These Violent Delights

Chapter Five: Atlas

Fraser looks over at me as we walk towards our cars parked along the street. "What happened? I thought it was going well."

"Well, you know me." I attempt to make a joke, but my tone is off—too dull—and it doesn't sound like I'm joking at all. I pull my car keys out of my pocket and chirp the unlock button. Of course I was going to find a way to ruin the night. To fuck this up. To make her uncomfortable and dying to get away from me. Crying was the final straw; I knew I had to leave. She seemed too nice to tell me to leave on her own.

Fraser walks a step ahead of me, giving me a confused look and lifting his arms in the air, signaling he doesn't understand. Our friendship still baffles me to this day. Considering how opposite we are to each other. He's so much more like my brother. Both of them outgoing, unafraid of anything. Able to chat up just about anyone.

I've never been great at making friends. I've always had my brother, so I never felt much of a need. I'd always have Ridge, and it felt pointless attempting to befriend people whose company only made me feel more alone.

"So, you didn't like her or what?" Fraser pushes, and when we're standing on the curb by our cars, I fold my arms tightly across my chest, eyes cast down to the floor, staring at the gray slush built up along the sidewalk.

"No, she was great. She was kind and stunning, obviously." A car drives by and honks as it passes by. Grove says goodbye before her car turns down the next street. "I've always thought she was stunning. Even in school." I lift a hand and rub it back and forth roughly along my jawline. "Just wasn't ready to come out yet—which I told you that, and you made me come anyways, and I broke down fucking crying like an idiot in front of her."

"Hey, you're honestly overthinking it. I doubt she even cared—"

I scoff. Bullshit.

"No, really, I genuinely don't. And at least you came out, right? At least you got out of the house and had some social interactions. Baby steps, my guy." He claps his hands on my shoulders, shaking me from side to side. "I'm sure she understands."

I inhale a sharp breath. Frost filling my lungs. "She doesn't know about Ridge. I don't know how, but she doesn't." I pull out my box of cigarettes from my coat pocket, flip the lid, and grab one out. A nasty habit developed in high school. Something that I thought would be a one-time thing—not thinking I'd ever be addicted. Now, it's become a comfort. Something to calm the nerves. Allows my mind to float for a brief moment. I keep telling myself when my life is in a stable place. When things don't feel so horrible anymore, then I'll quit. "I figured everyone knew." Placing it between my lips, I light the end.

Fraser's eyebrows stitch together. "Well, did you tell her?"

"No." I inhale a drag, then blow the smoke away from us. "It was kind of nice talking to someone who's got no idea. Made me feel normal again, you know?"

He nods, quiet for a moment. "Yeah, I get it."

We say our goodbyes to each other. I stub out my cigarette and get into my car. The stillness inside the car is both haunting and peaceful. Silence allows too much room for my thoughts to grow. Normally, the never-ending sound of my brother's chatter dims it out. Now, all there is is quiet. Too much of it.

I reach over and switch on the radio, turning the volume up loud. Not caring for what song is playing. Just needing noise. Frost has built up on the windows, and I wait for the heater to kick in to melt it off before making my way home to more silence.

***

A dreary afternoon in February.

The sun hidden behind immodest clouds. Taking up most of the sky, making the afternoon feel more like an evening. Many say that weather like this makes them feel groggy, depressed, unmotivated. For me, it's the exact opposite. I thrive in the winter months. When the sun is hidden away and the sky is full of gray. When the night comes more quickly. Less hours of daytime.