Listening to:

Eat, Sleep, Wake – Bombay Bicycle Club

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December 16th, 2016

TIM

          Tim was frowning. "I'm not going."

          Greg stared at Tim with angry eyes, the gray depths awash in a storm. His mouth was pressed in a firm line and there was a pause in what he was going to say, the eggshells he'd been walking on all week seemingly still crunching under his foot.

          "I know what you're going through, but-"

          "Greg," Tim groaned, rolling into the couch so that his face was snug against the backrest, "you have absolutely no idea. You and Mikayla have been inseparable since senior year and you just...you don't know. So, can you please...?" He motioned for Greg to leave.

          "Okay, but-"

          He didn't know why, but his friend never took a loss in a situation that needed Tim to pay attention. But today, this week especially, Tim couldn't do it.

          "I just need to lay here for a bit, alright?" There was silence and Tim let out a sigh of relief.

          Finally.

          He needed to be alone tonight, but the same could be said about the seven days that had passed. His body was numb and his heart hurt every lingering second and being still and trying to sleep his day away helped to a point. But behind his closed eyelids he saw her, her famous smile and her big brown eyes made of milk chocolate, though they resembled light amber honey in the sun.

          "You know what? Fuck you," he heard Greg mutter and Tim assumed he had accepted defeat for once in his life. He waited to hear the front door slam.

          Instead, he felt hands roughly plant themselves on his shoulders. "You brought this on yourself and you just need to – come on – Tim, get off the couch." With the urgency of Greg's grubby fingers prying him away, Tim felt his instincts kick in and he grabbed onto the cushions, holding them close as he manifested himself as deadweight.

          "Dude! Seriously?"

          Finally warding the blond off, Tim sat up with a grunt. A musky smell followed his movements and he could feel the grease that lathered his mop of hair. He wondered when he last took a shower or held a hairbrush. Was it three days? Was it that day?

          Greg, as annoying as he was, was the only reason he felt bad about how he was acting. His roommate watched with judgemental and sad eyes, documenting in a photo album on his phone the fall of Timothy Matthews. It started with smudged glasses -Tim couldn't stand smudged glasses- and really peaked when Greg had come home after class to see him face-first on the floor, their playlist playing.

          Tim couldn't meet his friend's eyes, and he leaned forward to grab his beer instead. Was she thinking about him? Did she think about that time in the snow and the coffee that shot out of his nose when she had said something (inappropriately) funny? The way she couldn't stop giggling and the way he had cried still played for him in vivid colours.

          "Jesus," Greg ground out. He was quicker than Tim, and he snatched the bottle to put it all the way on the other side of the room - out of reach and out of sight - as if Tim was Mister Fantastic.

          He wished he was Mister Fantastic. He could shrink into the cushions and hide away forever.

          "Can you please just go and turn off the lights? It's too bright," Tim said, shielding his eyes to make a point.

          One step, two steps, and Greg took a seat on their wooden coffee table. He was dressed in a red plaid long-sleeved, a white shirt dipping to reveal defined collar bones. Black jeans, ripped at the knees, of course. He didn't know why Greg loved jeans like that, the first time Tim tried to wear them – he was embarrassed to admit how excited he had been – his foot caught in the hole and he ripped the leg clean off.

          "It's been a week and that shit sucks, okay?" Greg began and Tim could almost make out a bead of sweat on his brow. Greg never liked talking like this. "It sucks, I know it sucks. I might not understand it, but I've seen you Tim and it's been hard, man. I mean, you look terrible. And you know what?"

          Tim wanted to say it was okay just so both of them could wipe their hands and pretend it was fine, but he wanted to relish in his friend's sympathy. It wasn't every day that Greg tried to give an awkward pep talk.

          "You really need to get your ass in the shower and come out with me. All of your hard work is going to be for nothing." Greg motioned toward Tim's slumped figure; unclad except for the sweats he wore.

          Where there was once defined muscle, the result of years of pushing himself for her, was the product of a week of ordering takeout and drinking. His body was annoying that way, it took to whatever regime he did that week. If he didn't work out? He shrank back into his skinny former self. If he did work out? He could put The Rock to shame (pfft, he wished). If he ate bad? His whole physical being betrayed him and he resembled his mother months before she got married.

          To add to his observation, Greg shot a hand out and jabbed him where the bloat was the strongest.

          Tim slapped him away and stood up, rounding the couch to put distance between them. "You know you're free to just leave, I don't need you here to- "

          "Are you proud of yourself?" Greg jabbed him emotionally this time. "Do you like that paunch?"

          "I don't have a paunch," Tim insisted, but he couldn't look at himself again.

          "Yeah, you do," he gestured and laughed, "you have a paunch full of beer and Hot Cheetos and Chinese food. So please, just get the hell in the shower and let's go."

          He breathed a sigh, Greg wouldn't back down now that he had Tim right by his insecurities. Hanging his head, Tim started moving toward the shower and Greg put a hand on his chest.

          "Good boy. Here you go."

          He handed him back his beer and sent Tim on his way.

JOSIE

          Josie wondered if it got better, if it got easier. She bobbed on her feet, but she couldn't concentrate, not really. She replayed and reworked what happened one hundred times, one thousand even. She stayed up late all week, so late that it made her roommate angry. That wasn't hard though, she noted.

          "Marco! Hey Marco, get us another one why don't you?"

          Marco was short, but the sound of Josie's roommate's harsh voice was a constant over the night and he was quick to find them through the crowd that knocked Josie from side to side. It wasn't like It was hard, anyway, they had been there for hours, planted firmly, drinking firmly.

          "Juliet, I'm fine, seriously!" Josie said over the noise, trying to cup the girl's ear to help transport her words.

          Juliet was much taller, and when she didn't want to listen to Josie, she didn't, she merely straightened her back to stand out of reach. "Just keep drinking!" she replied, waving her hand aimlessly and almost hitting a man walking behind her, "you'll be fine soon!"

          "No, Julie, I'm fine now," the words left her, but she realised it was a lost cause. She tried to get Marco's attention instead, but she wasn't as noticeable as Juliet so effortlessly was. "Marco, don't get me another one!" Marco looked over the faces but couldn't find her, and she urgently made cutting motions in front of her neck, trying, pleading for him to not get her another one. She really didn't need another episode of last night.

          "Marco! Your tip is getting sadder by the second!" Juliet threatened.

          "Can I buy you a drink?" a guy who reeked of cologne wiggled himself between the girls, his breath fanning her face to the point Josie had to turn to the side to avoid it.

          She couldn't make out the colour of his eyes because it was dark, but she could see the hints of green as the lights bounced around. His hand found her waist and she unconsciously felt an ache for it, for him.

          Her mind drew on a blank as she tried to find the words to tell him to fuck off, but she couldn't. As desperate as it was, she wanted someone to hold her, anyone to hold her. She wanted to be wanted. She searched his face for any resemblance to a boy with curly brown hair so that maybe she could pretend, but Juliet's elbow came into his chest and he grunted, taking a large step back.

          "What's your problem?" he growled.

          Juliet pushed him away with her manicured hands and gave him a menacing glare, "You really want to know what my problem is?" She started tying back her golden-brown hair.

          He raised his hands and cowered with no argument.

          She turned to Josie, shook her head and pointed a finger like she was a dog. "No," was all she said before she turned back to the bar. "Marco!"

          "Guys! Hey!"

          Maddie was at her side in an instant, pulling Josie into a tight hug. "How is she?" she directed the question at Juliet.

          "I'm right here," Josie bit out, "you can ask me how I am."

          It was getting irritating how her friends insisted on being her support and getting her out of her room but never bothered to actually listen to her. She wanted things to be normal, to be treated normal, like this week hadn't happened. Josie needed those friends back, the ones that weren't scared to say something to hurt her feelings, the ones that didn't give her that look.

          "Maddie! It's so good to see you," Juliet began and shifted her eyes to a small pale girl beside her. "Oh, Nadine..." the distaste was there, and Josie could have sworn she saw the beginnings of a snarl. To her surprise, Juliet let it go and tried once more: "Goddamn Marco, what do I have to do for you to get us a drink? Show you my boobs?"

          Josie looked at Maddie with round eyes, mouthing, "Help me."

          Maddie gave a sympathetic smile and that look. "Hey, sweetie..." She rubbed Josie's arm with slow strokes.

          This was exactly what she hated. Josie shook her off. "Maddie don't do that, please. I'm okay. I'm fine." Her friend continued to stare, so Josie ground out once more, "Please."

          A small hand touched her shoulder and she looked down at Nadine. Josie had to hold back an involuntary eye roll. Why was she here again? "Hey!" she feigned enthusiasm. Keep it short and simple, she thought. Nadine picked everything apart and she seriously couldn't be bothered tonight.

          "Your hair, Josie!" Nadine shouted too loud, "why didn't you do something nicer with your hair?"

          "Nadine!" Maddie shouldn't have sounded so surprised.

          Josie bit the insides of her cheeks and held her breath steady, wanting nothing more than to grab the pink bob styled haircut in front of her and just pull until she couldn't anymore.

          "God, Jesus, fuck off Nadine. Why are you even here?" Juliet snapped.

          Josie shook her head at Juliet and put her hand on her shoulder. It wasn't worth it. "I'm going to the restroom," she told the girls, excusing herself.

          Maddie caught her, "I'm sorry Josie, I shouldn't have brought her. Do you want me to come with you?"

          "It's fine Maddie," Josie tried to sound convincing, "just make sure to keep her away from Julie." She left without a response, sliding through groups of sweaty people and only getting groped twice.

          When she got into the stall, she let her back hit the wall, the thump causing someone next to her to squeak in surprise.

          Josie was clumsy as she took out her phone. She saw that she had multiple notifications, all but from the person she wanted to talk to the most. Her heart was sinking into her stomach again and she could feel her skin burning as she scrolled through her Instagram feed.

          She wanted to look at his page and see his face. She missed the lines around his mouth when he would laugh and the carefree way he slapped his knee when something was so funny. They always joked he had a nervous tic, or in his case, a happy tic.

          She knew he didn't upload much and he usually only did at her insistence. So, it surprised her to see that he posted something only thirty minutes ago.

          Her hand was over her mouth as she sunk onto the toilet, staring at the picture he took with someone who Josie could only describe as beautiful. The girl was smiling and he was too and the sight broke her heart all over again. When had he ever taken a selfie without Josie struggling to convince him that it was cute and that yes, his teeth were fine?

          Betrayal and jealousy caused her nostrils to flare, but the love she had and the hurt she still bathed in brought a few single tears down her cheeks.

          She went back to her home screen and looked at her last message from him, but it was non-existent because she had deleted their chat the moment she got off of the plane. She stared, fighting the pain that wound her chest.

          When she dialed his number, she didn't expect him to answer on the fourth ring.

          "Tim?" she said quietly, finally letting the sobs wrack her body.