BEFORE I DIE, I PRAY TO BE BORN | ✓

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THURSDAY
14 NOVEMBER, 1996
ISAIAH

               'I've no clue what I'm doing with my life.' The words come from me with too much ease for me to bother to fight them — as I said; cars make you bear your soul. I sigh, sinking in my seat while Pictures of You plays on my break-up mix. 'Why the fuck would I study literature? It's a completely useless degree to have. Should've become a doctor.'

'You're awful as maths.'

'Oi.' I snatch the apple Chupa Chup stick from my mouth, hold it between two fingers like a cigarette, and stare at him with exaggerated hurt. 'Not as rubbish as you.'

Dorian wrestles a grin. 'Yeah, but that bar is really low. I think a housecat is better at maths than me.'

You are so beautiful when you smile.

'I don't know either,' he adds, still trying to control his expression. 'Our plan wasn't very specific.'

Our plan was rubbish when I look at it as an adult.

Dorian watches me with his head lopsided over his shoulder, one side of his mouth forgotten into a grin. His eyes catch yellow from the dome light and it might as well be the sun: he's no less beautiful illuminated by it than bathed in daylight. Do you know you turn any lamp into a celestial body? The moon is nothing compared to you. How I long to caress your lips the way the light does.

I return the lollipop stick into my mouth and chew the flavour of plastic even if I've flattened it far past the point of the satisfying sensation when my teeth sink in.

'You are aware that the sweet ended right?'

'Shut up.' I shove him which only shakes out more giggles from his chest. 'Stop laughing.'

Dorian's whole face lights up and I shove him again. Before I know it, I've dropped the stick into the cupholder and wrestled him against the passenger door, my palm clamped over his mouth though he continues to giggle into it. I can't stop laughing either, as though five years' worth has been compressed in my gut and now the dam is broken. It rushes out uncontrollably and I wheeze to speak through it.

'I am trying so hard to quit. I feel like my lungs are closing in, and as soon as I ain't got ten distractions, I want to commit arson.' Dorian's entire body shakes under me. The bursts of breath from his giggles tickle my skin. 'And you laugh in my face. Lech lehizdayen.'

He holds his breath to compel a convincing expression of remorse to the half of his face visible above my hand. It's useless: his smile presses to my palm.

My own fades. I stare down at him and my heart races.

I peel my hand away and grab onto the headrest instead to keep myself upright in my awkward half-seated half-standing pose over the centre console. Only now do I become aware of the burn in my right arm from supporting my weight alone, though it leaves my focus equally quick as I find Dorian's lips.

Then his smile is gone too.

My eyes flick to his to find them waiting. I swear his lashes have grown since we were in school.

'I didn't have sex with no one last week.'

The words are out of me before I know I've strung them together. I slump back into the drivers seat. Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover plays low.

'I only went to the river. I couldn't... I can't do that anymore.'

His eyebrows twitch but he doesn't ask — he doesn't have to, I know exactly what he's thinking: Why are you telling me this? Why are you telling me this?