Jaspar: I Still Love You Though

Pancakes

Clubbing with Adrian and Joe was a bad idea. The stiff awkward conversation. Knowing that Adrian was doing the talking for three people. Knowing that Joe was only here to be polite. It was obvious. The minute they arrived, Joe went off to get a drink. And then he was gone, for the rest of the night.

Caspar tried to forget Joe. He laughed along to Adrian's jokes and kept a smile plastered on his face at all times. His face ached from straining his cheek muscles so much. After only an hour, Caspar was tired of trying. Not bothering to tell anyone, he left the party. He doubted anyone noticed much.

As he pushed through people towards the exit, he caught a glimpse of Joe and a brunette, chatting as if they were having the time of their lives. Bar lights shone on them like stage lights; Joe and the girl were the actors, living out their fairy tale lives. He must of cracked a joke, because the girl choked on her drink, doubling over. Joe rubbed her back, and she leaned into him, half choking, half laughing.

It took all of Caspar's energy to look away. He felt hollow and numb all over. He watched himself walk out of the club, down the lonely streets, in the empty train cars. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much. He hadn't expected coming out to ruin the best friendship of his life. He hadn't expected to feel so alone. Before, being near Joe felt warm and bright. Now they were shadows around each other. Why? Why was Joe so afraid? Was he ashamed? Disgusted? Joe couldn't feel this way, thought Caspar. He wasn't homophobic. But there was no other explanation. It was just best to keep a safe distance, and let Joe be happy.

Caspar navigated the long winding streets. Once home, he didn't know what to do. Usually, Joe and him would pass the time by playing FIFA, or running video ideas by each other. Or they'd just talk on the sofa, or sit in silence on their laptops side by side. But now those were not an option. It was hard enough to function like a normal human being, never mind socializing, or having fun. Caspar didn't want to wake up in the morning because dreaming had become his second life, one much more preferable to the real one. He didn't want to shower. He didn't want to eat. It took effort to get out of his pajamas in the morning. With Adrian gone, there was nobody to make Caspar do those things anymore. He got into bed, and fell asleep.

*****

Caspar woke up in the middle of the night to a door slamming. He heard footsteps upstairs, getting louder and nearer. His first thought was: I am getting robbed. Tentatively, Caspar opened the door a crack and peeked outside. It was dark, but Caspar could see a small dark figure getting nearer. It didn't notice him, and went straight into Joe's room, shutting the door behind it.

Caspar crept towards Joe's door, resting an ear against the door. All of a sudden, he heard shower noises. A sob let out. Joe's voice. Quiet weeping was barely audible over the roar of the water, but Caspar shivered thinking of a small, whimpering Joe, curled up on the shower floor. He slid down the wall, collapsing on the floor, his heart filled with stones and hatred for himself. The feeling that he was the monster who made Joe cry. He exhaled, trying to expel the darkness inside him. It just wouldn't come out. 

The shower sounds stopped, and footsteps neared the door. Caspar held his breath. The footsteps faded, there was an umph as Joe hit the bed. He heard rustling, and then . . . silence.

I should get up, thought Caspar. He closed his eyes, and his mind faded to blackness.

******

Caspar woke up to an achey back. As Caspar got up, the floorboards creaked. It took a little while to get oriented. He didn't even know what time it was. Caspar walked to his room, and checked his phone. 7:30. Not in a mood to go back to sleep, he walked upstairs toward the kitchen, and decided to make a proper breakfast. For once. Last night, Caspar realized that Joe might not be as happy as Caspar had imagined. And even if they were no longer friends, it hurt him too much just to let Joe stay unhappy. Maybe eggs on toast, or quesadillas, or . . . pancakes. Pancakes were sweet, and reminded Caspar of home in South Africa, when his mom used to make great breakfasts on the weekends. Pancakes were like good memories, he decided. Even if Joe hated Caspar, he couldn't hate food.

It took a couple tries to get it right, but finally it was finished. Caspar divided the pancakes into two neat stacks. Once finishing his stack, he carried the other to the coffee table, slipping a note under the plate.

Joe,

I these pancakes are for you. I woke up early, and had extra. Enjoy.

Caspar x

Caspar wrote the 'x' out of habit. He didn't notice until he had already written it. He considered crossing it out, to avoid the awkwardness, but then decided against it.

Caspar grabbed his keys, and left the house. Off to another dull meeting.