Fascinating Villains

{58} - Red and Blue

The radio in Colin's apartment is diffusing a noticeable flow of ads, seldom broken up by musical numbers. I requested that we return to his residence after having lunch together. We went to a fast-food restaurant not too far from where he lives, which specializes in serving custom sandwiches.

I almost had to break his wrist to convince him to let me pay for the meal, because for an instant he seemed physically unable to not take out his credit card and tap it against the wireless machine. The meal was good. And so is Colin. Excellent, even. Both the sandwich and my boyfriend. However, considering the recent state of my psyche, I have decided to prioritize my mental health, because peace of mind will allow me to heal the citizens of Gotham City a lot better than what I've accomplished lately.

"There's something I need to tell you, Cole."

He puts his paper cup of iced tea down on his kitchen table, before devoting all of his attention to me.

"What is it?"

/I love you, too. I'm also ready to say it. You're right, we should move in together. I miss you every time we're away from each other./

I feel my left hand's fingers tremble inside my shirt's pocket as I expel the words, "We should not date anymore. Uh, you and I."

I spread my feet apart, which is necessary for me to brace my psyche against the inclement whirl of thoughts that spills out of him. It is painfully arduous to shield my mind from his tsunami of interrogations and emotions when my brain is slowly splintering and coming apart, as if a cold needle is progressively tearing my body in two.

"What? No... Can-can we talk..? We can talk about, let's talk about this." 

He tries to smile, breathing weakly. His smirk causes the scar on his nose to squirm.

"I'm really grateful for you, Colin. I had a good time, but I don't want to keep going. It's not what I want." I utter the sentences evenly, overly focused on my enunciation and on making them unambiguous to lend them any warmth.

"What? But, no, you... Why did you agree to this?"

"I wanted to give it a shot. Give you... Um... I like you. But I'm not certain about this relationship anymore, so it's over."

"I'm certain about us. And you want this, you want me. It's just..." He steps closer to me, his throat closing up with feelings.

/Why did you lead me on?! What did I do wrong?/

I am letting his reaction hurt to the extent that I also feel out of breath. The walls of his living room seem to be darkening and to be leaning down. I hear echoes of crying children and of a woman grunting and whimpering, flailing her arms and kicking an aggressor with her heels.

Colin rubs his palms up and down his jeans, rambling, "I should've seen this coming... Did I text you too much? Is it because I don't text you enough? Because I know you don't text me a lot, but if you don't text me, how can I tell you I'm thinking about you? How am I supposed to know you're thinking about me!?!"

I don't.

That truth, unmasked, is obvious to me now. I barely think about him, and the erosion of the barriers I spent so long crafting to enclose my fears is not helping. With a sound akin to pattering, I observe illusory bruises flashing and covering the material of his couch. I can distinctly feel plastic gloves slipping in blood around my hands even though they are bare and shoved inside my shirt's pockets.

I could not even manage to uphold a teensy, laid-back romantic relationship. So much for stepping out of my comfort zone.

Cheryl would be so disappointed in my pathetic failure at regaining even the slightest normalcy in my life. But this isn't about what she wants. It's not about her. It is about my well-being.