The Bright Side

Chapter 13 - Part 1

SKY

Holding my hand during the night, taking it on the bridge, the way he held onto me in the tube, sleeping on my shoulder in the bus, his behaviour during the past few weeks – it had all felt like a miracle, like a witch put a spell on him and he woke up to liking me back. A dream-come-true. A dream too good to be true. It had felt like Tristan just needed a push, to make him aware of what he wanted or at least what I hoped he wanted. I thought he'd fall into my arms. Instead, he stumbled and hit the ground and the dream had become a nightmare. Joanna had warned me. Had I only listened to her. I pushed him too far, too soon. Oh, boy, the pain on his face. An accusation. And he's right; it's my fault. I made him hurt.

I crawl home with my heart scraping the ground. The way the kitchen glows tells me that there's still light in the hallway, so Mum will still be up. I fumble my keys out and try hard not to think about when I kissed Tristan the first time right on this spot, right here, where gravel floods against the stone made step. The door is opened from the inside, and there's Mum; her hair loose and her face shiny from her night moisturizer.

"Hey, handsome. There you are." Her smile is clueless. She doesn't yet know that the world has officially come to an end.

"Hey, Mum." I push myself past her and head right for the stairs.

"How was your trip?"

I pause and turn around with my foot already on the second step.

"Fine. It was fine," I say and hide behind what Tristan calls my Sky Face. It's not even a lie, an understatement maybe. The trip itself had been brilliant, amazing, incredible. It was only the last part that sucked. But it's usually the last part that sucks.

"Are you going to bed?"

"Yeah, maybe."

Sleeping seems out of question, although I haven't slept properly in days.

"Alright. Good night then."

"Night, Mum."

I make a detour for the bathroom and draw me a bath. My room is way too linked to Tristan and it has too much space for thoughts. They hide behind the piles off stuff that is lying around in wait to attack me and wrestle me down. I shrug out of my clothes and get into the tub before it's even half full. There's a vial of nail polish sitting on the edge of the tub – metallic blue this time - and rather than mulling over my thoughts, I start varnishing my nails. Again.

It looks good on me and even better, it keeps my mind occupied and by the time the tub is filled I'm done. I stare at my hands, that not long ago had touched Tristan's face and they look so weird, so unfamiliar with the nail polish, that they don't seem like mine anymore. Like it wasn't me who touched him. Like it wasn't me who made him cry. I let myself sink back into the tub. I submerge myself into the water until only my face is above the surface and I can hear the echo of my heart thumping in unison with the repeated thought of his name in my head. Tristan. Tristan. Tristan.

Shivers leave goose bumps on my skin as I think about the pressure of his body against mine, of his tongue invading me and I get so hard again that my balls hurt. I cross my arms behind my head to keep myself from tossing off. I won't do it thinking of something that had turned out so bad for Tristan, no matter how great it had been for me. Only that I can't stop thinking about him. About the contours of his body underneath his pullover. About the way he had quietly moaned as I kissed him. About the feel of his boner against mine. My balls will probably explode any second.

"Sweetie?"

A soft knock on the bathroom door distracts me.

"I need to brush my teeth. Can I come in?"