Page 89 of Hamartia

She leans in and plants a loud kiss on the top of my hair.

“Love you,” she says, picking up her keys and heading for the door.

“Cleo,” I call after her.

She stops, turning.

“Don’t mention it to them. Not yet. I’m not ready to deal with their shit about it yet.”

I’m hoping I don’t need to clarify which part.

“Of course not. We made all of this shit with you and Camille and Mase about us—which it wasn’t at all. And this definitely isn’t. This is yours, Rapha. It’s no one’s business. I’ve got your back, okay? Always.”

I nod. She smiles. Then she’s gone. And then I’m alone.

I do turn on Ghost in The Shell. If there’s such a thing as a comfort movie, that’s mine. I’m not sure when I pass out, but it’s after I smoke a joint and sink the rest of the vodka. It’s after Camille has called a few more times and sent me another text urging me to call her. It’s also before I get a response from Jae. My phone deathly silent from his end. It makes me a little edgy, like maybe I’ve a form of separation anxiety or something. Makes me think about what he really wants and about what I have left if he doesn’t want me as a serious thing in his life.

Happier than I can remember feeling in a long time.

That meant something. This feeling swirling in my gut is paranoia, from all the drugs and alcohol I’d put in my body over the last fortnight. I make him happy. It’s real.

When I wake up next morning I feel the worst I can remember feeling in my life.

My mouth is dry as a desert and my head feels like it’s being crushed in a vice. Grilled sandwich along with a liter of pure alcohol, fear and panic and anger all sloshing around together in my chest. As I pick up my phone I’ve a moment of panic that I may have drunk tweeted something publicly, something about Mase and Camille, something about Jae, but I’ve never been that reckless online. Fuck, did I drunk call Jae? Nah, but I did text him about Christmas.

My phone doesn’t light up because it’s died sometime in the night. My gut churns some more as I haul my body up from the couch, bone and muscle snapping back into place as I stretch it out. I plug the phone in as I take a scalding hot shower, letting the steam blast away some of my hangover. I stand in there for close to thirty minutes without washing, just staring at the grey tiled wall, wondering how the people I’m closest to in the world could lie to me all this time and have no idea.

Yeah, okay, I know I’ve kept shit from Cam these past few weeks too, months even, but it doesn’t feel the same.Hypocrite.

Finally, I scrub the water from my face and wash my hair and body. Then scrub my teeth until they feel sensitive and sore.

My phone is sitting on the desk silent and dark and I’m sort of dreading picking it up. Scared of Camille and the guys, but especially Jae.

What are you doing for Christmas?

What was I thinking? I’m an idiot. A needy, drunken idiot.

With a curse I grab it and press to unlock. There are a few messages from Camille. One from Zeke. One from Cleo. One from mom. I swipe past them all to get to Jae’s. There are two.

JH: Good! Glad you are okay!

JH: Christmas? We have schedule until 24th. But then we are on holiday until 3rd. Why??

It’s embarrassing how much my heart soars from that stupid fucking smiley. How the warmth spreads through my chest, hotter and more healing than the shower I just took. My head clears right up too. It’s 6 a.m. there right now, meaning he won’t be awake for me to call him, and suddenly I fucking hate this time difference. How the fuck would we even do long distance with this in the way? Would I move to Korea? Right now I’m thinking yes, I would. In a heartbeat.

Me: Call me when you wake up?

My phone rings almost immediately, startling me.

“You’re awake?” I move towards the bed but my phone is in the charging point so I turn back, rotating in an aimless circle.

“I haven’t been to sleep yet,” he says, croakily. Sleep heavy on his voice. “I practiced until late, then I was live for a bit. I thought you might have called back and I didn’t want to miss you.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I passed out.” I feel like a dick. He says nothing. “Live?” I ask.

“We-live, for a while.”

“Not naked I hope?”