North Star

30 | passenger seat

2019

Nikau had an impressive amount of patience which was established by how much he put up with for the next two months. I had no idea how he did it. I knew it wasn't what I was supposed to say—my brain was mean to me but that would continue to be a work in progress for the foreseeable future—but being around me was more work than I was worth. I couldn't even call it mood swings; they felt more like a mood carousel. A constant rotation of good and bad, except I wasn't the only one being taken on the ride. Everyone near me was left wondering when they were going to be let off to find a better attraction.

Yet there he was, day after day, picking me up from work even if it was only to take me home or, if he was lucky, find a way to get me out of the house. No one was more surprised than I was at his success in doing so. For the time, I let myself sink into the comfort of his companionship, and occasionally, I let myself refrain from wondering why he cared to be around me.

I had to admit, it was nice having someone around. After years of hiding myself away from most of the rest of the world, knowing I could be so in sync with someone else helped convince me that I wasn't as strange as my mind liked to think I was. If I was with the right person, someone who hadn't witnessed some of the worst parts of my life, I could learn to open up.

But there were more moments than I was comfortable with when I found myself sitting there with a blank stare on my face, wondering if living in the moment, enjoying this thing between us, this thing that I understood was more than just casual acquaintances but not something I could put a label to, was worth the eventual emptiness that approached with each passing day. It made me realize that I wasn't fully enjoying it as much as I thought I was. Not because of any lack of desire to, but because my brain refused to let me. A mental roadblock that refused to allow any traffic through.

It was a simultaneously relaxing and stressful time. I felt genuinely envious of anyone that didn't overthink every minuscule interaction the way that I did. To just take experiences at face value; what a wonderful thought.

"So," I said as I dropped down onto the passenger seat, "did you finish—"

His phone was placed into my hand before I finished my sentence, and when his hand lingered on mine longer than necessary, I used putting my seatbelt on as a distraction. "When I say I finished it literally seconds before I left to pick you up, I mean it. It's a little rough around the edges."

"Funny how your rough around the edges is my perfection." I reached into my bag to grab my cheap earphones that were hanging on by the weak adhesive of some off-brand tape, but Nikau quickly shoved his much nicer headphones into my hand shortly after. They were promptly fit snugly onto my head, leaving one off-center before the song started so I could still hear him.

Nikau snuck a glance at me before pulling out of the parking spot. "Yeah. Funny how that works."

The real kicker of us spending the last two months nearly attached at the hip was that I continued getting first dibs on hearing his newly completed songs. Whatever wall he had hit earlier was knocked down and made way for some of the most productive time I had ever seen spent working on a passion project. There was so much to look at and see whenever I hung out at his apartment that I felt so indulgently spoiled by it all.

As soon as the song started, I was transported all over again, the same way that I was any time I listened to his music. Even as we drove past the hideous view of seemingly endless rail construction, my mind wasn't bogged down by it. I was completely consumed by the song and his presence next to me.

After it was done, I handed the phone back to him and he placed it in one of the cupholders. As always, I struggled to come up with something to say. Whatever high praise I could have thought up never felt like it would do his work justice, but neither did not saying anything at all.