Alone [manxman]

eleven:: when there are no more secrets.

                And the worst thing could be plugging myself into the equation.

Brighton had never really felt like home.

                 But I also had my mom, and we had Abuela... and life got a bit hard again. That was how I remembered it. Julian was living and breathing in LA, it was hard but he had constant new experiences and we had summers.

                                                                          I was functioning.

                The drunk I was, I kept it together most days, most days turned into more days until the days felt much too long.

                20 days now. The first two weeks were hard, they always were, it was waking up yearning -a feeling that wouldn't go away- replaced by cigarettes which were, honestly, no better. Past that hurdle, it was feeling more like routine, my days consisted of sticking around on campus to prevent myself from filling the void.

               My nights consisted of him.

              I hated that it felt like he was a fixation, all I wanted was to hold him and all he wanted to do was apologize for something that felt like a lifetime ago.

"We did a lot of things for me in our relationship."

             It was out of nowhere. Really, the past week has been kinda full of these awkward moments.

              I guess that's new for us.

               We hadn't really been friends since the pining stage. Deciding to build from the ground up, it felt like the best way to spend my weeknights.

               He had a tendency to remind me that life isn't guaranteed, that things are never as serious as they seem to be at the moment... he was a glass half-full person these days.

              Jules was taking the quarter off so he helped me with my work, psychology flash cards and 3D models were scattered over his bed. And he had slender fingers holding up two pieces of 18cm canvas board together, glued at the edges, monotonous voice asking me terms from a book.

              A gentle bark from the outside of the door creaked open so slightly and Benji's dog, Lady, was climbing up the little staircase he'd bought for her, she curled up on her little bed in the corner of his. Jules smiled.

              And I busied my hands, running fingers through soft, maltese fur.

              It felt too reminiscent, again. His words held so much and we didn't need to keep rehashing it. At the look on my face, he smiled -sheepish- and shook his head gently, messy hair bunned back.

             That goofy, high smile spread over perky cheekbones and he bit his lip. It was thoughtless almost, like he'd prepared this a while ago. I wondered how many tough conversations we would have to have. "Ben and I went on a hike the other day." I could still see nerves lingering, in the way he focused on the block in his hands.

              He nodded, "And we talked," he furrowed his brows softly, "and it was normal."

"I was scared that because I was so in my own shit, that things would be... weird." That made me frown, Ben and his relationship had never been transactional. "I actually felt guilty for being so depressed."

             And I could relate to that, as much as I hated to admit it. "My therapist was saying that... that I'm self-sabotaging, overtly independent in theory but crazily dependent on other people or-or my achievements for validation." He shrugged. "Wren says it's because I'm a Gemini and a Leo mars or something like that."