cherry - part 3
early wednesday, 4am. i woke up from my sleep, it was the third time that night so i just gave up. friday night kept replaying on my head and in the bottom of my stomach i had this unpleasant mixture of butterflies, concern, shame and loss. i sat up in my bed quietly and looked over to george's side of the room, his leg was shaking and his face was tense. he'd probably wake up soon. i put the kettle on and put a crumpet on the toaster, grabbing some jam and picking the "queen anne" teabags, he was drinking a lot of that lately. as soon as i hear a gasp, i know he's awake, and i still don't want to go through the pain of talking to him so i just hand him over the tea and the crumpet, grab my robe and leave the dorm. not even five seconds after i close the door i hear a quiet whisper.
"where are you going?"
"just for a walk. not leaving the building."
"okay, good." he closes back the door hesitantly.
"'okay, good'. it's always that with him, innit?" i muttered to myself "never more than that. how come an english major has such a bad way around words?"
i walk out of the building, even though i told sco that i wouldn't, until i find a stranger, with a hat that looked like a beret and a black trench coat, smoke surrounding him.
"oi mate, you okay there?" i ask
"hi." he turns around to me, he has blue eyes, but not deep like sco's, his are icy "fine by me, i'm not the one on the robe at four in the morning." he says in an irish accent.
"sorry, can i join you?" i point at the bench in which he's sitting
"sure. smoke?"
"uh no, thanks."
"what's on your mind?"
"what?"
"you're wandering around like a hopeless student — which i assume you are — and you don't look like you got much sleep so: what's on your mind?"
"huh. you're not wrong. what's your name?"
"cillian. i teach creative writing here."
"you might know my friend. his name's william schofield, it's his first semester?"
"don't know many students by name and haven't got the time to read whatever they have to write me."
"he's anya's boyfriend. she's a tall, brunette, very skinny and statuesque, has really unique eyes."
"sort of far apart?"
"yeah, but in a very good way?"
"i know her. and i think i know who he is too. what's your deal with him?"
"well he's my roommate..."
"and they were roommates..." he laughs "spare me, i know the story
"y-you do?"
"i teach creative writing, and if the roommate trope isn't one of the most common there are for romance stories... well, there's just nothing like it. so, does he like you and you don't know how to deal with it or is it the other way around?"
"probably the second option."
"probably?" i shrug "what's your name?"
"i'm tom. thomas."
"well thomas, your story went from a flat trope to something a little more interesting. tell me more."
"well," i didn't know why i was telling cillian that, but he felt like a good person to confide in "i've fancied him for a while, but he's got a girlfriend who he knows since high school and they seemed really happy together, but a week ago or so, they started having some trouble, and one day sco was particularly upset over that—"
"sco?"
"like schofield."
"does anyone else call him that?"
"no, not really."
"classic. anyway, go on."
"he was particularly upset — and you can't tell that to anyone because it's personal — i sort of accidentally said something triggering to his ptsd, and in the middle of me calming him down and grounding him, he kissed me."
"oh my god."
"yeah."
"that's intense!"
"i know!"
"you're lucky i'm a good actor, this kid's in my class and i'll have to pretend i know nothing!"
"will you be able to?"
"i just said i'm a good actor."
"okay, anyway, after he did that, i decided he needed some sleep, but he told me he needed help sleeping, which ended up with me lying by his side and accidentally falling asleep on the same bed."
"you two sound like a gay rom com. but a good one, all due respect."
"thank you? anyway, when the next day came around, i went to talk to my friends to see what the fuck was i supposed to do and when i came back he just told me he wanted to not talk about it and leave it all alone."
"how long ago was that conversation?"
"it was on saturday."
"you haven't talked about it since?"
"no. monday i even came in the room to find anya wearing his shirt and drinking from my mug."
"anya's the girlfriend?"
"yes cillian, keep up!" he looked at me incredulous but with a smile "sorry professor."
"it's alright." he laughed "i'm not your professor, for now i'm just cillian."
"alright. what's your take on the story?"
"literarily speaking, it's a good love story, too dramatic for my taste, but i'm not that big of a romantic anyway so don't take my word for it."
"okay, but in reality?"
"i think... i think you should push him to talk. maybe not today, maybe give him a couple more days to process what happens."
"he's not processing shit! he's having a blast with his girlfriend and completely ignoring that he kind of cheated on her!"
"just because he's acting like he's fine doesn't mean he's not thinking things through. for pete's sake, the lad deals with ptsd on a regular basis but you don't see him constantly on a crisis, do you?"
"well..."
"no, you don't. all this 'if he doesn't talk it must mean he doesn't care' is 19 year old horse shit." he shouted "you're both young and don't know how to deal with how you feel. if you're going insane, imagine what he's going through. he's a guy who probably thought he was completely straight and had a safe place on his high school girlfriend until the day he meets his new roommate who, even though he only knows for just some weeks, is already set to go with him through thick and thin. he ends up kissing him and sleeping with him, but when he wakes up he's not even there anymore. how do you think he feels about having his whole notion over what his life was like shaken upside down?"
"you have a point. a very good one." i bury my head in my hands, not realizing that i haven't thought about sco, only about me.
"i know i do. now go back to your dorm, get some sleep and don't worry so much about this. you'll figure something out, you seem like a smart kid."
"thanks, cillian. cool beret, by the way, you pull it off." i got up and walked away
"it's not a beret lad, it's a peaked cap!" he said loudly
"same thing!" i answered, a little more at ease than when i first arrived.
;
cameos:
cillian (as in cillian murphy)