crack it open on the counter.

“Yeah, well. I plan on getting more fucked up. You in?”

On one hand, I don’t particularly fancy the company. I was looking forward to having the house to myself tonight now that Camille was gone. Fancied gaming some, playing some guitar, drinking a bit, and jerking off over Jaehyun. But the drugs will help the pain in my fucking face and it’s never a good idea for Crawford to be left alone when he’s in one of these moods. I pull the good shit Scott at the ER gave me and pop open the cap with one hand.

“Yeah man, but head over here? I just spent an hour in an Uber from the Valley and I’ll be fucked if I’m doing it again.”

“I am on my way. Gonna grab some pizza on the way. Do you want anything?”

I toss back three of the pills and wash them down with a mouthful of beer. “Korean. See if you can find some Korean, will you?”

“Sure man, got it. I’ll be there soon.”

Crawford hangs up and I flick back to Instagram as I carry my beer through to the lounge.

I’m on his IG—because am I ever not—the moment he posts.

It’s a video of a beach, the waves splashing melodically against the sand. The camera pans up to show the most beautiful sunset. Purples and oranges and pinks against the indigo water.

He’s still in LA and he’s online.

My heart is beating quickly at the possibility. If he controls his account himself then it means he’s taken this and posted it immediately. It looks like Malibu but I guess it could be any beach in LA.

I’d wanted to word my message to him properly, after debating it for at least an hour, but if he’s online now, then it’s too good an opportunity to miss. I flick to my DMs to reply to the message he sent earlier and it appears before my fucking eyes.

@ljh: Raphael! I am hoping that nothing is broken and you are not in too much pain.

Then a second right away.