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“Show me that this world is bigger than us, then sent me back where I came from. For a moment I knew cosmic love.”
I stared at the book on my nightstand, its cover a faded swirl of cosmic blues, purples and silvers. It was some black holes book I had found at the bottom of my school bag, never knowing how it got there, and never really cracked open. I had no interest in it. The spine of the book was pristine, almost like it was making fun of me with its untouched perfection. Next to it, a glass of water sat half-empty, or half-full, if you were the optimistic type, which I wasn’t anymore. Dust motes floated on the surface. The water reflecting the silver slivers of the streetlights outside my window.
My alarm clock blinked 4:02 AM in harsh red digits. Why was I even wasting my own time? I hadn’t slept a wink, not since… well, not since everything shattered days ago. My stomach let out a low, insistent rumble, that probably would’ve meant something for people who still had appetites, who still had reasons to keep going.
It was the summer of 2015, and my master’s degree graduation was just two weeks away, a milestone that should have excited me but now was hunting me. Was I even graduating? I haven’t checked my emails in a week. I shivered under the thin covers, my skin covered in goosebumps.
I was naked beneath them, hadn’t bothered to dress since collapsing in bed yesterday, or was it the day before, or the one before that? Time blurred into a painful monotonous blub. The air in my dorm room tasted stale. My mouth was stale, I haven’t brushed my teeth or drank a fresh sip of water in a while. My hair felt like matting over pression of the unwashed pillows, unwashed pillows I kept on soaking up with tears almost hourly.
My mind drifted to how it all started. Spring, a month and a week ago, the air still felt cool with the last remnants of the long winter that lasted longer than expected. I’d snuck around to the back entrance of the venue after one of his shows. That’s when the Gerard Way looked at me. I just wanted a glimpse of him iif I was lucky enough. But there he was, leaning against the brick wall, lighting a cigarette under the dim security light, talking to other fans. His hair was short, messy, dyed in red, and he wore a blue suit jacket. He glanced up as I approached, hesitant, and instead of brushing me off, he smiled my way.
“Good show?”
We talked for what felt like hours but was probably just minutes. He was kind, he laughed at my awkward jokes. His giggle was infectious, high-pitched and unselfconscious. That chance meeting spiralled into a whole month of seeing him every couple of days. He’d pay for my gas if I came over.
I’d skip classes without a second thought, sneaking off to meet him in way too nice hotel rooms. Late-night visits, him pulling me into his arms, the world fading away. We’d laugh until our ribs hurt, chain-smoking, drinking coffee at 3 in the morning, chatting until our kisses stretched until dawn.
He was a thoughtful man, making me feel seen in a way no one else ever had. Special. Understood. Like I wasn’t just another face in the crowd, but someone he chose to let in, even if just for a little while.
A sob caught in my throat, snapping me back to the present. He had let me in. My room was still dark. Tears streamed down my face again, soaking into the already damp bedclothes. Was it even fucking real? Did any of it happen at all, or had I conjured it all from loneliness and wishful thinking? My body was wasting away. I hadn’t eaten in days, but it felt like months. The hunger gnawed at me, but I ignored it, letting it punish me for… for what? For believing. Maybe. Shit.
Every second of that month was burned into my memory. Skipping class for him hadn’t felt stupid at the time. Now, skipping for this ridiculous depressive episode wasn’t so different. Jus the same empty lectures unattended, same hollow excuses to myself.
At least it was worth it a month ago, it was for tangled sheets, his body warm against mine, his fingers tracing sweet patterns on my skin. I’d wake up sore and satisfied, his soft nasal voice echoing in my ears as we shared breakfast in bed.
I turned my head towards the window, staring at the dark deep sky. “Please,” I begged silently, “Give me a sign. Anything to prove I am not losing my mind, that it wasn’t all a fever dream.” My body still ached, weakening by the hour, my muscles predicting an upcoming fever.
I wanted to punish this flesh he’d once touched, for failing to remember the exact shape of his hands. How could I forget that gentle pressure as he cupped my face? It was already slipping away, and that terrified me more than the hunger.
The memory of that last night was choking me. We’d just finished fucking, my breathing was still unsteady from it. I lay there naked, sheets twisted around my legs, watching him. He sat up slowly, his back to me for a moment, then turned with that soft, sad smile.
“Hey,” he murmured. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my forehead. “I… I need you to forgive me.”
“Gee. What’s wrong?” I stuttered.
He looked away, rubbing his neck awkwardly, that nerdy vulnerability peeking through. “This and us, it’s just getting too much. I didn’t mean for it to… I’m so sorry. You’re amazing, you know that? You’ve made me feel things I haven’t in a long time. Please, forgive me. I’ll never forget you, I promise.”
He kept apologizing, his words tumbling out in that condescending tone he put on when he’s nervous. I begged him to reconsider, but he held firm. He walked me to the door, a final kiss on my forehead, and then he was gone. Or rather, I was gone. I couldn’t even tell you how I made it back home. I should’ve crashed my car.
Now, here I was, naked and alone in my own dorm room, the echo of that door closing ringing in my ears, the click of my door unlocking suddenly. It swung open, letting in a sliver of hallway light. One of the dorm security guards stood there, keys jangling, looking uncomfortable. Behind them, one of my friends pushed past, murmuring a little “Thank you for that” and slipping a twenty into the security’s hand.
The door shut behind her, and my she approached the bed, their face etched with worry. I didn’t move, curled up in a foetal position, tears silently bursting again, my skin was now paler and stuck clammy under the covers.
“Jesus,” my friend whispered, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “Get your shit together, dude. This isn’t you. You’re scaring the hell out of us… all of us. You’ve been locked in here for days. It’s not cute.”
I looked up at her, my eyes raw and stinging from the endless crying. “Am I going insane?” I whispered. “I might just die. It’d make no difference.”
Her expression shifted with concern. She grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to sit up, the covers slipping down a bit, leaving my naked chest uncovered. I didn’t care. “You’re not fucking dying. Come on, please. Eat something. Drink water. Take a shower. Anything. You’re wasting away here.”
Drool trickled down my chin, I hadn’t even noticed, and I wiped it away with the back of my hand. “I lost him. I don’t know what I did wrong. Why wasn’t I enough?”
My friend sighed exasperated. “That’s enough crying over a guy you saw secretly for, what, a month? You never even introduced him to us. He was just a boy, if there was even one.”
“I was angry at him,” I replied, knowing he wasn’t ’just a boy’. “When he ended it, I deleted everything, photos, texts, his number. All of it. But I’m not nuts. We existed.”
She pulled me into a hug, but I was limp and unresponsive. “Let me help you, okay? I can’t bear to see you like this anymore. It’s really fucking scary. You’re my friend, and…—”
“No,” I cut in. I didn’t even have it in me to argue. I was done and exhausted.
She held me tighter, rubbing my bare back. “Please. Just let me help.”
The haze in my brain dissipated for a minute. My gaze fell back to the nightstand, to that unread book about black holes. I reached for it with shaky hands. It was unopened, as always, but I flipped to the very last blank page. There… “G. xo.”
It was real. All of it. The meetings, the laughs, the sex. But also the end.
“I was in love,” I said, with a broken smile appearing on my lips for the first time in forever. I leaned into my friend, hugging her back weakly. She caressed my head, holding my frail frame.
“I know,” she murmured. “I know. And we’ll get through this.”
But even as she said it, the pain stung. I didn’t graduate that year, life waited, but a part of me would always be back in spring 2015. It was all real.
“How dare you think it’s romantic leaving me safe and stranded?”