Match Your Weakness With A Name

Twenty? At Least There's Only Four Chapters Left.

"Sup, Geoff."

Awsten takes off for the back of the arcade, blazing right past the ticket counter, and slows to a stop at the fuckboy games. The first-person shooters only the dudebros and four-year-olds like. That's different. I didn't know he was an elitist gamer. I follow him as best I can to the game he seems to want to play.

"Aws, we...we kinda need game tokens."

"Do you really think I wanna play this?" He smirks, but quickly sobers. "I asked to come here because everyone knows no one comes to arcades on Thursday mornings."

"They don't?"

"Okay, except you. But you're different." He pauses. "Anyway, I need to talk to you."

Fuck.

I've only heard that phrase from a significant other once, and after that conversation I was single. Okay, Zakk was a dick, but I was unrealistically emotionally attached to him. The words are the first symptom of a dying relationship.

"What-what about?" I ask, shifting my weight between my feet.

"Us," he says.

"What about us?"

Awsten takes a deep breath. "I've been thinking. I've honestly been thinking way too much."

Those are the second symptom.

"Geoff, I'm so fucking sorry. But I haven't been completely honest with you." He drops his gaze to his feet. "I've-I've had cold feet since day one."

Remembering how he acted the first day we met, our first date, after everything, I can't find any signs of that from him. "What?"

"I'm really sorry," he says. "Don't get me wrong, I really like you, but..."

"But what?"

"But I don't know how I feel about the commitment aspect of this all."

"What do you mean?"

"Well-" he brings a hand to his head "-I've been going back and forth, I guess. Like some days I'm totally feeling us, like as a couple, and then some days I don't feel anything. And I-I don't want to do that to you. I don't want you to be with someone who can't make up his fucking mind on his feelings, you know?"

"Aws, I..."

"I feel so shitty for doing this." He brings his eyes up, and they're starting to go red. "But I don't want you to be with me. You deserve the world, you deserve so much better than me. You deserve to be with someone who loves you all the fucking time."

"Awsten-"

"You're such an amazing human being, and I hope you never forget that. When we met, I was so drawn to you-platonically, romantically, aesthetically, sexually, whatever! I just wanted to be near you. But I realized I didn't feel that all the time. I swear, this has nothing to do with you."

My eyes are stinging. I look down at the ugly arcade carpeting. "Awsten, I get that. I understand."

He's not done. "It wasn't just when I was alone. Sometimes I'd start feeling like that even when I was with you and I hate myself for that. Like that one time we went to Nadalrad Park and got pastries at that little bakery, I just suddenly started thinking too much and not feeling anything and I couldn't make myself do what I usually did around you on instinct. Same thing with the morning after the fourth of July, which sounds so dicky because you spilled your guts to me and I'd never liked you more than I did that night. I'm so sorry."

"Awsten, it's alright, I'm alright with that-"

"You shouldn't be. You should have higher standards."

"No, Aws, I'm just as bad," I blurt.

"Huh?"

I breathe in and try to meet his eyes. "Uh, for the past couple weeks I've been thinking about what our relationship would be like when I went off to college and I asked Derek what I should do and he said long distance relationships aren't worth it and I've been awake at night wondering whether I should...you know...break up with you."

"You should."

"No...I kept telling myself I wouldn't, I couldn't."

"After all this has been said..." he glances around the arcade and rubs his eyes, "...aren't we better off on our own?"

"Aws, I'd never...I'd never be better off on my own," I say, the words catching in my throat. 

"You're better off alone than with me," he says.

"Does this mean..."

"I'm so sorry, Geoff." He turns away.

"Awsten?"

He's started to walk to the door.

"Awsten!"

My breathing speeds up, yet he still doesn't answer. I feel I'm running out of time with every step he takes.

"Awsten Knight!"

Showing no sign of slowing, he passes the ticket counter and comes to the door.

Without so much as a hint of the familiar bounce in his step, he exits the arcade and starts down the sidewalk toward nowhere I know of. He doesn't have a ride home, I remember, but he keeps walking.

And I am left standing by the two-token first-person shooter games.