Page 75 of Open Water

“He loves me, and is it so wrong that for once, someone is pursuing me? That I’m not the one chasing some idiot around trying to get laid? He’s nice, Simon. He’s really nice. And he loves me.”

Fuck. Lukas is pathetic. It sounded better in his head.

“Just because someone is chasing you, doesn’t mean that you have to go along with it. SayingNois perfectly reasonable, Lukas.”

“I know that. I’m not stupid.” Lukas sulks. No, he’s not. He’s just behaving like a child. Trying to justify his actions where he shouldn’t have to. Lukas is a grown-up. He can do what the hell he wants.

“Do you love him?”

Of course, Simon has to ask the right question.Of course.

“I think I’m kind of in the last chance saloon, Simon. If I don’t find someone soon, then I am going to give up on everything. I kind of have already. I was about to resign myself to the fact that I am going to grow old gracefully, and just be on my own. Find a hobby. Buy a new TV. Then, Tom came along, and he has kind of put all these ideas in my head, of things I could have, and now, all of a sudden, I can’t stop thinking that I want what he is offering. He loves me, and I can’t stop thinking that maybe I should say it back. That I love him right back and it’s bloody fucked up, because it is all going to go to shit. He wants me to live with him, and the boys. He wants more kids. He wants a fuckingdog, Simon. I can’t do that? Can I?”

“Sounds fucking awful to me. Living with someone who loves you? Having kids? Getting a dog? Lukas, you would become like me. All happy with a beer belly and sex on tap. Do you really want that? I mean, come on. You are the ultimate grumpy fucker.”

“It’s not like me, is it?” Lukas tries. But he’s smiling, and so is Simon.

“Someone else’s kids are a lot to take on, but I think you, of all people, would be the one who could do it. I mean, Lukas, you are down in my will as a guardian of my kids. I chose you for a reason, and if anything ever happened to Eva or myself, we are both in agreement that you should be the one to step up and raise those little shits like your own. I don’t have any doubt in my mind that you are the one person I would trust to do that.”

“Don’t say shit like that, Simon.” Lukas is wiping his eye. The pollen count must be high or something.

“Damn allergies eh?” Simon laughs. “But seriously, Lukas. If you like the guy and he likes you back, and he wants you and you bloody want him, which you do, because you are blushing, then why are you even questioning it? You don’t need my permission to be happy. You don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything. If it feels right go for it. And if all goes to shit? Well, you know where to find me.”

“Simon, for once, I don’t feel like it will. If you know what I mean? I kind of feel like this could be… I don’t know… I feel like it’s right. Like I’m scared, but at the same time, I’m not. I trust him.”

“We’re still talking about Björklund? Dick of the century?” Simon leans forward in the chair, his eyes firmly fixed on Lukas.

“People change, Simon.”

“Some people do. Some people don’t,” he says quietly. “You like him?”

“I think I do,” Lukas says. It’s weird to say it out loud. Make it real. Especially in front of Simon, who just leans back and puts his feet up on the desk. Hands behind his head leaning dangerously on the office chair that no doubt will fall over under Simon’s circus acrobatics at any moment.

“Then go and grab him, Lukas. Be happy. Let yourself be happy, because having someone love you is bloody cool.”

Simon is right. Of course, and his words run on a bloody loop in Lukas’s head all afternoon.

* * *

It’s like he can’t think straight anymore, pacing the floor in his flat with his phone in his hand. He wants to ask. He’s got so many questions. He hasn’t got a single answer to any of them in his head, but he needs. He needs to know, and he needs to feel, and he needs a fucking hug.

LUKAS: Tom, can I ask you something?

The reply is instant, as always. Like Tom has nothing better to do than sit and wait for Lukas to text him.

TOM: Of course, anything.

He types out a question. Deletes it in shame. How old is he? Five? Instead, he paces again. Irons his shirts for the next week. He never fucking irons shirts on a Friday night and what the hell is he doing? He needs to eat. He needs to sit the fuck down.

TOM: Lukas, is something wrong? Please just talk to me. I haven’t seen you for almost a week, and I miss you. Can I at least see you at some point this weekend?

He should reply to that straight away, but instead he grabs a gym bag from the wardrobe, placing it carefully on his unmade bed. The basket of clean laundry from last week is still on the floor, and he tips it out next to the bag. Then, angrily shoves all of it inside. His work bag is already by the door, and the shirts for next week are neatly on hangers in the hallway, which he doesn’t even hesitate to shove down on top of the bag. He might have to iron them all over again, but he doesn’t care. Instead he grabs his phone, wallet and keys and slams his front door shut behind him.

LUKAS: Are you at home?

His hands are shaking as he presses send. Hoping he is doing the right thing as he gets into the taxi waiting on the curb.

TOM: Of course. Matteo has Theatre tonight and Max just got back from therapy and fell asleep on the sofa. Do you want to come over? No tacos tonight, but Matteo promised he will make dinner tomorrow.

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