5:21 PM

not knowing with you

When I woke up, my memory was blurry. My throats was dry and I stank of beer. I tried to remember the events of last night, but the only word floating around my head was Shrek.

Did we have a party dedicated to the animated movie?
I honestly did not know and I hated not knowing.

Something sickening was building up inside me, and it scared me. The feeling of regret. The feeling of losing self control. I knew it involved you. The image of you dancing on my table was imprinted onto my mind.

I sat up quickly and almost threw up. The world was spinning around me, like a self inflicted tornado. Head-rush. Gently laying back down, to preserve whatever soberness I had left, I reached for my phone to text you.

I wanted to check if you were okay.

You didn't reply for another hour, and when you did, it made me feel even more sick.

I need to speak to you

That's what it said. Those six words brought an instant flush of fear over my body. A chill ran up my spine and butterfly's flew around my stomach.

I asked whether you wanted to see me in person, and you told me it would be best if you came round to tell me.

Deciding that I needed to take some painkillers, I stumbled out of my bedroom and into the kitchen. There was a pungent smell of rubbing alcohol and warm milk lingering in the air. I gagged, the aroma didn't mix well with my hangover.

The kitchen needed to be cleaned. I was almost sure that we had set of a bomb during last nights activities, it certainly looked that way.

Grabbing two ibuprofen from the cupboard, I swallowed them dry. I needed quick relief.

I gently bent down to pick up the rubbish that adorned my cream carpet, tossing it into a bin bag that was hanging from the silver door handle. I hated cleaning, the tedious mundane activity that wasted so much time.

Soon the room was clean, free of any beer cans and crisp wrappers and to mask the acrid smell I sprayed Febreze in every corner of the room.

You knocked at my door not long after that, it felt like dejavú.

'Hi,' you whispered with a small frown.

Your caramel hair was tied up in a messy bun, with stray strands of hair plastered to your forehead. You were wearing joggers and no makeup. The purple bags under your eyes shone like bruises and gave you an aura of weariness. I didn't know what was wrong with you, I didn't know why you looked so confused and distraught. Did I do something terrible last night?

'Hey you,' I smiled weakly.

'Look Noah, can we talk.'

Why did those words install such a sense of apprehension somewhere deep inside of me.

'Oh, yeah sure, yeah,' I stumbled.

You stared at me, your eyes wild, pupils dark. It scared me, made me nauseous. The tension was suffocating, it filled every corner of the room leaving no space untouched.

Looking back, I realise how much of a bloody idiot I was for thinking it was the end of the line for us. I should've known I could trust you. I should've known not to jump to the worst case scenario; but we know that never changed.

Tentatively sitting down on the sofa, you beckoned me over. I sat next to you, staring at the blank black screen of the telly.

You looked puzzled, as if the words could not form or leave your mouth.

'Noah,' you started, 'I need to know what happened last night.'

I couldn't answer you, it's not because I was withholding information but because I was as clueless as you were. Many things could have happened last night. Anything could have happened.

'I don't know.' I told you with a grimace.

'You don't know?' you mumbled quietly.

'No, all I can remember is goddamn Shrek.'

You sniggered.

'Bloody hell, Shrek. Why Shrek?' you asked.

'Why not Shrek?'

'Because it's Shrek!'

'Look I honestly don't know, but when I woke up that's all I could remember.' I said sincerely.

You just nodded. Maybe we would never know what happened last night, or as to why Shrek was on my mind. But I was okay with that. Clearly nothing horrendous or terrible had happened and clearly nothing exciting or amazing happened or we would have known. We were okay with not knowing.