Stuck On You

May 20, 2014

Michael and I hadn’t spoken about the sex we had had. It was still casual between us, leading me to believe that it had just been casual sex. We agreed to start having dinner together at least once a week, usually leading to a few movies as well, one of us crashing at the other person’s house.

It was as it was before. Only now, we seemed to be a bit more comfortable with each other. I could put my feet across Michael’s lap if I stretched out across the couch. He wouldn’t feel it necessary to clean his dishes before I came over. Those kinds of things are what kept us close. Had we been stricter with how we acted around each other, maybe having sex would have been a problem.

The only thing that seemed to be different was that sometimes after work Michael would keep walking rather than coming up to his apartment. I never asked where he went; he just said he was going out. Sometimes he would joke about me not staying up for him.

I assumed he went out to go shopping, to get groceries or check out new guitars. He never mentioned it and I never brought it up. Those were the only two things we never talked about.

Michael had walked by again tonight. He always walked me to the door of the building, watching me as I walked inside. Once I was in the elevator, I watched him walk away. He never came back, never changed his mind. He was usually out until all hours of the night, I always heard him because he wasn’t exactly quiet.

I always thought about it. Every time he decided to go out I thought it was because of me. I always thought I had done something wrong. It took a lot of convincing every night before I could fall asleep in peace. Tonight was one of those nights.

I had already thought through all of my movements today. Every syllable I had breathed to Michael had seemed natural, nothing that could have been rude. I didn’t see him all day long, it easily could have been something someone else had done, but that doesn’t explain why he disappears.

He has been spending time with me though. He must spend more time with me than anyone. Maybe he was going out to have sex with someone else. Had I been bad? Maybe he had a girlfriend I didn’t know about. That could be a very valid reason to leave all night.

I flip over; hoping the different side of my body could help change my thoughts as well. It doesn’t. It never does.

I turn on my IPod to play some quiet music. Sometimes that helps. Before I can set up a playlist, I find a reason to break my train of thought. The knock at the door does make me realize how tired I actually am though.

I reluctantly slide out of bed, situating my shirt back around my torso. I do have pants on, something that was only occasional when I went to bed. Whoever was at the door was lucky, if I didn’t have pants on I might have ignored it.

Trudging through the kitchen, I yawn. The knocking persists and I hear someone calling my name. It must be Michael, no one else on this floor knows me.

As suspected, when I open the door, there stands Michael. His eyes are red a puffy, completely bloodshot. He must have drunk his weight in alcohol. He reeks of it, barely standing even when leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey,” Michael sputters, breaking into a smile.

That’s when I notice the slim cut along his cheekbone. There is a bruise forming there as well. “Michael, what happened?” I touch a finger to the bruise, earning a wince.

“Nothing, I just wanted to say goodnight. I missed you.” Michael smiles; wincing again when he reopens the cut.

I take his hand, leading him into my apartment. He stumbles around, barely hanging on. I pull a stool across the floor, making him sit. I turn and close the door, rushing to get a towel and wet it.