For the longest time

III

I didn't expect to keep in touch with him. I didn't expect anything bigger than an awkward goodbye. We reached a subway station, the A train below us. I heard his deep breath and I listened to the seeming disappointment in it. He didn't want me to go. Frankly, I didn't want to go either. 

We didn't say much after our sudden confession of uselessness in the world. We didn't question each other. We just kept walking in silence and smoking cigarettes, side by side.

Before I set a foot on the stairs that would lead me back to the motel, I looked back at him. It seemed like it'd been hours since we'd talked. And the most reasonable thought in my head was that this was it. This had been it. I'd been walking through  dark NYC with a musician I really admire, and all we did was complain. Maybe that's what your idols are for, to remind you they're human as well.

He stared back at me, hands deep in the pockets of his jacket. Wind on his hair, a veil covering his eyes. "Thank you" he finally said after what it seemed the longest staring contest of all times.

I was surprised, really. I didn't think there was anything he should be thanking me for. All I did was walk and smoke. I think he detected the curiosity in my now wide eyes because he let out a shy chuckle, kicking a small pebble on the street. I smiled as well, not really sure what to say or do next. "I don't understand" I admitted.

"That's perfect." Ed's eyes focused on mine again, and this time, the veil wasn't so dense anymore. Like it was dissolving and melting inside the indigo lagoon he wore for eyes. The process of the fog disappearing was some sort of magic trick. Maybe just pure magic. 
Ed sighed a heavy sigh and smiled a genuine smile. "Thank you for not asking anything of me. The mental state I'm in right now... People want so many things from me, impossible things. I try to be good, I try to not disappoint them. Somehow, I manage to mess up anyways."

That weak chuckle again, I could feel my heart breaking. "I could not ask for anything. I don't know what I want. I don't know what I need."

"Me neither. Which is why it's so hard giving people parts of you that you don't even understand"

His words hit me harder than a truck. They made sense.
For so long, I was hoping and working and dreaming, all towards what other people needed or wanted from me. It seemed like a right thing to do. Don't be selfish, you have to share, you have to be generous. How much is too much? Is giving really a selfless act?

"I think I broke you"

His accent brought me back from my thoughts. He was smiling, and it was contagious. "I break easily," I shrugged. It came out as a joke, but it really wasn't.

"Me too"

And that's when it became gruesomely overwhelming. He was sharing too much, he was giving me too big a part of him. I didn't know him. He didn't like it, but he kept doing it. I don't think he was aware of it.

I started to feel a tingle in my hands as if ants were crawling up my skin. That uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I was drunk. Maybe I had always been drunk and now I'd just realized it. I tried not to panic. I think he saw it.

"You alright?"

He looked partially concerned, partially just another passenger in life watching people as if he was watching a movie. So far away. But movies can't exist without spectators, although people can exist without movies.

I felt like a work of art being dissected. I didn't like it.

"I'm gonna go home. It was nice meeting you"

I stepped down on the first flight of stairs when I heard his voice again. I heard my name on his lips and my body froze. That sincere call for me. I turned around, he had his hand extended and a paper hung from the tips of his fingers. "If you ever want to talk..." he left the phrase there, floating in the air.

I looked at the piece of paper, it had a number on it. "You're doing it," I said. I didn't even catch the expression on his face, I was focusing on his hand that had begun to shake. "You're giving parts of you. You're willing to share a part of you with me, and you don't even know what it is."

Ed reached farther to me, making me take his card. "This time," he said, "this time it's more of a selfish act. I don't want to give you a part of me and I don't want you to give me a part of you. I guess I want to co-exist with someone who doesn't expect anything from me, from you."

His name was printed on the bottom left of the paper and his number stood out like the only important digits in the world. I hesitated for a long time. In the end, all I wanted was the same thing. So, I kept the card and nodded at him. 

As I walked downstairs and the noise of the subway increased, I could feel Ed's eyes on me.

Was this the beginning of co-existing? Finally?

I snoozed all the ride to the motel and then I collapsed on the bed, with Ed's number clutched firmly in my hand.

++++++

Hi! I know this is short, but I'm sleepy and I really wanted to update. 
I want to let you know this story takes place in the Multiply Era. That's important information. Thank you for reading!

TJ