Page 51 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories

I pinch the bridge of my nose and puff my vape.

Fine. I feel…weird.

Define weird.

It felt like before.

Isn’t that a good thing?

I don’t know.

Eli stubs out his cigarette but doesn’t come in. He simply stands there.

From my position at the table, I can see his jaw clenching. I wonder if he’s itching for his drugs yet. A large part of me thinks he'll use if he gets a chance to. Maybe I should keep him here until Kelly gets back, and then we can stay at a hotel or something. I would ask my mom if we can stay there, but I think my dad will have a stroke.

But this does feel weird.

The way we fucked earlier was exactly like we used to. I’d somehow fallen back into being a sub for him. Eli isn’t a big guy; he’s never been. Even when we were together, and he weighed twenty pounds more than he does now, he’s 5’8, and I’m 6’4. I have this weird stigma that nags at me that because I’ve been bigger than all my sexual partners, that makes me automatically the top. I guess I didn’t have a huge interest in bottoming until Eli. He’s got this way about him that makes me want to get on my knees or put my ass in the air.

Like he doesn’t care that I could overpower him, maybe he thinks I won’t.

I certainly tried earlier when I was pissed. I'm still upset over what he said and that he wouldn’t cough up why he’s ashamed. I can take a guess or three, but it’s not my place or right to try and tell someone how they feel. I’ll never know. I won’t push that shit on anyone. But I sure as shit projected how I was feeling onto him.

I wanted him just as desperate as I have felt this whole time. Towards the end, I nearly lost sight of it all. I broke. I gave in to my love and need for him. But ultimately, I wanted him to know that even though we were jumping back on this fucked up merry-go-round, it doesn’t end with happily ever after.

It can’t, no matter how badly I want it to.

Yes, you do. You just don’t want to tell me.

Maybe I’m afraid of the answer.

Talk to him, then. If you start yapping about all your issues, it might encourage him to do the same. Mutual trauma bonding sesh.

I don’t have issues.

Pinocchio emoji

Fuck off.

Love you too, bebe. Oh no…the service

you’re…breaking

signal error

I can’t help but roll my eyes and laugh at my best friend’s shenanigans.

He’s got a point, though. I’ve expected Eli to tell me his deep, dark secrets without ever revealing my own. I’ve told him about Oliver, but that’s fairly common knowledge. It’s not difficult to put it all together as to why I don’t like addicts. And honestly, it’s not even that. Not a dislike, per se. I simply don’t understand them. And maybe I’m taking the selfish high road here. Sometimes, things weren’t always good for me, andIdidn’t turn to drugs. I also was raised in a home that didn’tdothem.

Hell, my parents only ever drinkwine, and that’s during holidays.

Eli shivers outside, burrowing into his hoodie. Sighing heavily, I get up and go out there. I slide the glass shut, step behind him, and curl my arms around his middle. He immediately sags into me, resting his head on my collarbone.

We stay like this for a while, watching cars go up and down the street. It’s about 6 pm so people are coming home from work. A daydream comes into my mind, one I used to have. I’d be working somewhere, satisfied and eager to get home because someone I loved would already be there—waiting for me.

Eli is that person. I always pictured him.

“If you had the opportunity,” I start, “and nothing was stopping you. Would you pick another life?”

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