What am I to you? // Corpse Husband

7. Adrenaline

Thursday 9.52pm

These days I hang out at his place more often. No. As often, but for longer. I'm officially no longer required by his insurance to look after him. I just like to hang out in his apartment and he has showed me that he does too. I guess I don't like to spend my evenings alone anymore. When I do, I miss him, I wonder what he's doing. I worry too. I worry his paralysis is gonna come back and I check my phone all the time. I'm an idiot, but I miss his voice, his laugh, his smile, the way he looks at me.

It could be a 'you're a good friend' kind of look after all, but that look makes me feel at peace, yet excited.

Sitting at the dinner table, I am writing notes from my earlier patients' visits today. He has been in his office for the last hour or so after we finished dinner, and I can hear him talk to his friends and laughing.

Getting myself a drink, I think that maybe he needs a refill too.

I knock quietly and enter.

Warned by the light coming through the door, he lifts his headphone off one of his ear and smiles seeing the drink in my hand. I stay quiet, just in case he is streaming and place his drink and a cookie on his desk, noticing he's playing Among Us.

"Thanks. You spoil me." He chuckles with a tender stare, leaning on his chair's armrest. "Can you stay? I won't be long." He suddenly turns back to his screen. "WHAT?! Haha! No! What? Oh fuck!" I'm a little confused by his obvious embarrassed behaviour. "No! Nobody's here. Nobody's spoiling me. I'm messing with you guys." He says very calmly now, his deep 'poker voice' on.

He turns back to me smiling awkwardly with big eyes and I understand he forgot to mute his mic, getting an interrogation from his friends about who is with him, 'spoiling' him, 'staying'. I mouth that I'm gonna leave him to it and, before I exit, he grabs my wrist, forcing me to turn back, himself mouthing a 'thank you' with a crooked smile. His hand slides off softly to let me leave his office, before I close the door behind me.

Another gesture to add to the list. His soft touch was so... sweet and... argh!!! I can't anymore!! Should I be forward with him? Or just drop it. He said he doesn't like relationships... Is that what I am looking for? Do I want to label it? Right now I just want to kiss him, embrace him, feel his arms around me again, so many moments replaying in my head where he could have kissed me or vice versa. Too many missed opportunities. There might be a reason for that.

I finish my work and pack my laptop before sitting on the couch with legs across it, turning the TV on.

I'm watching a serial killer documentary on Netflix when he comes out of his cave. Dropping his glass on the coffee table, he goes toward the other side of the couch and I move my feet to give him space but he grabs them, and places them over his lap as he sits down. His hand on my ankles, his thumb strokes my skin smoothly, before he rests his hand on my
leg.

This is too much, I can feel adrenaline rushing through my veins from his touch and his close proximity. I try to focus on the program, but I can't help looking at him from the corner of my eyes. He is calm and focused on the show, immobile for the next fifteen minutes and my state of excitement has not calmed down. If I don't take a break, I can anticipate that my body will start to spasm from the constant adrenaline rush I am feeling. Picking up my phone to distract myself but I have zero messages or notifications. That never happens.

I drop my phone on the coffee table and move off the sofa swiftly.

"Is everything okay?" He asks confused by my brisk move.

"I... yes..." I answer looking down, my emotions making me tremble on my way to the bathroom.

I close the door behind myself, run the water and splash my face, exhaling heavily. Seeing myself in the mirror, I feel ugly. Why would he want me? It's all in my head. I'm such a fucking idiot. I only attract abusive men or drug addicts. A sweet guy like him would never think of me that way. He probably sees me as a supportive friend. If I say anything he's gonna reject me and it will all be weird and I will be alone again. I'll have lost him. I need him. I can't.

I stand straight and inhale deeply, motivated to... to change nothing... to suffer in silence about the guy I will never have. Looking at my reflection in the broken mirror, I fake a smile and a happy, positive body language, shoulders back, because that's what I do.