Warnings ⚠: Child Abuse, Rape, Violence, Religion, Drug Use, Alcohol Use, Use of Slurs, Homophobia, Bullying, Mention of Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal Actions, Gun Use
Damien's P.O.V.
-Friday, November 19th-
The days leading up to my job interview are filled with Pierre quizzing me on questions they could ask, and us looking online for apartments in the area but also in our price range, which is...as cheap as we can fucking get considering I dont have a job.
We have plenty of money for now, but it'll go quick.
I have two interviews both scheduled for today, the Starbucks one, and then the job Pierre's friend has, with some contracting company.
One after another, like an hour of massive panic.
I don't know which one I'll get, but I'll have to find another job probably, depending on how many hours I can get and whatever.
Interesting, I know.
Everytime I talk to Josiah about it, he spaces out and looks bored out of fucking mind.
I don't blame him really.
After I drop Josiah off at school, I head over to my first ever job interview, no previous work record I can actually write on my resume, and scared out of my mind.
Pierre offered to go with me, but I told him I'd be fine.
As I pull into the Starbucks parking lot, I remind myself that I've got this, and I've been charming people my whole life.
I can do this.
I walk in ten minutes early, and tell them I'm here.
The pretty girl behind the counter tells me the manager is sitting at the table by the window.
I flash her a smile and say thank you, before approaching the table.
I contemplate running away and into traffic, but Josiah would be mad, so...
Instead I smile at the manager, a 40 something year old lady who looks a little tired, but nice, kind of like how a mom should be probably.
Hell if I know.
I shake her hand and tell her my name, and the interview begins.
It goes surprisingly quickly, and I'm short and concise with my answers, trying my best to convince her I'm good for this position.
...
"Hello!" I say excitedly as Josiah sits in the passenger seat.
I've been anxious to talk to him as soon as the interviews were over.
"Hey. How did the interviews go?"
"Well, I got the contracting job that Pierre referred me to, I start next Monday, and Starbucks said they finish interviews on Monday and would call me as soon as they know. But I think I nailed it." I smile at him.
"Cool. I think we should have celebratory cookies."
"I brought you a cookie." I say already pulling it off my dash and giving it to him. I knew he'd want one.
"I meant a batch of cookies. But thanks. Did you have one?"
"I did not," I say, "I went for a run instead."
It was really nice to shut my brain off again in that way.
Maybe I'll like...get a gym membership or something.
It really helps me calm down I realized. Kind of like the guitar does.
Just something to shut my brain up and keep me busy.
"Sounds like shit."
"It was cold, but it was really nice actually. Oh. And after my interviews, Pierre and I found a handful of places I wanted to go over with you."
Everything's falling into place.
I don't want him to think I'm just picking something without his input.
"I really do not care what kind of place you find. Whatever you like."
"But you'll be living there too!"I protest, pulling out of the school parking lot and heading back to Pierre's house.
"First of all, you do realize where I lived before, right? Secondly, I can't see it anyway so I literally do not care."
"Okay. Fine." I say, wishing he would at least try to care about it. Just a little.
We ride in silence until we get to Pierre's house.
As soon as I park, I ask, "Could you at least come look at some with me? I don't want to go alone."
"What do I get if I do it?"
"Um, satisfaction that you made your boyfriend happy?" I suggest.
"Nah."
Damn.
"Um...Ice cream?"
"How much ice cream?" He asks softly.
"One?"
"Okay. But, like, what size of one? How much ice cream?"
"...Hmmm. I think this job would pay... one medium Ice cream of your choice?"
"Fair enough. I will survive through the boredom of looking around at nothing."
"I can be annoying and describe it to you. The walls are pink with blue carpet..." I laugh.
"Yeah. Do that. But, if the walls are pink with blue carpet, I will say fuck no out loud."
"Josiah, you cannot see. Why the fuck would you care?"
"You're missing that the point is, I do not care. Have I said that yet? I don't care what the house is like if you like it."
"But I want you to care." I say.
"Why?"
"I don't know, I just do. I want you to like it."
I turn and look over at him.
"I don't like anything."
"...Not even me?" I ask quietly.
"Are you a thing?"
"I'm a noun. Close enough."
"That's not close...? What?"
"You didn't answer my question." I say, staring down at the steering wheel, averting my gaze.
"What question?"
"Do you like me?"
Some days it doesn't feel that way.
"Give me a few minutes to think."
"...Are you serious?" I ask.
He can't be fucking serious...?!
"I know I love you. I'm not entirely sure if I like you. Especially when you refuse to make me a batch of cookies."
I get out of the car and start toward the house.
He gets out after me. "No laugh? That was funny."
"It didn't feel like a joke." I say, stopping on the sidewalk. He stops in front of me.
Does he even like me? Or is it all...need?
"It wasn't a joke. It was funny, though."
"It wasn't funny." I say, going inside.
He's so fucking confusing.
I take his spot in the closet, grabbing my guitar and shutting the door.
Pouting like a little baby.
I hear Josiah come into the room.
"Where did you go...?"
I keep playing, ignoring him.
After a few seconds, he opens the door.
I don't answer him, staying seated and playing Love Story by Taylor Swift. Somehow, I've managed to make it sound sad.
"Why don't you think I'm funny?" He asks.
"What?" I ask him. "This isn't about that."
God, do I have to spell it out for him?
He doesn't get like...anything sometimes.
"What happened? I don't understand you sometimes. Most of the time, actually. I just pretend to."
"Yeah. Right. Apparently you don't like me either. I get it. I'm an asshole."
He blinks at me and sits down beside me hesitantly. I don't push him away.
I wish I could pull him closer.
"Everyone is an asshole. Do you like me?"
"Of course I do." I answer simply. "It's a fact. Like the sky being blue, or grass being green. I like Josiah Walker. Always have, always will."
"Why?"
"You are funny sometimes. And I like experiencing new things with you, for starters. I like showing you how you can be loved. And I like how excited you get over little things, like cookies and dinosaur nuggets. I would give you everything I had, If I had anything."
"That is love, not like. Like is...when you want to be friends with someone."
"I mean, you're my best friend. And my boyfriend. I would be friends with you too."
I mean, after I dumped my old friends.
"I wouldn't be friends with you."
Right.
I feel my heart sink a little bit, not going to lie.
"Oh." Is all I say, the sadness damn obvious.
"I don't think you realize how hard us being friends was on me. It was awful. I would rather have nothing at all than deal with just being friends. Love is the next step up. When you go into love...this kind of love, it isn't friends anymore."
"I didn't say I wanted to be just friends. I want to be both. Why can't we be both?"
Because he just needs someone to take care of him.
Is that really all I am to him?
"Because it's different. I just said why. Friends is a step back from where we are. I don't want that again."
"I don't think so. I think you should be best friends and boyfriends. Soulmates."
"You can't be both. The term friend is reserved for something else."
"I don't think that's true." I say looking over at him, brushing his hair from his eyes for like the millionth time. "You need a haircut." I say quietly.
"It's true. Friends are different than people you love. And, give me a pair of scissors. I'll fix it."
"But you can love your friends? And fuck no. Never."
He'd stab his eyes out.
Not that it would matter that much...
"You can't love friends this much. I define us getting together as when we said I love you. Even though we didn't really make it official like that. Also. I've cut my own hair since I was seven. What's the problem?"
"I loved my friends. It's a different type of love and friendship. But I still loved them."
"Yeah... I guess so. I've never had friends. I'm just assuming because the only time I've ever came close to that was with you and I never have and never will think of you as a friend."
"...Okay." Is all I say. I start playing my guitar again.
I don't get it, but i don't want to argue anymore.
"Why are you so against giving me scissors?" He backtracks.
"You will die. Or you will stab me."
"I could only do those on purpose. I've had scissors before. If I want to cut my hair, I can. If I want to stab you, I can."
"Please don't." I say, playing quieter, but still playing.
I like having something for my hands to do.
"Don't do which thing? The stabbing?"
"Both preferably. Why don't you let me do it?"
"Do what...? Stab yourself with scissors?"
I roll my eyes. "Yes please. No, I meant, let me cut your hair."
"No. Fuck no. You'll cut my ears off."
"What?" I poke his ear. "I found it. Now I won't cut it off." I inform him.
"I mean...on purpose. And there's two of them, dumb-ass!"
"Why the fuck would I do that. Also how do I know the other one isn't prosthetic."
"Because I called you a dumb-ass! And they're not prosthetic. Those are your ears that are prosthetic."
I poke the other one. "Feels fake to me."
He pushes my hand away and covers his ears with his hands. "They're both real and will hurt a lot if you cut them off."
"I wouldn't cut them off." I reassure him, but he can't hear me.
I sigh and wait for him to uncover them and then I repeat myself.
"Bullshit. Why should I believe that?" He says.
"What the actual fuck, Josiah? When have I ever physically hurt you when you wanted me to? Let alone when you didn't want me to?! You really think I would cut your ears off? If I wanted to hurt you, I would have a long time ago. I would never hurt you. Ever."
Except when you did. My brain practically screams at me.
I put my hands on my temples and rub them a bit, trying to focus on him and not my now shaking hands.
"I don't know... I don't think you would. It may be an irrational fear, but that doesn't change the fact that it's a fear."
He's afraid of you.
My hands shake even more and a sharp pain goes through my head.
I wince and hold the sides of my head.
He didn't say that. He didn't say that...
I must mumble this outloud because Josiah looks a bit concerned.
"What are you talking about? Are you okay...?"
"Sorry." I say quietly, not answering him.
Suddenly this closet feels impossibly small.
He's blocking the door to get out.
"Let me out." I mutter, holding my head harder, hoping to stop the pain there.
"Okay...? You can get out already, you know." He gets up and backs away.
I pull my knees to my chest.
It's too late. I can't move.
I pull my knees to my chest and take a shaky breath.
"Is Pierre here? Do I need to go get him?"
"He's not here. I don't want him here." I manage. "I don't know what's happening." I say quietly.
Nothing triggered this.Nothings bad.
Everything's fine.
Everything's fine.
I say this outloud to myself a few times.
I sound fucking crazy.
"Yeah... I think I'm going to call Pierre. He's old and he'll be able to explain...this."
"Please don't." I manage. "Just give me a second."
I try to study my breathing. To calm my brain, to do fucking anything.
My guitar goes limp in my arms and I drop it.
It makes a loud noise and Josiah jumps.
I force my shaking hands to pick it up and gently sit it aside.
"I'm so sorry. I don't know what's going on. Just give me a minute." I mutter, running a hand through my hair.
Why am I panicking this time?
There has to be a reason.
"Are you... Are you sure? I'm sorry I can't help..."
"Just...could you hold my hand?" I ask him quietly.
"If you come out, and we can go sit down and have a yummy snack and hold hands. Okay?"
"I don't know if I can move." I say, my voice quivering slightly. "I'm scared."
That's it.
That's why.
"Of what? Why?'
"Of our future. Of all the unknowns. I didn't... I didn't have to worry about having a future. Until now."
"You don't have to worry about it now either. You can't control it."
"That's why I'm scared, Josiah. I can't control it. I can't control anything. And now I have you depending on me and if I fuck up...we're both screwed." I say trying to breathe. Trying to relax.
"Well... That doesn't matter. I'm not your responsibility anyways. And you are going to be okay."
"What if all of this is pointless? What if we don't get our happy ending?" I look up into his gorgeous blue eyes and blink away my tears.
"What if we're doomed to this unhappiness forever? Then what?"
"It's not forever. It's a short amount of time where we're unhappy then okay again. It's life. You've had happy moments throughout your whole life."
"Promise me we'll have good ones." I say softly.
"Alright. I can do that because there's absolutely no way we won't. We'll be okay and we'll have happy times. You have to take the good with the bad. The only reason you know you're so sad right now is because you've felt happy before, and you will again."
"Thank You." I say forcing myself up.
He takes my hand and that's enough.
And it always will be.
End