Page 47 of Dark Room Junkie

“You said you slept together.”

“Do you really want the details? It was just a stupid coincidence. He also photographs the band and stuff. I thought ... I thought I knew him, but I was wrong.”

“I’m sorry.”

I rolled my eyes and reached for the second controller. “You don’t have to be sorry. There’s nothing there. Let’s just play.”

Tom sighed, appearing disinterested in the game. “Maybe it’s not what you think. Maybe you should talk to him.”

“Why would I do that?” I was getting impatient. “I don’t want anything from him.”

“Still, talk to him. He seems like a nice guy to me.”

“He’s a weirdo.”

“Maybe, but you should see your face when you talk about him.”

“Stop it now!” I snapped at him. “We both know how that would end. And no matter what happens, ultimately it’s my fault. Maybe I should just give him Mia’s sister’s number, because either way, I’ll be the jerk again.”

“Come back to the group sometime.”

I froze at his unexpected comment. Where did that come from all of a sudden? I grimaced, desperate to end this conversation. “Are we playing or not?”

“Promise me you’ll come back soon.”

“Okay, if it makes you happy.”

A grin spread across Tom’s face. “That’s good.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. Your self-hatred is starting to take over again. And you know that visiting there will do you good.”

I was tired and wanted to get through the days in peace. As much as I wished I were somewhere else right now, I was still grateful to have Tom around me. And relieved when he finally brought up the game menu and added me as the second player.

14

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Noé

I stayed at Tom’s until Monday morning. It did me good because I was on the verge of getting sick. With the medication, I got back on my feet and managed to shake off the melancholy that had gripped me in the past few days. On Sunday, I even made a joke about chemsex parties, which prompted Tom to shut me down completely.

“If I make jokes about it, it’s okay, but it’s not funny coming from you.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t be such a square,” I teased him.

“You’re the square here!” he shot back. “But that’s okay. Because otherwise, you wouldn’t be here now; you’d probably be partying with your mom.”

I was in good enough shape to laugh at this comment, although Tom apologized and said it slipped out.

On Monday, he handed me a black parka and said, “You can have this. I don’t need it anymore. Do you want to store your jackets here?”

“I’ll take them to the rehearsal room. But thanks.”

“Where are you going?” he asked as we left the house together at eight in the morning.

“I’m going to check on things at home,” I replied, unable to hide my annoyance. “But I definitely don’t want to be here when Mia comes back.”

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