0800 Hours [slash]

0800 Hours: Recording #017

Click.

“0800 hours, just two days since Cye finally relaxed his arsehole and had such a tremendous onslaught of verbal diarrhoea that he actually spoke about his pre-Infection life. He'd punch me out like a light if he heard me say this, but I actually felt a stab of empathy when he told me about that fucking cockthistle he hooked up with. He's away peeing at the mo' by the way, so I can totally bitch about him to my heart's content.”

A groggy yawn coupled with a slight reluctant whine.

“I've been thinking about what he said about 'situational sexuality'. I think I kind of understand where that guy was coming from. Not the whole shagging-Cye-when-it's-convenient-and-then-tossing-him-aside bullshit that he pulled. Bastard. How could you just fucking abandon someone like that? How could anyone who's ever fucking seen Cye look at him and think 'I'm gonna fucking break him'?”

The speaker's breathing becomes heavy, laboured. A layer of agitation darkens their tone before an airy throb of laughter brings the conversation back to their initial point.

“Anyway, the whole situation sexuality... thing. I sort of understand it. It's someone like, I don't know.... Someone like me, I guess. I like girls. And I've always liked girls. But then sometimes Cye says something, or does something, and I just... I don't know. I don't know if I'm just so starved of human contact that I've just like, latched onto the first available person; or Cye's right and he just looks girly under certain light; or... I don't even know. Heh, drinking game: take a shot every time I say 'I don't know'. Wait no, that's totally inappropriate for a history book.”

Laughter punctuates the flow of the monologue, swelling with amusement, a genuine injection of mirth.

“So yeah. Situational sexuality. I can't really decide if there's any weight to it. Maybe that is the reason that lately I've been, y'know... Apocalypse and all that. Not really got many options, do I?”

...

“Maybe it's just Cye.”

“Are you done?”

“Holy fucking shit on a stick, how long have you been lurking there?”

“... Long enough.”

“Fuck.”

A shuddering exhale that finishes in an almost sniffle.

“Whoa, no, I was only winding you up, ok? I've literally only just got back, honestly.”

“If you're taking the mickey out of me right now I'm literally going to backhand you into next Tuesday.”

“Seriously. I'm being totally straight with you, I swear. Fuck, don't get upset, I'm terrible with emotions.”

“...Cye, chill, I'm not freaked out. Also, that was a terrible choice of words.”

 “What? Oh – fuck you.”

“You offering?”

“Go Infect yourself.”

They lose the thread of coherent conversation and disintegrate into a relaxed laughter.

“Cye? D'you mind if I ask you a kind of weird question? I mean like, I feel like we've reached this level of comfort, having spent so much time in such close proximity. Even if you did kind of break into my house...”

“Do you want me to answer this question or not?”

“Ah, ok, ok, sorry, heh. Anyway, don't get weird about it but like: how did you know you were gay?”

“How did you know you were straight, dickhead?”

“Well, I, uh, I don't? I just kind of like, assumed I would be? If that makes sense...?”

“... I just knew, really. You kinda grow up aware that you're... different? It was even more obvious when I hit my teens. I just didn't react to girls at all. And then one day, I looked at a boy, thought 'oh', and that was it.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? 'Oh'? Just 'oh'? Cye, you are the single most unromantic, soulless fucker on the face of the planet.”

“What were you expecting? Did you want a blow-by-blow account of my internal struggle? A complete analysis of the moment that I first looked at an erect dick?”

A resounding wheeze; someone choking on mortification.

“No thanks!”

“Thought not.”

“It's just like... 'Oh'? Is that really the first reaction you had to the first guy you fell for?”

A quiet, cautious pause.

“I didn't love him, you idiot. He was attractive, sure, but not everyone who appeals to my eyes appeals to my brain.”

“So you've never like, actually been in love with a guy?”

“...I have.”

“Whoa, seriously?! How did you know? Did you have another fucking 'oh' moment?”

“No, dickhead. It was... a build up of feelings over time. The last thing I ever considered when I laid eyes on the shit was that I'd end up in love with him. He's nosey beyond belief, naively open, unruffled by the world around him – the exact opposite of my type.”

“I can just feel the love dripping from your voice, Cye.”

“Piss off, you asked me.”

“What happened? Wait no, that was a terrible question, fuck, there's a rampant disease ravaging the planet, of course I know what happened –”

“He's straight, chill.”

“Oh... Right. Oops.”

The wind whistles through the gaps in the tent.

“How about you then, country boy? Ever been in love?”

“Um... maybe? I don't really know. I think so.”

“... What about Oighrig?”

“Huh? Oh, nah, she was just my friend. We briefly went out, but like, we were just fourteen. It wasn't like a proper relationship. We broke up way before she got Infected. And anyway, she died like six hundred and fifteen days ago now. I didn't find out 'till eight days later. Communication's always been pretty shit up here anyway, even before the Infection. It actually took nearly a year for the virus to reach us after the pandemic was declared, y'know.”

“... Stirling went down really fast. We were pretty much gone within that year.”

“... Here Cye, I –”

A crunch of gravel underfoot as someone shifts in the tent.

“Anyway, we should get moving if we want to actually reach Beith any time soon. This tag around my wrist is driving me fucking mental.”

“Oh, right, sorry. You grab the trolley and stuff outside, and I'll pack up the tent?”

“... Yeah. Hurry up.”

Click.