Twats Will Be Twats

Eventually

11:34PM. ELLIOT’S STREET.

O’Connor wishes he has his dad’s skills at driving. To be honest, O’Connor’s a crap driver and that explains why he decided to park a street away from Elliot’s house.

But the air is nice, he guesses. And so is the walk. It’s warm and light and delightful, he thinks. Like inhaling the smell of detergent, the kind of smell that sticks to—to Finley’s shirts.

Warm nights like these, O’Connor decides, are terrible.  And he walks briskly to his car, because why couldn’t he fucking park it somewhere closer and he’s too damn sober to be having thoughts like this.

“Wait, O’Connor!”

He doesn’t know if he should keep walking or not, not because he’s a dick (well, maybe partly), but because he just wants to be alone (no, not really—he wants to be curled up against Finley but he doesn’t think it’s the appropriate time to mention that).

“O’Connor.” Finley’s voice wraps around him and O’Connor is feeling a little too small to run away anymore.

12:30PM. O’CONNOR’S HOUSE.

Yet, O’Connor finds that he doesn’t care about feeling small, or warm nights, or his own horrible driving skills. Not when he has Finley beside him, arms wrapped around him tight.

“Jamie? Jamie’s a friend, O’Connor. A friend.”

He doesn’t care if it’s a lie; he just needs to know that Finley will stay the night.

6:56AM. THE MORNING AFTER.

Finley’s gone by the time O’Connor wakes up. And it’s not even seven yet.

Warm nights, he decides, are the worst.

2.      i’m trying to find the words to say / i wish i was,  i wish i was / beside you

He’s learnt for a while now that he’s perhaps given up something too important.

It’s nothing he can fix though—what’s broken is broken. (Much like the incredibly fragile pumping-blood thing located on the slight left of O’Connor’s chest—however much he doesn’t admit it).

He gets a call at six in the morning and it startles him a bit but he’s not sure why, he should be expecting it. It goes a little something like this:

O’CONNOR: Hello?

CALLER: Why hell-fucking-oh Benjamin.

O’CONNOR: Elliot?

ELLIOT: You are going to tell me right now that you’re six minutes away from the airport. Or four—four’s acceptable too.

O’CONNOR:

ELLIOT: O’Connor.

O’CONNOR:

ELLIOT: I can’t believe you. I hate you.

/ELLIOT hangs up/

DIAL TONE: Beep. Beep.

O’CONNOR: [whispers into air] I hate myself too.

Because it’s the truth, and he wishes he forgot what this day had marked. He knows there’s something big on today, something he’s purposefully forgotten. Something to do with a certain green-eyed boy whose hair reminds him of soft, soft cotton candy and eyes remind him of fresh cut grass.