Page 3 of We May Be Fractured

The Night of Errors

[Now playing ? All These Things That I’ve Done—The Killers]

T here it was again.

Every single time they attended a party, Cliff would vanish on him within seconds, on the hunt for someone to snog.

From his spot in the kitchen corner, next to a counter cluttered with empty bottles, used cups, and half-eaten snacks, Aaron had no trouble spotting Cliff.

He was impossible to miss in that awful Squid Game jumpsuit he claimed was bright red, though it looked like a dull brown to Aaron.

He stood out even more while having a full-on face-sucking session with a vampire girl. Classic Cliff .

Aaron huffed. A mere half hour in, and he was done. His plan to enjoy some drinks and snacks had been ruined, the good stuff gone. The only available option was a sad bowl of vile-tasting crisps, a pickled onion abomination that not even the sweet Pimm’s could wash away.

He leaned against the cool wall, seeking some comfort. The dim lights almost lulled him towards a nap, but the loud booming music and chatter kept his eyes open.

Giving up on trying to blend in with the kitchen mess, Aaron glanced around.

The room buzzed with the heat of too many bodies, a palpable layer of pheromones hanging in the space between them.

The mingled scents of smoke and pot tinged the thick, booze-soaked air.

Some people played a blindfolded drinking game, while others tried a different version of beer pong using a clementine as the ball.

A few danced clumsily, and others, like Cliff, were simply enjoying themselves.

Aaron could’ve gone down the same path, found someone to kiss to pass the time. Like that girl from the last party he’d ended up with, who somehow got the idea she was his girlfriend. But the very thought of kissing for the sake of it was even more boring to him.

As he watched everyone lost in their own little bubble of pleasure and fun, a pang of envy struck Aaron. He felt so empty. He’d been feeling like this ever since the accident.

Aunt Olivia and his short-lived therapist had said it was expected, that grief hits everyone differently. But he’d always been a bit detached, even before anything had happened.

Aaron never understood why his mates were so keen on snogging and shagging. Their wild tales had him curious, sure, but half the time, he wondered if they were trying to one-up one another or maybe recreating scenes from Netflix shows.

His experience with kissing had been pretty average, not terrible, but definitely not mind-boggling like he’d assumed from romantic films. No fireworks, no sparks.

And sex? Even more underwhelming. Whether with girls or boys, each experience felt meaningless.

His body was there, but his mind always drifted elsewhere, never fully engaged.

It felt as though he was trying to satisfy a craving he didn’t quite have, like eating food without being hungry.

He could appreciate the flavour, but the appetite, the passion, just wasn’t there.

Aaron should have seen it coming, really. Another way he didn’t fit in.

Being colour-blind was the first clue that he didn’t see the world like everyone else. It made sense, then, that his bisexuality also strayed from what was considered typical.

Still, it stung, always missing a piece of the bigger picture.

Looking down at his Squid Game contestant costume, he let out a dry laugh. It was all too fitting: caught in a game and unclear on the rules as if everyone else had a cheat code he lacked. The secret to wanting someone.

Aaron swallowed hard and made a quick move towards the corridor. He aimed for the staircase at the entrance, hoping to find some quieter space upstairs. But getting to it proved to be more difficult than an obstacle run.

First, his jacket got snagged on an angel costume’s wings, slowing him down and leaving him with a few stray feathers as souvenirs.

After freeing himself, he barely dodged a tipsy ballerina’s elbow.

And to top it all off, the clementine from the beer pong game flew right into him, splattering into someone’s drink and splashing both their outfits.

“Aaron?” A guy sporting a large straw hat and an unbuttoned waistcoat called to him from the bottom of the stairs. Based on his get-up, he made a decent Luffy from One Piece .

It took Aaron a moment to place him. They’d hooked up. Once. Sort of. But it hadn’t been anything memorable. He’d even ignored the guy’s friend request on Instagram the next day.

As he brushed past him, Aaron gave a quick nod and a brief half-smile, not slowing down. Reaching the first floor felt like snagging a win, even if he was now a hot, soaked mess with dark splotches all over his tracksuit. But at least he was finally a world away from the bedlam down there.

Hunting for an empty room, Aaron stumbled upon one with a small balcony attached. After a mini-battle with a stubborn French door, he made it outside. The night unfolded before him, with the back garden below and a dark, empty canvas above, not a star in sight.

Urban life often concealed the full majesty of the night sky, but Tori had taught him to use constellations as guides to always find his way home. Now, she was the one who had strayed, leaving him feeling like an outsider in his own reality.

Aaron’s hands started shaking, a result of the crisp, cold air and his bubbling frustration.

He fiddled with the little rings on his chain, reaching for the pendant, then let his hands drift down to his pocket to grab his phone.

He was about to call Tori but nixed the idea.

Instead, he went for a cigarette, more about doing something with his hands than actually wanting to smoke.

“Hey, Aaron,” came the same voice as before from behind him.

Luffy. He’d be damned if he could remember his real name.

“Hey,” Aaron replied, keeping his voice flat.

Luffy leaned against the balcony railing beside him, cradling a big cup. “Still playing Ice King, huh?”

His words held a provocative edge, a bait Aaron wasn’t willing to bite.

“Heard you’re off to Australia tomorrow. That right?”

“It is.”

A sly grin slid across Luffy’s face. “Why not have a little fun before you jet off?”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Aaron shot back, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m not interested.”

Feigning surprise, Luffy’s eyes still held a persistent glint. “Come on. You can’t pretend there wasn’t something between us.”

“It was nothing,” Aaron clipped out, wanting to end this conversation here and now.

Luffy’s grin only widened. “Playing hard to get, are we? That’s what’s so… intriguing about you.”

“I’m not playing anything.”

Luffy tilted his head, his gaze lingering on Aaron before that ever-present smirk returned. “We could always give it another go…”

Aaron exhaled slowly, watching his breath form a misty cloud in the air. He wished he could disappear into it. “How about you go find someone else to bother tonight?”

Luffy took a slow sip from his cup, never breaking eye contact. He edged closer. “You know, you should’ve come as Five from The Umbrella Academy . An old soul in an eighteen-year-old’s body.” He sounded displeased now. “You’re such a bore. Do you even know how to have fun?”

Aaron rolled his eyes internally. Here we go again, just because he wasn’t into wild parties or making a scene didn’t mean he didn’t know how to have fun. “I do. We have different concepts of fun.”

His idea of a good time involved a solid night in with a series, a killer video game, or a book.

Luffy fished a small joint from his pocket. “Here.” He extended it towards Aaron. “Maybe this will help you loosen up.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes slightly. “Where did you nick that?”

“Look at you, choir boy. Afraid that if you let loose, you might have real fun?”

Aaron tensed. Without hesitation, he scrapped the cigarette and snatched the joint. He placed it between his lips. A brief flicker of flame from Luffy’s lighter momentarily illuminated his devilish grin before the tip caught fire.

Drawing in deeply, the familiar warmth snaked through Aaron’s lungs. He kept his gaze fixed on Luffy as he released a stream of smoke into the night.

Luffy reclaimed the joint and inhaled with casual ease before his eyes flicked towards Aaron’s right cheek. The one with the scars.

“Did some gangster mess you up, and now, you have to take off?” Luffy prodded. “Or is this some sort of romantic escapade?”

Aaron had anticipated the question. The last time, Luffy hadn’t asked, too busy with his mouth full while making out, but Aaron had sensed the unvoiced curiosity lurking then.

He snorted, half laughing. “Told you. Love’s not my thing.”

“So, you weren’t lying when you told me you don’t want to be with anyone.”

Aaron shook his head, taking the joint back before it went out.

“Too bad,” Luffy said. “I was hoping to crack your shell.”

“There’s nothing to crack.”

“S he gave you that, didn’t she?” Luffy pointed at Aaron’s pendant. “This whole trip, it’s to be with her , the girl in your voice messages. What’s her name again?”

Aaron tightened his grip on the joint. “Look, we hooked up, but that doesn’t give you the right to stick your nose in my fucking business.”

“Hit a nerve, didn’t I? You wouldn’t be this fired up if I was off the mark.”

“Just drop it, okay?”

Aaron took another drag from the joint, then blew a cloud of smoke directly into Luffy’s face. His lips twitched upward as Luffy coughed and squinted through watering eyes.

This guy knew nothing about him and Tori. No one did. Aaron had never found the courage to share that part of his history with anyone. It was too raw, too deep. An injury that time refused to mend.

But Luffy was right. The pendant was a promise to her, a promise Aaron fully intended to keep.