(show him what he's missing)
* * *
Every weekend, James and I had a movie night.
It had been a tradition for as long as we could remember, dating back to the days when all we watched were crappy animated movies. Depending on how our schedules were looking, we'd pick a day—usually Friday or Saturday, since Sunday tended to be our designated homework day—and watch whatever movie we'd been dying to see (or dying to make fun of, depending on what we were in the mood for).
Since the tradition started when we were young, we originally stuck to genres that our parents would approve of. This usually meant we would watch whatever the latest Disney movie was, and subsequently make fun of it the whole time. Then, middle school came and brought with it a new sense of independence, giving us the ability to make the switch to horror movies. Since then, we rarely ever strayed from them.
That didn't mean we stuck to only that genre—horror movies tended to get a bit repetitive and predictable after a while, and some of them had horrible special effects. It's just that they tended to fill up most of our weekends.
This weekend, however, was different.
Usually, the movies we watched served no purpose; they were just a source of entertainment, a way for the two of us to get some much-needed relaxation after a week of meeting impossible deadlines and dealing with asshole professors.
That was going to change, though. Tonight, I was going to show James what he was missing by staying with someone as awful as Chuck.
My words wouldn't accomplish much. I'd never experienced a healthy, stable relationship (if we exclude my relationship with The Office); how could I possibly talk about the benefits of one? To solve this, I rented out a pile of romance movies for the night, hoping that at least one of them would do the trick.
If anything, actually seeing what a proper relationship looked like would have more of an impact than listening to someone talk about it. Those were my thoughts on the matter, anyway.
Although the movie selection was different this time around, this movie night was almost identical to the rest. That was because for us, it wasn't just about the film we chose to watch; the ambience mattered too.
The most important part was the food. It was essential that we had good snacks, otherwise the whole night would be a bust. We typically stuck to popcorn with cookie dough candy, which we considered to be a timeless classic. Ice cream was also a must; it wouldn't be a proper movie night if we didn't have a tub of cookie dough ice cream.
That wasn't all, though. Drinks were pretty important too. Usually, we stuck to sodas—they were cheap (especially if you didn't get brand-name soda) and they went with just about anything. However, we'd managed to score fakes over Thanksgiving break, so ever since then, we stuck to alcoholic drinks—not straight hard liquor, but mixed drinks. They tasted good and would ensure we didn't get totally plastered.
The setup of the room mattered as well. Our room was small—it wasn't properly set up for watching a movie. Some adjustments had to be made. This included bringing out the bean bag chair James kept hidden in his closet, only to be brought out for special occasions. We also needed to adjust our desks to give us more free space.
A lot of thought went into movie night, this one more than most.
This was the movie night that would hopefully knock some sense into James. Even if it only made him marginally more aware of how awful his relationship was, I'd be happy. Small progress is still progress.
"What's on the menu for tonight?" James asked, entering the room at a quarter past ten. He'd taken the stairs up to our room, which was incredibly evident from the heavy breathing that punctuated his words. "I just spent the past three hours with Chuck—who's still hung up on this whole intramural thing—and I definitely need a drink. There's no way I'm getting through the rest of the night sober."
I grinned, holding out a cup for him to take. I'd just finished mixing together the concoction for the night, and it tasted good. "Fanta and vodka. We're sticking to the classics tonight."
"Oh, thank god," he said, grabbing the cup and taking a huge swig of the drink. "I need this. Chuck has been so difficult this week."
I didn't think Chuck being difficult was limited to only this week, but I chose to hold my tongue, instead gesturing for James to continue.
"So, the two of us were getting dinner together, right? He was complaining about the whole baseball thing, and I was trying to reason with him," he began, ditching his coat on his desk. "Anyway, after a while we started talking about other stuff, and everything was fine. Then, I said I needed to come back here for movie night, and he got pissed. He literally said, 'have fun fucking your roommate'. Am I not allowed to have male friends and spend time with them?"
I shrugged. "Guess not. If you want, I can try and talk to him. I doubt he'll listen to anything I say, but I'm willing to give it a try."
"Nah, that'll only make things worse. If that's even possible." James ran a hand across his buzzed hair: a telltale sign of his nerves acting up. He was stressed. "Anyway, what are we watching tonight? Please let it be good. I'm not in the mood to watch another shitty horror movie."
"That rules out literally every horror movie on Netflix."
He laughed, and it felt good to hear that sound come from him. This past week, he'd been somber, barely cracking a smile despite all the various jokes I'd been spewing out. It was nice to know that there was still a part of him that knew how to have fun—and it was good to know that my sense of humor wasn't to blame for his lack of laughter.
I gestured to the pile of movies stacked high on my desk. "So, for this movie night, we're doing a little genre change. I hit up the store and rented out a bunch of romance movies. I wasn't sure what you'd be into and Netflix's selection didn't seem too promising—unless you want crappy teen romance films, which I don't really think you'd be into."
"Care to explain the sudden interest in romance?" he inquired skeptically with a raised eyebrow. "Hate to break it to you, but you don't have a romantic bone in your body."
"Shut up. I can be romantic. Remember when I asked Anna to prom junior year? That was sweet."
"You literally did the bare minimum. Guys in our school serenaded their dates, and all you did was ask her with a half-assed poster—one with a terrible pun on it, by the way. Romantic my ass."
I rolled my eyes. "You're an asshole. Also, serenading is so extra. Why do I need to make a fool out of myself to ask someone to prom? I wasn't that desperate for a date. And besides, she was my girlfriend—why should I have gone above and beyond to ask her when it was basically guaranteed that we'd go together?"
"You just proved my point. You're like a romance vacuum—you suck the romance out of everything."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
He held his hands up in surrender. "My bad. You're right. If you want to be heartless, by all means, go ahead. If that works for you, then who am I to tell you to stop?"
"Whatever," I huffed, beginning to sift through the large pile of movies. James took a seat in the bean bag chair, letting out a satisfied sigh as he sunk into the cushion. "I was going to let you pick the movie, but you lost movie-picking rights when you decided to be a complete asshole."
He didn't seem to care much—not like I really expected him to—so I picked the first movie off the pile, hoping it would be good. The description sounded nice, but often times, they tended to be misleading, so I wasn't sure what it meant for the actual movie. It could go either way, really.
For the sake of James, I hoped it depicted a good, healthy relationship as opposed to the toxic garbage that Hollywood liked to pass off as "true romance".
As soon as the opening credits began to roll, I grabbed my food and drink, taking the seat besides James on the bean bag chair. It was time for Phase One to commence.
* * *
James was uncharacteristically silent. I wasn't sure whether to interpret it as a good sign or not.
Usually, when we watched movies, we would talk a lot. It was a habit that tended to piss off a lot of people—our parents, friends, and other movie-goers. But watching a movie just wasn't fun if we couldn't make snarky comments to each other. Our amusement rarely ever came from the movies; it came from ridiculing the characters and whatever crazy situations they managed to land themselves in. With the addition of alcohol, our urge to talk only increased, rendering us the worst people to watch a movie with.
So, for James to go completely silent was odd.
The movie was incredibly dramatic (there had been about six sexually charged arguments at this point, and we weren't even halfway through) and James was fairly inebriated at this point. He'd consumed somewhere around four standard drinks which, for a lightweight like him, was a lot. All the circumstances suggested that he should have been as talkative as ever. It just wasn't like him to be mute when watching such a ridiculous film.
I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the movie was serving its purpose and making him reflect on his relationship. That would explain the sudden silence on his end.
But surely, he would have said something throughout the duration of the movie? For him to not utter a single word was out of character. Especially considering how overly dramatic the female lead was, as if she'd come straight out of a telenovela.
There was no way James had nothing to say about her antics.
It was only during a particularly silent scene that I was able to determine the cause for his silence: he'd been crying.
The audio for the movie was loud, consisting of angsty songs, with singers that were practically screaming the words, despite the soft nature of the lyrics. To hear anything but the film was practically impossible.
However, during a sad scene, the volume dipped, allowing me to hear the soft sniffles coming from beside me. Turning to my right, I noticed James swiping a hand across his face, doing his best to wipe away the tears before I noticed them.
Gently, I nudged him in his arm. "What's up? I know the movie's bad, but I didn't think it'd make you cry."
He glared at me, his eyes boring holes into mine. I nearly flinched at the intensity of the look. Granted, I did deserve it. It probably wasn't the smartest idea to crack a joke in a situation where tears were involved. Unfortunately, it was an instant reflex; the second my mind even remotely sensed an emotional situation, a million jokes rushed to my mind, fighting to be let out.
"Sorry," I said, hoping I sounded sincere. People tended to tell me my voice sounded robotic—it would come out flat, devoid of the nuances that came with emotions. It made it hard for people to gauge my true feelings from the way I spoke. In a way, I liked it. Figuring me out wasn't easy. However, in situations like this, it was proven to be a disadvantage.
James shrugged. "It's whatever, I guess. I'm just watching this and it's reminding me of how Chuck and I used to be."
I wasn't sure their relationship could hold a candle to the incredibly loved-up couple on screen (who had miraculously solved whatever issue had been plaguing them in record time), but my input probably wouldn't be appreciated. So, I settled for a simple, "Really."
"He was so good to me, Alex. You don't even know. I think that's why I struggle so hard with the way things are now. I just can't seem to understand how we went from this,"—he gestured to the televisions screen—"to how we are now."
From my perspective, it seemed like Chuck had taken James for granted. In a way, I understood why. When you were with someone who treated you so well, gave you all the attention you craved and loved you more than anything, it was easy to forget that it was a privilege. That kind of affection wasn't something you deserved, it was something you earned.
Although I was able to understand Chuck, that didn't make it okay. There were no circumstances that would justify such awful treatment. Especially to someone like James, who consistently went out of his way to make everyone else happy.
"Look, I don't want to overstep, and if at any point you feel that I am, feel free to tell me to shut up. I won't mind," I said. "I just don't understand what you're doing with someone like Chuck. You deserve better than him. He treats you like dirt. You're a good person and it's wrong for him to abuse that."
I left out how it made me feel. That was a bit of information I didn't think was worth sharing; it would mean I was making the situation about me, which was the worst possible thing for me to do.
"See, that's the thing. I know you're right, but you're completely disregarding the emotional aspect of our relationship. If you look at it from just a factual perspective then yeah, maybe he doesn't treat me the best and I should dump him." He paused, taking a breath. "But, I love him. I can't imagine being with anyone but him. That's where whatever you have to say loses credibility."
I didn't think love should cancel out all the bad in a relationship, but clearly James disagreed with that.
"Okay, you love him. Does that mean you should forgive every bad thing he ever does to you? He's only going to keep abusing that, you know," I said, placing my drink on the floor next to me as I sat up, straightening my posture. "You're never going to stop hurting because he's going to keep taking advantage of your kindness. Is that really what you want for yourself?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. I just want him. Not who he is now, but who he used to be."
"That's fair. But unfortunately, you can't pick the parts of a person you want—you gotta want all of them. Seems to me like you don't."
I wasn't sure at what point I'd become James' relationship counselor, but given my lack of experience with relationships, my advice seemed to pretty sound. Granted, a lot of it had been taken from various television shows and movies I'd seen (much like the one currently on the television screen), but James didn't need to know that. Besides, it wasn't like the questionable source of the advice made it lose its credibility. What I was saying made sense, and it didn't take a genius to realize that.
"I do. This isn't him, Alex. So no, I don't want who he is now, but it's not because I don't want all of him—it's cause he's morphed into someone I don't even recognize. Someone who I don't even like."
"So what? You think that if you just give him time, he'll come back around and turn into the Chuck you know and love?" He didn't say anything, but his silence was enough of an answer. "There's a chance that might happen, sure. But what if it doesn't? I know you. If he stays like this, you're going to spend all your free time wondering where things went wrong, wondering what you did to make him like this. You're going to see him as the victim and start placing all the blame on yourself. That's not good, or healthy for that matter."
James didn't say anything, directing his gaze to the ground. I let my words hang there, out in the open, hoping that at least something I said would force its way through that thick head of his.
It was wishful thinking, sure, but it couldn't hurt to have a little hope.
Finally, James let out a sigh, sliding a hand across his head. "Can we just not talk about this anymore? I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I really don't want to have this discussion."
I nodded. "Alright, I just don't want to see you get hurt any more than you already have."
"Yeah, I know. I appreciate that—really, I do. It's just that... you make everything sound so easy since you're on the outside. You don't know everything about the relationship, so you don't understand the situation completely, even though you think you do."
He had a fair point. Although, I really didn't think I wanted to know everything about their relationship, because from the preview I was getting, things didn't seem too good.
However, there was some good news among all the bad: my plan seemed to be working. I got James thinking about things.
It wasn't a huge step by any means, but it was still a step forward regardless.
* * *
This whole movie night thing is lowkey inspired by what my friends and I used to do. Minus the alcohol, because I did not have the guts to drink in the dorms.
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