Neverending

23

Something's come up?

It's really hard not to feel violently snubbed by Seb's sudden departure. He must know, I think, he must know that I'm wandering around this chaotic alien space. I know literally no-one here. My heart races in my chest, as much from feeling like I'm betraying Seb with these very thoughts as from how abandoned I feel.

I try to take a moment.

Under normal circumstances, I'm not overly demanding of other people. I may be straight up crazy about Juliette and want to spend at least ninety percent of my every waking moment in her company, but in reality, I know that this is neither realistic nor, if I'm honest, a particularly good idea. Desiring someone in that way is a sort of drawn-out, mildly torturous agony, but with a healthy side order of romantic self-indulgence. It's sort of pleasurable. But the point is, I keep those unrealistic and kinda overbearing emotions to myself. Nobody needs that loaded onto them. And I'm the same with friendships. Take it as it comes. Buddy up or don't buddy up. I've thought a bit about this and I can't quite decide if it's designed to protect me from rejection or actually just typical behaviour. But either way, I try to give my friends a decent amount of latitude when it comes to my expectations. It's arrogant to assume anyone owes anyone anything.

But: Seb. It's different with Seb. 

Sure, I'm as laidback with him as I am with anyone else. And yet.

We near as dammit grew up together. People often assume we're brothers (which I sort of love), and I know Donna sees us as such. I've never once felt anything other than absolute solidarity from that guy, pretty much since the day we met. Seb isn't afraid to show people how we feels about them. He's generous with his time, attention and affection – all given with the lightest of good humour. He's a blast. And he's unassuming. Women go insane over his dimples, flanked enviously by a whisper beard just the right side of employable. But he's only ever had eyes for Suze. Which is, of course, typical Seb. Don't get me wrong – I'm not trying to paint a picture of some perfect male. He has that chipped front tooth which he sort of doesn't care about. He's terrible at all sports. He hates losing to anyone at Tekken. But it's really quite difficult to rustle up a solid list of negatives when it comes to Seb.

Which is why I'm half in shock. It just... doesn't make sense. There's no scenario where Seb and I don't have each other's backs.

I rein myself in again. There's an apocalypse going on, I remind myself (or, at least, I think so) - Seb will have a ton on his mind, just as I have.

Which reminds me.

I pull out my phone. The network provider's icon has changed to a glass arch. I dial Juliette's number.

It rings. Three times. Voicemail.

I sigh. I feel like I'm stuck in an overly familiar loop. The one where you're waiting for a call or a message from a new significant other. The message that never seems to come. Your attention is diluted by half, pretty much all the time. Sure, you get on with things, get on with life – enjoy what you do have. But being in someone's thrall – it's a half-life, at times. The dopamine high of a reaffirming message versus the empty low of, well, nothing. It's how I've been feeling for the last twelve hours straight. I thought I'd gotten past this will she/won't she phase with Juliette. I mean, I had, and I was mighty pleased to do so. But here I am. Only now, the question of whether she still wants to see me is understudy to the larger question of, is she safe? Neither questions are ones I want to be asking. But they circle my mind on repeat, anyway.

I can't shake the unease and, well, unhappiness I'm feeling about Seb's call. But it feels like there's nothing to be done about it right now. I look around Citivas. It may be my imagination, but the chaos seems to have dissipated slightly. I glance up through the grapheme dome. The sky has darkened, turning a deep crimson towards where the sun is setting. There's zero wind in here, a welcome change after almost having my face blown off at the charging station, but not being able to feel what the weather's doing adds to my sense of uncertainty. I'm not sure if I'd be able to judge the onset of an apocalypse by feeling the wind on my face – I'm not Cole Calisto – but in here, I have even less to go on. I look up again. Have I ever seen the sky this colour before? It's hard to say. Every sunset I've seen has seemed remarkable to me, even if just for a fleeting moment, glanced in my rear-view mirror on the drive over to Lincoln.

So I can't decipher the probability of an apocalypse and I can't sort out that nagging doubt about Seb's phonecall. So, what can I do?

I walk over to look at the carved map in the centre of the square. Maybe if I can orient myself, I can -

My wrist pulses.

I look down. The band has turned white and green circles pulse in time with the haptics gently urging me to head East.

I turn away from the slice of sun that's disappearing over the horizon, and start walking.