pink in the night ✓

08 | equation

May 2 2012

For the first time in a little over 2 years, Tanner texted me.

tanner saelim

3:47 AM

can we talk? meet u in 5, coming to your place right now

At first, I didn't know how to react. I was shocked, to say the least, especially considering it was so late on a Friday night. No, that was an understatement. I was flabbergasted, mostly because Tanner seemed to move on with his life like I'd expected him to. Moved on like nothing ever happened, like I didn't mean anything to him.

I can't say it didn't sting. It definitely did, but I accepted it for what it was. There was no use dwelling on the past. Not when he was thriving with his other friends while I stood on the sidelines like I always did. The only thing I could do was cherish those memories, and hope that in the future, I'd make more of them, alone or with someone else.

Snuggling the covers up to my chin, my lips parted, I stared at the screen of my phone, unsure if what I was reading was a prank or entirely a figment of my imagination. Nevertheless, I decided that there truly was no bad blood between us. Sure, we might've left off on a sour note, but I can't deny that I did miss him a little bit. The times we spent together as friends were some of the only times I didn't feel alone. The least I could do was hear the boy out. Talking to him wouldn't do me any harm. Who knows, maybe he changed for the better during our time apart.

charmander nguyen

3:50 AM

sure! U have the key, meet me on the roof

Rubbing my eyes, I pushed the blankets off of me, curling my knees to my chest as my vision gradually adjusted to the darkness. I could make out the faint silhouette of my vanity, the lights attached to the mirror hanging loosely. I switched them on, and they illuminated a faint pink glow. The small LED beads were strung from that starting point and stretched across my beige walls in curves, leading to my window. Following the string, I opened the window and climbed onto the ledge next to me. One leg onto the roof, I mustered enough strength to mount myself onto the roof, the layered shingle asphalt cold through the material of my shorts.

A breathtaking view of Downtown's skyline could be seen from my position. Even in the quietest hours, the city breathes into life. Houses stacked ontop of each other, fitting into place like legos. Hollow sounds of cars zooming down roads echo from somewhere in the distance. Seeing such a vast area of land rich with so much culture and history condensed into a singular pixel made me not feel as small. At times, the city can make you feel insignificant, but from this angle, I was able to admire its beauty without feeling compromised. Maybe instead, I was a part of a bigger story lurking underneath the sidewalks that wove us all together.

True to his word, Tanner arrived shortly after, stumbling onto the ledge, unusually clumsy.

Baffled, I watched as he struggled to fully pull himself to my level before I had enough. Sticking out a hand, I grinned, and he took it, flopping belly first in front of me. Up close, I could smell the cheap vodka and weed off of him.

"Hey," he drawled, sitting upright. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yeah," I agreed, fiddling with the hem of my cotton sleeves, "I suppose it has been."

He took a brief moment to study me, carefully inspecting the way my hair spilled into the sky from the wind. "I don't even know where to start," he admitted, tapping the corner of his mouth with his forefinger, "how've you been, I guess?"

"The same, more or less," I said with a shrug, "you seem to be doing well."

He chuckled. "If that's what you want to believe, then I'll let you believe that."

What the hell was that supposed to me? "You're drunk," I stated, huddling myself for warmth, "don't say anything you might regret--"

"I missed you," he interrupted, gulping, "so much."

I hesitated. "I missed you too."

"I've been doing a lot of thinking recently," he told me, rubbing the nape of his neck. "About you and me?"

"You and me?" I echoed, puzzled. Pursing his lips, he drew closer, so that our knees were brushing together.

"Yeah," he confirmed, running a hand through his messy hair that hung over his forehead like icicles, "and some untapped potential."

Inching even closer, he rested a hand on the back of my head, and leaned in to kiss me.

For a moment, I was stunned, rendered paralyzed by the sheer aggressiveness of his mouth. Out of everything that could've happened, this was the last thing I expected to happen.

Unsure of what else to do, my eyes fluttered shut, and I kissed him back. I kissed him back, mostly to see what Jane saw in him that was so special that I wasn't realizing, partially to convince myself that I wanted to be her, not be with her.

Only, I didn't accomplish any of those things. Not because he wasn't a good kisser, because he was alright, but because I was picturing him as someone else as my hands tangled in his closely cropped hair. Someone that liked him, not me. And although they were broken up, the seeds of guilt were already planted in my stomach, growing exponentially.

This was how it was supposed to be. This was the way I saw it in movies. One boy plus one girl plus years of friendship was supposed to equal something greater and more profound. It was an equation that worked time and time again, yet, for some reason, this felt wrong on so many levels. Mathematically speaking, this defied all laws of logic and reason.

Finally, the rational part of me took over, and I pulled away.

Hurt flashed in those dark irises that I used to find so comforting. "Did I do something wrong?"

"This," I gestured between us, "is wrong."

"Why?"

"Because," I bit out, "because you're drunk and lonely. You don't love me like that. You never have and you never will."

Flustered, he shook his head, reaching to loop our fingers together. "Tell me you felt it too. Tell me."

"I didn't feel anything," I told him honestly, drawing a circle on the back of his hand. "I'm sorry."

Defeated, he simply nodded, frowning. He always looked so feline to me--the stubborn tilt of his mouth curled at the corners ever so slightly. "Okay. That's all I needed to know."

"I think you should go to bed. You can crash in my room."

Surprisingly, he didn't protest, and he let me loop my arm around his waist to steady him. One by one, we climbed into the window. With my help, he kicked off his Nikes.

Slowly but surely, I guided him into my bed, forcing him to lay down in a position that didn't look uncomfortable. In the process, his phone dropped out of his coat pocket, and I picked it up.

The lock screen flashed for a brief second, but I recognized what was pictured immediately. It was a photo of him clutching the Charmander plushie I got him for his 16th birthday.

"Goodnight Charm," he whispered, turning onto his side.

"Goodnight," I replied, only it didn't feel like just saying goodnight. It felt like I was closing the door to a chapter never written.