Page 41 of Open Water

Not that Tom can’t be kind and understanding. He was. Once.

He still has his graduation hat somewhere, the one with everyone’s signatures inside. Rainbow pins and pride patches attached to the sides. He hadLOVE WINS, ALWAYSwritten on the back in his teenaged, scrawny handwriting. Pathetic, thinking back on it. He knew nothing about love. And he never won anything.

It had been the last party, a summer’s evening all those years ago. The weekend after graduation before they were all to go their separate ways. Before everything was over and they would step up in the world. Take their places as adults. Simon already had his life mapped out. He had made it into the Drama course in Malmö and had already secured a student flat. Lukas had been waiting for his place, but with his grades, he was pretty certain he would be following Simon down south in September. He still thought Medical school maybe should have been his first choice, but he knew himself, and this was his choice. Not the choice of his parents who were pushing for a degree in Civil Engineering. A well-rounded education with prospects. Not the choice of the advisor at school who was pleading that Lukas was throwing his excellent grades away on a mediocre career.

Lukas wanted to teach. Lukas was born to teach. He loves teaching.

The party had been at someone’s beach house, drunk kids messing around in the water, rows of disposable BBQ’s and more mosquitoes than were probably necessary for June. It had been good. Good-natured and happy and some girl had clung to his back most of the evening. Not that he minded. He had been happily drunk. Sloppy.

And Tom had been there, of course. Hanging off that Linnea’s arm, laughing at whatever crap she spilled out of her mouth. Staring at Lukas like he always did, watching as Lukas blew kisses to the girls in the water and stumbled off to find somewhere to take a piss and lie down in the grass for a while.

He was drunk. Stupidly drunk.

He doesn’t remember how they ended up on that porch. How he ended up leaning on Tom’s shoulder on a porch to an abandoned beach hut just outside Stockholm.

The evening seemed to just have happened around them, and Lukas’s memories had been kind of shady from the start. He remembers lying in the grass feeling incredibly sorry for himself. How he had lived through the three years of Senior School. The three years of school that are supposed to change your life. Where you find yourself and establish who you actually are. Well, Lukas had been disappointed. Because even though he had fucking aced at establishing himself and had kind of figured out who he was, he had accomplished absolutely nothing.

Wasn’t that the point of being a graduate? To hook up and get kissed and get laid? To get your dick sucked behind the tall pines down by the shore? Over there in the distance?

He had shouted loudly about it. Told his imaginary friends about his failures as a human being as he lay there in the grass. How it was all good and well, that he was out and proud and liked cock. Less cool when there was nobody else who liked cock as much as he did and would kiss him and give him, well, he can’t remember which phrase he had used. But he remembers Tom’s laughter next to him in the grass. Tom’s hands pulling him up and telling him there was somewhere they needed to be. This place he wanted to show him.

But he does remember the kissing. The tentative slow movements. Trying each other out. Tom’s arms around his neck. He remembers the kissing alright. He remembers the little moans. The sloppy tongue flicking against his own. The desperation. He remembers climbing onto Tom’s lap. He remembers being fucking gone.

There are some glimmers of clarity. Some vague pictures that pop up in his head. Lying on his side on the hard decking with Tom’s jacket under their heads. Lazy kisses and laughter.

He doesn’t remember them talking. Just kissing.

He remembers fingers stroking his hair. He remembers someone talking to him when he was too far gone to care.

He remembers falling asleep feeling loved. Safe.

He remembers thinking that this was probably what people thought about when they talked about love. Of happiness and peace and joy and all that shit.

He also remembers waking up on the backseat of his friend’s car, curled up with a hoodie he didn’t recognise draped over his shoulders. There was a piece of paper in his hand with a phone number on it.

Tom must have run off in shame and horror at finding himself anywhere near Lukas. Fuck him.

The number remained unused. He had luckily had some backbone and pride in himself and never texted him. Just crumpled the number up and shoved it in his pocket.

His first kiss. He had been too drunk to really take it all in. But he knew it had been spectacular, because the second time he hooked up with someone it was pretty awful. Awkward and clumsy. The third time a bit better. Fourth was nothing to write home about. He might have been drunk, but he never got that feeling again. The flutters in his stomach and the primal need in his guts that if he didn’t keep clinging to the person in his arms, he would probably die.

Yet it had been nothing to Tom. He had probably just done it for a dare. Got a kick out of experimenting or something. Fed his inner ego. Tom had kissed a boy and probably boasted high and low about it, as his friends had cackled with laughter at the pathetic gay boy finally getting some.

He had never worn his graduate hat again. He bets, if he went up in his storage loft and looked, the piece of paper would still be stuffed under the lining of the damn thing. Dirt stains and dust. Sand in the folds around the top. A time capsule of a misspent youth if anything.

He never saw Tom again. In September, he moved down south. And life was never the same.

TOM: Good Morning Lukas! I hope your head is ok? Lovely photographic skills. I can recommend some filters that would improve the definition. And thank you for your help last night, I have two very happy boys on my sofa eating waffles and watching something that involves zombies. Matteo is a nice kid. He also has a job delivering pizzas for a place called Pizza Heaven in Aspudden. That was interesting to hear. He mentioned you are one of his frequent customers.

TO: [email protected]

FROM: [email protected]

RE: Privacy

Hi Matteo. I know this is an awkward request but can I ask that you please protect my privacy, same as I would protect yours? I hope you are having an awesome weekend.

Lukas

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